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“Then you’re going to have a fuckin’ hard few months until you do, baby.” He was implacable. “I have to live with rules in order to keep sane. That means my woman does as well. You do have a choice whether or not you want to make that commitment to me, and it’s a big decision. This right here, the first rule, that’s to save your life. This is the easy one. It isn’t about controlling you, Seychelle, this is the one that gives you freedom.”

Seychelle pressed her lips together. Savage was doing his best to lay things out for her. His truth. Her needs. She knew he wanted to be very clear what she was facing before she made a commitment to him, but a part of her wanted to jump in blindfolded with both feet. Learn along the way. One tiny thing at a time, as long as he knew what she needed from him. Her needs weren’t a long laundry list, but he was right. She did need help with her gift.

“You have to commit to that. Out loud. You tell me you’re with me on that, and after we go through this we’ll sit down and figure out what works for you. But I need to hear the words, babe. You have to give that to me.”

Savage was a man who would demand she lean on him, not the other way around. She knew she wouldn’t live long if she kept going the way she was. “Savage.” She kept her voice low. “If we end up together, of course I’ll commit to allowing you to say when I’ve had enough. Hopefully you’re right, and we can come up with ways to control my inability to stop taking on too much sickness.”

She meant it too. Nothing would make her happier. She knew her inability to control her gift was slowly killing her. She hadn’t realized Savage knew it, and it melted her heart that he’d gone to another healer to try to find a way to help her. She hadn’t expected that. He’d surprised her twice.

“We’re going to end up together, Seychelle. You have to have that in your mind when I’m laying this out for you, or every step of the way, you’re going to be protesting. You already know it’s going to be a shit deal for you. If it wasn’t, I would have laid it out weeks ago, and we wouldn’t have been in this mess.”

That was so true. She wasn’t a coward. She wanted this. She wanted him. She had no real idea of what to expect of his lifestyle. She might have caught frightening glimpses that had intrigued her, but at the same time, she knew she wasn’t even close to knowing what he might ultimately demand from her. And then there were the women . . .

If she couldn’t be what he needed, she was terrified she’d lose him to them. “You said it would just be the two of us, Savage. You and me. How do I know that’s the truth?”

She leaned her head against the headboard. His touch was mesmerizing her. The way his eyes focused so completely on her sent hot blood rushing through her veins. Her stomach reacted with a slow roll, and no matter how hard she tried to prevent it, her sex clenched hard, needing him.

“Because as much as I fucking hate it, I tell you the truth about me. I give you my word. I give you the real man.”

The pads of his fingers slid over her leg. He bent his head, and his lips were there, following the path of his fingers, a whisper of velvet, a touch of his tongue, as if he was tasting the sacrifice she’d made—her flawless skin for his life. He was blatantly seducing her into staying, and she was letting him when she should be thinking about self-preservation.

Savage ached for Seychelle. Her struggles touched him, a physical reaction, an actual heavy ache in his chest. So many weeks with her now, knowing her. Wanting her. Seeing who she was. “All those nights I lay right there on this bed next to you, wrapping my arms around your hips, laying my head on your belly and falling asleep. I don’t do that, I don’t ever lay in a bed with a woman. I don’t fall asleep on her. You’re . . .” He searched for the right word.

She needed to know what she meant to him. He could see she didn’t have the confidence that she would be different to him than any other woman. “Extraordinary.”

She blinked, her long lashes sweeping down and then back up. Her fingers plucked nervously at the sheet. He covered her hand gently.

“I lay there a long time, listening to your heartbeat. Thinking about what I would be asking of you. I realized I have to give you that same exact measure of surrender. If I want you all in, I have to make that same commitment to you—only to you.” He wanted her to have that assurance.


Tags: Christine Feehan Torpedo Ink Romance