Chased (Savage Men 3)

I know she’s angry. She has every right to be.

Brandon drives the car into the parking lot while I take off the zip ties around her ankles and escort her to my home. She comes willingly, without a fuss. I don’t know why she’s not putting up much of a fight like she did before the chase.

It’s as if she’s lost a bit of the spark she had.

Like the knife … siphoned it out of her.

Made her meek and fearful.

I can tell when I bring her into a room. Her room.

The moment I release her, she immediately scurries to a corner as far away from me as she possibly can, where she sits down and pretends she doesn’t exist.

Frowning, I clutch the door and sigh.

I know what I’ve caused. It had to be done … but it came at a hefty price.

Her misery isn’t something I enjoy. Even though she’d probably never believe me if I told her.

I close the door and turn on the light. It only helps me, not her. She still shivers as I approach her slowly, trying not to scare her. I lean down in front of her and touch her skin. It’s soft and warm. But she immediately leans away, turning her head.

She doesn’t want my affection.

Of course not.

What am I thinking?

I let out another sigh and lower my head, closing my eyes.

I wish I could take her pain away, but I can’t. I caused it.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice softer than before. “That will never happen again.”

Her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t say a word. Even though I expected her to. Is she that scared of me?

Dammit.

If she hates me this much already, there’s no telling what she’ll do if she gets out of her bonds.

What if she lashes out? Or escapes? Or worse … reports me for doing all the things I did?

It would ruin me.

She may not have seen my face, but she knows my name. And she may be skilled enough to lead the police back to my home.

I can’t let it happen.

So I quickly get up and rummage through the drawer until I find what I’m looking for. A chain and collar … once used by one of the girls I had in my home who insisted on being my pet. I got rid of her the moment she started snooping around, but I kept the gear. I knew it might be useful one day … and I was right.

I lower myself to her level again and slide aside her hair. Her skin feels so soft and warm. Unlike mine.

She’s shivering as the collar locks into place.

I tuck the key into my pocket and stare at her for a few seconds.

She still hasn’t moved from her spot.

Hasn’t even responded to the fact that I collared her … and that I chained her to the bed.

I lean forward, tempted to remove it, but I stop myself before I do.

I can’t give in this easily.

I know it’s wrong, but what else can I do? The zip ties won’t last, and she’ll surely try to escape. Who knows what kind of trouble she might give me if she finds a way to get out.

She might be blind, but I know she has more guts than this. I could see it in the way she ran, how she fled for her life. She has spirit.

“What … what are you going to do with me?” she asks as I get up and walk away.

I stop in my tracks and glance at her over my shoulder.

She’s so beautiful. Too beautiful.

And I ruined it.

I ruined that pretty face. Stained it with tears that were not supposed to be there.

And for what? My own selfish needs.

I shake my head and rub my forehead. “I don’t … know yet.”

Then I quickly open the door and slam it shut before I say anything more stupid than what just came out of my mouth.

For a moment, I just stand there, overwhelmed by my own emotions.

I feel sick.

I never feel sick.

At least not like this.

Like I want to strangle myself. Slam myself into a window and just be done with it.

I need to get this need out of me. Need to rinse myself of the evil that’s settled in my blood.

Brandon is standing in the kitchen, casually sipping coffee and glaring at me from the corner of his eyes with that familiar look. That look that says I know what you’re thinking.

I hate that he knows me so well.

I cross my arms and raise a brow at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

I roll my eyes. “Right.”

“Want some coffee?” he asks. “You look like you could use some.”

“No thanks,” I say, waving it away.

“So what are you going to do with her?” he asks.

Of course, he wants to know. He’s been dying to know ever since we got back to the car and drove home. The question has been lying on the tip of his tongue all this time, and now he’s finally found the right time to throw it out there.