Chapter two

Tobias POV

She is so peaceful sleeping in the seat. I hope she does not get sick. She drank way too much. If she does, I will take care of her. I have to get her home and settle; tomorrow will be a stressful day for her. Not only will she have a hangover from all the foolish drinking she was doing, but she will have to learn all about her new role as my baby girl.

I pull into my driveway. I park in the garage and close it. I take out her purse. Id, hmmm Kendra Mitchell age26. I need to find her phone. It is all the way to the bottom. I remove the back and take out the sim card. She can keep the phone, but I do not want her calling anyone. What else is in her? Lipstick, she won't be needing that. No more painting herself up like a whore. Nope. I toss the lipstick and sim card in the trash.

I grab her out of the car and carry her up to the bedroom I have fixed for her. I lay her on the changing table in her room. I carefully remove these slutty clothes. I take a baby wipe and wash the whore off of her face. I slip a diaper onto her bottom. I put a gown on her and some socks to keep her warm. I brush her hair. She will have to have a good bath tomorrow. She smells like alcohol and smoke.

No worries, Kendra, I will take good care of you.

I kiss her on the forehead.

I pick her up and place her in her crib. I put the top on it so she can not get out. I will leave the top off in time, but I know it will be needed for now. She is not the first one to come here to be with me. I know how tomorrow will be. She will cry. She will be upset. But in time, she will accept this life and become a member of the pack. I think finding out I am a werewolf is scarier than anything. I just want to take care of her. I want her to be mine.

I pull the rocker close to her crib. I watch her sleep. She looks so much better without all that whore makeup on. Tomorrow I will get her all cleaned up and looking like a princess.

Tomorrow will be a tough day. She stirs around a little. I am afraid she is going to be sick. I will stay here in the rocker until she wakes up. If she gets sick, I will be here to take her to the bathroom to clean up.

I begin to doze off. I cannot do that; I have to stay awake—just a few minutes.

“Let me out of here, you son of a bitch!” she screams.

I am awake now. I look at her, screaming at me.

“Are you okay, princess?” I ask her.

“I am not your fucking princess! Let me out! I feel sick,” she screams.

“Calm down. You are going to make yourself sick. You had way too much to drink last night,” I say to her.

She starts getting sick in her crib. I undo the top latch to let her out. I reach in to grab her, and she cringes.

“Stop that, let me help you out,” I say to her.

I reach in and pull her out of the crib. I cradle her in my arms.

“You okay?” I ask her.

“No, I think I am going to puke,” she says.

I take her into the bathroom. I sit her down in front of the toilet.

“I have to pee,” she says.

“Use your diaper,” I say to her.

She looks down and realizes she has a diaper on. She looks at me.

“Are you insane?” she asks.

She starts throwing up. I pull hair back out of the way, but she still manages to get some in her hair.

“No worries, Daddy will give you a bath,” I say to her.

I sit with her while she is sick.

“I feel like I am still drunk,” she says.

“You did drink a lot,” I say to her.

“That I did,” she says.

She continues to be sick. I pet her on the back and try to comfort her. Oh, Kendra, this is not something you will ever have to worry about again. There is no more alcohol in your future. I will make sure you are healthy.

She lays her head on the toilet.” I think I am done,” she says.

I turn from her so I can run her a hot bath. She bolts. I grab her and sit her down on the floor.

“There will be none of that,” I say.

I turn the water on and put the plug in the tub. I stand her up and remove her diaper. I pull the gown off and remove her socks. I look at her a moment.

“What you want to fuck me or something?” she says.

I smack her on the bare leg. “I will not tolerate that kind of language in my house,” I tell her.

“Sorry,” she says.

I place her in the tub. I begin by washing her hair. I scrub all the gunk out of it. I wash her body. She does not move. Maybe she will be easier to handle than I thought. It usually takes at least two weeks for a woman to accept her role as mine. I just want to take care of her. I want her to be all mine. If she can't accept the roll in two weeks, I will let her go. I always do.

After I bathe her, I pick her up and take her out of the tub. I take a big towel and dry her off. I cradle her in my arms and take her back to her room. I place her on the table. I lotion her body and powder her bottom. I put a diaper on her and slip a fresh princess gown on her.

I kiss her forehead. “Now, you do not look like a whore anymore,” I say to her.

“Are you hungry?” I ask her.

“Yes, I am starving,” she says.

I pick her up and carry her downstairs. I go into the fridge and grab a bottle I already made for her. I take her to the rocker in the living room. I cradle her close to me and put the bottle in her mouth. She spits it out.

I glare down at her and pop her on the leg.

“I will not be disrespected,” I tell her.

She complies and takes the bottle.