TWELVE

Savage waited until Seychelle had gotten ready for bed. There was something comforting about lying in bed with her. Holding her. And she was brave in that bed. She had the courage to be alone in the dark with him. Now more than ever, she knew what she was facing. Not the details, but that darkness in him that was never going away.

He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots, making it clear he was staying. She shot him several nervous glances, but she didn’t protest, and so far she hadn’t run screaming from him. He knew she had the kind of courage it would take to be with him. She’d run into the path of a truck when no one else had dared to move, to save his life.

“I had a wonderful time, Savage. I love being on the motorcycle with you.”

“That’s good, baby, because you’re going to be spending quite a bit of time there.” He didn’t look at her as he hung his jacket on the back of the chair.

Seychelle moved past him, leaving a trail behind, that faint fragrance of wild strawberries. He had no idea, when he’d been in her shower and seen her products, how she could smell and taste like that, but she did. He turned to watch her crawl onto the bed from the end of it. She was graceful, on her hands and knees, her lace-covered ass swaying as she moved to the top of the bed.

Immediately, erotic images crowded into his mind. There was no stopping them. His handprints decorating those perfect pale globes. Red stripes across them, running from the top of the curve to her thighs. A plug pushed deep between those cheeks, preparing her for him. A vibe. Gingerroot carved in the shape of a thick penis. His cock responded all on its own, a fucking miracle when it never had before, because men residing in hell didn’t get erections.

She settled with her back to the headboard, legs stretched out in that way she had. He turned off the lights but left the window shade open so the reflection of the moonlight spilling down onto the wide ocean surface would light the room enough for him to read her. The revolving base beneath the intertwined rose sculpture cast colors up on the ceiling. He stripped, leaving just his jeans, although they weren’t staying on. He just wanted her to feel safe. He needed her to hear him out.

“We have to get everything worked out tonight, Seychelle.” He sank down onto the bed and reached for her, sliding his hand onto her bare hip. That pale skin. It would show every mark for a long time. His cock stirred restlessly, pulsing like the monster inside of him, already seeing the results of the whip on her skin.

“It’s a lot to take in, Savage.”

“I know it is, baby, but we have to get it done. I want you to agree to be my old lady. My woman. My wife. Not just because I decreed it, saying if you came into the club that was what it meant. You have to make that choice knowing what you’re facing. Knowing what I want and would expect from you. It isn’t a surprise, but you’re going to have to listen to me very carefully, Seychelle. If you agree to be with me, you’re all in. You don’t get to back out when the going gets tough—and it will. I’m letting you know up front, it won’t be easy.” Savage stroked her thigh. “And this life. I’m going to be honest. Once I teach you to like these things, there’s no going back from that.”

She liked sitting with her back to the headboard. He’d been with her enough to know she was comfortable there. Relaxed. He turned onto his side and laid his head on her belly, his arm around her hips. That was his favorite place. For some reason, when he held her like that, his demons calmed and he found a place of peace.

“I’m listening.”

He heard the note in her voice—that small hitch of fear. This time, he knew it was because she wanted to be with him—she wanted to take his offer, and she feared that he was going to say something to make her back out. He shared her fear.

He was grateful that she had the courage and was willing to hear him out. If she did learn to crave pain with pleasure, she would need it, would always have to have it in order to be truly satisfied physically. That had been his hesitation all along. Taking her down this path with him meant she would be all in, no going back. He wanted her to know, no matter what, no matter how tough things got, once they were committed, he was just as committed, and he would work things out. Make it work between them.

“It’s important you know that once you’re in, you don’t get out. We work things out. I’ll stay, Seychelle. I’ll be faithful. I’ll be committed to making you happy. But we don’t divorce. We make it work.”

“That might be difficult, Savage, when I have no idea what any of this means. You tend to be a dictator when you want your way.”

That was the truth, and it always would be. He traced his name on her hip. “It’s always going to be my way, baby. You know that. You’re going to do things the way I need them done. That’s the only way I can stay sane. I’m being honest with you. I need certain things in my life, and I have to have them. That means you give them to me. I need your obedience.”

“Like a child?”

“No, not like a child.” How could he explain? Make her understand? “When I say that, I mean you do what you enjoy doing, but you follow the rules when you’re doing it. You have to trust me enough to know I’ll always see to your happiness, but if you don’t do what I say, there’s going to be consequences.”

“Like?”

“Like what you’ve already earned. You got drunk and you almost went off with another man. I told you to go home and you didn’t do it.”

“We weren’t together.” She waved her hand dismissively.

He wasn’t buying it. “We were together. You came to the club. I laid it out for you. I was plain when I laid that out. You knew when you walked in the bar that you were stating you chose me. I had already told you I had chosen you. You were scared, and you ran. You didn’t trust me. That earns you a punishment.”

“I’m not five. Why in the world would you want to punish me?”

“Because I like it.” His hand curled around her thigh, his fingers pressing deep while he confessed. She had to know what he was. She had to live with it—with him. With his darkest needs. “I even crave it. Right now, my cock is a fuckin’ steel rod because I know I’m going to put my handprints on your ass. You’re going to cry when I do. You’ll beg me to stop, and I’m going to get even harder because I can’t resist your tears or your pleas. I’ll take your tears away, one by one, and make it all better by making you scream my name when you come.”

There was a long silence. He didn’t move. He didn’t look up at her face. He couldn’t. For a moment he couldn’t even find air to breathe. His lungs burned. He went back to writing his name on her bare skin. Savage. Then her name. Seychelle. His heart pounded. He’d just laid it on the line. Told her how fucked up he was. That wasn’t even close to how fucked up he was. There was no getting around it. Not now. Not ever. He craved that shit. Needed it the way he needed to breathe air.

“You’re going to hurt me?” Her voice was soft. Small. Afraid.

He took a breath. Found the strawberries. “Yes. Sometimes. When you fuck up.”

“Hit me? You’re going to beat me up?”

He turned his head, his jaw sliding across her soft belly. He stroked the curve of her hip. His eyes met hers. Her fear was visible in her eyes, in the expression on her face. Her lips trembled, and she twisted her fingers in the sheet beside her hips. But that wasn’t the only thing in her eyes. There was a flicker of excitement. Desire. A cautious dark anticipation. He hated that his cock responded, throbbing with expectation. With urgent demand. It felt like fuckin’ paradise and yet was hell at the same time. He knew absolutely, if he slid his hand up her thigh into her panties, he would find her slick with heat.

“I would never beat you, Seychelle. Or hit you in anger. I’m not talking about that kind of relationship, and I think you know that. I’m saying you fuck up by disobeying one of my rules, I’m going to put you across my knee and leave my handprints on your ass. I’m warning you ahead of time, I’ll enjoy it. I’m also going to tell you, you will learn to enjoy it as well. Not all of it, but in the end, you’ll be craving everything I give you.”

“This is all part of what you talked about earlier.”

“Yes, and it’s the easiest part, easing you into the more demanding things I will expect. I will demand all kinds of sex with you, and yes, bondage and pain will be included, but we’ll work up to that. I can teach you to like the things I need, baby.” He turned his head back to her belly, pressing kisses into her soft flesh. His teeth scraped and then nipped, his tongue easing the ache. “Like that, baby. You liked that.”

“You aren’t talking about that, Savage.”

“No, but no one runs before they walk. I’ll make you love most of what I do to you.”

“Most of what you do?”

He nodded. He had to be honest, no matter what. She had to come into the relationship knowing what she was getting. “I told you straight up, I wasn’t satisfied with what I’d done to that woman. I’ll teach you to like most of what we do, but there will be times when that shit gets very real, Seychelle, when I need to put stripes on your body. It will hurt. I can turn pain into pleasure, and I can take care of you after, but you will suffer for me. You have to know that going into this.” His hand moved on her leg. On the scars there.

She was silent for a long time while his heart pounded and his mind screamed at him that he was a monster no one could ever accept or love.

“What if I can’t take it, Savage? What if the pain is too much?”

“Then you call a stop. You say red.”

“And you stop?”

“I would hope you would know when we get to that point that I would never initiate that kind of sex unless I was desperate. At the same time, I would know you would never say red unless you truly couldn’t take any more. That’s what trust is. That’s what we would need to have between us, so yes, I would stop instantly.”

He studied her face for a long moment. “Seychelle, we would need to be a partnership. I can never be out of control. When I’m at my worst, at that point, you need to be in total control, and it won’t be easy for you. I don’t want to ever break your skin. That’s going too far. If I were to do that, you’d have to stop us. There can’t ever be permanent marks on you. Not ever. I don’t do that shit to you. Everything between us is consensual at all times. You agree, I agree. That’s the way it has to be.”

“How do you know you won’t cross the line, Savage, outside of sex? What if you’re so angry with me you beat me? That could happen.”

“You’re not understanding me, baby. I swear on my life, I could never beat you in anger. I’m not that man. When I start getting bad, and it’s a cycle I can’t prevent, and I know I’m going to need certain things during sex, I fight it. I go to the club in San Francisco and beat the hell out of anyone challenging me to a fight. That sometimes helps. You help me already. I feel peace when I’m with you. It’s the only time.”

“How do you know I’ll be enough for you when those other women weren’t?”

“Someone I don’t give a shit about can help a little, but you . . . you’re different, Seychelle. When I’m with you, it’s like you have the potential of taking it all away for a very long time. You can’t know what a rare gift you give to me.”

That was such bullshit. She was so much more than that to him. She had found her way inside of him. They’d been together now for months. They had the R word. Relationship. He wanted to laugh when he thought about it. That was so not him, but he knew he wanted to wake up every morning for the rest of his life with her lying next to him. He wanted to go to bed with her in his arms. Yeah, she gave him peace, but this thing between them was so much more than he was conveying to her.

“How do you know I can do that for you?”

He pressed a kiss to her belly. “I know. I know you’re mine. That for the first time in my life I want a woman to belong to me. I want to see my marks on her skin. I want to see her tears for me on her face and know she’s willing to give them to me. I know you can do that for me. My body responds to you by itself without me ordering it to respond, just at the thought of my marks on you. I have to order my cock to work any other time.” That was all true. He needed to use his whips on her. He never thought he’d be able to have someone who would love him enough to take on his pain the way he took on the pain for those he loved. He hadn’t believed there was a woman alive who would think he was worth it.

“That rage inside you. What happened to you? You weren’t born that way. I can feel the other side of you. Gentle. Sweet. Even kind. Tell me what happened to you.”

That was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew he had no choice. Not if he was going to keep her. He’d promised himself he’d go in a hundred percent if she did. He was being honest, and he knew he was giving her the worst possible side of him, but he had to if he was going to lay out the bad and hope his good could make her want to stay.

“You feel the demon just as strong as you feel that other side of me. I need you to have the kind of courage it will take to face that monster when he emerges, and he will. There are times I can’t stop him. The small stuff, the consequences, they hold him at bay. The fight club. The rides late at night. The sex will help. All of it. But he’ll come out eventually, and you’re going to have to face him. You’re going to have to trust me, especially when he’s out.”

“You said you crave those things. All the time?”

This was another one of those telling moments. Having to admit out loud to the woman he wanted to spend his life with that he was so fucked up he liked to see his marks on her before he fucked her, all the time. Every time. He rested his head on her belly again, needing to feel her peace. The way she soothed him.

“Savage?”

She dropped her hand to his head, her fingers doing the slow massage that sent peace easing the knots in his belly. He didn’t want her to stop. He didn’t want her to ask any more questions. He just wanted her to say she would hand herself over to him. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even logical.

“Answer me, honey,” she said softly. “You’ve gone this far. I need to know.”

“When I have sex, yes. It arouses me. But finding you, knowing you would give yourself to me willingly, let me mark your skin, take a strap to you or cane you, do that for me, really participate and get off with me because you actually can love me . . .” He stopped himself. “That’s the ultimate, Seychelle. That’s the fucking dream.”

Seychelle remained silent, her fingers moving on his scalp in that relaxing way she had that made him feel as if he mattered to her.

“The truth is, Seychelle, we need each other. If you’re honest with yourself, you need me as much as I need you. You can’t say no when all those people start taking pieces of you. You need someone strong to step in and put a stop to it. I’m that man. I can take care of you when you need it.”

Savage rubbed her hip gently, moved his fingers inside her thigh to stroke along those nerve endings. He wrote his name there in bold letters, down the inside of her thigh and then back up, the pads of his fingers stroking along the lacy strip of cloth that barely covered her sweet little pussy. His thumb slid along her pussy lips. He would shave her bare tonight.

“I think if you’re honest, angel, you have to admit, the thought of this type of sex arouses you.” He said it gently, knowing it was a gamble.

“Fantasizing about something and doing it are two different things, Savage. The actual idea is terrifying. I don’t know if I’m that brave.”

His Seychelle. She was that brave. That courageous. He was seducing her gently. Bringing her into his world with infinite care. Loving a woman could be overwhelming at times. “You’re that brave,” he murmured against her hip bone, and then licked along the top of it.

“Tell me how you got this way.”

Savage pressed kisses along her hip bone, taking his time, building something good when he was about to give her something bad. He went back to using the pads of his fingers to stroke her inner thigh, moving higher to slide over her sex, feeling her heat. Her slickness. Her need for him. He rubbed his shadowed jaw over her belly, leaving red whisker burn. He kissed his way from her belly button to the very edge of her sweet, nearly nonexistent panties.

His teeth continued nipping, this time a little harder, pinching, and then immediately he used his tongue to soothe away the shocking ache. Each time he did, her breath hitched. She never once pulled away from him. He ran his finger under the edge of that strip of lace, rubbing gently, barely there. Her breathing left her lungs in a little explosion and then turned ragged.

This woman. He knew her and her courage. She could do what no one else could. She could love him. He saw that clearly in her. She would give him everything he ever asked of her. More, even. And she would stand strong when the worst happened—and it would. She would love him through it.

He knew what he was capable of. He could give her the world. He could and would make her scream with pleasure over and over, a thousand different ways. He could love her with everything in him, even the monster—especially the monster—and it would never add up to what he was asking her to give to him. Every single day he would see to it that she was happy and well loved, so when those dark days came, she would have something to hang on to.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then rolled over to sit on the edge of the bed, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. Not accelerating, just hitting so hard he felt the blows like punches.

“I’m from Russia,” he said unnecessarily, certain she already knew that. “I told you that my parents opposed a man who wanted to be president. His second-in-command, a man by the name of Sorbacov, quietly began to purge those who were against his candidate. Our family was wealthy and had influence, so they had to go. Sorbacov came in the dead of night with his soldiers, murdered my parents and took my two older sisters, Reaper and me to one of his ‘schools,’ supposedly to make us into assets for our country. I’ve told you this before, but I didn’t tell you the rest. The truth about those schools.”

He put his head in his hands, breathing deep, trying to still the screams, trying to drive out the voices of the monsters running through his head. He pressed his thumbs against his temples, the pressure on his chest increasing.

“There were four schools, each progressively harsher. The fourth school, the one he took us to, was a special school. Very special. Sorbacov looked normal to the outside world. He was married with children of his own and always acted the perfect husband and father, but he was a pedophile. He liked little boys. He liked to see children tortured and raped. It aroused him, and he had many like-minded friends. Criminals and pedophiles ran the school and were given carte blanche to do whatever they wanted. He laughingly referred to it as his great experiment.”

He reached back and circled her ankle with his hand because he needed their very strong connection in order to get through the memories, the ones he tried so hard never to think about. That door he locked and barricaded in his mind, but no matter what he did, it always cracked open and he went a little berserk.

“I was very young, and I really thought I shouldn’t remember the things that happened. The first time they took me, kicking and screaming from Reaper and my sisters. That first time when they hurt me so bad, I didn’t think I could survive. My sisters tried to stop them from taking us, and they beat them in front of us. Then they took them and did horrible things to them and threw them down into the freezing-cold basement, where we had to watch them die.”

Little beads of sweat trickled down his face. He tightened his fingers around her ankle as the doors in his mind widened, spilling those memories out along with blood and death. So many. He pressed his fingers deeper into his eyes, deeper into her ankle.

“I had no real idea of sex. What it should or shouldn’t be. I was too young. I just knew I didn’t want to hurt like that, and I fought them every chance I could get. Apparently, there was a group that really enjoyed hurting their partners, and they thought it would be great fun to teach me that was how to get aroused.”

He shook his head. “I’m not telling you this very well, but it’s the best I can do, Seychelle. I watched them whipping girls and boys. The first time it was done to me, I went after them, ripping the whip out of their hands and trying to flog them. I was just a little kid, and they found it amusing. I was considered really good-looking, and they liked to take turns whipping me. By that, I mean forcing me to go down on one of them while another whipped me. The more I fought, the more they kept at me. This went on for years. The rapes, the whips, the floggings. It was brutal.”

He couldn’t look at her, his past merging with his present so that he could smell the sex, the blood. Feel the combination surrounding him. “They were training some boy, about fifteen, and I was probably eight when I took the whip from the fifteen-year-old and turned it on him. After that, I was the one learning to wield that whip. There was no way I was going to let them tear me up like that if I could help it.”

He had no idea those little droplets of sweat were tears until the room turned blurry. He used his arm to swipe across his face because he couldn’t let go of her. She was sanity. His only sanity in that moment when his past was so close.

“When I would lay perfect stripes on someone, they would reward me, sucking my dick, making me come. I swear I didn’t know the difference, only that it was better to feel good than to hurt like hell. I was very good at training others to like pain. Erotic pain. Pain and pleasure are so close, so intertwined, and it isn’t that difficult to confuse the two sensations. I was so good at it. I could turn pain into pleasure every time. Every way. I did that shit for years, Seychelle, and they called me the Master of Pain, the Whip Master, so many other titles. And I earned every one of them.”

He closed his eyes against the memories, of thin red streaks and tears, of his body moving in others. The trouble was, those memories were behind his eyelids. Carved into his soul. There was no getting rid of them.

“I liked training them. I liked seeing my mark on them. Each year I got better. The better I got, the harder it was for anyone to assault me. I learned to fight. I learned to hurt others. I learned so many really ugly things without knowing they weren’t right. It was the only sex I knew. I didn’t even know it was done any other way.”

He had been shaped into a monster without any realization that was what was happening. He was twisted into something unrecognizable. Something vile.

“I hurt others so I wouldn’t get hurt, at first. Then because it kept my brother from getting hurt—at least, that was what I believed. Then my body was so confused it didn’t know how to have an erection unless I was marking someone. While I trained my partners to like pain, I didn’t realize I was being trained to need to give it. To see those marks. It’s been impossible to have any kind of an erection without it.”

It was a confession, straight up. He left out the terrible, brutal details. The things that had put those scars all over his body. The children he’d watched die. The girls he’d trained given away when his handlers got tired of them and wanted newer playthings so they could start all over again. Watching those first girls being cruelly tortured and eventually killed. He didn’t give her those things, but they were all there inside of him, swimming in that red-hot pool of rage.

“There’s no way to reverse years of damage. Over twenty years, Seychelle. I’ve tried to fight it. I’ve read everything I could get my hands on in the hopes of being different, but it isn’t going to happen. I know that. And I know that these things trapped inside of me, the voices of the dead wailing for justice, I know I’ll never be rid of them. I need to avenge them just the way I need to mark my partner and then make it all better.”

He took a breath. Needing it. He had to face her. Had to look at her and see the truth of what she thought. Seychelle couldn’t hide from him any more than he could hide from her. She either would order him away from her, sickened by what she’d heard, or she would have the courage in her to face the monster with him.

He slowly turned his head until his eyes met hers. Those blue eyes swam with tears. There was no condemnation on her face. She had too much empathy in her, too much compassion. She saw the things he’d told her in vivid detail. The little boy beaten, brutalized, raped. The cigarettes put out on his body. The blowtorch they’d used on him. The branding iron. The terrible scars left from the deep lashes of the bullwhips and slashes of the knives. She could see a lot more evidence than that, but now those images were in her mind. Trapped there, both a gift and a curse. A gift to pull out when she needed a reminder of how he got the way he was. A curse because the images would haunt her, give her nightmares.

“Savage.” She whispered his name. “I’m so sorry. I don’t understand how anyone could do those things to a child.”

Neither could he. She wouldn’t understand his need for justice. His need to show those fuckers what it was like to be brutalized. To be tortured. He hadn’t told her the things he’d seen. The children who had died because he wasn’t strong enough to save them. He didn’t tell her how he and the others had escaped, but he knew one day she’d ask.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” Seychelle admitted in a small voice. “I’ve never considered doing anything like this.”

“You’re strong enough. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever come across. It’s a commitment for both of us. We both have to choose. Here. Tonight. You have to be certain I’m trustworthy. The things I’ll demand of you, the things I’ll do to you, will take trust. You have to give that to me the way you did when you got on the back of my bike. You have to know I would never harm you. Never. You’re mine to take care of. I want to give you every reason to stay in love with me, to want to turn over control to me when we’re in that situation because you trust that you’re safe with me at all times, no matter what is happening. I want you to marry me, Seychelle. To know I’m in love with you and committed to this relationship and to you one hundred percent.”

“You’re that certain that you want marriage?”

“Once you’re mine, baby, I’d never be stupid enough to let you go. But you have to make that choice. I have to know you want me the same way I want you.”

“I don’t know the first thing about what you need or how I would provide that for you.”

“I know more than enough for both of us. I’ll always take care of you, Seychelle. There won’t be other women. There won’t be anyone I put higher than you. I’ll always know what I’ve asked of you.”

“And you’re going to do that to me? Whip me? Put red marks on my body?”

He nodded, his heart pounding until he was afraid he couldn’t catch his breath, but he wasn’t going to lie to her or pretend he wouldn’t do the things he craved. “I’ll do more than use a whip. It will hurt, but it will also give you the most pleasure you’ll ever know. I’ll make certain of that. You already know you respond. I showed you. A small preview, just to see if you would like what we did, and your body was extremely responsive.”

She was silent for a long time. He rubbed his hand down his face, trying to give her space. Trying not to touch her. To add seduction to his sins, but it was impossible. This was the most important battle of his life, and he had to use every weapon in his arsenal. It was for both of them. Her life. His. He stretched out on the bed again, his head on her belly, his arm around her hip, so he could use the pads of his fingers shamelessly, stroking caresses along that thin strip of lace. So he could breathe on her bare skin, rub the sandpaper bristles over her soft belly, leaving his mark.

“Tell me the rules. I don’t know if I can be someone you really need, Savage. I’m not going to say I can if I think it’s impossible.” Her voice shook. Her body trembled. In her eyes there was that hint of speculation, of desire. Of hope.

She wanted to be able to be his partner, to find his brand of sex as erotic in reality as it was in her fantasy. He knew it was frightening. She would be insane not to be scared. He used his hand to soothe her. Pressed little kisses along her hip bone.

“We already talked about you singing in the bar. When I say you’re done, that’s it. You’re finished. My brothers will know the signal, and they’ll be cool with it. You and I will work that out, and we’ll get good at it.”

“I think that’s a good rule.”

“Same thing goes when you’re visiting your friends or anywhere else, baby. You get in trouble, and you see someone’s ill, you need to give me the sign we’ll work out so I can step in and help you.”

She nodded. “I can live with that.”

“We talked about me needing to know where you are. I’ve got enemies. So does the club. I’ll have to know you’re safe, Seychelle. Most of the time, I’ll want to be with you. If you want to make plans with the other women, you consult me before you agree to anything. That’s what the phone is for. You can get good at texting. In our home, you can have any damn thing you want. Decorate it. Buy furniture. You don’t want to cook, you tell me, we’ll go out if I don’t want to cook. That will never be a big deal.”

“I’ll want to know you’re safe as well, Savage. If you’re imposing rules like that on me, I would hope they go both ways.”

“Naturally. The only thing we don’t share is club business. Sometimes I have to go out on business, and I can’t talk about that.”

“And I won’t know where you are?”

“If there’s trouble, you’ll be at the clubhouse, or you can stay with Blythe if Czar thinks you’ll be safer there. I’ll have someone watching out for you.”

“That isn’t what I asked you.” Seychelle’s gaze was steady on his face. Unflinching.

He wanted to smile. She could never say she lacked courage. The woman would stand up to him, and that was a good thing. He respected that in her. He wanted a partner. “No, babe, you won’t know where I am, but you can text me and I’ll answer as soon as I can. If you’re worried, you can text Czar. He’ll know where I am and if I’m safe. Because I have enemies, it’s best we always have a bag ready to go at a moment’s notice. Your travel papers, money, although that isn’t necessary—Code will fix up papers, and I have enough money. But anything important to you should be ready to go at a moment’s notice. If we do ever have to leave fast, we travel light.”

“That’s easy, Savage. My mother’s hairbrush and the rose sculpture. My parents were cremated. That was what they wanted. Neither could travel much, so they asked if their ashes could be scattered at sea. I took care of that, but I kept enough to have a glassblower make that sculpture for me. My mother loved roses, and I do too. Their ashes are in the sculpture. That’s why it’s so bright when it’s lit up. So, if we ever have to go fast, grab those two things for me if I’m not with you.”

She’d be with him. She hadn’t even flinched at the idea of having to make a fast getaway. She hadn’t inquired why they might have to make a run for it. Bog, every minute, he was falling more in love with her.

Savage rubbed his chin on her soft belly. “I think about sex all the time. Since I laid eyes on you, it’s been every minute, night and day. When I want you, however I want you, I expect to have you. No other man is ever going to touch you. I don’t share. They may see us, because at the parties we’ll go to, sex is everywhere. We prefer the others around because we’ve always been safer . . .”

She shook her head, drawing back from him, and when he looked up at her, he could see the utter rejection, the absolute abhorrence. “No. Absolutely not. If you’re going to do things to me that are scary and painful and then turn them into something I get off on, I’m not having anyone watch. That’s either private between the two of us, or it is never going to happen between us. I mean that, Savage. I’m terrified and out of my element as it is. The things you know and want, I can’t conceive of. I would be humiliated to have anyone else know I not only let you do those things to me, but I want them, if I ever get to that place.”

He turned his head so he could rest his chin on her belly, just above her mound. That scent of wild strawberries clinging to her was driving him mad. “That’s your bottom line? Sex is okay at parties as long as I don’t cross that line?”

He knew that line would begin to blur for both of them, but she had a point. There would be added intimacy if they kept their proclivities solely between the two of them. He wasn’t an exhibitionist. He didn’t care if others watched or not. It was about Seychelle and her body, his canvas, his private playground. He would worship her forever.

“I just couldn’t do that.”

“What are we talking here? At the events, the runs and parties, I can keep us in the shadows, where no one else can really see, but you know I’m going to have to have some of the easier things we’ll do. Nipple clamps? My hand? A switch? A crop? Something simple like that? I want to have your fuckin’ body, baby, and I have to be aroused. I’m not just using you to get off.”

“Those things are simple?”

“Yeah, baby, very simple—you’ll be loving them by the end of the week.” His body was already hard and aching with the images of teaching her. “We’ll have to figure out what we can do at parties that you find acceptable, so we don’t cross any lines.”

“I want to try things first before we make any rules. Right now, I don’t even know if I can do any of this.”

That was reasonable. More than reasonable. “Tell me you’ll stay with me. Always, Seychelle. Tell me you can live with me just the way I am. No one in your life will ever need you more. You can make me happy.”

“Only you can make yourself happy, Savage,” she corrected.

“That’s what I’m doing. I found you. I laid it all out for you. I’m doing everything in my power to ensure you’ll give me your word that you’re mine. That you want to be mine and that you’re willing to live your life my way.”

“If I say yes, I want to try, right now, if I give you that, what’s going to happen?”

Triumph burst through him, but he didn’t let it show. He sat up slowly, turning toward her so she could see his expression clearly. “First, we’re going to take care of unfinished business.”

She touched her tongue to her lips, drawing his attention. He wanted to fuck her every single way he could. Her mouth. Her pussy. Her ass. Even her tits. He wanted to mark every inch of her body, cover her with him. He would have all the time in the world to do those things. She needed time to learn. He would enjoy teaching her.

She rubbed her hand anxiously down her thigh. “Take care of unfinished business?”

“I told you, baby, you got drunk and nearly went off with another man. I fuckin’ would have killed the bastard if he had taken you home and put his hands on you. It’s just a lesson, and you know how it made you feel when I showed you sinful, dirty sex. You’re going to get so slick and hot for me. It will hurt, but you’re going to like it at the same time.”

She pressed her hand into her thigh, and he took it, pried her fingers open and pushed a kiss into the center of her palm.

“Say yes, Seychelle. Be that brave for me. Choose me, baby. Choose a life with me and trust me that much.”

She swallowed hard and inclined her head. “I want to be with you, Savage. I’m going to tell you up front, I’ve never been so scared in my life, but I’m willing to try.”

He shook his head. “You have to go all in, baby. There’s no way we can survive if you aren’t all in, if you can’t look at me and say you want my happiness before your own. You have to want to give me everything I need. I have to make that same commitment to you, and I do. I’m one hundred percent in.”

“But if my body doesn’t respond the way you expect it to, and I can’t go that far into what you need, Savage, you can’t stop yourself—you would have to seek what you need from other women.”

He didn’t want to bring up his past again. Absolutely, he didn’t want to remind her of what he’d done for all those years, but there was no way around it if he wasn’t going to give her reassurance. “Baby.” He kept his voice as gentle as possible. “Don’t you think, after training girls to love that shit for over fifteen years—girls who really didn’t have any proclivity toward it, to crave it—that I could guide you down that path when you want to go on it with me? I’ve craved this since before I knew what sex really was.”

He needed to be very cautious saying much more. Seychelle wasn’t quite ready to accept that she had darker cravings. She was embarrassed and didn’t quite understand them in herself. “Don’t you think I can read when a woman is going to be more accepting of my rougher sexual practices?”

“I think I’m afraid because I don’t really know what to expect.”

It was difficult to look away from Savage’s eyes. They were mesmerizing. He was mesmerizing. Seychelle was very aware he had gifts, talents, psychic talents. She did too. Seychelle also knew this was the most important decision of her life. She had more than one psychic talent, and they were both gifts and curses. She had been drawn to Savage because of those talents, and she continued to be.

She kept contact, her fingers moving on his scalp, her hand pressed to his thigh. He was strong in the places she was weak. She was strong where he needed someone. And he did need someone. He certainly didn’t show that on the outside. He was just plain scary. A dark, dangerous man with violence swirling inside him like a deep volcanic well.

She’d touched on that well more than once. She saw it when she knew it was successfully hidden from others. Savage lived in isolation, even from his brothers in the club. They knew about him. They probably even knew what had shaped him into being the way he was, and he’d sugarcoated it for her. She’d caught glimpses of images in his mind. With those images came that rage. Dark and ugly and filled with such terrifying memories, her mind could barely comprehend them. Not only his, but his brothers’ and sisters’ as well. He took it all on.

She only knew that the risks were enormous. He was capable of things she knew she couldn’t live with. That didn’t mean he’d do them. Without her, she knew he’d eventually go under. His hand was moving up her leg with those slow, mesmerizing circles that sent heat waves rushing through her veins, a seduction that would clearly work if she wasn’t going over every detail in her head.

She couldn’t blame him. He knew he was fighting for his life—and for hers. She would go under as well. She was slowly dying, unable to control her gift of healing. She’d never been happier than when she was with Savage. He wasn’t going to find another woman who would see into him, see what he had to battle every single day, and be willing to face that and join with him.

Savage was well aware she was his one shot and she saw more than that swirling pool of rage. She saw that other side of him. He had a strong need to protect. To have someone of his own. He was intensely loyal. He wasn’t at all a selfish man. He was capable of loving deeply.

Right now, when he knew she was weighing judgment, he might be using the pads of his fingers shamelessly, but he didn’t push for an answer. He didn’t say anything at all. He gave her the space—and the time she needed—to make a decision. You need us to stay, there’s no problem. If this was for the rest of her life, she had to believe she could do it. Both of them had to have faith she could do it. That’s what they would be going on. Faith, because neither could really know until she was in that position. She knew she wanted to do it for both of them, and that was half the battle.

He made it clear it wouldn’t be easy, and looking at the violence in him, she knew it wouldn’t be. Hearing him state the things he needed, she was more than scared: she was terrified. Even being terrified, she had to acknowledge to herself that deep inside, in a secret part of herself, she was more than excited at the prospect of what he would be asking of her. When he talked about his sexual needs, instead of flinching as she should have done, her body had grown hotter than she thought possible. Her blood pounded through her veins so hard she could barely hear him through the thunder in her ears. Was it terror or secret exhilaration?

Savage was a good man. She saw that clearly. He was losing his battle. He no longer believed he was worth saving, but she did, and he clung to that in her. Still, it wasn’t her job to save him. She knew that. She couldn’t make him happy; that wasn’t her responsibility. If she was going to be with him, she had to do it because she wanted to.

She wasn’t going to lie to herself. She needed him. She was drowning. She couldn’t keep the continual assault from her day and night when she was in any public situation. She didn’t want to hide in her house. She wanted to work. She loved to sing. She didn’t know how to stop giving herself away, and having Savage standing in front of her—and he would whether she liked it or not—would allow her freedom she didn’t have now.

She needed to be needed. That was who she was. If there was one person on the face of the earth who needed her, it was Savage. The relationship was dangerous and scary to just jump into, but he saw her when no one else did or could. Just as she saw into him, he saw into her. They were connected by their talents.

She wanted that scary, dangerous sex. She’d always craved it but was too afraid to seek it out. There were too many pitfalls if one went in that direction. She was intelligent enough to know that, but here he was, offering her a chance. It was a gamble. Nothing less.

She looked at him then. His gaze had never left her face. Her heart clenched in her chest. She knew she had already fallen hard. She was well on her way to loving him with everything in her. She could do this if she gave herself into his keeping, surrendered completely, but that was terrifying—living for someone else. Trusting that they lived for you.

Was he capable of loving her that completely? Giving her everything, as he promised he would? Could he really do that? The way he was looking at her, as if she was already his everything, was as addicting as the feeling of his fingers on her skin. He swore to her he was already there. She closed her eyes, knowing she was going to give him everything he wanted and more. She was going to take that leap, because it was impossible not to want to be with a man like Savage when he was offering it to her.

Savage hadn’t taken his gaze from Seychelle the entire time she weighed his fate. Every second that went by felt like hours, but she needed to work things out her own way. He wanted to kiss her, to use every one of the considerable sexual tools in his arsenal to persuade her, but if she was going to make that commitment to him, it had to be real.

It was there on her face first. Resolve. Terror. She took a deep breath. His heart went crazy. His stomach did a slow somersault. It was his cock that reacted the most, knowing what was coming. It hurt, pulsing and throbbing, even jerking with dark lust and a depraved carnal need that was bone deep in him. She was going to sacrifice her life for him all over again. She was going to give him everything. Life. She was giving him life.

“Yes, then, Savage. I want to belong to you, but I can only promise to try. I hope you’re as good as you say you are, and my body does what you say it will.”

He leaned into her, framing her face with his hands. That beautiful, innocent face that he knew would always turn men’s heads. She didn’t see it, but he did. He took her mouth. Gentle at first, because she was his everything. He would always cherish her. The moment he tasted that wild strawberry, his heart seemed to melt inside his body. It was such a dichotomy. His heart at war with his cock. His kisses were the same. Gentle, caressing strokes of his tongue. Then his mouth went completely dominant. Hard. Rough. Demanding. Forcing her compliance when he had coaxed before.

His teeth tugged at her lower lip and then bit down. She gasped, and he soothed the bite with his tongue, slipped it into her mouth and stroked caresses, wanting to eat her up, devour her completely. Her taste was wild, exotic and addicting. There was a hint of a smoldering fire that suddenly flared to life and threatened to consume him. He wanted that burn.

He deepened the kiss, added more command, needing rougher. Needing to hear her gasp. Needing her to surrender everything to him. And she did. She kissed him back, melting into him even as he bit down on her lower lip a second time in exactly the same place. This time he slipped two fingers along the lacy edge of her panties, and then farther to test her reaction as he increased the pressure on her lip. She gasped, but her body went hot and liquid. He instantly released her lower lip and swept his tongue into her mouth.

He felt her taste taking him over just as he was taking her over. A coup with her kisses. Those flames rushed straight to his belly, where the monster crouched, swirling with dark threads, waiting to leap out. Orange and red consumed black, taking it all, leaving behind ash. Leaving him with a burning steel cock and a mind filled with images of his woman in graphic positions, waiting for him to put his stripes on her, frightened and exhilarated just as she was now.

He broke the kiss. “I need you to come lay across my lap, Seychelle. Let’s get the punishment over fast so I can be in you, where I belong.”

Her breath caught in her lungs and her gaze moved over his face, judging how serious he was. Did he mean it? If he did, what would he do to her?

He was so fucking proud of her, that internal struggle warring on her face. Her eyes, two bright sapphires, so filled with trepidation. With surrender. She didn’t know it yet, but she was giving herself to him—inch by slow inch.

Savage kept looking at her, his gaze holding her captive. “It’s only going to get worse if you fight me on this, Seychelle. This is something important. Just get up and stand right there.” He pointed to the spot just beside him. “Remove your panties, hand them to me and lay over my lap.”

He knew her heart was pounding. She looked so frightened, he was torn between pulling her to him to help her make the decision or pulling her into his arms and comforting her. He did neither. She had to do this herself. This first crucial step. There would be so many, and he would enjoy every single one, their journey through life together.

He kept staring at her, slowly asserting his will on her. It was subtle. She was ready to capitulate on her own, but he needed to see how much influence he had on her when it was needed—and it would be in the coming weeks. He would train her as slowly as possible, but he knew himself. The cycle was there, and she had to be prepared for the monster when he escaped. She’d been right about the woman he’d used weeks earlier—she hadn’t been in the least satisfying, and he was already getting edgy.

Seychelle turned on the bed, putting both feet on the floor. His cock grew so thick he wanted to unzip his jeans to give himself a little room. He never took his eyes off of her, and he knew the exact moment when she really became his. She made up her mind, her chin going up, and she stood and walked right over to the side of the bed in front of him, slipped off her panties and tossed them at him. He had to stifle a grin as he caught them. She was going to get one extra-hard smack on the ass for that, but he kept his mouth shut, still watching her.

He took his time, staring up at her, waiting for her to lay across his lap, pushing her panties into his back pocket. His eyes holding hers captive, he reached out and stroked his fingers up the inside of her thigh—close to all that heat—so hot it felt like a furnace. Her nipples peaked beneath the thin tank she wore. He would have commanded her to take it off, but he wanted to do that himself. She had a narrow waist and a soft belly he was very, very fond of.

He slid his fingers down her left thigh and then brushed the tiny damp curls, his thumb sliding intimately over her clit. She shuddered, but she didn’t back off. She had so much courage. He had known all along she did. She’d need that courage and a lot more.

“I’m going to shave you myself. You’re so beautiful, baby, and I want to see and feel every inch of you. Lay across my lap, Seychelle.”

Her breath hitched. Her blue eyes swam with liquid, and he was forever damned, because seeing that sent his cock into a frenzy of urgent demand.

“Savage.” His name came out a plea.

Her tongue touched her lower lip right over his mark. Her lip was slightly swollen, the small mark dark. Satisfaction slid through him like a dark shadow.

“I’ve read enough about the lifestyle to know you should have gone over limits with me and given me a safe word.” Her hands rubbed up and down her belly nervously. “I’m pretty sure I have like a million limits.”

He resisted smiling. This was all about surrender and demand. She had to be a willing participant. She had to want to give him everything he needed. That had to come from her.

“We’re not living that kind of lifestyle, Seychelle. I laid it out for you. I need control in order to keep from letting loose a monster that could destroy so many people. People I love. I’ve learned what I need in my life in order to survive intact. My woman, and that’s you, has to live within those rules. I need certain things in the bedroom from you, and I’m going to get them. You’ll get whatever you want or need, but there’s no doubt that at times, it will be frightening for you. You’ll have to trust me enough that you know I’d never harm you and I’ll rock your world every single time I touch you. When we’re doing something with whips, baby, you’ll use your safe word, red. Punishments, like this, you don’t have a safe word. You’ll just have to trust me that I know when to stop.”

She pushed at her hair anxiously. This time he could see her hand shaking. He stroked the pads of his fingers down her belly to her mound, made little circles and then wrote his name across her pussy lips. His. Seychelle belonged to him. Few women would ever be able to live with a fucked-up, broken, damaged-beyond-all-repair man like him, but he knew not only could she live with him, but she would love him with every breath she took.

“I think I’d feel better about everything if you just gave me a safe word and agreed to stop when I say it.”

He suppressed a smile. There it was: that little snippy voice that told him she wasn’t submissive. She would give him every gift of her own free will. She might want to soothe the monster, but she would speak her mind. A lot. His cock leaked with need. She would not only soothe the monster, she’d feed him. Pet him. She’d give him every single one of her tears as a gift of love. She would suffer willingly for him because she loved him. She would give him the thing of his dreams.

“I think you’d feel lots better laying across my lap like you were told so that I don’t add on to the punishment you’ve already earned.”