Page 32 of Savage Reign

“Atherapist? Why not? Do you think your insomnia could be caused by… uh, psychological issues?” It would probably make sense, considering the way he and his brothers grew up.

He smirked. “Do you think I’m messed up in the head, baby?”

I didn’t respond, but I was sure my face gave him the answer.

He laughed. “Oh, baby, you have no idea.”

“I have an inkling,” I responded dryly.

He squeezed my side for the comment, and I jumped slightly, glaring over at him, trying to pull away.

He let out a small sigh and pushed me back close to his side. He didn’t try to tickle me again, though.

“I don’t think a therapist will help,” he said after a moment, surprising me.

“Why not? Have you tried it?”

He let out a small chortle, which told me the answer. “No, baby.”

I pressed my hands on his chest, feeling the steely muscles beneath his warm skin. He watched me and didn’t stop when I let my fingers run aimlessly over his skin, playing with what few chest hairs he did have.

“Why?” I asked finally, looking up and meeting his eyes.

“Why won't I go to therapy?” The tone of his voice suggested he thought the answer was obvious. I shook my head. It was obvious, and the last thing I wanted to do was nag at another adult to go to therapy when they didn’t want to. Besides, if there was something wrong with him, then there was something wrong with me for not being so… put off about all this.

“No, why do you have insomnia? Or do you not know?” Something told me he did know.

“Hmmm.” He pulled me in closer until my face was buried in his chest. I didn’t stop him, didn’t pull away. “I don’t know if there’s an actual answer. Maybe my messed-up childhood has contributed to it. Or hell, maybe my bastard father. Something I know you have firsthand experience with.”

I didn’t say anything. Having terrible parents wasn’t anything new to me, but I hadn’t really thought about how it had been for the brothers.

“And your mom?” I asked. Perhaps they had been better off than me. Perhaps they had a mom who protected them.

He laughed, the sound humorless and empty, telling me that wasn’t really the case. “She had one mode during her entire marriage to my father. Survival.”

I tightened my arms around him.

“Ah, don’t be like that, little monster. I’m fine. And I don’t really want to spend the morning rehashing my fucked-up childhood or letting you psychoanalyze me.”

I pulled back and frowned at him. “You think that’s what I’m doing?”

He cupped my cheek, his thumb moving over my lips. I relaxed when he shook his head.

“I’m not,” I added, moving my head to the side, away from his thumb. “Is it so bad that I want to know you better?”

“Why?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“Why? Are you planning on letting me go?”

His arms tightened around me from the question.

“That’s what I thought. Is it so bad that I want to know you? Or do you just want a silent, empty captive who you can fuck every once in a while?”

His expression darkened from my words. “I thought it was well established at this point that you are more than that. So much fucking more.”

“Then let me in. You said we were going to be completely honest with each other. You said I mean more to you. This sounds like a relationship, or am I mistaken?”

I said the last part quietly. I needed him to tell me exactly what this was. I needed to know my exact position in his life—in all their lives. Now that I was pregnant and was planning on keeping the baby, I needed to know that I would have a say in raising my own child. I needed to know that I would have the power to protect them—even from their fathers.

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