He was giving her too much of himself—the real man, not the one that was steeped in violence. She had the one no one else knew. He was her best friend. They shared laughter and silly things. They shared truth, no matter how embarrassing or painful. They took care of the elderly and enjoyed their stories. Simple things mattered, like eating eggs and then walking together on the headlands with the wind blowing in their faces.
“You know I have no choice.”
There was so much sadness in his voice, she wanted to go to him and put her arms around him. It was all she could do to stay in the chair. It was definitely getting harder to keep herself from being all in with him. That deep well of self-loathing in him disturbed her. She knew he fought every day with himself just to stay alive. She tried to give him as much of herself as she could without compromising her heart, but she knew it wasn’t enough. On some level, he knew it too.
“You finished?” Savage stood up abruptly and took her plate, not even commenting on the fact that she hadn’t really eaten all the hash browns. Normally, he never would have let her get away with that. He put both plates in the sink, something else he never did, and he took her hand. “Let’s go. I need to get some fresh air.”
He didn’t say another word, just handed her a jacket, pulled on his own and shoved open the door before taking her hand again. She let him. She saw inside him now. It wasn’t a surprise to her that sex, violence and pain were all wrapped together in one terrible knot that was tight and bright red with blood dripping down flesh from stripes etched into skin. She absorbed it calmly, not shrinking away like she knew he expected her to do.
She’d never come across anyone like Savage before. He was the epitome of the kind of man a woman like Seychelle should never go near. He was like the flame and she was the moth, drawing ever nearer and nearer. She walked with him, easily falling into step, and he pulled her closer to his warmth, right under his shoulder, until her body was tight against his.
He moved smoothly, no jarring steps in spite of the uneven ground. He was protective, making certain she didn’t step off the narrow trail, so that if necessary, he was the one smashing a plant with his heavy motorcycle boots.
They walked in silence and let the wind coming off the ocean tug at their clothes and hair. She was grateful for the continuous assault of the cool breeze that bit at her face and whipped at her eyes so that when tears leaked out, there was another reason other than the slashing pain of the need for whips tearing into skin.
Just as abruptly as Savage had gathered their plates, he swung Seychelle around and all but dragged her back to her house. At the door, he caught her face in his hand, nearly squeezing her jaw between his thumb and forefinger while his eyes blazed down at her like two living flames.
“Can’t stay tonight, babe. It’s not safe for you.”
He leaned down and took her mouth. He wasn’t the least bit gentle. His mouth was hard and hot. It was a takeover. An invasion. It was pure hell, flames and wicked heat pouring into her. Rough. He bit her lower lip, a sting his tongue soothed, and she felt an answering fire raging through her veins and pooling low. He stepped back, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.
“Where are you going?” The query came out a whisper because it was all she could manage.
“San Francisco. Fight club. A couple of the brothers will go with me.” He shrugged. “They’ll make sure I keep it under control.”
He didn’t look like it was going to be under control. He looked . . . destroyed.
She shook her head. “Don’t go, Savage. I’ve got a really bad feeling. Stay with me. I can find a way to make it better for you.”
He shook his head. “When I’m like this, it’s bad. I can’t be around you. I want you to promise me you’ll stay close to home. Be alert and remember to lock your door.”
“Savage, don’t go. I really do have a bad feeling.” She did. She wanted to hang on to him. Hold him close. She knew something terrible was going to happen if he left her.
“I’ll be back in a day or two. You’ve got that worried look on your face.” He bent his head again, and this time he brushed light kisses over her eyes and along the corners of her mouth. One over the little mark on her lip. “Be good.”