ELEVEN

Seychelle woke with a fierce headache. Her mouth felt like cotton, dry and sour. She groaned and turned over, keeping her eyes shut tight in case the sun was blazing through the window. Silently, she sent up a prayer that there would be fog. Lots and lots of dense fog, so she could see if she dared open her eyes.

“Come on, baby, time to get up. You’ve slept the day away, when you weren’t throwing up.” There was amusement in the voice. “You could just possibly be the worst drinker on the planet.”

She knew that voice. She didn’t have to see him to know her worst nightmare was right there in her house. She vaguely remembered Savage putting her in the car and driving her home. She spread her fingers over her eyes and slowly opened them. He’d pulled the screens, thank heavens. Outside, the wind hit the windows and rattled them. Just the slight whistling noise reverberated through her head.

Even through her fingers, the room spun a little bit. Her stomach lurched. Hastily, she closed her eyes. She remembered him holding her hair out of the way while she vomited. Worse, she remembered being on the floor of the bathroom. Why couldn’t she just have blacked out completely and never recalled a single detail?

It was even worse than the worst, if that was possible. He’d put her in the shower. He’d been in the shower with her. She’d been naked. Was she still naked? She dared to look down at her body. She was, thankfully, wearing one of her racer-back tanks. Oh God, she’d been all over him, touching him, stroking him. She hoped she hadn’t done more than that, but she might have.

“Come on, baby, you can’t hide forever. It’s time to face the music.”

“Why not?” She tested her voice. “I’m pretty sure it wasn’t good last night.”

“I’m sure you’re right. You can’t drink worth shit.”

She forced herself to look at him. The moment she did, her heart did a funny little flip. He looked so invincible. So strong. He had roped muscles and not an ounce of fat. He had horrendous scars and burns, terrible burns, but on him, those scars just made him more attractive, as well as giving him the illusion of being indestructible.

She had the grace to look ashamed. “I know. I should never drink. Never. One, and I’m going under fast.”

“Was that your first time?”

“No. I tried another time and threw up like crazy on one drink.”

“You spent most of the night throwing up. It wasn’t pretty.”

She pushed back her hair, trying not to remember anything else, but she couldn’t stop herself from seeing another man’s face. “There was someone named Bill. Please tell me I didn’t do anything dumb.”

He shook his head. “Baby, you were going home with that man.”

“I wasn’t.” She was shocked. That couldn’t be true. That was more than dumb. Worse than dumb. She thought she might have talked to him. Flirted. Used her voice shamelessly. But going home with him? She groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“You were. I would have had to track your ass down and haul you home. Don’t know what I would have done to him, but it wouldn’t have been pretty. Let’s just not do that again. You understand me? You need to be with me on that one.”

She pushed her forehead into her palm. “I’m with you all the way on that one. I need to get dressed.”

“You need to let the aspirin do its work. I’m bringing you a little soup. Drink all the water. You’re dehydrated. When you drink alcohol, Seychelle, you have to stay hydrated.”

“I wasn’t really going home with him, was I?” She was a little horrified that he was telling the truth. Images were crowding in. She was fairly certain she was never drinking alcohol again, so he didn’t need to coach her on how it was done properly.

“Yeah, babe, you were. I didn’t let you, so we’ll call it a near miss.”

“Thanks, Savage. I don’t know what the hell got into me.” She was sincerely grateful to him.

“You were scared. Running. You didn’t want to face the inevitable, and I can’t really blame you. You made a few mistakes, baby, and we’re going to have to address them, but that’s after you’re not hungover.”

“I slept all day—how can I be hungover?”

“First, I think you’re allergic to alcohol, and second, you didn’t sleep all day. It doesn’t look sunny because it’s so overcast, but it isn’t that late. I’m going to take you for a ride this evening to get you out in the fresh air. You’ll have to dress warm.”

Her heart did that funny twist, and this time her stomach engaged, doing a full flip. There was a part of her that hoped he was right and she really was allergic to alcohol. Still, she doubted that she could blame her bad behavior on that. She decided to focus on his offer. A ride on his bike. That could be just plain awesome.

“A ride? On your motorcycle?” She loved the idea.

“Yeah. That would be the ride, Seychelle. You have to learn to trust me, and there’s no better way than on the back of my bike.”

Now her heart was accelerating right into the danger zone. “Savage, I need you to tell me what we’re doing here. Because you’ve never really shown a lot of interest in me . . . um . . . sexually. I thought you wanted a friendship. That was difficult enough for me to try to explain.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, reached across her and snagged the bottle of water. “Drink this now. Who are you trying to explain our friendship to?”

“Me.” She drank because he sat there watching her, very closely, those blue eyes like twin flames just burning into her. She’d never met anyone who could focus completely the way he did. He never once took his eyes off her.

“You have difficulty explaining our friendship to you?”

Put like that, with that little hint of male amusement, it made her head want to explode. She sounded like an idiot. Exasperated, she drank more water. “Yes. What’s going on? It isn’t like you’re looking at me for . . .” She broke off, unsure what she wanted to say.

“I’m looking at you like you’re my everything, which you are. You just don’t know it yet, and you’re scared to death of me.”

She shook her head before she could stop herself. What was the use, anyway? There was something about him that made her want to give him the truth, even if it left her stripped bare. “I’m not so much afraid of you as what you’ll do to me. There is no way I can be with you and not get hurt. Really hurt. That cut-to-the-bone kind of hurt. I don’t want that. You already shredded my heart, and I can’t go there again. I just can’t. Knowing you’re going to be with other women so you can satisfy some dark craving I can’t . . .” She broke off, shaking her head.

She wanted to be the one to satisfy his darker cravings but was too terrified to do more than fantasize. She didn’t even know exactly what he really wanted or needed, only that every time she caught glimpses, they made her body come alive in ways she hadn’t known it could.

He was silent for a long time, those eyes of his drifting possessively over her face and down her body. She had one leg out from under the sheets. Her scarred leg. The pits went from her ankle all the way up the side of her leg to the top of her thigh, where gravel had dug deep. His gaze fell on that, and immediately he circled her ankle with his hand and began to move his palm up her leg. Even his touch was possessive. Every time he did that, rubbed with his palm, she felt he was claiming her.

She wanted him to deny that he would hurt her. She needed him to say it, although she wouldn’t have believed him. The rage in him was violent and barely contained. It beat at her, and eventually, she had to open up and allow it in, allow her peace to surround him and slowly absorb the brutal needs in him.

“There aren’t going to be other women,” he said quietly. “And you’ll learn to be what I need.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I don’t understand.”

“You will. I’ll teach you.”

“You aren’t telling me I won’t get hurt,” she pointed out.

“I want to tell you that won’t happen, Seychelle, but there always has to be truth between us. You have to learn that I’ll always tell you the truth no matter what, no matter how much it might hurt or scare you, and I’ll know that you’ll do the same for me. We’ve got a lot to talk about. Hit the bathroom while I get you some soup.”

She wanted the bathroom break, especially to brush her teeth, but her stomach lurched at the idea of eating. “I’ll be right back, but nothing to eat yet.”

She hurried, her heart racing. At least they were going to talk things out. She had no problems being straight with him, telling him how she felt, but he had to accept that she couldn’t be with him, not when he needed to be with other women—and he did, no matter what he said now.

She even believed him when he said she was his everything. He came back to her over and over. He suffered just the way she had, all those nights outside her window. She’d felt it when they’d breathed together with a wall separating them.

Those women in the bar. The way they’d fixated on him. She couldn’t take that, not knowing he would go back to them and give them what he would never give her. She wasn’t the type of woman to share. She didn’t know about the other women who were with the men in the Torpedo Ink club, but she knew, emotionally, she just wasn’t built that way.

She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror. She’d tried being without him. That hadn’t worked so well. She’d thought she could be with him. That hadn’t worked either. She looked pale and strained. Her hair was a mess. She vaguely remembered Savage holding her braid to keep it off her face when she was puking nonstop. Great. Lovely. She sighed again. There was no use hiding. She might as well get it over with.

Seychelle went back into her bedroom, climbing up onto the bed, scooting up to her favorite place, back to the headboard, where she felt a little safer as she faced him. He looked . . . invincible. So tough. Scary even. Sexy as hell. Always her choice, and she didn’t even know why, but she wasn’t going to be that woman, pushed into something she knew wouldn’t work because she was so in love. She had spent the last month acting like her life was over, moping over a man who preferred other women sexually, and her for what? Sleeping? She had to get her tough on and stand up for herself.

Savage sat on the edge of the bed, shaping her ankle with his palm the way he always did, as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. His touch was gentle. The pads of his fingers moved over her skin in small strokes. Like caresses. Like sin. Like the promise of something she could never have with him.

“You’ve got your chin up, babe. I know what that means. You’re spoiling for a fight.” His eyes turned bluer than ever. “We’re not fighting here. We’re going to do this thing. You and me, Seychelle. There’s going to be a you and me.”

She shook her head, her heart beating too hard. Hoping. Afraid to hope. Afraid of being hurt again. “I don’t see how. I just don’t see how it can work. I want it to work more than anything, but how can it?” She kept her gaze fixed on his face. His eyes. The way they moved over her face. Her body. Taking her in. So much for her resolve. He melted it away just by the way he looked at her.

“You have to learn to trust me, and that trust has to be so strong that you know you can tell me anything. I’ll listen to you, Seychelle. I’ll hear you and we’ll talk it out. The two of us. We’ll work through the problems together and it will be all right.”

“But it won’t. I tried to tell you about those other women in the bar last night. How they couldn’t keep their eyes off you. The way they made me feel. But you just dismissed my feelings as if they didn’t count.”

He was silent for a long time, his gaze moving over her face, his fingers moving on her calf. “I shouldn’t have done that, Seychelle. In all honesty, I couldn’t have identified those women to you. I don’t know their names. They mean absolutely nothing to me. I know that makes me sound like a dick, but it’s the truth, and we have to have truth between us. The only woman who matters to me is you. I didn’t see anyone else last night. So yeah, I did dismiss what I considered unimportant. I shouldn’t have. Just because they weren’t important to me didn’t mean they weren’t important to you.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t expected him to admit he was wrong. Savage didn’t seem the type of man to ever say he was wrong. She liked that he had.

His palm slid up and down her leg. His touch was mesmerizing. The heat he generated slipped through her pores into her bloodstream. Even the sight of his hand on her bare leg was almost hypnotizing.

“You’re the only woman who matters to me. I don’t want another woman sexually, Seychelle. I want you. I wanted you when I left you this last time. The idea of another woman touching me was abhorrent to me. Quite frankly, it disgusted me.”

She knew he was telling the truth. She’d shared that moment with him when he’d picked her up on Doris’s porch and she felt his distaste of the woman. “I don’t understand why you went to her, Savage. You knew I would have done anything for you.”

His hand slid behind her knee, making her breath catch. “I couldn’t get you ready in time, baby. I can get you there, but it takes time. That’s something we have to talk about. Things I need. Things you have to go into our relationship knowing, with your eyes wide open. I want you to ask questions if you don’t understand something. You need to know this isn’t going to be easy, but I swear to you, I’ll never let you down. Never.”

Seychelle swallowed every question she had, her heart beating so loud it sounded like thunder booming in her ears.

“I want a full commitment from you, baby, but you have to know what being my woman means. There are rules, and those rules are always going to be there. More, you have to know what being with me is going to be like.”

Her heart thudded. There it was. She knew it was coming. Her mouth went dry, and deliberately she took another sip of water. “Rules?” She’d never been good with rules. Never. She’d grown up without them. She went her own way. Did her own thing.

“I’m fucked up. Don’t pretend you don’t know, Seychelle. You knew it the moment you made the decision to save my life. You connected with me. I felt it. You felt it. You slipped inside me and you know what’s there. It isn’t pretty, and it scares the hell out of you.”

She couldn’t deny it, but at the same time, she was drawn to him. That was one side of him, not all of him. He couldn’t hide the best part of him, that giving part, so selfless, looking out for his brethren, for her. She had seen the violence in him, but she’d also seen his tremendous need to protect those he loved. That determination to stop their pain when it was so strong they couldn’t bear it, because he had the capacity to love that much.

“There has to be truth between us at all times, because this lifestyle demands it. My sexual practices are disturbing to others, but hot as hell and arousing for me. I have to have them in order to be in any way both aroused and satisfied.”

His hand never stopped stroking those caresses up and down her leg. It felt good. It felt like possession. The things he said were terrifying, and yet at the same time, just the fact that he was willing to give that to her pulled her deeper into him.

“I went to a friend of mine, one of the brothers in my club, Absinthe. He’s the smartest man I know. I wanted him to tell me I could learn to be different if I was with a woman who truly meant something to me. I’d done my research, and everything I read said no. I was already having too many fantasies about us, so I was worried.”

His gaze touched on her breasts under her thin tank, and instantly her nipples hardened. Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. The pads of his fingers brushed over the tops of her breasts, raising goose bumps over her skin. “I spent weeks imagining what your nipples were like. I even asked Ice to make me several different kinds of jewelry for you.”

The idea intrigued her. More than that, she felt her body react, go damp. She’d looked up nipple clamps on an adult site several times and read about them and then been ashamed of herself for even thinking about such things. The idea that Savage had thought of it for her, even had his friend make jewelry for her, sent hot blood pooling wickedly low.

He slid his hand under her tank, first cupping her breast and then finding her nipple to pinch, at first gently, but then biting down with steady pressure as his other hand slid up her thigh, his fingers dancing close to her slick heat. She gasped, her nipple stinging, but before she could protest, his mouth was on her other breast, right through the material of her tank, and his fingers brushed her clit. She cried out, nearly exploding with a mini orgasm.

Her breathing turned ragged as he lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes turbulent, hot-burning flames of blue. His hands were once more back on her leg, but his expression was pure possession.

“I dreamt of your nipples, baby, and the things I could do with them to bring you pleasure. To bring us both pleasure. Things that would scare you at first, but I knew I could make you love in the end. Still, I didn’t want this life for you. I went to Absinthe hoping he would tell me I could learn to be someone else for you. I already knew that answer, because there’s no going back for me, Seychelle. If you’re with me, if you’re my woman, my partner, you have to live my lifestyle. That’s the bottom line. You’re with me, you live this lifestyle with me, because I can’t get out of it.”

She swallowed hard, because there was caution in his tone and caution in his mind, even if his eyes were alive with those bright, hot flames and his hand on her leg felt like pure possession. Her breasts ached for him. Her nipples were so hard now, pulsing with a dark desire she had no understanding of but he’d given her a sudden taste for.

Secretly, that forbidden need for a mixture of pain with pleasure had been there all along. She didn’t know why, and it scared her, embarrassed her, humiliated her. She didn’t understand why the nice men she had tried to date hadn’t aroused her at all. Only Savage. When he had turned her around in the alley, lifted the hem of her dress and swatted the cheeks of her bottom, he’d done it hard. That heat and pain had spread, morphing into something altogether different and setting up a craving for more.

“I didn’t think I had anything to give you back when I would be asking so much from you. But you need me just as much as I need you. You can’t control your gift of healing. It’s eating you alive. If you don’t stop, Seychelle, you’re not going to live long, and you know it. I can help you with that. While you were driving me insane deciding whether or not you could let me back into your life, I found a woman with a gift similar to yours and asked her how she manages it. She gave me a lot of tips.”

Seychelle was shocked. Savage was not the kind of man to go outside his circle for advice.

“You won’t always like me saying enough, but once we figure it out and we have our signals, you’ll be able to sing with the band and go where you want as long as you look to me when you know you’re in over your head. I’ll trust you to give me the heads-up when you need me to step in, and you trust me to do it. When I say you’re done, you are. That means, baby, I’m willing to carry your sweet little ass out of the bar, or away from one of your friends’ houses, right at that moment. That’s going to be the number one rule we have between us. Always, always when I say you’re done, you have to agree that you are. That is what’s going to keep you alive, and more than anything, Seychelle, you have to be alive and in this world.”

He was being serious. Very serious. She did her best to suppress a smile, but one slipped out before she could stop it. “Rules? Savage, I haven’t lived with rules ever. You do get that my parents were ill, and I ran the household? At eight, no one was telling me what to do. I took over paying the bills around the time I turned twelve. I got part-time jobs to help out with money until my father hit it big with his software program. I was thirteen when I started contributing. I don’t do rules very well.”

“Then you’re going to have a fuckin’ hard few months until you do, baby.” He was implacable. “I have to live with rules in order to keep sane. That means my woman does as well. You do have a choice whether or not you want to make that commitment to me, and it’s a big decision. This right here, the first rule, that’s to save your life. This is the easy one. It isn’t about controlling you, Seychelle, this is the one that gives you freedom.”

Seychelle pressed her lips together. Savage was doing his best to lay things out for her. His truth. Her needs. She knew he wanted to be very clear what she was facing before she made a commitment to him, but a part of her wanted to jump in blindfolded with both feet. Learn along the way. One tiny thing at a time, as long as he knew what she needed from him. Her needs weren’t a long laundry list, but he was right. She did need help with her gift.

“You have to commit to that. Out loud. You tell me you’re with me on that, and after we go through this we’ll sit down and figure out what works for you. But I need to hear the words, babe. You have to give that to me.”

Savage was a man who would demand she lean on him, not the other way around. She knew she wouldn’t live long if she kept going the way she was. “Savage.” She kept her voice low. “If we end up together, of course I’ll commit to allowing you to say when I’ve had enough. Hopefully you’re right, and we can come up with ways to control my inability to stop taking on too much sickness.”

She meant it too. Nothing would make her happier. She knew her inability to control her gift was slowly killing her. She hadn’t realized Savage knew it, and it melted her heart that he’d gone to another healer to try to find a way to help her. She hadn’t expected that. He’d surprised her twice.

“We’re going to end up together, Seychelle. You have to have that in your mind when I’m laying this out for you, or every step of the way, you’re going to be protesting. You already know it’s going to be a shit deal for you. If it wasn’t, I would have laid it out weeks ago, and we wouldn’t have been in this mess.”

That was so true. She wasn’t a coward. She wanted this. She wanted him. She had no real idea of what to expect of his lifestyle. She might have caught frightening glimpses that had intrigued her, but at the same time, she knew she wasn’t even close to knowing what he might ultimately demand from her. And then there were the women . . .

If she couldn’t be what he needed, she was terrified she’d lose him to them. “You said it would just be the two of us, Savage. You and me. How do I know that’s the truth?”

She leaned her head against the headboard. His touch was mesmerizing her. The way his eyes focused so completely on her sent hot blood rushing through her veins. Her stomach reacted with a slow roll, and no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, her sex clenched hard, needing him.

“Because as much as I fucking hate it, I tell you the truth about me. I give you my word. I give you the real man.”

The pads of his fingers slid over her leg. He bent his head, and his lips were there, following the path of his fingers, a whisper of velvet, a touch of his tongue, as if he was tasting the sacrifice she’d made—her flawless skin for his life. He was blatantly seducing her into staying, and she was letting him when she should be thinking about self-preservation.

Savage ached for Seychelle. Her struggles touched him, a physical reaction, an actual heavy ache in his chest. So many weeks with her now, knowing her. Wanting her. Seeing who she was. “All those nights I lay right there on this bed next to you, wrapping my arms around your hips, laying my head on your belly and falling asleep. I don’t do that, I don’t ever lay in a bed with a woman. I don’t fall asleep on her. You’re . . .” He searched for the right word.

She needed to know what she meant to him. He could see she didn’t have the confidence that she would be different to him than any other woman. “Extraordinary.”

She blinked, her long lashes sweeping down and then back up. Her fingers plucked nervously at the sheet. He covered her hand gently.

“I lay there a long time, listening to your heartbeat. Thinking about what I would be asking of you. I realized I have to give you that same exact measure of surrender. If I want you all in, I have to make that same commitment to you—only to you.” He wanted her to have that assurance.

“That was easy to do, Seychelle. I was already there, long before you. I was already so in love with you, just looking at you hurt sometimes. I wake up and breathe you in, happy you’re on this earth.”

All the while, his hand moved over her belly. His touch was very gentle, showing her he could be, he would be, gentle with her. “I know that’s not much in the face of what I’m asking of you, but it’s all I can give you. My promise that you have me one hundred percent. Everything I am is yours.”

Tears glittered in her eyes. His heart jerked hard in his chest. He had her. She was still fighting for self-preservation, but he had her. He didn’t make the mistake of saying any more. She had to think about it. Ask questions.

Her tongue touched her lip. “What I saw with that woman. That isn’t all you need, is it? You weren’t satisfied.”

He didn’t look away from her, looked right into her eyes, unflinching. “I wasn’t at all satisfied. Not even close. She wasn’t you, and by that time I needed just you. But no, my cravings are much, much darker than even what I did with her.”

“The things you need scare me, Savage. You really scare me.”

“That’s understandable, Seychelle. The things I need during sex to be aroused are very frightening to most women. You don’t just jump into them, but I can teach you to enjoy them with me. I can bring you so much pleasure it will be unbelievable, baby, but there will be pain involved. Only you can decide whether or not I’m worth what you would have to endure in order to learn to enjoy it.”

Her gaze jumped to his face again. He tried not to grip her leg to keep her there, but it was a struggle. That was another brutally honest moment, and he knew he could easily lose her.

“What’s involved?”

He gave a little shake of his head, but he didn’t back off from telling her. “You already have a little idea. I like nipple play, so clamps. Ginger. Spankings. Strap. Cane. Flogger. Whips. I’ll work you up to that.” He continued to stroke her leg, draw his name on her. Write silent little pleas that she would have the courage to love him enough to overcome the fear of what he was asking of her.

Seychelle fell silent again, moistening her lips while she thought it over. “You can really get me to like all that? To find some kind of pleasure in it?”

His heart jumped. He had thought she might order him out. Bog, but she was courageous. He’d thought he couldn’t love her more, but every minute that he was in her company just added to the way that emotion swamped him. “Yeah, baby, there’s no doubt I can do that. I can give you my word that you’ll have multiple orgasms and they’ll be wild. You’ll crave sex with me, just the way I do with you.”

“How do you know I’ll like it?”

“We tried our dirty, sinful sex lesson and you got off, remember? I got a little carried away when I was smacking your ass, because my handprints looked so perfect on you. You just about shattered, and we hadn’t done anything. When I get rough with your nipples, your body responds. In the shower, baby, you were very responsive to nipple play. That isn’t the case with everyone. And you love me. You want to please me.”

“And?” she prompted.

He sighed. “You’ve seen the words branded into my skin. They were put there for a reason. I’m damn good. I was a child learning that shit. I was forced to continue through my teens and early into my twenties and then was able to get out. Telling you that is for later, and you’re the only one I’ll ever give that to. The bottom line is, you’re the only woman I want for myself. I used other women when my cycle got to the point that I needed to get rid of some of the rage inside me, but I never used my skills on them. Never.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. You say you used other women, but not your skills.”

“Anyone can use a fuckin’ whip, Seychelle. A few strikes, get the job done, shove your cock down their throat and get a little relief. That’s what I mean by not using my skills on any other woman. With you, I would want to actually put my marks on you. Patterns. I would lay awake every damn night thinking about it, craving it, wishing for one woman, my woman. You. You’re the only woman I crave to use my skills on. They’re considerable. The minute I laid eyes on you, I started putting in real time making certain I would never make a mistake.”

There was pride in his voice, and he couldn’t keep it out. Maybe there should have been shame, but he was long past that. He had come to terms with who he was, what he was, and now that he had accepted that he was going to claim her, he wasn’t going to apologize. He still expected her to tell him to go to hell and get out. What woman would stay after that confession? But she sat there in her favorite spot, just looking at him with her big blue eyes, making it impossible for him to tell what she was thinking.

“You’ve thought about this a lot.”

“Just about every fucking minute of the day since I met you.” He slid his palm up her thigh. “I look at your skin and know it’s mine.” He dropped his hand over his hard cock. “That’s arousing, Seychelle, just the thought of what I can do. What you would let me do. The tears that you give to me. They’re mine.” He’d said that before to her, but she never asked him what he meant. He’d stolen those tears more than once from her, and she hadn’t stopped him.

She took a deep breath. “I’m at my limit right now. I have to think about what you’ve said. I’d really like to take that ride with you.”

She would like the bike. That was a plus on his side. He nodded and slid off the bed. “Dress warm, baby. It’s cold on the highway at night.”

He watched her slide off the bed. The way she moved was poetry. More than her looks, it was the brightness shining out of her that got to him. He felt it when he was with her. He was dark and ugly inside. She was light and so damned good he had no business pulling her down to his level, but it didn’t matter. It really wasn’t a choice anymore, not now that he knew she existed, not now that he’d been with her for so many weeks and he knew she needed him. He would be careful with her, but at the same time, it was necessary to prepare her for the bad times—and there were always going to be bad times with him.

She went into the bathroom, and he waited a couple of minutes and then opened the door and leaned against the doorjamb. She looked startled, outraged and then resigned.

“Do you understand about privacy?” She didn’t even bother to get angry.

“I understand very little about it,” he admitted, uncaring about anyone else and their privacy. This was about conditioning. This was about slowly drawing her into his world.

“Great. I’ll explain it to you. Privacy is where a person is free from being observed by another person. In this case, me shutting the door means don’t disturb me, I want to be alone.”

“Thanks for that explanation. In this case, I don’t really give a fuck. I wanted to tell you something.”

“What was so important you thought you would disturb my privacy?”

Now there was amusement in her voice. He liked that about her. She had a great sense of humor, and she was going to need it.

“Not certain you deserve to know.”

“Fine, don’t tell me. Just remember the definition of privacy.”

“I will, baby, if you promise to remember that you follow my rules.”

Her gaze met his across the room. “Do your rules include me not going to the bathroom by myself? Because, seriously, if you have a fetish that includes anything to do with the bathroom, that’s kind of a deal breaker for me right off the bat.”

“No fetish, babe. Just don’t like you closing doors on me.”

She studied his expression for a long time, so long he felt his heart begin to accelerate. “Are you going to lay out your rules for me, or do I have to guess at them?”

“I’ll lay them out, Seychelle. Because breaking them carries consequences, some pretty rough. It wouldn’t be fair to you if you didn’t know the rules ahead of time. I am Torpedo Ink, same as my brothers and Alena and Lana. There are rules to living in a club as well.”

“What happened to freedom, Savage? I thought clubs were all about freedom.”

“Just as society has bullshit rules, we have them too.”

She blinked and then laughed as she washed her hands in the sink. “At least you’re aware your rules are bullshit.”

“Yeah, they’re bullshit, but you still have to follow them. It’s the only way to keep me sane.” He waited until she pulled on jeans and a sweater, then held out his hand. “Let’s go. You’re going to get a real taste of what freedom is.”

She took his hand with only the briefest of hesitations. He pulled her into him. She was small, soft and all curves. He loved fitting her close to him.

“Where are we going?”

“Up the coast.” He swept his arm around her and walked her out to his bike. Just the sight of it settled him. The two things that mattered most in his world were coming together. He handed her gloves and then checked to make certain her jacket was very warm. He turned her so she was facing away from him, and he put his arms around her in order to zip the jacket all the way up.

“I’m going over the bike with you, babe, so don’t be nervous. You’re shaking.”

“I am a little nervous,” she admitted. “But mostly I’m excited.”

He showed her the foot pegs, folding and unfolding them, and explained how to get on and off. He explained how hot the pipes could get and to keep clear. He took her patiently through everything there was about being on a bike with him. He was a little astonished when she repeated everything back to him verbatim.

“I want your arms around my waist, Seychelle, at all times. When I lean, you just go with me. Not any further. Just exactly what I do. Like we’re making love. You got that, baby? You think you’re ready for this?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

Savage put Seychelle’s helmet on her, making certain it was snug. He made a mental note to buy her motorcycle gear.

She got on like a pro, swinging up behind him and settling close. Her arms circled his waist and then her hands pressed into his belly. He fuckin’ loved that. He hadn’t known what it would feel like, but it felt natural. Like she belonged.

Then they were flying down the road. Highway 1 was a perfect road for motorcycles. The curves were sweet, banking first one way and then the other. Some were wide and sweeping, while others were tight. There were switchbacks and then stretches of open road, all with the ocean on one side and the mountains rising on the other.

Savage had never allowed a woman on the back of his bike. He would have taken Lana or Alena, had they needed it, but they were his sisters. He’d grown up with them and he had known both since they were toddlers, but they had their own motorcycles. He’d been apprehensive about how he would feel with Seychelle on his bike, his one sanctuary.

She moved with him. The slightest shift in his body, and her body followed his. She was a natural rider. A natural passenger. She didn’t anticipate, she only moved when he did. To Savage, it felt as if they were one being, man, woman and machine. It was a little surreal and very sexy. He became aware of the heavy vibration of his ride. The pulsation moved through his body, taking him places he had never gone when she wasn’t with him.

As they roared down the highway, he knew the connection between them continued to grow. He felt it. That woman in her, reaching for him, adjusting to the road with him, draining that hot rage inside of him away, the way the bike and the open highway did. He dropped his hand over hers and pressed her palms deep into his belly. Over his jacket. His colors.

Savage had plenty of practice living in the moment. He chose to do that right then. Live in that moment with Seychelle and his bike. He let the wind take him. He wrapped his hand around her thigh possessively and settled back to let the machine move through the turns with the ease of long practice. His Night Rod Special was smooth and took every curve as if it weren’t there.

He heard the others coming up behind him long before they actually managed to catch up, although he’d been going slow, mostly for Seychelle’s sake. He wanted her to get used to the way the bike reacted to every bend in the road. He wanted to get a feel for her moving with him. There was satisfaction in knowing she trusted him implicitly on the back of his bike. She would need that same trust in every aspect of their relationship.

He took her to his favorite place, where the bluff overlooked the ocean. It would give the others a chance to catch up before they hit the restaurant in Elk. He liked the food, as a rule. The place wasn’t Alena’s, but they had a good chef. He helped her dismount, knowing her legs would be shaky. She kept her hand on his shoulder for a few moments, steadying herself before she stepped away and carefully walked toward the edge.

“Don’t get too close,” he cautioned, coming up behind her and putting his arms around her waist. She leaned back against him, almost without thinking. “Love it when the sun goes down—you can see the water turning colors,” he added.

The bikes came up behind them. Four of them. He glanced over his shoulder to see Reaper helping Anya off his Harley-Davidson Fat Boy Softail. The paint was a dark burgundy, like dried blood. Dark black leather seat, black trim, black chrome, and there was an image of a scythe with a heart wrapped around it. His brother and his old lady. Anya, in such a short time, had become a sister to Savage. She was very accepting of everyone. She waited patiently while Reaper situated the bike, and then he slung his arm around her and walked her up beside Savage and Seychelle.

Anya bumped his hip. “See you brought your girl to the best spot to watch the sunset.” She gave Seychelle a cheerful smile. “I love evenings on the coast. The sun always looks like it’s pouring gold into the sea.”

“Or flames,” Savage said, his mouth close to Seychelle’s ear.

“It is beautiful,” Seychelle agreed, giving Anya a quick, welcoming smile.

Her gaze went straight back to the sun. It appeared huge, a giant red-gold ball dropping fast from the sky, pouring colors into the water.

Preacher, Ink and Code had arrived with Reaper and Anya. They came up behind them, their gazes drawn to the colors streaking across the sky and turning the sea into a panorama of golds, reds and oranges, blazing as it sank into the water. It was a breathtaking sight, and Seychelle reacted, turning her face up to look at Savage over her shoulder.

“It’s always different, isn’t it?” she said to him.

Savage took advantage, one hand cupping Seychelle’s face to keep her there as he bent to brush his lips gently over hers. Coaxing. Seducing. His heart lurched, and he pulled back abruptly, love for her swamping him.

“It is always different,” Anya answered for him. “I love this coast. Sometimes it’s wild and turbulent, so stormy it looks like something out of a gothic novel, and then it’s like glass, smooth, brilliant and so calm it looks like you could walk on it.”

“Kind of like you,” Reaper said, his arm tightening around her neck.

She threw back her head and laughed. Seychelle laughed with her, and Savage found the sound spread out for him in the form of musical notes, floating out toward the sea and that amazing spinning ball of fire. The notes were golden, skipping through the air on the slight breeze. He often saw sounds as notes, and when he was young, he used to point them out to his brother and others, but no one else could see them. He’d learned to judge people by the colors of the notes. He hadn’t seen them in years—not until Seychelle brought them back in the form of gold.

Code nudged Savage. “Message came in for Czar. Plank wants another meet.”

Savage wanted time with Seychelle. As much as he could get. He sent Code a look that warned him to back off. He didn’t want to have to explain anything to do with the club before he clarified what she would be getting into if she chose to stay with him. And, God help them both, he needed her to stay.

“The sea does look like you could walk on it,” Preacher said. “Maybe we should toss Ink out there and see if he can.”

“Yeah, and I can, so then what would you do? Worship me as you should. As all the ladies do.”

Savage put his hands over Seychelle’s ears. “Don’t listen, babe, he’s full of shit.”

“I think all of you are,” Seychelle said, laughing, those golden notes floating out to sea.

Savage was captivated by her sound. He couldn’t help but laugh as well. It wasn’t a big laugh, because he was very rusty, but it was there. That soft, underlying note in her voice seemed to reach inside him and find an answering note in him.

Never once had he seen his own musical notes floating in the air. Not as a child. Not as a teen. Not even when he rode his bike or wore his colors. Now he could see them, plain as day, traveling with hers, interlocking her gold to his deeper antique silver. They linked together, melted into each other, blending colors so that they gleamed like flames as the sun plunged into the sea.

His breath caught in his throat. His chest hurt, as if a huge weight pressed down on him. His lungs burned for air. He couldn’t take his gaze from the spot where those notes sank with the blazing fire of the sun. Her notes were beautiful, like she was, inside and out. He had always thought, if he could see notes he created, they would be dark and ugly, but they hadn’t been.

His notes were darker than hers, and they didn’t skitter across the sky in the same joyful way hers had, but they were beautiful in their own way. And they overtook hers and merged so that, joined, they appeared different, even more brilliant, although the colors were deeper, and took on the fiery colors that were falling into the sea. When they disappeared beneath the water, he stood, arms around her, transfixed, unable to move or even think.

“That was amazing,” Seychelle whispered, as in awe as he was, although he was certain it was the sunset and not the musical notes they shared.

He reached for her hand and brought her palm to his chest as they turned back toward the bikes. “You need to eat something. There’s a great little restaurant a few more miles up the road in Elk, unless you’re getting too cold or uncomfortable.”

Seychelle looked up at him, started to reply but then hesitated.

“It’s good food, Seychelle,” Preacher said.

“We’re not that far from it,” Reaper pointed out.

“The chef is nearly as good as Alena,” Ink added. “Okay, not nearly her caliber, but he’s good. You’ll like it.”

“She’s not used to riding on a motorcycle, and we still have to make it back home,” Savage interjected, running interference, just in case.

“I’m good,” Seychelle said, her free hand rubbing her backside with a rueful little grin. “It’s just that you didn’t get much sleep last night, Savage, and you have to be tired.”

He kept himself from looking at the others, but his heart sank. She’d been more aware than any of them thought the night before. No one outside their club could know about that meeting with the Diamondbacks, especially since everything had gone to hell. They were all concerned that Plank might change his mind and retaliate against Tawny for blowing his deal immediately. It wouldn’t be pretty, and it would be permanent. They had to have alibis that were not only plausible but tight if the Diamondbacks really went through with killing the bitch before the run and blaming her death on Alena.

“Babe. I woke up in your bed, my head in your lap.”

She blushed and avoided looking at the others. “I got so drunk you were up half the night with me sick.”

“I slept during the day with you. I’m good.” Relief swept through him, along with another emotion he wasn’t used to experiencing. She’d been concerned for him. She’d been sick. She had awakened dehydrated with a hell of a headache. She was in an uncertain situation, yet she was expressing concern for him. That was a new one for him. “Let’s get something to eat.”

She nodded and flashed a small smile. “Thank you for that sunset. It was beyond beautiful.” She looked around her. “I’ve never been this far south on this road. I should explore more. I’ve got a good little car for it.”

“Now you’ve got me,” he corrected. He handed her the helmet and waited for her to put it on before he helped her onto the bike. “I love to ride these roads. We can go together.”

“I’d like that.” She smiled at him, one hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t realize how much you could see from the back of a motorcycle.”

Savage watched Seychelle through dinner. He’d purposely had her sit beside Anya so the two women could get to know each other better. The women of Torpedo Ink would become the female companionship she needed, her sisters, the ones she’d never had. He remained quiet. He wasn’t much of a talker, although when they were alone, he seemed to have more to say. He enjoyed watching her have a good time. When she laughed, her entire face lit up. He dropped a hand onto her thigh, because he needed that connection with her. She put her hand over his as if she knew he needed that physical link right at that moment.

Anya, Preacher, Code and Ink carried most of the conversation, but Seychelle joined in, and he liked that she wasn’t the least bit afraid of expressing her opinion, although she was very thoughtful about what she said. She definitely had no problems debating with any of them.

He rubbed his palm up and down her thigh, and then transferred her hand to his thigh. She glanced up at him and smiled. His heart nearly stopped. That smile was his alone. Reserved for him. It felt intimate in a way he’d never experienced before. He tucked stray strands of her thick, gold-and-platinum-colored hair behind her ear and reached for his coffee cup with his free hand.

Her palm burned a brand through his jeans. Marking him. He loved her so fucking much, and that was unexpected and took getting used to. She leaned in close and put her mouth against his ear. Now his heart reacted by pounding. Accelerating.

“I can make an excuse to leave if you need to get out of here.” Her lips brushed against his earlobe with every word, a soft, velvety caress that sent fingers of desire dancing up his thighs and down his spine. “You have a headache.”

He did. His head was pounding. He knew when they got home, he had to really explain everything. She would either commit or walk out on him. He’d never been so afraid of losing in his life.

Seychelle didn’t hesitate. “I got a little crazy last night and drank way too much. I’m sorry, everyone, but I think I need to just call it a night and get back home. This has been so fun, though. I’m sorry to cut it short.”

Savage immediately stood, throwing money on the table. “You all stay and finish your coffee. We’ll head back.”

More money was thrown on the table, and Reaper signaled the waiter. “We’re finished. We’ll ride with you.”

His family, surrounding them. Taking his back. Taking her back. Showing Seychelle she wouldn’t be alone living with the monster.