Seychelle shook her head and then those fantasy lips curved into a smile and his heart clenched hard in his chest. He wanted to be closer to her. He couldn’t help stroking his fingers down the marks Joseph had put on her neck. No one put marks on her skin but him. No one. He wanted to kick the shit out of the little dick.
“Hand the pack over, Seychelle.” He didn’t give in for one minute. He couldn’t. If she belonged to him, she had to know what she was getting into. What the hell was he thinking? But he couldn’t stop himself.
She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose since you went to the trouble of announcing you were my fiancé, I should give you a pass.”
“And I’m saving your life.” He held her gaze captive, refusing to look away.
Another exaggerated sigh. Another flash of that little heart-stopping dimple. “Fine. You’re probably saving my life as well. I’ve been wanting to quit, but I’m so addicted.”
“Addiction is meant to be overcome.”
He took the pack from her and crushed the remaining cigarettes.
“Even you?” she demanded. “Are you addicted to something as well? Or are you above the rest of us?”
“Even me.” He looked her in the eye. “You have any more?”
She shook her head. “What are you addicted to?”
“You.” He put it out there, uncaring if it freaked her out. “You should run while you have the chance. It won’t do you any good, but you can at least try.”
“Maestro and Keys just asked me to join their band. That’s what started this.” She gestured toward Joseph on the ground, where two members of her band crouched to make certain the scout was still able to get to his feet. “There’s no doubt you can track me down.”
“Hell, man, you nearly killed him,” Hank, the lead guitarist, accused.
Savage ignored him, unconcerned if Joseph was alive or dead. He’d made certain to take a photograph of Seychelle’s neck and the finger marks there. The asshole tried to strangle her right there in the alley. Savage probably wouldn’t let that shit go. More than likely he’d slip into the man’s hotel room and break his fuckin’ neck.
He took Seychelle by the arm and walked her back down the alley, away from the others and toward the bar. “No doubt I will track you down.” He snapped his fingers. “Address.”
She lifted her chin. “Do you think I’m crazy? You’re so far out of my league I can’t even consider encouraging you.” Her gaze once more drifted over him from head to toe, once again giving him that strange feeling that she was physically touching him. “You’re dangerous to women. I’m not the type to live dangerously, Savage. A man like you never sticks around. You don’t, do you?”
He might not be her type, but she was definitely his. She was exactly what he was looking for, she just didn’t know it. He liked that she knew he was dangerous. He liked the way she was sure of herself. He liked the way she sacrificed herself for others. Her parents. Him. The little kid. “Nope. Don’t fuck them either. Just their mouths. Don’t buy them meals or take them out. We don’t converse either.”
“Sounds so wonderfully tempting.”
Her sarcasm stroked his cock like fingers whispering over him. He grinned at her. “I don’t kiss them or get all cozy in bed with them. And I don’t spank their asses when they don’t hand over cigarettes in order to save their lives.”
“You are such a catch.” That damn dimple of hers was going to keep him up all night.
His grin was suddenly genuine, shocking him. He hadn’t known he could actually feel amusement, let alone smile. “I guess you’re forgetting I kissed you, conversed and got all cozy in your bed as well as spanked your ass to save it.”
Her smile lit up the shadowy alley. “I guess you did.”
“That deserves something.”
Hank stood up and nudged the drummer, who had come out with him looking for his singer, worried now that he knew a scout was after her. “Is he bothering you, Seychelle?”
“No, Hank, we know each other. We go way back.”
“I’m her fiancé,” Savage announced.
Seychelle tried to muffle her laugh against his shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her in close to him.
“The hell you are,” Hank snapped. “Who is he?”
Savage turned his head slowly and met Hank’s eyes. He didn’t mind Hank seeing the killer in him. He let his stare go cold and flat. Hank and the drummer both backed up and nearly tripped over Joseph, who had staggered up and nearly fell over again.