Annihilation Road (23 page)

The crowd was mesmerized by her. Stunned by her. That magic in her voice captivated them, but as Savage continued to scrutinize her every expression, her every move, he noticed she flinched occasionally, or hunched in just for a single second.

Puzzled, he tried to figure out what it was he was missing, and it was something very important. She turned her head, and he felt the instant impact of her eyes. She didn’t smile, but her expression softened. His heart twisted. His head had been pounding all day and the loud noises in the bar hadn’t helped. He almost missed the way a frown flitted across her face and she looked just a little strained for that split second, and then she looked away. His headache was gone.

Awareness rushed into him. He swore softly under his breath. He should have guessed. There was an exchange taking place, just as Libby said Seychelle would do, and he didn’t like it. It was one thing to sing, but to start healing aches and pains in an entire crowd? Hell no. That was one thing he was putting a stop to.

Then, suddenly, she nearly faltered. She didn’t miss a beat, but knowing her as he did, and knowing the band members, he was alerted instantly. At first he was afraid
she’d taken on some illness that was so harmful it was destroying her, but it didn’t seem to be that at all. To Savage, she was an open book, and she looked hurt—not physically but emotionally hurt. Upset. Devastated. So much so that every alarm he had went off.

Seychelle had never heard a band as good as the one playing. They were incredible. She couldn’t believe they had invited her to sing with them. The crowd was great, the energy uplifting. Most of the people in the bar were there to have fun. Ailments were minor for once, and when she finally allowed herself to look at Savage, he was totally focused on her—very happy to see her. She’d been worried he might have changed his mind after a month.

It was silly to be so nervous over that when he’d come to her cottage nearly every single night and left her roses. He’d sent Alena with delicious meals she couldn’t eat but was grateful for. He’d made certain his Torpedo Ink brothers had watched over her. Savage wasn’t a man to do all that if he didn’t want her. It was just that she was so confused over what their relationship really was. What it could be. What he wanted from her and what she could give him.

If felt good to be able to take away his headache. It was a small thing, but she liked being able to help him. She had missed him so much. It had felt as if she was living a half life without him. She’d taken her time, really thought a lot before she’d decided to come to him. She didn’t know exactly what his lifestyle entailed or if she could handle it, but if he was willing to teach her and not have other women in his life . . . Maybe. She just didn’t know. She just knew she was willing to chance finding out more. He was worth it. Sharing his life was worth it.

Looking at him, seeing his eyes so blue, looking like twin blue flames burning over her, claiming her, made her
feel as if she belonged. She’d missed having that. She’d been adrift without him. She sang to him. Gave him joy. Gave him her happiness. Lifted the spirits of everyone in the bar.

A jarring note slipped into her web of silken fairy tales. A dark thread of truth to unravel her dreams. Lust. Craving. Twisted greed. Her gaze found that thread and followed it. The woman was dancing in front of the band, but she was dancing for one man—Savage. Her eyes were on him, carnal desire stark on her face. She was shaking her dark hair all around so that it shimmied under the lights. Seychelle recognized her immediately. She was broadcasting her thoughts loudly in time with the pulsing music, her pelvis thrusting suggestively toward Savage. She was with another woman, and that woman was staring at Savage as well, her expression almost as lecherous as her friend’s.

When the last notes of the song died away, Seychelle handed the microphone to Maestro, flashed a smile to the crowd and stepped off the stage. Unfortunately, their backs to her, the two women inadvertently blocked her path leading to the back room and safety.

“See why I came all the way from San Francisco? I followed him here,” the dark-haired woman said. “Everyone said he never came back twice, but I had him twice. I’ll have him again, you just wait and see, Melinda.”

“Shari, he’s awesome. I wouldn’t mind a go at that myself.”

“Well, back off, he’s all mine,” Shari declared. “I’m going for permanent status.”

Seychelle managed a polite smile as the band swung into the next song. “Excuse me.”

Immediately, the two women parted to let her through. Seychelle was instantly mobbed, mostly by men, as she tried to make her way to the door. That was all she could think of. Getting out. What had she been thinking? Shari? Melinda? How many more was he going to have while she
stood on a stage with the band and sang? She was crazy to think she could handle that. Absolutely crazy.

Savage had no idea what had upset Seychelle, but she was running. Heading toward the door, thinking she was going to get away from him. That wasn’t happening. The moment Seychelle made her way into the crowd, she was mobbed by men. One had his hand on her back—a member of the Headed for Hell club—and his palm was slipping down toward her ass.

The crowd parted for Savage, always a good thing when he was willing to mow everyone down. He slung his arm around Seychelle and pulled her body into his, giving the interloper his killer eyes. He’d earned his reputation and then some.

The biker stood there a moment, then glanced around the bar looking for his buddies. Savage took the time to brush a kiss across Seychelle’s mouth, but he didn’t lose sight of his “rival.” The man had been drinking and he had fallen under Seychelle’s spell. Savage wasn’t so certain he wanted her singing with the band after all.

She tasted too good and he didn’t want to stop kissing her. She felt too good, her body soft and her skin like silk. He’d missed her. He’d been craving her, and he suddenly felt like a man starved. Her voice had gotten not only to him but to other men in the room, and he didn’t like it. He especially didn’t like the fact that she hadn’t really kissed him back.

“Come on, babe, let’s head to the back room. Maestro can come find you when he’s finished. I want you out of this mob.”

She didn’t protest, or really look at him. She was trembling, clearly still very frightened and uncertain of her choice. She was upset, wearing that look of complete devastation, and he had no idea why. She’d come to him, and now she already wanted out. Savage was spoiling for a fight. Too many men surrounding them, wanting his woman, pushing at her, and Seychelle wasn’t falling into his arms. If anything, she was holding herself away from him.

The idiot from the Headed for Hell club with the name Eliminator on the front of his vest, staring at her so hungrily, was about to get his ass handed to him if he didn’t step the fuck out of the way.

Seychelle didn’t move, even when Savage smoothed his hand over her hair. She didn’t look at him, almost as if she hadn’t noticed him.

“Babe.” Savage exerted a little pressure on her back to force her forward.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered, and turned her face up to his.

He stepped behind her, put both arms around her, locking her to him, and walked her straight to the side entrance to the back room. It was a long hallway with a door at the end. He ignored the three side doors along the walls and chose the end one, propelling her inside.

“Babe.” He did his best to keep his voice gentle. “You’re making a commitment to me. To us. That’s what you’re doing.”

She shook her head. “They’re so good. That band is incredibly good. I want to do this, but I don’t know, Savage, I’m very confused. I need more time to think about all this. Your world is very different from mine. I’m tired. I’m just so tired.”

Adrenaline rushed through his body, fear lacing the rage in a deep pool so that it splashed up red and dangerous. He made every effort to push those emotions aside. “You’re done for the night, Seychelle, and if I’d realized what you were doing, I would have gotten you out of there after your first song.”

He tried to keep his voice gentle, but he wasn’t a gentle man. He sounded harsher than he’d intended. His hands held on to her waist, maybe a little tighter than necessary. She felt as if she might escape him at any moment. “Baby, you can’t give away pieces of yourself and take on everyone’s shit like that.”

She squirmed until he released her, taking two steps away from him. “It just happens. I don’t know I’m doing it until it’s too late. I told you, I don’t have control.”

He closed the distance between them. “You can’t do
what you just did in there and survive for very long.” He studied her expression. “Fuck.” He spat the word and pulled her closer to him, forcing her up onto her toes. “You already know that, don’t you? You’re not doing that again, do you understand me?”

“I told you, I can’t control it. I do try to protect myself, Savage . . .” She broke off and shrugged, swaying. “I need to sit down.”

He immediately guided her to a chair. He crouched down and tipped up her chin, at the same time gripping her ankle. He ran his thumb up her pale skin. That perfect canvas that now belonged to him. “I’ll tell Maestro you’re not going to take the job.”

Her gaze jumped to his. “You won’t tell them anything. I’m heading home. I’ll think things over and decide for myself.”

“Babe, you know that job’s not right for you.” He really didn’t want her to take it. “Before you get all defiant on me, think about it. When you sing in a bar, does that happen every single time? You trying to help everyone like that? Or just once in a while?”

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking so much she couldn’t control them. “I thought I could do this with you, but she was here tonight.” She whispered it.

Savage frowned. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“The woman. She was here. And she isn’t the only one.” There was pain in her voice. Anguish, even.

He swore under his breath, his gut tightening. He knew exactly who she meant now. Sometimes the women he used fixated on him. It made no sense. He didn’t remember them. He didn’t know their names. He used them and walked away. The particular woman she was referring to had been in a kink club in San Francisco. He’d used her there a few months earlier.

He’d been in rough shape, needing a woman, and no one appealed to him, but then, they never did. It was far worse knowing he wanted only Seychelle now and realizing he
couldn’t have her. He’d found an older woman who liked pain and taken her to one of the private rooms. A couple of other women had tried to talk to him, telling him they remembered him from before, but he ignored them. He left after being with the older woman and came back to the clubhouse in Caspar.

Savage hadn’t gone to see Seychelle because he was still edgy, his demons riding him hard. That’s when the woman had walked into the clubhouse and all but begged him to show her his whip skills. He’d been a fool to oblige. He knew better, but all that mattered to him was finding his way to Seychelle. And then Seychelle had called him saying she was in trouble, and he’d run to her. It had been the worst mistake of his life as far as he was concerned. He’d lost Seychelle.

“Babe, we’re past that. We have to be. We’ll go home and talk it out. You knew what you were doing when you came here.” He didn’t want that woman to be any part of them ever again. Seychelle knew about her. She’d come anyway. That had to mean she was over it, right?

He’d warned her. She knew exactly what she was doing when she came to the bar, and she’d come there for him. Choosing him. She was scared, and that was acceptable—even expected. She’d probably forgotten what a bastard he was. But he wasn’t letting her out of the deal.