“Punishments are supposed to hurt. Turn around and put your fucking seat belt on or I’m going to pull this truck over and you’re going to be hurting a lot worse than you do now.”
Now his cock was so swollen with need he wanted to tell her to lie across the console and put her mouth on him. Fuck him. He really was the devil. Her face was still wet with tears, and they had been driving for miles. It didn’t matter to the monster. If he didn’t have to keep the truck on the road, he would have made his demands. She pulled the tee gingerly over her head. He had to keep casting little glances at her as he maneuvered several curves in the road before he was finally on a straight stretch.
Seychelle struggled to get her arms carefully into the tee and pull the material over her breasts. She made a single sound of muffled pain, turning her face away from him toward the window. Her hands were shaking when she placed them on her knees, which were still inside the sleeping bag.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked again, this time forcing a gentleness into his voice.
“I want to sit up when we talk. I don’t think you’re going to take me seriously if I’m laying down.” She clenched her teeth and dashed at the tears running down her face.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping, not talking. Babe, I put that lotion on you for a reason. You’ve taken half of it off you. How do you expect it to work?”
“I expect you to listen to me.” She lifted her chin at him.
Bog, he loved that little chin lift. “I always listen to you.” He had to clear his own eyes. The fucking road kept blurring.
“Evidently, you don’t, Savage. We talk, I think we’re on the same page and then you pull this bullshit.”
Seychelle didn’t swear. He swore. He thought she was the most beautiful thing in the world. “You knew what I was, Seychelle. I never lied to you,” he said in a low voice.
“Sometimes I want to shake you.” She pressed her fingers to her trembling lips. “We’re supposed to be partners, you asshole. Partners. You don’t get to negate what I do for you. You don’t reduce it to nothing. You took on the rage for your brothers, and I took on the pain for you. That was the pact we made. That’s what we both did. You don’t get to sit in this truck and think about taking your life and leaving me alone because you think you screwed up. That’s not how it works. You make me so angry sometimes, Savage. Why don’t you take on my anger?”
Her blue eyes flashed fire at him. It took a few minutes for her statement to actually penetrate when he was expecting something altogether different.
Shit. Shit. That look on her face. Those eyes of hers. They had softened into that unusual teal color. She took his breath. Robbed him of his ability to think with his brain. He had to be realistic. She had to be realistic. No one, no one could love a monster, least of all an angel.
He couldn’t fucking drive when she was looking at him like that. He did pull to the side of the road. His hands were shaking. She couldn’t look at him like that. She couldn’t. Rage was close, welling up like a volcano. He left the engine running, and he gripped the steering wheel with both hands hard because he didn’t trust himself.
“Do you think that’s the worst it gets?” He spat the truth at her. Snarled it. She couldn’t look at him like that. She had no idea what was close to being loose in the truck with her.
“No, I don’t. I believe it will get much worse than that.” Seychelle spoke very calmly and swiped at the tears on her face with the pads of her fingers.
She looked so fucking young. So innocent. Her face was soft. Adoring. Her eyes so damn blue and looking at him with …
“For fuck’s sake, Seychelle,” he exploded. He reached across the console, turning fully toward her. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what? How am I looking at you, Savage?” She challenged.
He knew it was deliberate by that defiant little chin lift. Her eyes just got bluer. Went to pure teal. Underwater. Completely immersed with those tears, but still her gaze clung to him, refusing to look away. She defied his command completely, staring at him with that look of utter and unconditional love. There was no such thing.
She was going to leave him. She would. It wasn’t possible that she really felt that way about him. She couldn’t love him. He was ugly to his core. He didn’t have a soul anymore. They’d ripped it out of him when he was a child, and no matter what he did to those fuckers, how many he took out to save other children, he couldn’t redeem himself and get his soul back.
He would forever have this cycle of rage and the need to see his woman suffer for him. Prove to him over and over that she was willing to give to him what he gave to those he loved. Pain. He took their anger and rage, and it became his pain. He gave that to Seychelle. That cycle would never stop. He needed to feel the whip in his hand to gain back control. He needed to see those welts and red stripes on her body to settle the terrible chaos in his mind. To take away the demons ruling his world and restore order. To make him man enough to be with a woman he loved. He needed her. Seychelle. And he was driving her away because he knew the longer she stayed and gave him that solace, the more he would need her. Depend on her. Believe in her. He already believed.
“Damn you. Fuck you, Seychelle. Stop looking at me like that. I fucking mean it. I’ll put you out of the truck right on the side of the road dressed in nothing but my T-shirt.”
She shifted her weight slightly, easing off her sore left cheek to give herself a reprieve. He could tell her it wasn’t going to help. Her ass was a mess, and she needed to be off it. He let his gaze travel over her body, a slow, leering, possessive inspection, down to the hem of his tee, where her hips showed the dark welts. She shifted again, easing up on her sore ass.
Deliberately, he gave her a shark’s smirk. “Hurts, doesn’t it, baby? Even with the painkillers I gave you. You move around and keep your weight on it and it will only get worse. You know what that does for me?” He dropped his hand to the bulge in his jeans and slowly opened the zipper, giving his aching cock some fucking relief from the tight restriction. “Makes me hard as a rock knowing I put those hot welts on my woman and she’s going to wear them for a long time.” He rubbed his palm over his cock, watching her face.
She was watching him just like she had that first time in the hospital, with just a little hint of amusement. “Damn you to hell, Seychelle. Don’t you dare laugh. I will throw you out of this truck. Stop looking at me like that.”
She sighed and wiped at the tears on her face again. This time she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I can’t stop looking at you this way. I’ll never stop, so you’re going to have to get used to it. You’re having a panic attack, just like I did. I can love whoever I want to, Savage, and I chose you. I will always choose you.”
“You were going to leave me last night.”
“Because you wouldn’t listen to me, not because I didn’t love you. You chose the club. You refused to be committed to us. I’m loyal, Savage. One hundred percent. You promised me the same. You’re giving me that now and giving me the emotional support I need. I’m giving that back to you. That’s called a relationship.” She pressed her hand tighter against her stomach. “Will you please roll down the window? I need some air.”