Chased (Savage Men 3)

“A reservation for two, please. At six. Yes. Chase Marion. Thank you.” He walks toward me and grabs my arm. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“Out.”

My lungs expand, but there’s no room to suck in the air, no time to even think about what he just said. Out.

Out … into the real world?

My lips part, but nothing comes out. I don’t even know what to say or what to ask as he drags me along into the hallway.

“Now,” he says, grabbing both my shoulders. “This is important, Syrena. Listen closely. Promise me you will not try to escape.”

I nod.

He squeezes my arms. “Say it!”

“I promise.”

“And don’t make a ruckus outside. Don’t talk to people. Don’t signal them. Don’t walk away from me, and don’t try to run,” he adds. “If you do, I’ll know where to find you.”

A shiver runs up and down my spine.

Something tells me not to take this lightly. He’s caught me once before, so he can do it again. And being blind doesn’t exactly make it easy to run from a man when you don’t know what he looks like.

A part of me wants to say hell no because it’s like selling my soul for a bit of time beyond these walls. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited at the mere prospect of being able to step foot in the outside world again.

And the me that’s so desperate for more caves in again.

“I won’t, I promise,” I say.

“Good.” He leans over and gives me a peck me on the forehead. “Let’s get you one of my coats.”

Accompanying Song: “She And Him” by Omniflux

When the car stops, my heart is already racing in my throat. I sat next to him while he drove, and a constant electrical current hummed between us. Like a push and pull, where he’s holding on so tightly and I’m almost ready to open the doors and jump out.

But of course, that’s only my imagination running wild.

It’d be far too dangerous to jump out of a speeding car.

That, and he’s locked the doors firmly. Taking precautions, obviously, because he knows what kind of person I am.

Still, those feelings are becoming more muted by the day. The more time I spend with him, the less angry I feel. Even though the little voices in my head tell me not to trust a man like him, I can’t help but lower my guard ever so slightly the longer I’m in his vicinity.

I don’t know why or what it is about him that makes me so meek and easy. What makes me so hungry for his approval. His wishes.

It’s as if I’ve finally succumbed to his needs and all that’s left is the choice I need to make.

An impossible choice.

Chase steps out, and a few seconds later, he opens my door, grabbing my hand to help me out.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“My favorite restaurant.”

“Oh …” Out of all the things he could’ve done, this is what he chooses?

“You’ll love the food,” he says. “Let’s go.”

He grabs my hand and tries to pull me along, but I say, “Wait. Can I just …?”

My face lights up when my feet hit the stone path and the fresh breeze brushes against my face. It feels wonderful. So nice that I just stay put and take a sniff.

He chuckles. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He squeezes my hand. “Tell me.”

“I’m just enjoying the outside for a moment.”

I can hear him smile. “You know … you amaze me sometimes.”

“Really?” I raise a brow. “How so?”

“The way you adore the simple things in life … it’s endearing.” He brings my hand to his face and presses a kiss on top. “Hungry?”

I nod. “Starving.”

He laughs again and then guides me inside.

The restaurant is filled to the brim with the voices of people, all chatting with each other. The sudden influx of noise after being stuck in a cage with three people for so long makes my head feel heavy.

“Are you okay?” Chase immediately asks.

“It’s just the number of people,” I reply. “It’s a bit much.”

“I’ve reserved a spot in the far corner of the restaurant, far away from the other people. Don’t worry. Once we’re past them, you won’t hear them talk. I promise,” he whispers into my ear. “C’mon.”

He talks to a man who leads us to a table in the back, just like he said. We sit down, and he orders us a bottle of wine, after which he reads me the menu. But all those dishes sound delicious, and it’s hard to choose.

There’s one that sticks with me, though, but is it really restaurant food? I don’t know.

“Is it weird if I say … mac and cheese?” I ask.

He laughs. “Mac and cheese? Why? There are so many choices. You don’t want to try something new?”

“It’s sort of my comfort food … from way back when I still lived at the club. Should I pick something else?”