“We had a club girl be his fucking little pussycat and suck his cock until he knew what was going on in real time. He wasn’t this far gone. I had to scare the crap out of her so he’d come back and protect her.”
“Then that’s what we’ll have to do. I’m his pet and you scare me.”
Savage studied her face for a long moment and then shook his head. “You aren’t the type that scares so easy, Scarlet. You took a knife away from a rapist and his friends. You fought them off with it. You went by yourself to a man whose reputation would put off most very scary men and you stayed with him a year in order to learn how to kill the men who raped your sister. You don’t scare easy, honey. You’re a fighter. You already know what I’d have to do and you’re prepared for it.”
Savage looked as if he might shake Absinthe—or her. He paced across the room. “This is bullshit. We fuckin’ set this up, the perfect storm. Steele. The fire. Alena. Her cookies. Me. You. What the hell were we thinking?”
“Tell me what I have to do to get him back.” Scarlet poured conviction into her voice. “You’re the scariest man I’ve ever seen. I have no doubt you’ll figure it out. Tell me what to do. What he needs. I can play any role. I’m good. I can get into his mind. We have a connection. We have to try. We have to do this.” She made it a demand. Savage had his back to her but she saw him stiffen. His shoulders went straight.
Savage took a deep breath and turned to face her. When he did, he looked different. The change was subtle, but the man that was raging with so much worry for his brother had been taken over by something that reminded her of the Grim Reaper. His eyes were flat and cold and carried death.
“You only think you know me, Scarlet. I’m not like the rest of them. You don’t want my demons in this room with only the two of us here. So you bring him back. Be his little pet. Make him think you can’t live without him, that if you don’t do what you’re told I’m going to end your life. That’s what’s going to make him come to you. Your fear. Your need. He has to feel his little kitten’s fear. Get your mouth on his cock and get busy.”
She turned her attention to Absinthe, stroking his thighs, but she knew it wasn’t going to work. He was so far away. She reached for him. Tried to connect and there were only … nightmares. Ugly nightmares. No matter what she tried, mind-to-mind contact, she couldn’t reach Absinthe. He just wasn’t there.
Savage began to pace back and forth behind her. A shirt fluttered to the floor beside her knees. She caught another quick glimpse of Savage, thick chest bare, his muscles rippling, a belt in is hands, folded in two. His chest was covered in scars and whip marks. Branded into his flesh were the words Whip Master. Up close, the sight of him was terrifying. She wanted to run for the bed and the gun Absinthe had left her for protection.
Savage suddenly towered over the top of her, caught her by her hair and yanked her head back, setting her heart pounding madly.
“What the fuck are you waiting for? I can’t reach him. You can see he’s too far gone. Bring him back. He’s trapped there again. He’s in his mind. It happens and he can’t get out. You have to bring him the fuck out.”
She tried to knock his hand away from her scalp, her reaction to being touched by him almost visceral, but his arm was so hard it actually hurt to hit him with her forearm. She felt the jolt all the way up to her shoulder. Savage didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were so cold and dead she shivered with fear. She knew death when she saw it, and she was looking straight into the eyes of the Grim Reaper. Still, it was going to take a lot more to really get beyond her need to fight back. She pushed down the urge to slam her fist right between Savage’s legs.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Then get to work.” But he let her go.
She shifted her gaze to the bed. “Let me get my gun.”
He glanced toward the bed speculatively and then at her face. Very slowly he shook his head and a chill went down her spine.
“I don’t think so. You have a great deal more incentive to save his life knowing yours might be on the line.”
She stared into those flat, cold eyes and then, without another word, she crawled off the red cushion, pushed past Savage, and deliberately wound around Absinthe’s legs to create the feeling in him of his pet—his live pet—the one who gave him a semblance of comfort so he could sleep and keep the nightmares at bay. Why he had a fireplace in his bedroom, she had no idea, but they weren’t going to light the damn thing before he went to sleep, not ever again.