Annihilation Road (24 page)

Seychelle shook her head as she stared at him. She was in
such
trouble when it came to Savage. She could barely resist him, and when it came to those dark places inside of him swirling with violence and rage, she thought she had a chance of handling that if he gave her time and explanations.

She had tried to hold out, and she had for weeks, but then she was so miserable that she couldn’t breathe. She found herself waiting for the sound of his motorcycle. For the roses. For the breath she perceived they shared with the wall between them. She
lived
for those nights he came. She could barely stand getting out of her bed during the day
when he wasn’t there, afraid he might not come back that evening. It was a miserable way to live. The longer she was without him, the more the hurt and fear keeping her away had faded.

Seychelle worried about Savage until she was so desperate to see him, she knew she would have to go to the bar even if that meant swallowing her pride. Even if that meant being so terrified of what she was doing she couldn’t comprehend the price she would pay. She had no idea why their connection had grown so strong, but it had, and she had no way to sever it. She had to find a way to get out from under him.

Her head hurt, and so did her heart. She felt battered. He had just dismissed her pain and fears over the women as if they were nothing. To him, they weren’t important. To her, that issue was everything. There was no way for her to get past it if he refused to even acknowledge she had a right to feel the way she did. She rocked herself back and forth, making herself small, trying to think of what to do, but her headache was very painful, making it difficult.

The band members came in just as Savage straightened. “I’m getting her something cold to drink. Don’t discuss her joining yet. No commitments. I’ll be back.”

Maestro sighed as he watched Savage walk away. “Seriously, woman? How did he get to you first?”

“He doesn’t exactly own me,” Seychelle denied, but she wasn’t certain of anything right then. She was more confused about her feelings than ever.

Going to the bar had been the biggest mistake of her life. She really couldn’t live without Savage. She couldn’t eat. Or sleep. Or even breathe properly. But seeing the women and feeling the way they were lusting after him, their eyes following him, bright with almost fanatical carnal greed, she knew she wasn’t strong enough to cope with him going off with other women the way he had. She had convinced herself she could do it. Savage was so casual about it. How did one get past it? Especially if she knew it would happen again and again?

“I’m not even with him, exactly,” she said. Uncertain. Wanting to cry. Feeling sick inside and confused outside.

“She is. With me, I mean,” Savage corrected, walking in so confidently. He handed her two white tablets. “For your headache.” He took the bottle from her and unscrewed the cap. “Drink. And we’re more than friends, and that’s all the time.”

Her heart jerked hard in her chest at his declaration. He wasn’t going to let her go back on her word so easily. Still, she tried to play it casual, rolling her eyes. “He’s being difficult. He likes to mess with everyone.”

“Maestro, I know you want her to sing with you.” Savage caught her hand and brought it to his thigh, his thumb sliding back and forth over the back of it. “Give us a little time. We’ll go home and talk it over.”

When he did that, pressed her hand tight against the muscle of his thigh and rubbed his thumb like he was stroking little caresses, she went damp. Her breasts instantly ached. She wanted him with every breath she took.

Seychelle just needed to run. Self-preservation was kicking in. “I’ve got to go home. Thanks for letting me sing with you tonight. You’re the best musicians I’ve heard in years, maybe ever.”

“Back at you, babe,” Master said. “I haven’t heard a voice like yours ever. Say yes.”

The others murmured their agreement and walked out, leaving her alone with Savage.

Savage brought her hand to his mouth. He nibbled at the pads of her fingers and then scraped with his teeth. Her heart nearly stopped. Her sex clenched hard. He pressed a kiss into the center of her palm.

She tugged until Savage released her. Standing was difficult because he didn’t back away. Her body was up against his, so tight she could feel every breath he took.

“Can you drive safely?”

She nodded, although she was shaking so much she wasn’t positive, but she had to get out of there before she
lost every single thing she’d fought so hard for. Her pride. Her independence.

“I’ll walk you out to your car.”

She was so weak with relief that he was letting her go that her legs nearly gave out. At the same time, she wanted to weep that he didn’t care for her the way she did for him.

“Thank you.” There was nothing else to say. She couldn’t take it if he left her time and again for other women, and he would. She couldn’t sing in the bar knowing those women had a part of him that really should belong to her. How could he so casually declare they were past that? She wasn’t past it. She would never be past it.

She kept her head down as he went to the back door and opened it, showing her the exit from the meeting room at the end of the hall. It was dark outside. The band was playing again, and most everyone who had been smoking cigarettes or weed was drifting back inside.

Savage didn’t say anything as they walked to the car, but he kept his arm around her shoulders. In some way that arm was comforting; in another, it felt like a heavy chain binding them together. She knew she was slightly hysterical, but she was going home and packing up and driving to another state as fast as she could. Nevada was looking very good to her. First, she was heading into Fort Bragg and buying a pack of cigarettes.

He took the keys from her hand and unlocked the driver-side lock with a simple button push, as if he’d been doing it for her his entire life. “I know you’re scared, baby, but don’t do anything foolish tonight. Just drive straight home and crawl into bed. You’ll feel better once that headache disappears.”

She didn’t make the mistake of arguing; she just nodded her head. Savage caught her chin and lifted it, forcing her to meet his eyes. She didn’t know why she felt so guilty and yet defiant at the same time.

Savage shook his head. “You could trust me a little to take care of you, Seychelle. Whatever you’re thinking of
doing is just making you miserable. You made the decision, and we’ll make it work. I was miserable without you. You were the same without me. We’ll find our way.”

She didn’t shake her head or protest. She was so close to getting away. Once she was out of his presence, she could break free of his spell. The door to her car was open, but he had the keys in his hand.

She wouldn’t go home right away, just in case he went there to check on her. She could go to one of the bars in Fort Bragg, smoke to her heart’s content, drink a few drinks and check into a motel, hide her car. That way, if he went to the house, he’d just give up by morning. She could go home, pack and get out. Drive away. What was tying her there besides her home? She could have a management company rent it out. If she was in Nevada, they couldn’t find her. No one could. She’d keep going . . .

Savage sighed, framed Seychelle’s face with both hands and brought his mouth very gently down on hers. His lips just rubbed softly over hers, like the lightest of caresses. He ran his tongue along the seam of her lips gently. Coaxing. She made the softest of sounds, but it got him in the gut. Maybe higher. Maybe in his chest.

He took his time—patience was everything, and he was rewarded when her lips parted, and he sank his tongue deep. He swept into her mouth, her taste nearly overwhelming him, so that a dark lust was desperately spinning out of control. Her mouth was hot and wild, her tongue tangling with his, sliding tentatively at first and then surer, dueling until he could barely breathe for the two of them.

He needed to see those sexy, sweet tears and the beautiful patterns that made his world right again. Just the thought turned him inside out. Hot flames poured through him, swirling like a storm through his veins to settle deep in his cock. She was turning him inside out.

When he lifted his head, she was clinging to him, chasing after his mouth shamelessly. He stroked caresses over her hair and down her back. “It isn’t going to be so bad belonging to me, Seychelle. I’ll be careful with you. After all this time thinking you didn’t exist, I’m not about to drive you away. I’ll introduce you to my world carefully. Once you know me, know the rules, you aren’t going to have trouble.”

Seychelle buried her fists in the front of his shirt, shaking her head, more panicked than ever, because she’d just proven to herself she couldn’t resist him. She’d never resist that mouth. The way he kissed. The fire or his taste. It was probably already too late. She had to do something to distract herself, something terrible if she was going to save herself.

“You’ll hurt me, Savage. In the end, you’ll hurt me.” She looked up at him, needing to see his eyes. “Won’t you?”

“Probably.”

He continued to stroke those caresses through her hair that made her weak with need for him. She knew he’d be honest, but she didn’t want that answer. She wanted hope.

“I don’t know the first thing about relationships, baby. That’s going to set us both up for mistakes, but we’ll work through it. You’ll learn. I’ll learn. That’s what couples do.”

“I thought we were going to be friends.” She was feeling desperate to get away from him. Friendship would never work. She was too attracted to him. She needed to give him everything he wanted or needed, just as she’d done all her life with her parents. She gave and gave until there was nothing left of her, and they died anyway.

“We’re going to be friends, honey. We already are. You know more about me than anyone but my brothers in Torpedo Ink. I know you’re scared, but you have to trust me to take care of you.”

She was scared. Not only of him, but of her own hidden desires. He brought things out in her that she was terrified
to explore. She forced a nod, pressing her fingers to her lips to make certain she didn’t try to kiss him again. She didn’t seem to have any control at all around him.

Savage sighed again and stepped aside, letting her slip inside her car. The moment she was seated and she took the keys, he stepped back and closed her door.

She wanted to cry as she looked at him through the window while she started her car. It was the last time she was ever going to see him. He was a beautiful, gorgeous man, but far too broken for her to fix. She couldn’t save him any more than she could have saved her parents or herself. She’d done everything for them, even taken on their illness, and in the end, she’d lost everything, just as she would lose Savage. The difference was, with Savage, she would lose her heart. Her soul. Everything she was.

Seychelle drove straight to the bar. She could walk to a motel from there. Motels were in abundance. Tourists came often for whale watching and film festivals and everything else Sea Haven and Fort Bragg had to offer. Then there was Alena’s restaurant, Crow 287, fast becoming a huge draw for Caspar. There was everything there, but she was leaving.

She put her head down on the steering wheel and allowed herself to cry. She had come here hoping for a new start. She wanted to be independent and happy, but she wasn’t either of those things. She was strong and disciplined in most areas of her life, but the fact that she couldn’t stop herself from trying to heal other people’s illnesses was slowly killing her. She was just worn out. There was no way to stop herself. She’d tried, but she just couldn’t find any control. That meant living a very solitary existence. She didn’t even know what she was doing, as evidenced by coming here to this bar. It made no sense and yet here she was.

Savage.
She whispered his name. She couldn’t imagine her life without him in it.

She had no control when it came to him. No more control than she had when it came to her strange gift—or curse—of attempting to heal others. She’d never felt so much for another human being. She’d never felt so alive. So passionate. So completely happy or sad. So . . .
everything
when she was with Savage. She had no balance anymore.

She caught glimpses of the violence in his life. Of darkness. He was worried about his dark sexual practices coming to light and that she would be disgusted. She was intrigued. She even, to some extent, fantasized about them. That was a hidden secret she barely wanted to admit to herself. Why she would be hot, slick and wanting whenever she thought about Savage and what he needed, she didn’t know, especially when nothing else seemed to put her body in the mood. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted to explore that side of herself, although the thought was both thrilling and terrifying.

But other women? She couldn’t do that. She just couldn’t. No matter how much she loved him. How much she wanted to be with him. The emptiness she felt when she was away from him. Just feeling the raw lust those women had for him as they fixated on him had eaten away at her. She’d felt less of a woman than she ever had in her life, and Savage had dismissed her concerns and doubts so easily.

She stared at herself in the rearview mirror and then, making up her mind, she locked her car and went inside. There were mostly men sitting at the bar and a few couples occupying the tables. A country-western song was playing, and the lights were low. Exactly what she needed. She bought a pack of cigarettes and immediately went outside and lit one. She might have enjoyed it, but she felt a little like a guilty, defiant child instead of an adult making her own decisions—because lighting up the cigarette was just that: defiance. She didn’t even want to smoke. Restless and
unhappy, she crushed it under her foot, picked it up and tossed it in the trash can just outside the bar.

Back inside, she ordered a drink, and immediately one of the men at the bar insisted on paying for it. He slid from his bar stool to sit beside her. His name was Bill, and no, it wasn’t her first time in the bar, but she didn’t come here often. He gave out harmless vibes of loneliness, so she let him pay for her drink. He seemed a nice enough man, just trying to find his way the same way she was.

Two drinks later she was back outside with another cigarette. This smoke was much more enjoyable than the last one. Bill stood with her, still talking, but his vibe had gone from lonely to far more amorous. He was easy, though. Easy to talk to. It was easy to make decisions about whether or not she wanted to be with him. He’d tried to kiss her once, but she couldn’t, not with her suddenly churning stomach threatening to empty itself all over him. Smoking outside was a better thing to do. She felt so sick. And the world kept tilting, first one way and then the other.

“Come on, baby, time to go home.”

She blinked rapidly to bring the speaker into focus, because she knew that voice. So soft. Velvet soft but with steel under it. Savage stood there, gently removing her arm from Bill’s grasp.

“She’s with me,” Bill said, but he stepped back.

“Actually, she’s my woman, and touching her isn’t allowed.”

Again, that voice was very soft, but a little shiver went down Seychelle’s spine. She stuck her chin out belligerently. “Actually, you can’t stop me from being with Bill.”

“Babe. Really? I could put Bill six feet under, and then I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be with him. Corpses don’t make good lovers. Let’s get you home. You drank a little too much.”

“I can’t go home. I can’t drive.” She was certain of that. She could barely stand. She wasn’t used to drinking, but
she wasn’t going to admit to that. The world was spinning, and so was her stomach.

Savage wrapped one arm around her waist and took the cigarette from her hand. “Where’s the pack, Seychelle?”

She loved his voice. That soft, velvet brush along her skin. The sound sent a million butterflies winging their way through her body. Her stomach did a slow roll, and always, always when he spoke like that, she went damp and needy. Little fingers of desire danced up her thighs and down her spine. Just with his voice. She really had to tell him.

“I love your voice. It’s so beautiful.”

Savage smiled at her. “Thank you, baby, but I still need the pack. Give it to me.”

She watched him crush the cigarette and put it in the trash can. He tossed the pack after it and then he walked her to her car. “It’s good you didn’t litter,” she said solemnly, because really, littering was
so
wrong. “And I’ve been contemplating the corpse thing. That’s just really
eeww
. I might have nightmares.” She waved at Bill.

Savage shook his head as he opened the passenger-side door and snapped her seat belt in place. “You’re going to be all right. I’ll take care of you.”

“You’re kind of dreamy, Savage. Like dreamy gorgeous.”

He tucked her hair behind her ear, a faint smile on his face. “Glad you think so, baby.” He closed the door and rounded the hood. She watched him every step of the way as he got behind the wheel. He really was beautiful. As he drove the car from the parking lot, he signaled to someone behind them. She heard the familiar and now comforting roar of Harley pipes, and then they were on the highway, heading back to Sea Haven.

Savage knew he wasn’t getting drunk sex, as intriguing as his body thought it was. His woman was a very sick drunk. She wasn’t sloppy. Or clingy. Or even weepy. She was just plain sick. Savage had no idea why he found that so fuckin’ amusing, but he did. She couldn’t drink worth shit
and he was going to put his foot down when it came to her drinking alone, without his club—or him—protecting her.

He spent some time with her in the bathroom, although she protested, embarrassed, not wanting him to see her like that. He had news for her: he was the kind of man to want to see his woman in every type of circumstance. He didn’t leave her alone when she needed him. And she needed him. He’d never seen anyone so sick. He had the feeling it was less about how much she’d drunk and more about her being allergic.

“Do you think it’s her first time drinking?” Ink asked, concerned. “Maybe we should take her to the hospital. She could have alcohol poisoning.”

“I think she’s allergic,” Savage said. He glanced at his watch. He had club business tonight, but he couldn’t leave her, not when she was so sick. There was nothing left for her to throw up, but she still hugged the toilet bowl, miserable and retching. He had gathered her hair, bunched it in his hand and held it out of the way. Finally, he loosely braided it to keep it away from her face. The moment she stopped vomiting, he was putting her in the shower, and then hoping she’d go to sleep.

Ink sat in an armchair. Preacher perched on the end of the bed. His two fellow Torpedo Ink brothers regarded him solemnly.

“You have to get out of here soon,” Preacher reminded him. “Transporter said to tell you the same man who’s been coming around the place, just walking by, did again tonight. This time he had a girl with him. He walked slow and kept his eyes on the cottage. Had his arm around the girl but not his attention on the girl.”

Savage wrapped his arm around Seychelle’s waist and lifted her off the floor. She groaned and turned her face away from him, or tried to. He had her braid bunched in his fist, and he didn’t let up on her scalp, forcing her head toward the sink so he could rinse out her mouth and brush her teeth before taking her ass into the shower.

“What kind of shape was the girl in that he was with? Did Transporter say? I need to get Seychelle into the shower. In the top drawer she has some tanks. Can you get one out for me?”

“Savage?” Seychelle looked up at him, misery on her face. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay. I think I’m done throwing up.”

“Just brush your teeth, baby. I’m getting you cleaned up and then into bed. We’ll talk about this later. When I’m not so pissed and you’re not so screwed up.”

“Guy with the chick wasn’t the only one, Savage. Transporter said Seychelle went into town to help some older couple, and that wormy asshole Arnold was creeping around her house. He tried her doors, both front and back and even the garage. He even tried the windows. At one point he picked up a rock like he might throw it through a window, but Transporter started walking toward the cottage and the asshole jumped in his car and took off,” Preacher said.

“Why the hell wasn’t I told immediately?” Savage demanded.

Ink shrugged. “I went to the hotel. He’d already checked out and left for the Bay Area. Figured there was no real hurry and it could wait until this evening.”

Holding Seychelle close to him as she brushed her teeth, Savage realized they were right. What could he have done? “Can you stay with her while I’m gone? Don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone. And did Transporter say anything about the girl Campbell was with? I’m sure it was Campbell hanging around too.”

“No, Transporter didn’t say anything about the girl, but I’ll text him and ask,” Preacher said. He exchanged a long look with Ink. “You need us to stay, there’s no problem.”

“Just so we’re clear on this woman, Savage,” Ink said. “This is a permanent situation?”

“Guess you didn’t hear what I said. Seychelle belongs to me. She’s mine. I’m not ever turning her loose. I don’t know
how to put it any fuckin’ plainer than that. She’s going to live with me, and she’s stayin’ no matter how rough it gets. So be her friend and watch out for her. She’s never going to have an easy life.”

Seychelle spit into the sink and rinsed out her mouth repeatedly. Savage reached around her and turned off the faucet. He unbraided her hair and set her down on the bathroom floor, so he could turn on the shower and then strip. She was next. Fuckin’ devil in hell was trying to tempt him.

Bog
, his woman. She had curves in abundance. Slender legs, small waist and rib cage, but hips, tits and ass. It was all there, but even better, her skin was porcelain white. Perfect skin. A fuckin’ canvas. Her tits had perfect nipples, just as he had suspected. Because her breasts were ample, her nipples were tight buds that stood out perfectly for clamps, a pretty, blushing pink. She’d been created for him, his perfect little angel he was going to corrupt and lead straight to the fires of hell.

She kept winding herself around him, her hands straying south, stroking when he didn’t need her touching his already-hard-as-a-rock cock. No matter how many times he took her hands off him, they were back. She wound her leg around him, the one with the scars, rubbing her sweet pussy over his thigh, and she was hotter than hell.

He gave up trying to keep her hands from pumping his cock, carried her into the shower and took advantage, licking at her nipples to see how sensitive they were. He used the edge of his teeth, then bit down and pulled gently, listening to her gasp, listening to the way her breathing changed. His hand moved between her legs to feel the damp heat. His fingers found her slick, and each time he tugged or bit down a little harder on her nipples, a fresh flood of liquid coated his fingers. He couldn’t stop the need welling up like a volcano, but he could be disciplined. She was drunk and sick. He needed to lay everything out in front of her, let her know what his needs were. What kinds
of things were going to be expected of her. This wasn’t fair to her.

“Okay, baby, we have to stop before this gets out of hand,” he advised, although that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Put your hands on my chest and leave them there.”

Her eyes closed, and she began to slump. He had to catch her around the waist and hold her up to wash her carefully, wash that waterfall of gold-and-platinum-colored hair, condition it and then pass her off to Preacher and Ink while he showered. They wrapped her hair in a towel and dried her off, pulled on her tank and then tucked her into bed. He dressed, found a blow-dryer and started on her hair.

Preacher took the dryer out of his hand. “You’re already going to be late if you don’t rocket. They aren’t going to wait for you, Savage. Czar’s meeting with Plank at three in the morning. It takes an hour to get there, and you’re running out of time. You have to be on time.”