Page 48 of Savage Desires

He moves so fast I don't have time to react before he's looming over me, his hand wrapped around my throat firm but gentle, taking my bruises into consideration. Even now, he's keeping me safe. The face of the man who tried to strangle me in the woods flashes behind my eyes, and I can almost smell the stench of cigarettes on his breath. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. Kisten's clean scent fills my senses, and the panic recedes.

I open my eyes and find him studying me closely. His hand is still firmly around my throat, but he's stroking my bruised skin with his thumb soothingly. I relax into the pillows, showing him that I'm not afraid. I had a brief moment of fear, but I won't let that experience take away my control. I've lived through worse, and this won't be the thing that breaks me.

"I'm not scared of you," I say quietly.

"Maybe you should be," he says flatly.

I smile and push myself towards Kisten, making his hand push harder against my throat. The added pressure makes the bruised flesh ache, but I ignore the pain. If I want to stay with Kisten and help him take down the bastards running Mecca and the mansion, I have to prove I'm not afraid. I need to show him I'm stronger than he thinks and that I won't back down no matter how hard he tries to push me away.

He keeps his hold steady but moves back so I can sit up. His dark eyes burn into me, showing me how much he wants me, even if he doesn't think he should. I've seen that look on many faces over the years. I've always felt dread because that look promises cruelty. It was a threat that I couldn't escape.

On Kisten?

It's so much more. It's a threat that promises me everything I never knew I wanted. I shouldn't feel this way about anyone after what I've been through. I never thought I would feel desire. That part of me was broken when I was too young to even understand what genuine desire felt like. It's a shock to discover that I can have these feelings.

I shouldn't be excited by a hand around my throat or the intense way he's looking at me. I should be ready to run far away from him, but I only want to crawl into his lap and feel those powerful arms around me again. The few moments at Mecca with him fueled days of sweet escape from darkness. Now he's here, touching me, and I want more.

He slowly backs away as I push forward until he's sitting on the bed beside me. A small voice in the back of my head whispers that I should stop, that I shouldn't push him, but I ignore it. Instead, I continue moving until I'm straddling his lap. His hand drops from my neck to my hip. His grip is firm and possessive. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, scooting forward until my chest is flush against his. I can feel his hardness under me, and it feels good in an unfamiliar way. I fight the temptation to rock against him to feel even more of him.

"I trust you, Kisten."

He lets out a low groan. One hand squeezes my hip, and the other moves up my back until his fingers are buried in my hair. I sigh because his hand in my hair feels fantastic. The way his strong fingers massage my scalp is damn near hypnotizing. I close my eyes and bury my face in the crook of his neck, enjoying the feel of him. I let out a sigh and relax, becoming putty in his arms.

"You shouldn't," he says roughly.

His words say one thing, but how he holds me says something different. He's proving that my trust isn't misplaced despite what he thinks. It doesn't matter how hard he fights me; I'm not going anywhere.

"Too damn bad. If you didn't want me, you shouldn't have paid ninety-three thousand dollars for me."

He releases my hip and bands his arm around my waist, his hand still massaging my scalp. I can feel his cock pulsing under me enticingly. I wiggle a little, but he tightens his hold, stopping me.

"My self-control only goes so far, love," he growls. I should apologize, but I won't. I love knowing he wants me. "I bought you to save your life, Willow. Not so I could own you."

"It doesn't matter what your intentions were. You own me now. You gave us the freedom to choose our own futures. I've chosen mine. I want to be yours. I want to take down human traffickers with you."

He sighs, and some of the tension in his body melts away. "I'm going to Hell."

I hide my smile on his shoulder. "You won't regret it. You'll see. I can help."

He squeezes me tighter, making the air woosh from my lungs. "Nothing can happen to you, my beauty."

I lightly kiss his cheek. "You'll keep me safe, and I'll keep you safe."

He lets out a rough breath and releases his hold on me. I sit up so I can see his face. He studies me like he's trying to measure the validity of my words. I can understand why he has doubts. He probably thinks I'm crazy—maybe I am—but I know what I want. I'm not ready to return to my life before, and I can't see myself with the kind of future they painted with Hope House. I want vengeance more than I want a peaceful place to heal.

My idea of healing is to make people pay for their sins. I can't imagine sitting in some therapist's office and talking about my trauma. It makes me want to scream just thinking about it. I don't care if many of the people who work at Hope House are also survivors. Sure, they might be able to empathize with me, but they are people who get solace from talking everything out.

That's not me.

My dad and I talked things out in the gym. Getting physical and training my body helps me work out my feelings. Talking has never been my thing. Not that my dad wouldn't have talked to me about things; he always told me I could tell him anything, but hitting the punching bag was way more therapeutic than talking. I can only imagine how good it will feel to punish the ones responsible for everything that's been done to me.

"Say you'll keep me," I murmur, begging him with my eyes.

"You'll be mine forever," he growls. He says it like a threat, but I only hear the promise of belonging and safety.

"Forever," I whisper.

I press my lips to his, sealing the promise with a kiss. His lips against mine feel incredible. Soft yet firm. I start pulling away, but Kisten lets out a low growl, fists my hair, and takes my lips in a devastatingly passionate kiss. Using his grip on my hair, he tilts my head to deepen the kiss. His tongue swipes over my bottom lip, and I part my lips for him. He doesn't hesitate to dive in, stroking my tongue with his.

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