Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
“Can I get you something to drink, Savage?” Scarlet asked.
His first inclination was to say no, but it was a way to get her out of the room if only for a few minutes. “Thanks, Scarlet.” What the hell would keep her gone the longest? “Coffee sounds good right about now.”
She looked surprised. “No problem.” She got up and left the room.
“I thought you were going to be on the work crew heading into Sea Haven this morning,” Absinthe said. “Scarlet and I were just getting ready to head out when we got your text.”
“Yeah. I’m going after we talk. Just wanted to ask you a couple of questions. This woman, Seychelle. The singer. I suppose everyone knows about her. And they’ve got to be worried.”
“It isn’t any secret that you’ve been hanging with her, Savage. It’s a little out of character for you. So yeah, there’s some concern there.”
Savage took a deep breath and just asked, “Will really loving someone change what I am? What I have to have?”
He knew the answer because he craved being with Seychelle, having her tied, his whip marking her skin. He dreamt of it. Was obsessed with the idea of it. Still, he despised himself. Loathed what he was, loathed his needs. He wanted to see red marks on her. He’d reveled in his handprints on her bottom, and that just made him crave to see the gorgeous patterns he could put on her pristine skin. He wanted the real thing in his hands. Not some pretend whip one bought in a toy shop, but one he could wield like the master he was.
Absinthe held his gaze for a long time. “You know you’re not a true sadist, right, Savage? You don’t need to humiliate a woman, or anyone for that matter. You don’t need to constantly cause pain. You have a cycle. That’s unusual.”
Savage shook his head. “That’s not true. To be aroused, I need to cause pain. The level of pain can be different. The need is always present when it comes to sex. You’re stalling. Just answer the question, Absinthe.”
“You already know the answer. I can maybe lessen the demand for you over time. Help with it, but I don’t know for certain if I can really do even that. I’m willing to try. I will say, if you want to be with this woman, you have to be honest with her. You have to lay it out for her. Tell her what you need. It isn’t easy. I had to be honest with Scarlet about my fetishes.”
Savage stared at Absinthe, trying to decide if he was attempting to be funny or not. “Are you seriously comparing you talking to Scarlet about your need to have her dress like a kitten occasionally to me having to tell Seychelle I want to use a real whip on her in order for me to get off? You think that’s going to go over very well?” He stood up and paced across the room, afraid of Absinthe seeing his expression.
“Savage, you’re not remembering who you are. You were able to get those girls to enjoy what was done to them. If she consents because she returns feelings for you, you can help her get to a place where she responds to the things you need.”
Savage stood in front of that wall of bubbles rising slowly toward the ceiling and then rolling back toward the floor. “I have no doubt I can do that, Absinthe.” He knew he could. Absolutely he could. “But is it right?” He turned back to face his Torpedo Ink brother. “Every fucking day, I have to look at myself in the mirror. I don’t want her to look at herself and hate who she is.”
“Why should she do that if she’s giving a gift to a man she loves?”
Savage pulled in a breath because he’d run out of air. His lungs felt raw. Burning. He despised that he was a monster and there was no way to be anything else. He had to remind himself Absinthe had no idea what it was like to be him. To have to see a woman’s skin marked to be aroused. To want his woman to have tears running down her face for him. To need her to suffer for him. That was about as fucked up as it could possibly get.
There was no doubt that he could “train” Seychelle. She already had a proclivity in that direction. They had unbelievable chemistry, but there was so much more between them. It went far deeper than that, and both of them knew it, which was why she was so leery. She was susceptible to his voice. To him. And she’d told him about Brandon Campbell and what a dick he was. About his psychic talent and how he used it against women.