Annihilation Road (21 page)

“If I can see you, she can,” Libby said. Her voice was still that same soft, accepting tone. Clearly, she wasn’t probing too deep. “I doubt if she’s adept enough yet to see more than flashes, but it would be enough to see what you’ve done for the others. You shoulder their emotional pain, Savage, and it’s tremendous. Not just when you were children, but even now. There’s rage. Sheer rage. Hurt. Terror. So many emotions all blended together. You take those burdens on so they’re bearable for the others. She sees that in you, and that’s why she’s so drawn to you. Not just the healer in her—and she can’t take that on—but the woman in her.”

He was aware of what Libby was telling him on some level. The monster in him was counting on it.

“You’re worried about your lifestyle impacting her health,” Libby said, getting straight to the point. “She doesn’t have to heal you. Physical pain isn’t the same thing as sickness, Savage. What she chooses to suffer on your behalf, or if she chooses to find pleasure in the sexual practices with you, is up to her. Those things will not in any way affect her health.”

“You’re positive? My lifestyle can be . . . rough.”

“You know better than I do that what she will need is rest and care. Lots of it. You will have to see to those things, no matter what lifestyle you have with her.”

Savage knew that already. His intention was to give Seychelle more care than she’d ever had in her life. So much she’d probably feel smothered.

Libby leaned in close. “I can see that you love this woman and you intend to care for her. If that’s the case, you have to build such trust between you that she will accept
your word instantly. I was lucky to have my sisters to guide me. If I screwed up, I knew I endangered them as well as myself. Your woman doesn’t have those guidelines. She’s doing all of this blind. She has instincts and a tremendous compulsion just like you have. Think about trying to stop what you do. You’re a force of nature. You don’t want her to think you’re a dictator. I can’t emphasize this to you enough. If you don’t get her to understand and willingly follow your guidance, she’s going to die. That’s the bottom line. If you can’t convince her that you
have
to step in to save her life, then you’ll lose her. I’m willing to speak to her if you need me to. I’ll give you my cell phone number.”

“Thanks. She loves to sing. She wants to sing with bands some of the time, but when she does, there are people who are sick. I had a headache the other night and she took it away. The next thing I knew, she had it. When I realized what she’d done, I was so fucking pissed I could barely see straight. She loves singing. Loves it. But when she’s up there, she can’t help herself . . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “If I take that away, if I take everything she loves from her, what does she have?”

“You can’t take that away. You have to communicate. She has to trust you implicitly. You have to do exactly what Tyson said. Have signs, code words, and if that doesn’t work, then you become the caveman. Her band can be clued in, be part of her protection. They can help. As for taking away a headache, Savage, she has to be a healer. That’s her gift, and you have to let her do the small things that won’t kill her. Especially for you. For the people she cares about. Little things aren’t going to harm her, and she’ll grow in control.”

“So, eventually, she’ll be able to control her impulse to heal people?”

Libby shook her head. “No, she’ll have a little more control in that she’ll be able to reach out to you and tell you she’s in trouble. Can you stop yourself from taking on the emotional pain or the anger and rage of the others in your club?”

“No, I can’t stop,” he admitted. “I know to gain Seychelle’s trust, I have to be completely honest with her. I don’t want her to blame the others for the buildup of violence and rage that happens in me.” He rubbed both his hands over his head in agitation, wanting to pound his fists into the wall. For a moment the walls actually breathed in and out with him. “I can’t change what’s in me, Libby.”

“Has she asked you to?”

The moment she spoke in that soft, sweet tone, the terrible buildup of anger in him settled back in the well. He shook his head. “No, Seychelle isn’t like that. She’s . . . extraordinary.”

Libby smiled at him. “You’ve used that word before.”

“You’re absolutely certain that the things I need sexually won’t contribute to her becoming ill?”

Libby shook her head. “Those are two different things. I can’t stress enough that she has to take care of herself. Resting. Eating right. The right kind of exercise. She probably is already doing that, or she wouldn’t have lasted this long, but you need to be on board with that. If you really love this woman, Savage, you have to watch her the way Tyson watches over me. If you don’t love her enough to do that, walk away from her now.”

“Do you get upset with him when he tells you ‘Enough’?”

“Every single time when the compulsion is very strong,” she answered honestly. “Would you like it if Seychelle told you to stop when you needed to help out your brothers in the club?”

Savage hadn’t thought of that. He wouldn’t like it, nor would he be able to stop. He shook his head. “I see what you’re saying.” He couldn’t help but like her. “I can’t thank you enough. Blythe told me you’re a very private person and this would be difficult for you, so it’s even more appreciated. I understand wanting privacy more than most people.”

“I’m really sorry about revealing your talent to Czar and Blythe. I had no idea they didn’t know. Czar seems to be aware of every talent. He has a gift that way. How yours escaped him
is beyond me. It’s very powerful, especially when you’re close to him. You use it on him quite often, don’t you?”

Savage considered carefully what he was going to say. She was Blythe’s cousin, and she could see into people, but he had no idea how much she actually knew of their childhood. The Drake sisters had stood with them when they had come to Sea Haven in the hopes of taking down a major human trafficking ring and killing the man who was determined to murder the youngest Drake sister and her husband, Jackson.

Savage chose his words with care. “Czar sacrificed a lot for all of us. When we were kids, the weight of us was crushing on him. Seeing all of us, the way he had to, unable to stop what was happening. Someone had to help him. I didn’t know I was doing it at first, and then when I realized I could, I started trying to develop my ability. I wanted it to be very strong so I could help him. I was so much younger, and he seemed larger than life.” He shrugged, a roll of his shoulders. “I don’t want to keep you, Libby. I really appreciate your time. I have a long way to go to help Seychelle, but I’ll find a way to get her back.”

“I have no doubt you will.” Libby offered her hand as she stood up.

Savage knew touching her was dangerous to both of them. He could read her almost as easily as she could read him, but he figured she already knew the worst of him, so why the hell not? Libby’s healing power was immense. It was tied to her sisters, giving her a huge well of energy to draw on should there be need. She gave him a sweet smile and left him there in the room to go join the others.

Savage considered trying to make a break for it out the back door, but he knew no matter what, he’d have to face Czar, and it was just better to get things over. He waited a little impatiently for him, staring out the window, watching Tyson open the door of his sleek Corvette for Libby. Tyson was a brainiac. The real deal. He also was a bit of an adrenaline junkie if the rumors were true, but the way he hovered
over his wife showed he was definitely into her. Savage liked that. Libby Drake deserved a husband who loved her.

“You want to tell me what’s going on, Savage?” Czar greeted as he entered the room. It was an order.

Savage turned to face the man who had saved all of them—all the original members of Torpedo Ink. Without him, there would have been no survival. He didn’t pretend not to understand. He would never disrespect Czar that way.

“It’s a small talent I discovered as a child. I wanted to find a way to help you—to help everyone. I didn’t feel I had much to offer. I’d come back ripped to pieces and all of you would have to take care of me. I could feel your anger, the rage building in you because you felt so helpless. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t stop what was happening, but you took it on your shoulders. Everything that was happening to each of us.”

“You were a fucking toddler, Savage, when they started on you,” Czar bit out.

Savage nodded. “I realize that. My world had been turned upside down. Reaper was in bad shape. They murdered my sisters. Everything around me was blood and pain. I needed to focus on something, and you were the only thing that made sense. You fought back. Even then, the idea of fighting back gave me hope when nothing else could. So I practiced on developing that talent because it was all I could do when I was so scared something would happen to you.”

“How could I not know?”

“Probably because I wasn’t very good at it,” Savage replied with a humorless smile, but the rage was building in his eyes. In his gut. Already he was pulling it from Czar in the way he had been doing all his life. There was no way to stop it, no way to control it—he’d been doing it since he was a little child. Too many years had gone by, and it was so ingrained in him he practically bled the rage from the others in steady streams.

“I had no way of knowing back then, although I think even as a child, I realized the tremendous amount of weight
you carried. The basement was enormous, and many of the others were older. It was like a jungle down there with so many territories. Everyone owning their own piece, like gangs. You were the youngest and yet the strongest, holding one of the best spots. You had to make decisions, turning away children that wanted to be with us, children we wanted to have join our group. Sometimes we’d be angry about your decision. That was so hard on you, but in the end, you were always right about them. They ratted on everyone.”

Every day had been a lesson in survival. Czar had been so young and yet he’d guided them through the pitfalls of the older boys trying to steal food, encroach on the meager territory they had. Viktor had chosen what had seemed to the others as one of the worst spots in the basement, but it was below the kitchen and the ovens, so in the freezing of the winter, they had some heat. He planned out everything carefully and chose each person to join their group—only the ones he knew would stay loyal no matter what.

Czar studied Savage’s face for a long time. “I think you were very good at what you did, and you got even better as time went on. The girls you trained?”

Savage shook his head. “Physical pain isn’t the same as emotional, and by that time, they’d already conditioned me to need both from them. It was too late for me and them. I just had to get them to a place where they accepted what was happening to them.”

“You did your best, Savage, one hour at a time, like we all did,” Czar said. “I wish I’d known what you were doing. You already carried a heavy enough burden. Crawling through the vents with Reaper, our appointed assassin, when we knew they were going to kill one of us. Those bastards forcing you to use those whips. It was bad enough what they did to all of us, but . . .” He trailed off. “No matter what I did, I couldn’t protect any of you.”

“We were all kids, you included. It’s all good now, Czar.” But Savage knew it wasn’t. Unless he was able to
convince Seychelle to give him another chance, nothing in his life was ever going to be right again. He wouldn’t give up. When he wanted something, he kept going until he got it. Her life was too important. If she absolutely refused to take him back even as a friend, he had to find a way to get her in touch with Libby.

For the next three weeks, Savage found it impossible to stay away from Seychelle. He couldn’t sleep more than a few minutes at a time. The nightmares were worse than ever. He spent as long as he could pacing in his room at the clubhouse and then he rode to her cottage. He would sit on his bike for several minutes, listening to the sound of the ocean as the waves battered the rocks and cliffs. The frogs would start up. The crickets would call to one another. That was his signal to get off his bike and walk over to the side of her house.

He sat under her bedroom window. That wasn’t violating the code. He didn’t go inside. He just sat there. The first night, the bedroom window was closed. He knew she heard and recognized his Harley. She couldn’t fail to recognize it. After the first night, her window was open, and he swore she was awake, and he could breathe her scent into his lungs. He imagined her sitting just on the other side of the wall, breathing him in at the same time. Hurting like he was. Those were the best and the worst nights. He was hurting. But he knew she was hurting because she stayed to herself, according to his brothers watching over her. She didn’t eat much, and she walked alone along the headlands. She cried herself to sleep.

Each morning, after he’d been there, she went outside and looked at the tracks where his motorcycle had been. She always picked up his offering to her—a perfect red rose with a long stem and no thorns. That long stem was intertwined with the stem of a dark rose that did have many thorns. She couldn’t fail to understand what he was trying to tell her. She put all twenty-one pairs into a vase.