Page 30 of Savage King

I rush through a shower and all but whistle to myself when I open the door to my bedroom. I feel a surge of anticipation, eager to see her again.

She is in my bed, but I'm unprepared for the sight of her. Her swollen eyes bear silent witness that she's been crying. Fury rushes through me, and I wish I hadn't killed Hank and Marco yet—the sight of her cuts through my heart with a sharp pain. Thinking the days of torture have caught up with her, I rush to her side. "Scarlet? What's wrong?"

She tries to turn away from me, but I pull her back. "What is it? Are you in pain?"

She opens her mouth as if trying to speak, but no words come out as she struggles to take in air. Her head nods, and she rubs her chest, managing a weak, "Here."

I pull out my phone to call Doc, worried she might be having a heart attack. But she stops me and shakes her head. More tears spill as she clutches my hand with hers. "Hurts," she chokes out.

I pull her against me and rub her back when I realize she's not about to have a heart attack but is instead suffering from anxiety. Gigi used to have these types of attacks quite often, and since our father saw that as a weakness, it was up to me to help her.

"Shh, it's all good. I'm here," I soothe, stroking her back and trying to ignore the feeling of her full breasts pressed against my chest. "Nothing is going to happen to you again. Ever. I won't allow it."

Her breaths slowly even out. Her breakdown surprises me only because it's coming so late. I would have expected it far sooner. "Carlos will receive his punishment, and the others won't ever touch you again, either."

She slightly pulls away, huge sapphire eyes looking up at me. "What do you mean?"

"Hank and Marco have been taken care of," I reiterate.

I watch the emotions play out in the expression on her face; her eyes darken and lighten in a fascinating pattern. Her lips open when my words fully sink in. "You mean… oh my God, did you…"

I push a finger against her lips and nod.

She takes a hiccupping breath.

For a moment, I think she will push me away, horrified by my admission. I forgot for a moment that she wasn’tfamily, that she’s a so-calledgood girl. Her father is a judge. She grew up in a different world, a world where things are black and white, where you call the cops when you're in trouble, never anticipating that they might turn on you.

"I'm… glad." The words seem to horrify her as they leave her lips, but she nods, as if trying to convince herself that it's okay to feel that way.

"They deserved it." She insists vehemently, persuadingly.

I raise an eyebrow. "Does the lady have a bloodthirsty streak?"

A small, mysterious smile plays around her lips. "It seems that way."

I search for eyes, but I’m not sure what exactly I'm looking for. It takes me a moment to realize. "That's not what you were upset about." It’s not a question.

Slowly, she shakes her head and lowers her eyes.

"Talk to me." I’m surprised by my urge to know what has upset her so much, but I'm ready to kill whoever has made her cry.

She shakes her head, "It doesn't matter."

I place my thumb under her chin and gently push it up until she meets my gaze, "It does to me."

"Why?"

That's a good question. Why indeed? She's my hostage, my prisoner. She’s not the first. So why the fuck do I care about her feelings? Yes, I want her. I want to fuck her senseless. She’s not the first forthat, either. And I don't need to know her fuckingfeelingsto take her to bed. But for some unfathomable reason, they matter to me.

My next admission surprises me even more than it does her. "Because I fucking care."

She must realize that I don't say something like that lightly because she confesses, "It was silly. I was feeling guilty for doing this to my dad."

"You're not doing anything to your dad," I reply, creasing my forehead. Because I don't get it.

"If I had been more careful, those men wouldn't have grabbed me…" she confesses as new tears gather in her eyes.

I shake my head, "Scarlet, Carlos's men would have gotten you no matter what you did. If they hadn't gotten you that night, they would have gotten you the next morning or afternoon."

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