Blythe, immersed in the conversation, had to refocus, frowning a little. She glanced toward the house across the street. “She said she saw someone coming from the house across the street. We were all laughing and she just kind of went quiet on us. When I asked her about it, that’s when she said she saw someone leave the neighbor’s house and she just had this feeling.”
Instantly, all good humor was gone. Savage turned and looked at the two-story house with the heavy drapes drawn across the windows. “She went over there?”
Blythe’s frown deepened. “I said I’d go with her, but she said the woman was shy and wouldn’t talk unless she was alone.”
Savage pulled out his phone, already striding across the street, texting as he did so. Coming over. Get to the door now, Seychelle.
He told himself he would know if something was wrong with her. They were connected so closely together, right? But he’d deliberately pulled away. Put distance between them because he needed to think about whether or not he should bring her into his world. His gut was suddenly churning, tied into knots.
Moving slow. Getting to door.
Why the hell would she be moving slow? At least she hadn’t objected to going to the door. Even that worried him. She didn’t like him ordering her around, not when she was visiting her friends. Technically, she couldn’t call this neighbor of Doris’s a friend—yet.
He heard something scratch at the door, and then it was open and Seychelle was there. She looked pale as she came toward him, stumbling a little, pulling the door closed behind her. Savage wrapped his arms around her.
“What the hell, baby? Are you hurt?”
She leaned into him, one arm circling his waist. “No. Just a little weak. I think my blood sugar is too low. I need to rest. Can we sit on the curb?”
They weren’t sitting on the damn curb. He scooped her up and carried her across the street. “Tell me what happened.” It was a demand. He didn’t care if his voice came out more of a growling command than a question.
“Not where anyone can hear us.” She buried her face against his neck. “Can you just please take me home? I’m really, really tired.”
At least she was going to tell him. “Do you have your car keys on you?”
“I left them on the floor of my car.”
He tried not to let his head explode. She had no concept of personal safety. None. Zero. Not with her house and not with her car. He clenched his teeth against giving her a lecture, mostly because she was exhausted. Not just physically drained, she was mentally drained as well. When he put her on the seat of the car, she didn’t even reach for her seat belt, nor did she object when he belted her in. He debated whether or not to text Steele, but she didn’t appear to have any physical injuries on her. Seychelle fell asleep in the short time it took to reach her cottage. Thankfully, she had actually locked the place up.
He knew he had a short window of time and then he was going to have to leave her, even if it was just for a few days. She kept the monster at bay, but he could feel the rage in him building in spite of her delaying that burning need in him. He didn’t dare take too many chances being around her—and he didn’t dare play any more sexual games with her, no matter how much his body demanded it.
The thought of touching another woman was abhorrent to him. It made him feel physically ill. There was no time to get Seychelle ready even if he did make up his mind to lay it all out for her. He couldn’t take the chance that she’d look at him the way she should—like he was an evil monster and she shouldn’t have anything to do with him. That was the real reason he was being such a coward. He was afraid she’d reject him totally and he wouldn’t even have this part of her. He didn’t want to lose what he had.
Savage scooped her up and carried her inside, unlocking the keypad with his own code he’d programmed in. She murmured a little protest when he put her on the bed in a sitting position.
“Stay there. I’m going to get you a glass of water and you’re going to tell me what happened.” He’d forgo the car lecture and every other lecture, but he needed to know what had gone on in that house. She’d been laughing with the other women, perfectly fine, when he’d left her. Now she was pale, almost to the point of gray, and her energy was zero.
Seychelle moistened her lips and pushed back her hair. “I saw Brandon come out of her house. Sahara’s house. Well, I don’t know who owns it. According to Sahara, he has the right to come and go whenever he wants. Of course that means he has the right to fuck her whenever he wants as well. No matter that he lives with that young girl. And he compares Sahara to her the entire time. Tells her that she’s let herself go. That she’s fat and no one would ever want her. That she’s so lucky he bothers with her.”