7. BLAKE
Chapter seven
BLAKE
“ W elcome to the safehouse,” said Blake warmly. He watched as Savannah's eyes widened in surprise, as she took in the string lights twinkling along the walls and the shelves overflowing with books and toys.
"This isn’t quite what I imagined!" she exclaimed, stepping inside and running her fingers over the spines of the books. "It's like something out of a fairy tale."
Blake couldn't help but smile at her reaction. He'd worked hard with his brothers to create this space. They’d chosen the safehouse for its discreet location and security features, but it had been important to them as Daddy Doms that the place appealed to Littles. Some of the clients they worked with had been through such traumatic events that they needed somewhere that wasn’t just safe in practical terms. It needed to feel safe in emotional terms, too.
Of course, not all the people that Paladin Security worked with were Littles. But even the most grown-up of women seemed to appreciate the comforting atmosphere of the safehouse. It was amazing what a life-threatening situation did to a person. Made you want to curl up and be taken care of like a little kitten, most of the time.
Savannah definitely had that kittenish look in her eyes right now. “Oh my goodness,” she said gleefully. “So many toys!”
They did indeed have a large selection of toys. Musical instruments with chunky buttons that played funny tunes. Toy trains. Jigsaw puzzles. Coloring in books. Bouncy balls. You name it, the Paladin boys had found somewhere to put it all in their safehouse.
“Can I play with it all now?” Savannah asked. She looked as though she’d never been around so many toys in all her life. Maybe she hadn’t.
"Soon," Blake said gruffly, urging her towards the comfy corner filled with blankets and beanbags. "First, though, we need to talk."
Savannah nodded and settled into the pile of softness, her green eyes fixed on him with curiosity.
“Wait there a minute,” he said. “I’ll fetch us drinks.”
Blake went to the small kitchenette and began warming up some milk in a saucepan on the stove. While he waited for it to heat up, he got himself a glass of whiskey. Then, once the milk was ready, he poured it into a sippy cup.
"Here," he said, handing her the cup.
She looked at it quizzically. “You want me to drink . . . from this?”
“You’re a Little, aren’t you?” he replied, matter-of-fact, as he sat on a beanbag beside her.
“Well . . . yes,” she replied. “But I’ve never used one of these before. I just wear Little clothes and have a stuffie and sometimes do coloring in. I never thought about taking it further. What if I feel silly?”
Blake frowned. “Taking care of your inner Little makes you feel silly?”
“Well, no,” said Savannah, biting her thumbnail thoughtfully. “I guess not. I just feel a bit strange doing it . . . in front of you.”
Blake smiled. “Babygirl, I’m the one who gave you the sippy cup. I’m a Daddy Dom, remember? There’s nothing I like better than seeing a beautiful woman embrace her inner child.”
Savannah blushed.
“Listen, sweetheart. You’ve been through something traumatic. Indulge in some self-care. Accept my help. Drink your warm milk and be a good girl.”
Savannah seemed to respond well to his commanding words—that was the natural submissive in her, no doubt. Probably not a lot of people who met Savannah could tell she was a submissive, but to Blake it was obvious. That hard-girl act was a line of defense. Something she used to protect the sweet, vulnerable Little who cowered inside her. Blake was determined to make her feel safe enough to let that Little out sometime soon.
"Thanks," she murmured, wrapping her hands around the cup and taking a tentative sip. The warmth seemed to spread through her, and she visibly relaxed, sinking deeper into the beanbag. “Mmm, that’s good.”
“That’ll be the cinnamon and honey,” he said with a smile. He took a swig of his whiskey, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat. "Listen, Savvy," he began, leaning forward. "We're here because we need to trust each other. We can't move forward without being completely honest. So, tell me about your past and what led you to where you are now."
Savannah hesitated, her green eyes flicking to his momentarily before looking down at her cup. "It's not something I talk about much, but I guess you deserve to know."
"Take your time," he encouraged gently.
“I’m an orphan,” she said. “I don’t know what happened to my birth parents, or why they couldn’t look after me. But clearly, I wasn’t desirable enough for adoption. I always hated that movie, Annie , about the girl with red hair and freckles ending up being adopted by a zillionaire. For me, it wasn’t like that. People took one look at me and walked away. All the little blonde kids with dimples went first. The ones like me, and my friend Mia, who had dark skin—well, we were at the bottom of the pile.”
“Fuck,” Blake said softly. “I can’t imagine how deeply that must have hurt for you both.”
“I ended up in foster care,” she said, taking another sip of milk. “My first foster home was kind and loving. In fact, it was all I ever wanted. They were kind people, and they lived in a cute little house in the suburbs. White picket fence. Rose bush on the front lawn. A feeling of being in a family, belonging, maybe even being loved.”
“What happened?”
“I had been there less than a year when my foster mom got pregnant. So, they booted me out in favor of a biological kid of their own.”
“How could they do that?” said Blake, feeling the anger rise in him. “Why not raise the two of you as siblings?”
Savannah sniffed. “Well, they hadn’t actually adopted me. It was foster care—just a temporary arrangement. But then I ended up with this awful family. My foster father was . . . well, he wasn’t a nice man. Not at all.” Savannah sniffed. “Anyway, I ended up there with Mia. I guess this foster family specialized in taking the kids nobody else wanted. It was good to see Mia again, and she became like my little sister. We kinda clung to each other because of the abuse we were both enduring.”
“Your foster father abused you?”
Savannah screwed up her nose and nodded. “Yes. I never really talk about it. Both me and Mia. He hurt us. He forced us to . . . do things.”
Blake clenched his fist. “I see.”
“To cut a long story short, Mia and I ran away. We got caught by the system and put back into care, but by that point, we were wild. Nobody could handle us. They tried to put us back with our original foster father but we reported him to the police. They never did anything about him, but they didn’t put us back with him either. What they did instead was separate me and Mia. They said we were troublemakers. A week later, Mia turned up at my house, completely out of it on drugs. That was really weird because she was always anti-drugs. Then the next day she went missing, right on her sixteenth birthday.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. Did you find her? What happened to her?”
Savannah’s lip began to tremble. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. The cops said she got hooked on heroin and probably ended up ODing somewhere. I never believed a word of it. Her body was never found. Four years have passed but I can’t forget it. It’s why I do what I do. It’s why I take risks. I’m doing it all for Mia.” She chuckled grimly. “I guess revenge and justice are more important to me now than white picket fences.”
Blake’s mind was reeling. Mia seemed high on drugs out of nowhere. Then the following day, she disappeared? The exact same thing had happened to Chloe.
He reached out for Savannah’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “Sweetheart. I had no idea. I completely understand what it’s like to have your life upended like that. And why you’ve made it your mission to put things right. Even if things can never quite go back to the way they were.”
He was thinking of Chloe, of course, but he didn’t want to open up about that right now. It didn’t feel right when Savannah was baring her soul to him. Right now, this was about her.
"Blake, there's something else," Savannah said, her voice wavering. "You know that hidden camera that Scarface found? I made a mistake."
He furrowed his brow, concern etching itself onto his features. "What happened?"
"I . . . I left some footage on the camera. Footage of me dressed as a Little, playing with toys and stuff. I was pretending to be a TV presenter, introducing myself to camera to test it out. I think that's how he found me. I’m pretty sure I said my name on camera." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she looked away, ashamed. “I’m so stupid.”
"Hey," Blake said softly, tilting her chin to meet his gaze. "You don’t need to be embarrassed. He stole that camera from you, Savvy. That was your private moment. He didn’t deserve to see it. He’s the one who should feel ashamed."
Blake watched the play of emotions across Savannah's face, a mix of vulnerability and courage that tugged at his heartstrings. He took her hand in his, warmth seeping through their intertwined fingers.
"Thank you for sharing all of that with me," he said, his voice low and sincere. "It means a lot that you trust me with this." He paused, his gaze serious. "We need to be careful from now on. These guys know your name and where you live. They have your files. We have to lay low, avoid drawing any attention to ourselves."
Savannah nodded, biting her lip. "I thought you were going to be angry with me, Blake. For putting that footage of myself on my camera. For being careless.” Her cheeks reddened. “For some reason, I thought you might spank me.”
Blake raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Spank you?” He paused. “Is that what you wanted?”
She looked down at her sippy cup and shrugged. “I . . .” She yawned. “I don’t know exactly.”
Blake felt Savannah lean into him. He placed a protective arm around her. “We’ll talk more about that tomorrow,” said Blake. “I’m certainly not going to spank you for being robbed. But if spanking is something you’re interested in, maybe we can talk through why it appeals to you. And whether I, as your protector, can give you what you need.”
She smiled up at him. “You’re my protector now?”
“Whether you like it or not,” he replied. “But hopefully you will like it . . . eventually. I’m just going to have to earn your trust first. I can see you’ve been let down by people in the past. I’m going to work hard to remedy that.”
"Trust," Savannah murmured, her green eyes meeting his. "That's what it all comes down to, huh?"
"Always," he replied. "Now, let me get your bed ready while you prepare for sleep." He moved toward the cot bed in the corner of the safehouse. He began to lay out fresh sheets, a soft blanket, and a plush pillow. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth, sweetie. I know it’s late but self-care comes first.”
Savannah took a Minnie Mouse toothbrush out of her bag and held it up to Blake. “Watch this,” she said. She pressed a button on the handle and the bristles lit up neon pink.
“Very cool,” he replied with a grin.
She began brushing her teeth at the sink. The gentle sound of bristles against enamel filled the silence, and Blake couldn't help but smile at the sight. She was like a beacon of innocence and vulnerability, drawing him closer.
He rolled out a camp bed for himself beside her cot while she went to the bathroom and changed into her pajamas. When she stepped out, he almost gasped at the sight of her. She was wearing a lilac onesie with bunny rabbit ears, and she looked like the sweetest little thing in the whole damn world.
"Well," he said. “I never put a lilac bunny to bed before.”
She giggled. “First time for everything, Mr. Daddy Dom.”
As she settled under the blankets, Blake picked up a children's book from the shelf, the cover adorned with a colorful illustration of a magical tree. He sat down on the edge of the crib where Savannah lay, her eyes wide and expectant.
"Ready for a bedtime story?" he asked, his voice softening as he opened the book.
"Uh-huh," she mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blankets. “Do you have any mystery stories?”
“Sorry,” Blake said. “But this book’s full of adventure. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Savannah smiled. “I’m sure I will.”
Blake began to read, the words painting vivid images of adventure and wonder. A sense of calm settled over the room as Savannah listened intently, her breathing growing steadier.
"Thank you for reading to me," she whispered when he finished the story. "No one has ever put me to bed like this before, not even when I was a kid."
A pang of sadness hit Blake's heart, his protective instincts flaring. "Well, you deserve to be taken care of, Savvy," he said gently, tucking her in and brushing a stray curl from her face.
"Can I tell you something?" Savannah asked hesitantly, her green eyes searching his.
"Of course," he replied, his gaze never leaving hers.
Tears glistened in her eyes. "It means a lot to me that you're here, taking care of me like this."
His thumb traced comforting circles on her hand. "You're safe now. I promise." He paused. “Hey, by the way, where’s your stuffie? Do you need it for sleep?”
“Oh, yes, I do!” said Savannah. “Mr. Whiskers is in my bag.”
“Mr. Whiskers is a very good name for a stuffie,” said Blake, going over to her bag. He reached inside and pulled out a tattered soft toy in the shape of a cat. It was pink with button eyes.
He held the toy in his hands . . .
And he froze.
He had seen this stuffie before.
Suddenly, memories came rushing back. He had met Savannah before. Not in a previous life, but in this one, when he was just a teenager. He had seen her under a bridge, getting teased by some assholes for cuddling a soft toy. He had stepped in and kicked some ass to save her.
Shit, Savannah was part of the reason he’d become a Daddy Dom. She was part of the reason he’d thrown himself into helping others, too. And . . . Oh fuck. She was definitely the reason he’d dated redheads all his life. Something about that short meeting when he was eighteen had changed him.
Did she remember it?
“Blake,” she asked. “Is everything okay? Is something wrong with Mr. Whiskers?”
Blake turned around and gave Savannah a smile. “No, he’s all good. We were just getting acquainted.” He took the stuffie over to Savannah, unsure whether to mention the incident under the bridge to her. It was so long ago, after all. He didn’t want it to seem like he was trying to paint himself out as a hero. And it had to be a bit of a traumatic memory for her. After the night she’d just had, she didn’t need that right now. She needed a good sleep.
He’d tell her about it another time.
As Blake stood and switched off the light, casting the room in a warm, dim glow, he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility for Savannah's wellbeing. The girl who had changed his life. He vowed to protect her, to guide her through the darkness that threatened to consume them both.
"Goodnight, Savannah," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the sound of her even breaths. "Sleep well, little one."
He lowered himself onto the camp bed. It was uncomfortable as hell, but it didn’t matter. As he lay there, his thoughts raced. The troubling connection between the trafficking ring and his sister's case gnawed at him, demanding his attention. But for now, Savannah needed him more. The girl from his past. The girl he’d always hoped to find again in his future.
"Blake?" Savannah mumbled, her eyelids fluttering open.
"Hey, I'm right here," he reassured her, his voice low and steady.
"You’re not going anywhere tonight, are you? You won’t leave me here?" she asked, her eyes searching his face for confirmation.
"Of course not," he replied, reaching over to brush a stray hair from her forehead. "I won't leave your side."
Not now I’ve finally found you.
"Thank you," she whispered, her eyes slipping shut again. She was whimpering, though, so Blake went over to the bathroom cabinet and found a new pink pacifier. He took it over to Savannah and slipped it between her lips. It was a nice, big one and she sucked on it gratefully.
Blake watched her intently, feeling happy that he could provide her with a little comfort on a dark day.
"Sleep tight, Savannah," he murmured, stroking her hair. He couldn’t help inhaling her scent: strawberries and cream.
Finally, she fell asleep, but Blake couldn’t relax. All he could think about was how hard he would fight for this woman. Whatever it took. He owed it to that scared thirteen-year-old girl he’d seen under the bridge. The girl who deserved to find joy again.