Page 126 of Salvation

“You know what,” he said with amusement. “How much did it pain you to admit to someone outside of the club that you were taken?”

“Not as painful as I thought. After all, ‘taken’ implies unwillingness, and that about sums things up nicely.”

“Fine, let me rephrase,” he said, bending his head towards me to whisper in my ear. “How much did it pain you to admit you’re mine? Because that’s what you are, Rachel. You’ve been mine since the day I laid eyes on you, and there's not an inch of this earth that you could run to where I wouldn't find you, and where you wouldn't still be mine.”

“And if I don’t want that?”

“I guess I’m forcing you. Chalk it up to being one of those bad things that good men do,” he pulled back from me with a small wink.

“Is that you making up your mind?”

“It’s me saying I’m going to try to make the shift. Try is the best I can do.”

“I can’t really ask for anything more,” I replied, copying the grin he gave me.

Chapter 55

Rachel

I woke up the next morning, hating everything about the clubhouse.

I flew through the house, searching for Dante, eventually finding him with Vienna and Shark in the kitchen.

“Dante, I hate it here,” I said, without so much as a good morning.

“We’ve heard, Rachel. What’s next on the top forty?” Vienna replied, rolling his eyes.

“Ooh, I know!” Shark laughed. “How about a rendition of ‘I Was Kidnapped’? We’ve not heard that in a while.”

“If you wanna follow it up with‘I Killed Macbeth, I’ll Kill You Too’,that would be great. That’s always been a favourite of mine,” Vienna said.

Dante shook his head at them whilst I scowled, and then came forward to gently take my elbow and lead me out of the room.

“What’s up?”

“I hate it here. I—”

He silenced me with a heavy sigh. “I thought we were past this? I know you’re not happy, but I thought we said six months—”

“No,” I interrupted with a laugh. “I don’t hate it here. I hate ithere,” I said, pointing to the ground with both hands.

“That’s the same thing,” he frowned.

“It’s not. I’m coming to terms with this—the club, the life… you. But I hate it here. I’m not comfortable here. I feel like I’m living in a shrine to the dead. Nothing here is my own. Everything is decorated the way your mother had it. This isn’t my home. I feel like a guest here most of the time. I want to make things my own and … What are you doing?” I asked as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.

“Take this,” he said, handing me his credit card. “If you want to put your stamp on this place, do it. I couldn’t give a shit what it looks like, but if it makes you happy, do it. But do me a favour?” He asked, heading to the door.

“What’s that?”

He came back to me and grabbed hold of my face with both hands and gave me the most delicious, bone melting kiss, and then pulled back to grin at me. “Maybe next time you could lead with what you actually meant, rather than giving me a fucking heart attack thinking you were pulling away again? Shark!” He called out, walking away from me, leaving me dumbfounded.

“S’up, brother?”

“Take Rachel out shopping, will you?”

“I can handle going on my own—”

“And I would feel more comfortable if you took someone with you. How much trouble can you get into with the Shark man keeping a watchful eye on you?”

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