Page 19 of Savage

She nods, but she doesn’t look at me. There’s silence between us for a moment, then she says, “I thought knowing my father was dead would heal something inside me.” Her chocolate brown gaze meets my green stare. “But I still feel this insurmountable anger. It’s as if it’s always going to be there. I don’t want to feel it, but I can’t prevent it.”

I know what she means. There is beauty in our broken pieces, though. We might be shattered from our pasts, but Dante, Harper, and I are all perfectly aligned when we’re together.

“We have all been through horrific things,” I tell her as I pull her hand to my lips and brush a kiss over her knuckles. Then turning her wrist over so her palm is facing up, I allow my mouth to press a gentle kiss to the soft flesh. “It’s what makes us survivors…we’re superhuman,” I continue. “There’s something special in us. They tried to steal it, but it’s still there. I can see it in you and in Dante.”

The corner of her mouth lifts slightly. “We’re superheroes. Is that why you spend all your time with us?” Her gaze flicks over my face before holding my stare hostage.

Shaking my head, I smile. “I don’t know how I would survive without the two of you. I would go on living, but I wouldn’t be happy. Not truly. I believe some people come into our lives for a reason. Maybe they appear when we need to be taught a lesson or need to learn more about who we truly are. I’m convinced the three of us were destined to find each other.”

Harper drops her head onto the back of the sofa, and her gaze locks on the ceiling. I look up with her and watch the patterns in the paint dance along the smooth surface.

My fingers tangle with hers. The warmth of her makes me smile.

Touch was difficult for me to accept for a long time. When Dante’s hand first met mine, I thought I was going to jump out of my skin. When anyone reached for me in captivity, it resulted in agony. I came to expect the brutality, but over the past year, I’ve learned there’s more to human contact than pain—there is also pleasure, and sometimes, the two tread a very fine line together.

“Falcon is sending me information on where the gala is going to be held,” Dante says as he stalks into the room once more. His gaze takes in the scene before him, and he arches a dark brow. “Am I missing something?”

“We were just thinking,” Harper says. “Thinking about what it would have been like if we’d had different lives. We were talking about the past and about needing revenge.” Her voice sounds far away.

“Dwelling on the past isn’t going to get us very far, my little mouse,” Dante tells her. “And you, little raindrop? Are you still stuck in the shit from your past?”

One thing about Dante, he lives up to his name. Savage. He’s cold, calculated, and doesn’t show emotion often. At times, I wonder if his cold heart will ever thaw. But I know he’s only asking these questions because he cares.

“We’ll always think about the past,” I tell him as I push to my feet. “We might be out of the hell we were thrown into, but it’s not something we can ever truly escape from.” I stalk toward him, stopping inches from his tall, muscular frame. I have to tip my head back so I can look up into those cold, blue eyes. “You, of all people, should know that no matter how many times you wash your hands, the blood on them still remains.”

“I’m not disputing that,” he tells me as he reaches for my face. “The blood helps to wash away the anger.” His fingers and thumb grip tightly, holding me hostage, so I can’t pull away.

I enjoy the games we play. There’s a danger that flickers in Dante’s eyes. It’s something that drew me to him when I first saw him. He saved me, and he healed me…or he tried to, at least.

“Don’t ever allow yourself to believe anything different. You’re not what they made you,” he says, keeping his voice low. I watch him crook his finger, beckoning Harper closer. He wraps his arms around both of us, and he holds us close against his chest. The three of us are cocooned in the warmth that envelops us. “Both of you need to realize your past does not define you. The future is yours to define, to write. You’re warriors, survivors, and beautiful fucking women.”

He’s right. We are warriors. We’re fighting for those who can’t anymore, and we’re proud of what we’ve achieved so far. Our job isn’t easy. Not everyone can make a kill, and even fewer can walk away from it unscathed. But we have to do it, or we’ll be stuck in a loop forever. I can’t have that happen to me. I can’t keep replaying the past in my head where I’m trapped in a cage, like an animal, and freed only for moments of agonizing pain.

“Hey,” Harper whispers as she captures my face in her hands. “We’re going to do this together. She’s not going to hurt you ever again.”

She leans in and steals a kiss, and I can’t help but respond. I want to forget my past, but I know I can’t. Not until my mother has paid for what she’s done.

Harper’s tongue sweeps across my lips, and I open my mouth, allowing her entry. Distraction is better than focus, at least for now. In this moment, I’m solely consumed by thoughts of naked bodies writhing in lust and the feel of flesh against mine.

I reach for Harper’s butt and pull her closer.

I can feel Dante’s stare on us. He’s enjoying the show we’re putting on. Most times, he gets off on us pleasuring each other. Deep down, I know why. It’s because he’s been programmed to find voyeurism a turn on. In many ways, it adds to the fun, but it saddens me to think that we’re all so fucking broken we can’t have normal lives. Even the intimacy between us has some form of kink to it. It’s not that I want my life to be normal. But there are moments when I wonder what it would be like not to need violence or to crave blood during sex.

It doesn’t matter how many shrinks I talk to, nothing changes. I still want pain. At least with Dante, I know I’m safe. He’ll never hurt me more than I need. Our safe words are always respected. All three of us know our limits, and we never force each other to do anything we don’t want, even when engaging in a primal scene.

“Rayne?” Harper’s voice drags me from my thoughts. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I want to say yes, but I can’t, because I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to face that woman again.

“Not entirely,” I answer honestly. I can’t lie to her. I can’t lie to Dante. They’ve known me long enough to be able to read me like a book. There’s no escape from the inevitable, though. “Evil doesn’t stay dead,” I tell Harper. Then I look at Dante. “I can do this. I need to get closure. Hopefully, once she’s gone, I can move on.”

I pray my words are true, but when the moment comes, I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to kill my mother. Dante has never expressed any regret or remorse for killing Malcolm, but he grew up with the man. I don’t really know my mother. I never saw her again after she gave me to my uncle.

“I should’ve been able to trust her with my life, but she lied and put me in danger. I do feel anger at her betrayal. But the rage coursing through my veins is because she didn’t bother looking for me after I was gone.”

“Maybe she knew where you were all along,” Dante says then. “Perhaps she was watching from afar.”

“Watching me be sold, over and over again?” I never considered that as a possibility before.

“Maybe,” Dante says. “My father tracked all the young girls and boys he trained and sold. There were records of each and every captive he brought into our home. And when I found their files, I kept them.”

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