Feral: Love, Hate and Fine Lines....Negan and Pet

Ghosts

When Negan returned with Odin, Pet was exactly where he had left her, sitting Indian style in the corner of the barn. He thought she looked inviting with her wild hair and strands of hay hanging loosely from the damp tangles. She fit right into the scene, appearing wild and scared. She said nothing as brought the horse to an empty stall and approached her again.
"I'm tired." He told her as he shed his jacket. "And my pants and boots are soaked."
"It wasn't my idea to pull me back into the lake to drown me." Pet quipped.
He smirked at the wise comment as he pulled his belt through the pants loops in one smooth action, biting his lip slyly. She had shuddered ever so slightly as he did it, undoubtedly remembering exactly how it had tamed her once. Well, almost tamed her. There was a small sigh of relief from her when he tossed it to the floor.
"I certainly didn't want to drown you." He said, peeling of his shirt. "I just wanted you freshened up for me. That filthy bastard of a kid put his hands on you. Unacceptable."
Pet bit her tongue to hold back the curse words she wanted to hurl at him. That was his fault too. He may have been able to wash the dirt from her but he could never cleanse the memory. Two bruises the size of fingertips had appeared on each of her breasts.
Negan stripped off the rest of clothes and walked naked to the barn door and spread the wet clothing out in the sun to dry. He was long and lean, the muscles of his arms and stomach well defined in the streaming sun rays. He was exactly how she remembered him and another wash of disbelief flowed through her. She thought she would never see him again. He sauntered over and stood above her, smiling as she caught her looking at him.
Dropping to his knees, he untied her wrists. She rubbed them absently as he reached for the bag of goods and dumped it in front of them. They had three guns, two fully loaded, Maggie's pistol with four bullets and Lucille.
"Not a bad start." He said, grabbing a jar of food.
"Where are we going to go, Negan?" She asked.
He looked at her and dipped his finger in the peach purée baby food and held it to her lips. She hesitated a moment, watching his eyes. She was still so distrustful knowing how enraged he really was at her. Just because he was smiling brilliantly and offering food didn't mean a damn thing when it came to Negan. He had worn that same expression from the very beginning and wore it often when he tormented her. The very first day he had shown it to her was when she was shackled in the shower and hoisted onto her tiptoes. He had cracked her that day and he had grinned through her tears and humiliation. Smiling meant nothing.
Slowly, she opened her mouth and allowed him to push the food in. Closing her lips around his finger, she sucked gently, the sweet substance coating her tongue and sliding down her throat. He watched her, biting his lip in satisfaction. He loved that mouth and things she did with it. He removed his finger and dipped again.
"Where we go depends on you, Pet." He explained cryptically.
She looked at him, confusion in her shining eyes. She had no idea where they were to go.
"Why did they let you go?" She asked.
He never answered the question the first time she asked as they walked through the woods and he wasn't about to answer it now. Tipping the jar, he shook out a mouthful of the sweet goo and handed her the rest which she took and ate.
"After we sleep you'll get your chance to ask questions." He informed her.
Negan reached over and grabbed her shirt, handing it to her to put on.
"In case there are any surprise guests. You're tempting enough as it is."
Pet was grateful. She pulled the long T-shirt over her head and tucked it under her butt. It wasn't until he had mentioned sleep that felt her exhaustion. It was both emotional and physical and it had drained her completely.
"We should sleep in the loft." She suggested. "I made a hay bed up there. It's safer. No one will see us. You should probably bring your clothes in too. Someone might spot them too."
Here she was protecting him. If it wasn't for the fact that he was still the prick he always was, he almost felt guilty. But every time he looked at her, he could think of nothing but his downfall.
"Go grab my shit and stuff my boots with hay so they'll dry and spread my clothes out too." He ordered. "Come up when you're done and bring that rope."
She watched his naked form as he climbed the ladder, the masculine vee of his back evident as he pulled himself up. He always managed to leave her wanting him no matter what he did and it frightened her. So much time had passed and nothing had changed. That man had molded her into a woman she thought she could never be. Her soul had told her to hate him, to blame him for bringing out a dark and torn submissive creature that should never have ever existed. Especially in this world. But her heart had learned to crave him, to need to learn from him and accept the consequences he doled out. He lit her very being on fire. She knew she had a terrible punishment coming and she was scared but there was anticipation mixed right in with it. He had forged this relationship carefully, knowing how to quench her in a way she never thought could be. In the end he would hold her just like always, cradling her trembling, spent body like time had never passed.
Returning to the loft, she handed the piece of rope to him. He was spread out on the earthy hay and reached up, pulling her down to lay next to him. Tying the rope around his wrist, he knotted the other end around hers.
"In case you decide to run while I sleep." He told her softly.
Run? Where was she to go? She had everything she wanted right here and snuggled up next to him. Cradling her head against his shoulder, she breathed in his familiar scent and sighed at the warmth of his skin pressing against her. It wasn't long before she drifted off, her slumber peaceful and dreamless. She felt safe again.
It took a bit longer for Negan to find sleep. He studied his Pet, her soft, even breaths escaping her slightly parted lips. He studied her face. Her eyelashes mirrored her hair, the color of a brand new penny and her high cheekbones, so different from the soft features of face. He ran his thumb down the gentle curve and she pulled herself closer to him unconsciously. She was so beautiful to him and to think that once upon a time he had just wanted to use her to take her tiny community. His intentions had been good. Save the Haven from almost certain decimation and enjoy the fruits of what it had to offer. She had just been the icing but he soon found out she was different than all the others. She was strong, resourceful and just as headstrong as himself and she responded to his rough guidance of her. His punishments had meant to be just that but her reaction to the very first one had stunned him. He had sort of broken his own rules that night, taking her sarcastic invitation to have her as true consent and she had been more than ready to receive him. The sting of his belt had ignited something in her and he knew she couldn't have explained it herself. At that moment, he had become addicted. Unfortunately, what he had found so enticing bit him the ass and had landed them here. No matter what he had done to break her dangerously impulsive spirit, he could not do it. And worse than that? She had made him feel and that had been a very unwelcome distraction. He hadn't been able to feel anything since the loss of his wife and the end of the world. That was why he had been such a successful tyrant. Emotions breed weakness. All of that was obvious now.
He nuzzled his face in her hair, inhaling her scent mixed with the heady smell of the withered hay and sleep finally found him.