Annihilation Road (19 page)

The more Doris’s pain poured into her, the sicker it made Seychelle until, like when she’d first arrived, she could barely stand up. She doubled over beside the bed and then found herself on her knees. That sobered Doris up immediately. She leaned forward in the pristine white cotton gown that Seychelle had helped her into.

“Are you all right, dear? Should I call someone?”

Seychelle shook her head. Who was there to call? She indicated for Doris to rest and dragged herself to her feet, using the furniture to pull herself up. This was going to be bad. Already her vision was so blurred she could barely make Doris out, and she was right in front of her. Her head pounded and her stomach was churning. In another few minutes she was going to black out if she was lucky; if she wasn’t, she was going to be very, very sick.

She staggered into the living room and found herself on her hands and knees, crawling to the front door. Managing to get out of the house by falling through the door frame, she jerked the door closed after her and rested against it, her heart pounding. There was no way she could drive her car home. The only person she could think to call was Savage. He’d programmed his number into her phone, but she’d never used it—not once in the weeks they’d been friends. Weird friends, but friends.

She had no idea if he was back from San Francisco or, if he was, whether he’d really come for her, but she didn’t have much choice. He’d been gone three days. It was possible he was home, but he hadn’t contacted her. If he didn’t come for her, she’d be riding this out on Doris’s front porch, and it was really cold outside. She was
so
sick. She was going to vomit, and she didn’t want to do that on the porch.

With shaky fingers, she texted him.
Need help, very sick at Doris’s, can’t drive home. Can you get me home? On front porch.

The answer came back immediately.
On my way.

She closed her eyes. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She knew he was trying to figure out the way her gifts worked. She couldn’t tell him, because she didn’t fully comprehend how they worked, but she was fairly certain that having taken on her parents’ illnesses to prolong their lives and now helping others the way she was doing was slowly killing her. She just couldn’t fight the compulsion.

It seemed like hours passed, because she was in agony, but she knew it was only a few minutes before Savage was crouched down beside her, sweeping the hair from her face with gentle fingers. Her heart contracted at the look on his face. So gentle. The caring there. She could see it so plainly, and everything in her responded to it. No one had ever looked at her the way he did—as if she was his world.

“Do I need to take you to a hospital?”

She shook her head. “Just sick. A migraine. Very bad. My ankle.” She had to reply through clenched teeth. If she opened her mouth, she’d get sick all over him. “Home, please.”

“Keys?”

She nodded toward her pocket. He didn’t hesitate but reached into her jacket and tugged them out. She heard the second motorcycle arrive and put her head down, embarrassed that anyone else would see her curled up in the fetal position, rocking back and forth on an elderly woman’s front porch.

“Just Ink and Mechanic bringing my bike to your house for me,” Savage said. “I’m driving your car.”

That made sense, but her head was pounding so hard she couldn’t think clearly. Nor could she see properly. She was grateful he’d come for her. Savage. She’d fallen so hard, so fast. She knew it was too soon and far, far too much. She was giving him all of her because she was the type of woman who, once she made up her mind, couldn’t hold
anything back. She gave every part of herself to him. She was all in. All his. Heart and soul.

Savage gathered her up, lifting her into his arms, cradling her close to his chest as if she was the most precious cargo in the world. For one second, she was dizzy with love. With the most amazing, wonderful feeling, almost a euphoria, in spite of her lurching stomach and pounding head.

And then it hit her. The woman. The smell of her. The scent of the woman’s sexual lust mixed with Savage’s raw, violent, sexual scent. His mingling with the woman’s. The color red slashed across her vision.

Betrayal was a red-hot poker, as crimson and as bright as those streaks in her vision, only this was a knife stabbing over and over through her heart. The reality of betrayal was brutal and visceral, shredding her, ripping her to pieces, just as she’d known it would. It hurt worse than if he’d beaten her. That terrible stabbing continued over and over, driving through her body until she felt every single hole, until there was nothing left of her flesh on the bones. It hurt worse than the very real physical pain of that vicious jackhammer drilling at her head in the form of a migraine.

Seychelle struggled. Fought him. Tried desperately to get out of his arms. She had to get away from him. His touch was killing her, stripping her down to nothing but raw, visceral pain.

“Stop it, Seychelle. Be still. I have to get you to the car.” He spat the command through clenched teeth.

They shared the vision of the woman on her knees, her naked body striped with his mark, his brand, her mouth eagerly devouring his cock. He was there with her, just as upset as she was. Just as horrified. As disgusted. As fiercely rejecting the truth that was in that highly detailed vision between them because he’d come straight from the woman to Seychelle. He hadn’t even taken the time to do more than empty himself down her throat, pull away, jerk up his jeans and run for his motorcycle.

“Damn it. Stop it.”

She’d landed a punch to his jaw. It wasn’t hard, because she couldn’t find the necessary strength when she was so sick, but at least he had the door to the car open, and he all but dumped her on the front seat. She curled up in the fetal position and rocked herself, closing her eyes, trying not to think. Trying to force herself to just count. She needed to get home. Find peace.

“Baby, listen to me. I know you’re hurt. I know this fucking hurt you.”

The car was in motion and he was talking. That voice. The one that could wrap her in velvet and smooth over every abrasion and cut on her skin. Those scars she wore for him. Nothing could soothe this away. Nothing. She had no skin left; he’d torn it all off her.

“It would have hurt a lot more if this had been done to you.”

She wanted to cover her ears. She
felt
the victory in the woman. The greed. The hot need for sex. She was practically begging him. The worst of it all was, Seychelle knew Savage could have cared less about the woman. He didn’t know her name. He didn’t want to know her name. She was absolutely nothing to him. He’d found a woman more physically attractive, had sex with her and didn’t even know her name or care one thing about her. He’d given her that side of himself, depraved, sick and violent—it was still Savage,
her
Savage, and he’d given that man to someone else. Not her.

She detested that she felt so betrayed. She detested that she was so weak, that she loved him so much she was that hurt. She wanted him gone. She kept counting over and over in her head to drown out the sound of his voice, refusing to hear what he said. She could smell him, smell the woman, the mixture of sex and the coppery taint of blood. Thankfully, he wasn’t touching her, so she didn’t have to feel his emotions or the woman’s. She just had to feel sick and shiver with the pain of Doris’s vicious migraine and twisted ankle and the knowledge of Savage’s betrayal until her body would finally reject everything.

The car slowed. Behind them, she heard the sound of the motorcycles. Her hand fumbled for the door handle the moment the car was turned off. She managed to get the door open, but there was no way to walk. When she tried, she was too dizzy to take a step, and her ankle collapsed under her.

“I’m taking you into the house.”

“You can’t touch me.” Seychelle backed up to the car, pressed hard against it for balance and forced herself to look at him. Savage. God. She was so in love with him. What was wrong with her that she’d let herself step off that cliff? She’d promised herself she wouldn’t, and yet she must have, to hurt so bad.

“It can’t be helped. It’s only a few steps, and you know the worst. I’ll get you inside and we’ll talk.”

They weren’t talking. There was no talking his way around this one. This had been her greatest fear. She’d wondered if she could handle it. She had almost persuaded herself that she could. Now she knew she couldn’t. There was no way.

She didn’t argue with him. There was no arguing with Savage when he made up his mind. He had that look on his face. He came at her, caught her up and strode toward the front door. Seychelle did her best to keep her mind blank. To not inhale. To not breathe. She concentrated on counting. She didn’t want to feel his emotions. Or her emotions.

Savage put her on the bed, and she scrambled to the familiar headboard, grateful that she’d taken the time to make every single space in her home count. The crystals sang to her, and sitting right there, in that exact spot, always made her feel so much better. Only, nothing helped. Nothing would ever help again.

She moistened her lips and forced herself to say the one thing that would make him have to leave. The one thing she knew he couldn’t ignore. “I want you to leave, Savage, and I don’t want you ever to come back. I mean it. We’re not friends. We’re not ever going back to being friends. I can’t do this, so you have to go.”

Savage stood across from her, and he looked as devastated as she felt. She didn’t expect that. He shook his head. “Don’t. Seychelle, don’t. I know this hurts. I know it’s fucked up. I’m fucked up. You knew that. I never hid it. I did this to keep you from getting hurt.”

She knew that. God help her, she knew that. And she’d known he’d say that.

“I’m not the only one fucked up, Seychelle. You need me as much as I need you. You don’t want it to be true because it scares the crap out of you. I scare you. What’s between us scares you, and it should. It’s raw and violent, and it can get out of control. The thing is, look at you. Look at what happened to you. If you were my woman, that wouldn’t happen. Not ever. You want to know why? Because I would make absolutely certain I knew what was happening and I’d stop it. I’d teach you how to control it.”

“Unless it was all about you.”

He shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, baby.
Especially
when it’s about me. I’m that scary and that violent. We both know that. That’s when you have to be your strongest, and you make the choice, not me. That’s when you control what you take on. But you have to learn, because right now, you’re wide open and everything hurts you.”

She pulled her legs tighter to her chest. “You hurt me, Savage. Like no one else, and you’ll keep doing it. I can take a lot, but I can’t take that. You have to go. You’re tearing me up, and I can’t recover. There’s no way back for me.”

There was a long silence. Savage shook his head. “Seychelle. Baby. Think carefully before you do this. You throw me out and you mean it, there’s no way for me to come back from it. We have a code. Torpedo Ink has a code. We live it. We breathe it. I am Torpedo Ink. You say you mean it, I have to leave and I can’t come back.”

“I do mean it. You have to go. I don’t want you back.” She had to say it fast before she couldn’t say it. It was self-preservation, the only way to survive.

Again, there was a long silence. His voice was raw when he answered her. “Here’s the bottom line, Seychelle. You’ve made it impossible for me to come back inside your home. I have no choice but to leave, because you’re making it clear that’s what you want. But if you ever change your mind and you come to the club for any reason . . .
Any reason.
Be fuckin’ clear on that. You show up on a Thursday to rehearse with the band, you’re declaring to me that you want me. That you’re coming to me and you’re mine. There’s no going back from that decision. Are we clear?”

She couldn’t imagine that he’d think she was going to sing with his band. What? And watch women hang all over him?

“I don’t come inside your house. I’ll respect that. This is your space. But you respect mine. You don’t decide the clubhouse needs to be cleaned. You don’t cater a party or come to one. You don’t go into the laundry business.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” she whispered. Maybe he had. She felt a little as if she’d lost hers.

“I just want you to understand, Seychelle, because I mean every fuckin’ word I’m saying to you. You come to my territory for any reason, then all bets are off, and you belong to me. Do you understand what that would mean? You show up, you’re making the choice to be with me. That’s how I’m taking it. That’s what you’re declaring. And there won’t be any going back from it.”

She wasn’t a child. He couldn’t be making himself any clearer. She definitely understood every single word he said. It wasn’t like she was going to choose to go sing with his band. Or clean his clubhouse. Or wash his clothes. Or watch some woman blow him.

“I think I got it, Savage.” Her throat was so raw, it burned when she whispered to him.

“I’m not just going to leave you like this. I’ve texted Steele, and he’s on his way. Once he tells me you’re good, then I’ll go. He’s our doc.”

Fear coursed through her, bright and hot. She didn’t want
a doctor examining her, not again. Never again. She didn’t want someone telling her—or him—her days were numbered. She didn’t need to hear that. She knew she looked scared. She could tell he saw too much just by the look on his face when she involuntarily pulled back, making herself small and giving a little cry of pain, both hands covering her temples and then her eyes.

Savage dimmed the lights immediately. He pulled her favorite tank she wore to bed from her drawer along with her little shorts, and impersonally pulled her shirt from over her head and then got rid of her bra. Without a word, he dressed her in her pajamas. Seychelle ignored him, rolling onto her side. She didn’t want to look at him. Her vision was so blurred anyway, trying to focus on anything, especially Savage, just made her sicker.

Eventually, she became aware of a second man in the room, sitting next to her on the bed, murmuring softly to Savage. She shivered violently, continually, her teeth chattering. She recognized those signs. Her body tried to rid itself of the toxic diseases she’d taken on from another party. Steele’s hands were cool on her temples. Then her ankle. He stroked his fingers over her skin. She ignored both men, wishing they’d just go away.