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.”
She stood there, watching him swing his leg over his Harley, listening to the now-familiar roar of the pipes, and he was gone, heading south toward the city. She hoped he remembered to text a couple of his brothers, because he was going to need them. The chaos in his mind told her that.
She did the dishes and tried not to think what he would be doing all night, but she knew. He would fight one competitor after another. She’d caught glimpses of those brutal battles in his mind. She knew he needed them to calm those ferocious demons that rode him so hard at times.
Lying in bed, she let herself cry for him. She should have tried harder with him, instead of protecting herself. She knew he’d lost hope a long time before he met her, and then, when he was with her, he had renewed optimism, an idea that maybe she could actually bring him peace. She didn’t know how it was possible to do so and remain intact. She hadn’t figured that out yet, but she wanted to.
By morning she was exhausted, and she spent most of the following day wandering along the headlands and the beaches at Little River, avoiding people. She walked aimlessly, and the entire time she had this odd sensation that someone was watching her. It gave her an eerie feeling, but she was too distraught over losing Savage to care about trying to figure out why she had such a strange, creepy vibe. She put it down to being so emotional when she stopped several times to take a good, long look around her and didn’t spot a single soul out on the headlands watching anything but the relentless sea.
By evening she was back in her little house. The moment she entered, her home felt strange, as if someone had been inside. She checked every corner, the closets, the shower—nothing seemed out of place, but the strange jangling of her nerves continued far into the night as she sat alone on her bed. She felt more alone than she ever had now that Savage didn’t come. She found herself just staring at the four walls, wishing she knew what to do. For him. For herself. Because when he wasn’t with her, she felt like she was living a half life.