Savage Love (Savage Island 2)

“You have to,” she says, her brows drawing together in a determined look I haven’t yet witnessed her wear. “It’s my penance for being party to this.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop it,” I whisper.

“Eat,” she orders, pointing to my tray. “Get up your energy.”

I grab food and shove it in my mouth, not even aware of what I’m eating. I choke it down as if I’m taking medicine, only for the sake of sustenance. Eating isn’t pleasurable this time. I have a job to do, and goddamn it, I’m going to do it.

She’s slipping off her clothes, wearing nothing but her bra and panties beneath her outfit, but she doesn’t look embarrassed at all. She looks as determined as I am. I make a vow, then. I won’t just pay her back. I’m going to stay in touch with Lila. She’s broken and hurt somehow, but this woman, in this short space of time, has become my lifeline. And I won’t forget that. Not now. Not ever.

I strip out of my clothes and put hers on. They’re a little snug, but they’ll do. I’ll shed them when I hit the water, I only need them to get off the ship.

“Stay clear of the main deck,” she says. “That’s where most are assembled. The easiest way for you to escape is to go to the emergency escape route. I’ve disabled the alarm that’s supposed to trigger in an emergency evacuation.”

She’s thought of everything. I could hug her. In fact, I try, but she brushes me off, determined to get the news delivered and me off this ship.

“Okay,” I whisper. Nodding, I’m ready. I’m so damn ready.

“Now tie me up,” she orders. I smile at her.

“Why, Lila,” I say with teasing lilt in my voice. “I didn’t know you swung that way.”

She blushes but bites her lip and rolls her eye. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” she retorts. We stifle our giggles, as if we’re two little girls that could get caught by the teacher for cutting class. I feel a kinship for this woman I’ve never felt with another woman, even in this short space of time. And God, it feels so damn nice.

I’ve already grabbed the belt from a robe I found hanging in the little closet, in preparation for this.

“On your knees,” I order in a whisper. I’m assaulted with a flashback of Cy giving that very instruction, only the scene was, of course, not a fake hostage scene but so much better. So much better.

Everything reminds me of him. Everything reminds me of us.

I swallow hard and gather my courage. With a deep breath, I reach for Lila, but before I can restrain her, she bends and smashes her forehead on the floor. I gasp and cringe.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, but she ignores me, this time smacking her face on the side of the bedframe until her lip is swollen and crimson blood stains the corner.

“If you won’t hurt me, I’ll do it myself for authenticity,” she says. “Now tie me up.”

Shaking my head, I tie her up. “Don’t hurt yourself again,” I order in a whisper, my hands shaking at the display of violence. “Or so help me, I will hurt you.”

She stifles another giggle. “Makes perfect sense,” she retorts. And I know right then, the two of us are instant and forever friends. I suppose some relationships are like that. Was mine and Cy’s? Perhaps part of my problem is I wasn’t created for normalcy. For normal relationships, predictable friendships, or even a romantic connection with an ordinary man.

And I know then, as I’m donning stolen clothes and preparing to escape from yet one more prison, that our love is no ordinary love. Cy was a savage when I met him and he’s a savage still. I will fight for him. For us. Our love is a savage love, unbound by typical conventions, forged in the fires of trauma and circumstance. And savage love prevails. It doesn’t quit. It doesn’t give up. It doesn’t cower in the face of what it faces. Savage love holds on with tenacity and courage and doesn’t let anything destroy it.

Anything.

I squeeze her shoulder, since her hands are bound. “Be careful,” I whisper in her ear. “Let’s get in touch as soon as we’re able. And Lila, thank you.”

I turn and leave before she can say another word, keeping my head down. She has black hair and mine is vibrant red, and it will be clear who I am if anyone sees. I have to be sure no one sees.

The hush of voices down the hall tells me I’m not alone, and just in time I duck into the doorway of one of the rooms. To my horror, the door opens, and someone stands in the doorway. I can’t even see who it is, as he’s shrouded in darkness, but I can tell he’s a man, and he knows who I am.