“That’s fuckin’ bullshit, Scarlet. If you say that about him, you might as well be talking about any or all of us including about yourself. We’re done discussing this. We’re both tired and need to sleep.”
Scarlet stood for a long time regarding him from under her lashes and something in her expression told Absinthe he was really in trouble. He didn’t know the first thing about relationships. Not one damn thing. His first instinct was to always protect his brothers. His club. Torpedo Ink. Scarlet was his wife, his woman. He wanted her as his partner. He wanted her to be a life partner and he was already blowing it. He should have kept his strange needs to himself. He should have been more careful about triggers that could cause flashbacks. None of this was Savage’s fault. It was his.
Scarlet shook her head. “Fuck you, Absinthe. You aren’t asking me what he did or didn’t do, you’re defending him. I’m supposed to be your wife, but clearly you’re all about protecting your insane brother, not me. Now you’re not even willing to discuss it. This is going to be the shortest marriage on record. If you think I was going to put up with your scary, mean bastard of a brother while I was on my knees sucking your cock just for the hell of it, you’re out of your mind.”
She lifted her chin. “I might have willingly done a lot for you because I thought it was a mutual respect-and-love fest going on, but clearly I was wrong.”
She stalked past him, straight out of the room, toward the closets. When she moved, he could see the predator coming alive in her. She was shaking off every last bit of his kiska. By the time she had taken the first step into the closet she had removed most of his last name. She was Scarlet Foley and not the librarian. She was the woman trained in survival and steeling herself to go to war.
Absinthe closed his eyes briefly. He was losing her. Little beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and trickled down his chest. She was really going to leave him.
Scarlet yanked open the drawer and pulled out a pair of lace panties, sliding them up her legs, uncaring that he was standing directly behind her, leaning against the door frame, arms folded across his chest. He could block the doorway. That was uppermost in his mind. He had to find a way to persuade her.
“Go away, Absinthe. I need to pack, and I don’t want you staring at me while I do it. I don’t need your crap. Making a fool out of myself twice is a bit much.”
“A fool out of yourself?” he echoed. Hell, he had an IQ off the fuckin’ charts and he couldn’t think of a damn thing to do or say to make this right between them. Her body language screamed at him not to touch her. There was no physical way to persuade her. He’d always been able to fall back on his voice when he needed it, but she was the one person he couldn’t use it on effectively.
“Yeah, babe, I’d say I made a royal fool of myself with you, believing you cared about me. I fucking crawled around on my hands and knees playing the sex kitten for you, happy to do so, thinking we were partners, believing your crap, and when it came time for you to take my side and stand for me, the way I took yours, well, you chose the other way, didn’t you? Then I gave you a second chance. I told you everything, but you weren’t so willing to bare your soul to me, were you? So, fuck you, Absinthe. Fuck you and your lies. I’m so gone.”
“You aren’t leaving me.” He made that a statement, hoping she would hear the conviction in his voice. She had to hear that he would fight for her, fight for them. He tried to find a way to appeal to her that would give them both a way to calm down and then start over to figure it all out. If they could move the conversation away from Savage and put their attention somewhere else even for a few minutes, he was confident they could get past this.
“For one thing, you’re in trouble. Holden has sent word to all the clubs and they’re looking for you. Marrying me gives you that protection.”
She didn’t bother to turn around. She donned the matching bra to her panties. She had the sexiest underwear and he loved the idea of her librarian clothes, knowing what was underneath. There was something deeply sensual about Scarlet, the way she moved, the way she thought, just that little detail, the prim and proper clothing over the sexiest lingerie. He fucking loved that about her.