“Then that’s what we’ll have to do. I’m his pet and you scare me.”
Savage studied her face for a long moment and then shook his head. “You aren’t the type that scares so easy, Scarlet. You took a knife away from a rapist and his friends. You fought them off with it. You went by yourself to a man whose reputation would put off most very scary men and you stayed with him a year in order to learn how to kill the men who raped your sister. You don’t scare easy, honey. You’re a fighter. You already know what I’d have to do and you’re prepared for it.”
Savage looked as if he might shake Absinthe—or her. He paced across the room. “This is bullshit. We fuckin’ set this up, the perfect storm. Steele. The fire. Alena. Her cookies. Me. You. What the hell were we thinking?”
“Tell me what I have to do to get him back.” Scarlet poured conviction into her voice. “You’re the scariest man I’ve ever seen. I have no doubt you’ll figure it out. Tell me what to do. What he needs. I can play any role. I’m good. I can get into his mind. We have a connection. We have to try. We have to do this.” She made it a demand. Savage had his back to her but she saw him stiffen. His shoulders went straight.
Savage took a deep breath and turned to face her. When he did, he looked different. The change was subtle, but the man that was raging with so much worry for his brother had been taken over by something that reminded her of the Grim Reaper. His eyes were flat and cold and carried death.
“You only think you know me, Scarlet. I’m not like the rest of them. You don’t want my demons in this room with only the two of us here. So you bring him back. Be his little pet. Make him think you can’t live without him, that if you don’t do what you’re told I’m going to end your life. That’s what’s going to make him come to you. Your fear. Your need. He has to feel his little kitten’s fear. Get your mouth on his cock and get busy.”
She turned her attention to Absinthe, stroking his thighs, but she knew it wasn’t going to work. He was so far away. She reached for him. Tried to connect and there were only … nightmares. Ugly nightmares. No matter what she tried, mind-to-mind contact, she couldn’t reach Absinthe. He just wasn’t there.
Savage began to pace back and forth behind her. A shirt fluttered to the floor beside her knees. She caught another quick glimpse of Savage, thick chest bare, his muscles rippling, a belt in is hands, folded in two. His chest was covered in scars and whip marks. Branded into his flesh were the words Whip Master. Up close, the sight of him was terrifying. She wanted to run for the bed and the gun Absinthe had left her for protection.
Savage suddenly towered over the top of her, caught her by her hair and yanked her head back, setting her heart pounding madly.
“What the fuck are you waiting for? I can’t reach him. You can see he’s too far gone. Bring him back. He’s trapped there again. He’s in his mind. It happens and he can’t get out. You have to bring him the fuck out.”
She tried to knock his hand away from her scalp, her reaction to being touched by him almost visceral, but his arm was so hard it actually hurt to hit him with her forearm. She felt the jolt all the way up to her shoulder. Savage didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were so cold and dead she shivered with fear. She knew death when she saw it, and she was looking straight into the eyes of the Grim Reaper. Still, it was going to take a lot more to really get beyond her need to fight back. She pushed down the urge to slam her fist right between Savage’s legs.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Then get to work.” But he let her go.
She shifted her gaze to the bed. “Let me get my gun.”
He glanced toward the bed speculatively and then at her face. Very slowly he shook his head and a chill went down her spine.
“I don’t think so. You have a great deal more incentive to save his life knowing yours might be on the line.”
She stared into those flat, cold eyes and then, without another word, she crawled off the red cushion, pushed past Savage, and deliberately wound around Absinthe’s legs to create the feeling in him of his pet—his live pet—the one who gave him a semblance of comfort so he could sleep and keep the nightmares at bay. Why he had a fireplace in his bedroom, she had no idea, but they weren’t going to light the damn thing before he went to sleep, not ever again.
She purred and rubbed her cheek on the inside of Absinthe’s thighs as she deftly opened the drawstring of his pants. She nudged his hand with the top of her hair, still acting the part of the kitten. He had told her she could come to him for reassurance if she needed it. A part of her wondered how he would choose a woman like her—one who didn’t need his protection the way someone much more fragile might.
She concentrated on making the opening in the drawstring trousers as wide as possible in order to get full access to Absinthe’s cock and balls. Even soft, his cock was long and thick, the promise of it making her mouth water. She licked his balls and then up his shaft. There was no response.
“You get five minutes, you fucking little pussycat, and then I’m going to think you aren’t putting any effort into saving my brother,” Savage snarled, leaning over her shoulder so fast her heart jerked hard and then began to pound in growing fear.
Behind her, he began to pace again up and down the length of the room. She tried to concentrate on Absinthe’s cock, but she couldn’t keep Savage in sight other than for a brief glimpse every few moments when he moved into her peripheral vision. Scarlet tried to ignore him, to feel the weight and texture of Absinthe’s cock on her tongue, to stroke it lovingly, but Savage was so silent and so menacing that it felt as if she was in the room with a caged tiger, ready to leap on her any moment and rip her to shreds.
She found herself actually pulling Absinthe’s cock deep and sucking a little desperately, almost for comfort, her heart pounding so frantically she feared that pounding beat could be heard throughout the room. Certainly, it thundered in her ears. She found the energy in the room was dark and menacing, a strange combination when she’d been feeling Savage’s deep concern for Absinthe. Now there was none of that, only this terrible need to strike at her.
She used everything she’d learned that Absinthe loved, pouring attention and care on him, trying not to let the pacing that was coming closer and closer behind her get to her. Savage was like an animal. A terrible predator waiting for her to screw up.
“Fuckin’ get to work. Don’t you know the first thing about suckin’ cock? I can text one of the little club girls, get them to go down on him and do a better job than you’re doin’,” he hissed, contempt in his voice.
Fear beat at her, but anger mixed with that fear. As long as she felt anger toward Savage, as long as she thought about coming to her feet and driving her fist into his mouth to smash his ugly words right back down his throat, she was never going to convince Absinthe she was that frightened little kitten who desperately needed him to come save her. She was too busy formulating plans to save herself.
She understood flashbacks. She did. She’d had a few of her own. What was wrong with her that she was never enough for anyone to stick around? All while a part of her tried not to think of herself or why she couldn’t reach Absinthe, she worked her skills on him, doing her best to ignore the growing threat of the predator prowling behind her. She kept trying to find Absinthe, to connect with him. To reach him. Even with their pathway forged so solidly between them, nothing got through to him. Nothing at all.
Savage crowded behind her aggressively, his fist once more in her hair. “You don’t seem to believe I’m serious, little pet. I think you need a little persuasion.”
Her eyes met his, those cold, dead blue ones, and at once her vision changed and she was in the past again. There were girls, not women, but girls. She couldn’t begin to guess their age, late teens maybe. Several were tied in twisted torture positions to various racks or benches, much like she imagined a modern-day bondage room might have, only this looked as if it might be the real thing. No velvet whips. No soft floggers. A loud whistle cut t
hrough the air and a stripe of red lit up one of the girls. She screamed. Immediately, the crack of other whips followed as a dozen men followed suit, whipping other girls.
One man stepped forward and a hush fell over the room. Even the girls went quiet. He was completely naked, his body all raw muscle, scarred, burned, with the words Whip Master branded into his chest. His hair was a mass of blond curls. He walked up to a girl crying and squirming on the rack in the center of the room. On his back, he had the words Master of Pain branded into his skin. He had scars all over him, both front and back, chest, buttocks, thighs. He was covered in scars and burn marks.
He leaned into the sobbing girl and licked at her tears, cupping her face gently and whispering to her. She nodded over and over. He kissed her and then backed off, walking away, muscles rippling as he coiled the whip. Abruptly he turned back to her, lashing out, striking repeatedly, turning her body into a series of red stripes forming patterns over her breasts, belly, sex and thighs. She didn’t scream, but tears continued to run silently down her face.
The whip master turned his head and Scarlet’s heart stuttered. He was no man. He was a teen, already with a man’s body, all muscle, his cock large and powerful, his eyes as ice-cold as the densest glacier. She recognized Savage staring at her before he walked back to the girl and once again licked at her tears, his hands roaming over her body, his cock sliding into her slick pussy as he took her hard and fast, uncaring of the blood running down her body.
Scarlet was staring into those same blank eyes right at that moment. She had no idea how she connected with his past so clearly, that terrible vignette of his life, but those images of his teenage training sent chills down her spine.
“You see me,” he said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “Now we understand each other.” Once again, he moved out of her sight. “You fuckin’ bring him back.”
The sound of the belt snapping was so loud she jumped, her body flinching under the crack of leather. Real fear skittered down her spine. Absinthe’s hand moved into her hair and stroked down the back of her head. His cock jerked, the first sign of life. She closed her eyes and let herself envision him sitting in the chair by the fire, concentrating on his kitten. Stroking her hair, murmuring praise and reassurance.
She felt rather than heard movement, as Savage passed very close to her, the belt sliding over her back, just a whisper of leather. Another shiver crept down her spine. The danger felt all too real. Savage liked to see marks on pristine skin, and she was showing far too much skin. A chill seized her. Absinthe’s fingers in her hair curled, dug into her scalp. Massaged. His other hand curled around the nape of her neck, his thumb sliding along her jaw, encouraging her to use her mouth.
“Suck, kiska. You’re safe. No one can hurt you.” His hand dropped away from her neck, but the one remained unmoving in her hair, keeping that connection.
Triumph burst through her. He still felt far away, but his voice was that soft, reassuring blend of gentle and command that only he seemed capable of producing. She did as he said, sucking harder, feeling him growing in her mouth, the weight of him heavier, his girth stretching her lips. She needed him to come closer, to acknowledge that she was his kitten, not some vague girl in his past. That he knew who was in the room with him. His wife. His woman. His partner. She would find his trigger and be so careful that this didn’t happen again to him.
She ran her tongue up under the broad, velvety crown and flicked that sensitive spot, then rubbed, feeling his cock grow even harder. Now he was beginning to feel more like Absinthe, but he was still far away, not present, and Savage seemed to know, stalking back and forth like that horrible prowling jungle cat, moving closer and closer until he suddenly reached around her with the belt, looping it around her collar before she was even aware he was going to strike.
The leather tightened. She gasped. The weight of Absinthe’s hand pushed her head down onto his cock so she took him deeper.
“It’s all right, kiska. I’m here.”
But he wasn’t. He was close. So close. She could almost reach him, but he wasn’t quite there. She knew it. Savage knew it.
Savage bent down so that his breath was hot in her ear. “Did you know that when a woman is deprived of oxygen when she’s orgasming, it can be very addictive because it’s such a fuckin’ rush? It’s also damn dangerous because she can die. So that’s a rush as well. What do you think, pussycat? Do you want to play? Or do you want to swallow him down and get him off?”
The belt tightened a second time for just a split second, making her gasp again, and this time she deliberately took more of Absinthe down, her heart going crazy. Savage might really kill her. He was that crazy. She didn’t know anything about him, but even the scent of him was real. He smelled dangerous. Feral.
She had to think like a frightened kitten. She moved closer to Absinthe, using her throat to make distressed-like sounds to vibrate through his cock to both call to him and massage him. The images in his mind receded more, bringing him closer to her. She turned her eyes to his face, her gaze clinging to his. She didn’t realize tears were falling until he was blurry. Those crystal eyes filled with rolling red and orange flames. She wanted those flames gone. She wanted them to turn at least to blue flames.
She poured her heart and soul into her administrations, trying to please him, trying to get him to recognize her, now as lost as he was. She didn’t belong here with him. She didn’t belong anywhere. She fit better in Thailand with Adrik. At least she understood his rules. He didn’t let emotion into his world. He said it fucked things up. This was about as fucked up as it got.
“Shh, kiska.” Absinthe’s thumbs wiped at the tears on her face. “You’re here with me right where you belong. No one is going to hurt you.”
His voice. That voice. Always so gentle, pouring over her like love should sound, when this was anything but. His hands in her hair, cupping her face, thumbs sliding over her skin, brushing at her cheeks, then back up to her hair while his hips thrust into her mouth. She locked eyes with him. Was he there with her? Was he really there?
She didn’t understand the world of Torpedo Ink. These men and women had been born into violence, they had banded together for survival, becoming much like a wolf pack learning to kill at a young age, using sex and a kind of feral ferocity to endure and outlast the predators they ended up hunting. She thought she knew violence after being exposed to the Holdens, but they were nothing in comparison. Even when she’d deliberately sought out those who could train her, none of them could compare to these men and women—not even Adrik. She had to go. She had to get away before she lost herself.
Absinthe gripped her hair unexpectedly, his body moving, his cock full and hard, suddenly aggressive, filling her mouth, sliding deeper, retreating. She was no longer the one in control, it was all him. His eyes flared down at her, going from red-orange rolling flames to a blue blaze as he fed her his cock. She could tell he was close, tasting that unique taste that was all his, the one that was addicting, and she knew, long after she left, she would never forget.
Then he was pouring into her mouth, one hand stroking her throat while he murmured to her to swallow him down. She couldn’t stop crying. The moment she could, she pulled away from him, wiping at her mouth, letting fury rise. At him. At Savage. At herself. Fear had a lot to do with it. She was a fighter and she never should have put herself in such a vulnerable position.
The belt was gone from around her neck, slithering away as if it had never been. It had never actually touched her throat. It had locked down on her collar, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was how Savage had made her feel. Small. Helpless. Insignificant. Hopeless even. She had vowed she would never feel those things again. She knew exactly how her sister had felt in those last moments of her life, just as Robert Holden Jr. and his friends had made Scarlet feel. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to smash her fist in both their faces. She wanted to claw at her own.
Savage was all the way across the room, lo
unging against the wall as if he was innocent in the entire drama. She had no idea how or when he got there and she didn’t care. She rose fast, stumbling away from Absinthe when he reached out a hand to her.
Reaching behind her, she ripped the tail from her and flung it toward his face and then turned to walk toward the bathroom. At the last second, she raced for the bed. Absinthe was on her as she flung her hand out for the gun and turned at the same time, the grip in her fist, heart beating wildly. He pinned her to the mattress, straddling her, hands controlling her wrists so she couldn’t turn the gun on him.
“Drop it, now, Scarlet. I don’t want to hurt you, but you don’t know what you’re doing.”
His voice was calm. Steady. All Absinthe. His fingers dug into her pressure points. She wasn’t certain what she planned to do anyway. She let the weapon fall from her palm onto the mattress. He immediately picked it up and handed it off behind him. Savage took it. She refused to look at him.
“Who did you plan on shooting, miledi? Savage? Or me?”
Absinthe brushed at her face again and she realized she was still crying.
“Get off me now.” She poured venom into her voice to make certain he knew she wasn’t playing games with him. Hell. She would have shot both of them. She might not have killed them, but she would have shot them. She had fully participated and even asked Savage for his help, but the results had shaken her beyond her ability to cope. She knew she didn’t belong with Absinthe or Torpedo Ink. She could never, ever go through that again.
Absinthe immediately slid off of her and she rolled, was off the bed, on her feet and made her way to the bathroom to scrub herself clean. She left the door open so she could hear every word they said to each other and/or so she could see an attack coming.
“What happened?” Absinthe asked calmly.
“What the fuck do you think happened? The same as last time and the time before,” Savage snarled. “You have to get a fuckin’ lock on this, brother. It can’t keep happening.”
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