“Damn it, baby. We’ll find our way. Just give us some time.”
She didn’t look at him, just shrugged her shoulders and took another step toward the house and escape, because they weren’t going to really work it out. They’d have sex, and it would be great sex. It always was. It wouldn’t solve their problems though. She would feel alone more and more. She would want to discuss her business with him less and less, and there would be more resentment toward his club and the members, even though the problems she had with Savage weren’t their fault.
She glanced down at her beautiful engagement ring. The last thing they needed to do was get married. Living together was one thing, but she refused to take a vow that wouldn’t mean anything in the long run.
“Seychelle. I can read you like a fuckin’ book.”
“You’re always so sure of yourself, Savage.”
“Because you don’t know how to guard your expression. You just looked down at your engagement ring and I never saw anyone look so fucking sad. We are going to get married.”
“I’m rethinking, just like you had to rethink things. Nothing is going to change for you, other than you’ll have everything you want. I need a full partner, Savage. I thought we’d have that. I have to rethink whether or not I can manage to be in a relationship or how far I can honestly go into this without getting all my emotional needs met. Eventually, how that will affect us, I don’t know, because I know it will affect me.”
“Damn it, Seychelle, it isn’t going to affect us, because we’re working it out. This is the first bump. We don’t run from it. That’s what we don’t do. We figure it out.”
“Because that’s so easy when you just have to decree it’s club business and that’s the end of the discussion. I say it’s not. I call complete bullshit.” She forced herself to shrug. “It doesn’t really matter what I say or think. In the end, you’ll do whatever you want to do. I need to go before I’m late. Just like your club business is important to you, my time with the older people in Sea Haven is important to me. If one of your prospects is supposed to be following me around, they’d better get here fast, because I’ve got to go now.”
“You’re still fuckin’ crying, Seychelle. I told you to stop.” Savage pulled her into his arms and held her tight against him. “We’ll get this figured out. I can tell you I’ve got enemies. Lots of them. I told you that going into this, baby. You knew that. Now stop crying.”
“Why do you have so many enemies?”
“I told you, I’m not a nice man. Now go wash your face. I’ll text Lana and have her take you in. She was heading into Sea Haven anyway.”
“I need my own car. I have some other errands today.”
“If she can’t take you to do your errands, I’ll get there. Just text me and let me know when you’re ready to go.”
She had no idea what he did, and she didn’t ask him. She already knew he worked for the club and he wouldn’t tell her a thing. She was tired of him not telling her anything.
Seychelle decided not to argue the point about needing her own car. Once she was in Sea Haven, she could walk wherever she wanted to go. She had never minded before, not even if she had done heavy shopping.
He was so certain she’d just fall into line with whatever he decreed. She turned away from him and hurried inside, avoiding the fact that he clearly had wanted to kiss her. She would have kissed him back—fallen into the trap he always set, just the way she always did. She had to get used to this. This was going to be her way of life if she stayed with him. And what was the alternative? Living without him? This was the same exact dilemma she found herself in over and over.
Seychelle went straight to the master bathroom and stared at her swollen, red eyes. Savage was right. She’d been crying, and she wasn’t the pretty kind of crier so many movie stars portrayed. After splashing cold water on her face and trying cover-up, she did her best to master her wayward hair.
The entire time she was aware of the crack of the whip. The way it whistled through the air right before that sound as it struck the intended target. She stood at the long bank of windows in their master bedroom to watch him. He wielded the whip like an artist. It wasn’t long before she realized he wasn’t creating art with those vicious cuts. At first, it frightened her to see the precise way he could cut into bodies, thinking they might be a substitute for her. After a few minutes, she became aware it was just the opposite. He didn’t know how to resolve the situation, and he was working it out in his mind. Savage was genuinely worried he was going to lose her. The sad thing was—it was a real possibility. The lashes weren’t for her—they were for him. Tears burned behind her eyes all over again because, like him, she was really worried for the two of them.