Daddy's Pet

[Rue's POV]

Before I can even process what is happening, Mr. Owens is moving, grabbing the guy holding my wrist by the collar and then swinging so his fist connects with the guy's face again.

"Tell me," he growls, landing another blow. "What exactly did you plan on doing to her?"

"I..." the man gasps. "I was..."

He doesn't get to finish his words before Mr. Owens hits him again and again, and when I'm certain that the guy is unconscious, I wrap my arms around his to stop him from landing another blow.

"Mr. Owens!" I hiss as he fits against my hold. "Mr. Owens!" I repeat more strongly. "LEO!" I scream, and to my surprise, he stops and looks my way. "That's enough."

As I speak, I look toward the guy who is dangling by Mr. Owens' hand, and it is clear that he won't be waking up any time soon.

"You've done enough," I say slowly. "We should head back."

I wasn't quite certain how he managed to show up at the time that he did, but didn't that mean that my mother was all alone somewhere?

"I'm sure Mom is waiting for you."

Growing quiet, I wait while Mr. Owens stares at me and then at the man in his hand, and when he releases him, I feel a wave of relief, at least until Mr. Owens' gaze narrows and I realize that I'm about to be on the receiving end of his wrath.

"HOW COULD YOU DO SOMETHING SO STUPID?" He roars, his voice echoing around us, and the remaining two guys grab their buddy and haul ass. "YOU'RE AN ADULT NOW! YOU NEED TO START ACTING LIKE IT!"

Opening my mouth, I prepare to argue but stop as memories from the past start to surface, and I realize what could be stirring some of his anger.

After he found me trapped outside in the rain that one time, he found me a few more times in similar situations.

Each time he would always do the same thing of bringing me to his class and making me hot chocolate.

Once I had my drink in hand, he would sit and listen if I was willing to talk.

Most of the time, I wasn't, but a few times I admitted what was going on, and when I would tell him about the bullying, he would always ask why I never did anything about it.

At the time my mother was busy enough with work and raising me, so I didn't want to add to her worries, and I knew if I went and told the teachers, I was certain that the friends of my bullies would just come after me.

When I would explain that to him, he would still preach about speaking up and finding someone to help me instead of enduring.

"HAVE YOU STILL NOT LEARNED ANYTHING?" He continues now, in the present, and not in the past. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TRY TO FIND HELP?"

"I did," I counter, a small smile beginning to form on my face from the sheer relief I felt from his being there for me like in the past. "But there was no one around."

"No one around," he repeats with a scoff. "If there is no one around, then you run, understand?"

"Sure," I sigh. "Next time I find myself in a predicament like this, I will run."

"There shouldn't be a next time." He counters. "Now, let me see you. Are you hurt anywhere? Did they do anything to you?"

As he speaks, his hands gently touch my face, my neck, and my arms, and his dark yet bright gaze takes me in, and when they come to rest on my knees that are scraped and bloody, he shifts them in the direction the guys went.

"I'm fine," I tell him. "Just a small scrape. I won't die from that."

"Maybe," he agrees. "But you're still hurt."

"I'll be fine. I can clean and bandage it when we get back."

Nodding, Mr. Owens lets out a long breath and runs his hand through his hair, and when he drops it, I realize that there is blood on it.

"Forget about me!" I gasp, reaching out and grabbing the hand. "You're hurt."

As I speak, I let my gaze travel over the scrapes and bruises on his hand, and it takes everything in me not to go after the guys myself.

"I'm fine," he chuckles, pulling his hand free and then ruffling my hair. "Come on, let's get back before your mom sends out a search party for us."

"Yeah."

Although I know that he is right and I should want to go back so that my mother sees I'm fine, I can't help but hate that this moment with Mr. Owens is over.

Selfish. The small voice in the back of my head says, and I know that it is right.

I was being selfish when it came to a man that wasn't mine and yet...

Let me be selfish just for a bit longer.

"Ah!" I gasp as I take a step forward and then stumble, so Mr. Owens is left catching me.

Where his hands touch comes alive with a delicious energy, and I find myself wishing that he would touch me more.

"What's wrong?" He asks, eyeing me. "Didn't you say you weren't hurt?"

"It's my ankle." I tell him, hoping beyond hope that he couldn't tell I was pretending. "It really hurts."

"Your ankle," he repeats. "Here, let me see."

Gasping, I watch as he drops to a knee in front of me and then gently starts to touch my ankles. When he finishes, he lifts his gaze to mine, and I feel my heart flutter frantically.

"They don't seem to be sprained." He says. "But does it hurt too bad to walk?"

"Y-yeah," I breathe, trying to calm down. "I think so."

Dammit, Rue. I hiss inwardly, hating myself for acting like this. Clearly I watched too many damn dramas, and now I was trying to pretend that I was one of the heroines in them.

"Then I guess there isn't any other choice." He says, turning and presenting his back to me. "Climb on."

For a moment, I don't speak as I stare at his broad back and then get a glimpse of a tattoo behind his hair.

I wonder what it is. I think, slowly moving so I can wrap my arms around his neck while his arms wrap around my legs and lift me.

"Just bear with it till we get back." He tells me. "I know that this must be uncomfortable for you."

On the contrary. I respond silently. If anything, this is probably the best feeling in the world to me right now.