Savage made himself a second ham-and-cheese sandwich and found a cold beer. He offered one to Seychelle. When she declined, he handed her a cold bottle of water.
“Keep going, honey. What happened to the girl?”
“She hit her head, which, honestly, we were grateful for. She couldn’t see any of us in the room. We killed the asshole before he could hurt Alena. When we tried to tell Czar that we should find something to trade to the other group for her, he thought it over and then said no. He was like that sometimes; he wouldn’t take kids we wanted to bring in with us. He said it was too risky, that she didn’t fit with us. She never knew we even asked, but we all felt bad. The group she was with lied all the time and traded favors upstairs with the guards and instructors. Sorbacov owed someone a favor, and he gave her away. We never heard what happened to her.”
“Has Czar ever been wrong?” Seychelle asked.
“Not that I know of. He says plenty of times, but when we’ve compared notes, none of us found when he was wrong. He’s gotten us out of some bad messes just by having the right people in place when shit goes down.”
“So you’re saying I could be one of those right people.” She took a drink of water, her blue eyes fixed on his face.
“You’re the right person for me,” he said.
She winced visibly. “Some of your brothers and sisters don’t think so.”
He’d been afraid of that. She’d said it straight up to Czar when they’d walked through the grounds earlier. He hoped Czar was delivering a much-earned lecture to Lana, Alena and Maestro right that minute. They had no right to undermine Seychelle’s confidence. It was a damn good thing he wasn’t alone with them right now. Maestro had all but admitted that he and Lana had told Seychelle she wasn’t right for him. They hadn’t meant it that way, it had just come off that way, whatever the fuck that meant.
To keep the adrenaline pouring into his system under control, he jumped off the table to retrieve two gas lamps. Lighting them, he hung them in the sprawling branches of the tree that spread across the campsite. Crouching beside the firepit, he began to build a fire for them.
“That’s a load of crap. Are the girls giving you a hard time? I thought they’d dropped that and decided to be your friend.” He didn’t look at her. He didn’t want her to see how upset he was.
“Why is it everyone seems to be under the impression that I can’t handle your needs, Savage?”
He looked up at her from where he was crouching down beside the firepit. “I don’t know, baby. They don’t know you, and they haven’t taken the time to get to know you. It isn’t their business either. We made a pact, an agreement between us. What we do together is between us.” He gestured around their campsite. “I asked for a private site, and they did come through for us. The brothers are protecting us, but we’re shielded for the most part.”
Seychelle took her time studying the borders of their site. She could see Ice and Storm moving around if she really tried. There were bushes between them, but not that many. Destroyer had a bedroll set out just down from them and in front of Czar. They were a fairly good distance from each other and from Savage’s campsite. On the other side was Maestro and Keys. It wasn’t easy to see any of them, and Savage knew they would avoid Savage’s camp unless expressly invited.
“I thought I was getting to at least know Lana,” Seychelle said. “She really was against me coming here. There seems to be some kind of idea that it’s perfectly all right for you to use other women while you’re away from me.”
Her voice was very matter-of-fact, but he heard the underlying note of uncertainty. His gaze jumped to hers. She had the water bottle in her hand, halfway to her mouth. Her teeth were biting down on her bottom lip.
Savage stood and went to her. “Is that what they think?” He took the bottle from her hand and set it aside before sitting on the table.
She hopped off the table and immediately paced away from him. “You know they do.” She rubbed at her temples as though she might have a headache and began to pace around the campsite.
“Do you care what they think, Seychelle?” He kept his gaze on her.
She didn’t answer immediately, but her agitation was growing. His woman. She was pacing slow. Savage tried not to let the monster in him react. She was going to have enough to contend with on this trip. She already did. They were working through problems, and she was facing one hell of a punishment—which she knew and was probably thinking about right at that moment. Still, watching her move in those jeans, knowing his marks were rubbing, setting her ass and thighs on fire with every step, woke the beast in him.
There were all kinds of assholes who could wield a single-tailed whip and tear open skin, leaving a bloody mess and horrific scars, but very, very few could wield that same whip, raise long, bright welts in complicated patterns and never once break the skin. That was skill. Especially if they did so while sheer fury raged through their bloodstream.
The minute he laid eyes on Seychelle, he’d begun putting hours into practicing again. He wasn’t about to slice open her skin. Welts were just fine, vicious ones when he was at his worst—he accepted that it would happen, but he refused to go beyond that. He was honest enough to admit he looked forward to seeing her skin covered in the hot, complicated patterns he could create, knowing they would stay for days, knowing just how much pressure he could wield before that whip would break the soft tissue of her skin.
Sometimes he woke covered in sweat, no longer dripping from nightmares but with his cock raging with hunger. Images of Seychelle tied to the post, tears running down her face, begging him to take her, her body so needy, while he circled her, whip in hand, looking for one more hit, one more rush, before answering that need for both of them, pounded through his brain.
He had given himself hard limits with her. Hard limits. He wouldn’t cross certain lines with her, no matter how far she was willing to go for him. He wasn’t willing to go there. Not with her. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he ripped her skin open and then got off on it—and he would. He’d be beyond aroused. They’d wired him that way. No matter what he’d done to try to undo the damage, it hadn’t worked. He didn’t need to go that far. He didn’t even want to. But everything else—and there were so many other things that his little innocent had no idea of, in spite of her foray into darker porn.
“No.” Her gaze flicked up to his. “Maybe. I don’t know. I thought Lana and I were becoming friends. It was disconcerting to realize she doesn’t respect me.”
“Why are you way over there?” He patted the tabletop. “Why aren’t you over here with me? We’re working things out. Just the two of us. You’re getting more agitated instead of calmer. Why is that, baby?”
She paused in her pacing. “I’m not.” She flushed. Even she had to hear the lie in her voice. “Okay. You’re right. I am. I don’t know why. I do know why. I broke a lot of rules, and you’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“No, babe. I’m not. But you wouldn’t want me to.”
Her chin went up, and her eyes flashed at him. “I had every right to be super pissed.”