Chapter 39

That’s it ... good girl. Swallow for me.”

He cut tender pieces of duck, offered her few sips of the exquisite wine, and made sure she finished every course. The act was deeply erotic—his hard thighs beneath her, the heat of his body surrounding her, the casual dominance of being fed like a cherished pet. His free hand occasionally stroked her thigh or rested possessively over her stomach, feeling her breathe and swallow.

By the time the final course—a delicate dark chocolate mousse with fresh berries—arrived, Lena was flushed, full, and trembling with a confusing mix of submission and arousal. Elias’s arm never loosened its tight hold around her waist.

Only when she had taken the last spoonful did he press a slow, claiming kiss to the side of her throat.

“Now,” he said, voice dark and satisfied, “you’ve been a good girl for your Master. We can talk about your patient.”

Lena shifted on his lap, her stomach pleasantly full from the lavish meal. “Master ... I’m full,” she murmured, turning her head slightly.

Elias’s arm tightened around her waist, pulling her more firmly against his chest. His voice dropped into that low, unyielding register. “You will eat anything I want you to eat, my love. Now be a good girl and open your beautiful lips.”

Lena hesitated only a moment before parting her mouth obediently. Elias fed her the first smooth, intense spoonful, watching with dark satisfaction as she swallowed. “That’s my pet,” he praised softly, his breath warm against her ear. He took a bite for himself, then offered her one more—only two spoonfuls in total—before setting the spoon aside.

He pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, then spoke again, his tone shifting to something more deliberate and probing. “Now, about Your patient. Do you really want to know the donor?”

Lena blinked, confusion clouding her expression as she twisted slightly in his iron grip. “I ... What do you mean, Master?”

Elias regarded her with that calm, penetrating gaze, his hand slowly stroking her side in a possessive rhythm. “It means, my love, you have a choice. You can simply say, ‘Master, I want those legs,’ and they will be in your operating room tomorrow morning—perfectly matched, viable, and ready. Or ... you can insist on knowing exactly where and whom they come from.”

Lena was speechless, her pulse racing. Dark thoughts flickered through her mind—shadowy possibilities that made her stomach tighten despite the luxurious surroundings.

“I ... I need to know, Master,” she whispered at last.

Elias nodded, as if he had expected nothing less. “I thought so. I know you, my angel.” He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch deceptively gentle. “Those legs belong to a ten-year-old girl in England. She murdered three other children. She’s been sentenced to life in a secure psychiatric institution. We can acquire her for our advanced neurological trial ... and your patient can have her legs.”

He fell silent, watching her reaction with intense, unwavering focus, his arm still locked possessively around her waist.

Lena’s breath caught sharply. Horror and disbelief crashed over her. She stared at him, her voice trembling as the words finally came.

“Master ... she’s only a child. A deeply disturbed child, yes, but still ... How can we—? My patient deserves a chance at a normal life, but not at the cost of harvesting from another living child, no matter what she’s done. I can’t ... I won’t sentence another child to that kind of loss.”

Elias’s expression remained calm, almost regretful, though his arm stayed locked possessively around her waist, holding her firmly on his lap.

“That child will never have a normal life, Lena,” he said quietly, his steel-gray eyes steady on hers. “She will never know freedom, never run through a field, never live outside the walls of a secure mental institution. She is a proven danger to society—I’ve reviewed her interviews myself. The best we could hope for is to make her somewhat more docile through our neural implants ... and even that is uncertain.”

He brushed his thumb across her lower lip, voice low and unyielding. “Sometimes mercy looks different than you expect, my love.”

She searched his face desperately, pressed tight against him, torn between her oath as a doctor and the terrifying reality of the man who held her so completely in his grasp.

“But master ... There has to be another way. Please tell me there’s another way.”She pleaded with her deep blue eyes.

The candlelight flickered across the table as Elias held her securely on his lap, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, yet laced with that quiet dominance she could never escape.

“As you know, my love, a donor for a child should ideally be a child—age-matched, tissue-compatible. The other option you seek is waiting for a deceased donor of similar age ... which, in your patient’s narrow time window, is not very likely.”

He stroked her side slowly, watching every shift in her expression. “Anyway, the final decision is yours, my little surgeon.”

Lena felt torn in a way she had never experienced before. Never in her life had she been this indecisive. A heavy wave of regret washed over her—she wished desperately that she had never asked about the donor. The image of the little girl’s wide, pleading green eyes haunted her mind. But How could she possibly condemn another child to that kind of life-altering loss, no matter what horrors the girl had committed?

It was an impossible situation. Her oath as a doctor, her compassion, and the brutal reality Elias offered all collided inside her chest.

“Master...” she whispered, her voice small and pleading, “can you let me do more research tonight? Please. Just tonight. I want to do everything I can for her.”

Elias looked down into her sorrowful, pleading eyes. For once, he didn’t have the heart to refuse her. His hand came up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing gently across her skin.

“Okay, my love,” he said softly. “But I expect you in bed by one a.m sharp at the latest. Is this clear?”

“Yes, Master,” Lena breathed in relief. She turned in his lap, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him impulsively on his cheek. In a burst of energy, she slipped from his lap and hurried toward the main libraray.

Elias chuckled deeply, the sound warm and indulgent. “No running, Lena. Slow down,” he called after her, his voice carrying effortless authority even through the amusement.

She slowed obediently at the threshold, glancing back at him with a mixture of gratitude and lingering turmoil, then disappeared down the corridor.

Elias remained seated for a moment longer, a rare, genuine smile curving his lips. His little girl was precious. So adorable. So sweet, so hopeful, even when faced with impossible choices. It made his heart soar in a way nothing else ever had. He would give her this night. Tomorrow ... the decision would still be hers to make—under his guidance, of course.

David arrived home at exactly six o’clock that evening, the front door closing with a firm, decisive click. Throughout the day he had remained in close contact with Alicia—text messages, short calls, and even a video check-in during her lunch break—guiding her schedule with calm authority. He had instructed her to leave the estate kitchens by two and return home.

Yet when he stepped into their cozy residence, the warm lights of the kitchen revealed Alicia still standing at the counter, apron on, hands busy arranging delicate garnishes on several prepared dishes for her upcoming class.

The rich aroma of roasted herbs, seared meats, and fresh pastry filled the air. She was deep in concentration, clearly lost in her passion.

David paused in the doorway for a moment, taking in the sight of his wife—flushed, focused, and pushing past the boundary he had clearly set.

“It’s time to rest, Alicia,” he said, voice steady and deep.

She glanced up, a guilty look flashing across her face. “Please, David ... just a couple more minutes. I need to finish these plated samples for tomorrow’s practical evaluation. It’s a big part of the grade in my advanced techniques course.”

David crossed the kitchen in measured strides, his large frame filling the space. “No, my wife. Come here. We need to eat dinner together, then you’re going to bed.”

“Sleep?” Alicia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But David, it’s too early for sleep.” She whined.

“I know, baby.” He reached out and gently but firmly took the piping bag from her hands, setting it aside. “But from now on, if you need to be up at six, you sleep by ten. No exceptions. Come here.”

He slid an arm around her waist and began guiding her toward the kitchen table, where he had already set two places with simple but warm dinner—grilled salmon, roasted vegetables, and a fresh salad he had prepared earlier.

“But David—”

“No buts, sweetie.” His tone sharpened with warning. “Unless you want a repeat of what happened this morning. Personally, I enjoyed the view of your bright red bottom over my lap ... but I’d rather not start the evening that way.”

Alicia’s cheeks burned crimson. “No ... no. Please. I’ll eat. Let’s eat.”

David pulled out her chair and waited until she sat, then took his own seat across from her. He knew changing long-standing habits took time and patience. But he loved Alicia more than anything in this world—to the moon and back—and he refused to watch her burn herself out again. Her health, their marriage, her happiness ... these came before everything else.

As they began to eat, he reached across the table and took her hand, his thumb stroking her knuckles.

“Alicia, I appreciate your hard work—both outside the house and inside it. But before money, before salary, before any ambition ... your health and happiness are what matter most to me. I love you, my girl. That’s why I’m doing this. I want what’s best for you, even when it’s hard.”