Page 16 of Savage

Pushing my phone into the back pocket of my jeans along with my notebook and glasses, I heard raised voices.

Here we go again. It was Jaxon and his father. Their deep baritones vibrated from the kitchen.

“If you continue behaving like an unaccommodating little prick, you can move your shit into the coach house,” Marcus barked out, his voice raised in anger. Little? There was nothing little about Jaxon. He was correct on the latter part of that name-calling.

The coach house was located at the bottom of the main house's rolling gardens and the building was partly hidden by weeping willow trees, almost like a secret. It used to be where the servants would live; when the house had servants. It was also the place where the previous owner would keep his mistress. My mother had the low down on the house’s history and loved gossip. What could I say, she was a hopeless romantic.

Banished to the coach house, oh dear, Jaxon wouldn’t appreciate that threat.

“Maybe I will. Then I don’t have to watch you make a fool of yourself,” Jaxon belted back. The volume of their voices dipped and soared and so I knew they were not standing still. Probably circling each other like sharks thirsty for blood. It never appeared to get physical, but it always sounded like it was on the brink. The thought of them fighting did not sit well with me, they were both big fuckers and I imagined the damage would be severe.

I remained hidden and listened, naughty I know.

“When you grow up and have a relationship of your own, I’ll allow you to try and dictate what one should look like. You have no idea. It isn’t all about getting your end away. Effort is required, it takes work and understanding. Things you know fuck all about.”

I so shouldn’t be listening to this shit.

“Says the guy who can’t keep his fucking hands to himself. I live here too and being forced to watch you with your tongue constantly stuck down that woman’s throat is hardly an easy pill to swallow. You talk about respect, how is that fucking respectful to me and Chris,” Jaxon ranted, the menace in his voice making me pause. I then heard banging as if he was going through the cupboards and looking for something. Marcus must have been cooking dinner as I could smell something garlicky.

“If I hear you speaking to Daisy or Wynter with any disregard for their feelings again, I’ll throw you the fuck out.”

Jason choked out a laugh at that one. “I’d like to see you try, old timer,” he snarled.

“I mean it Jaxon. I’ve had enough of your crap.”

I heard my stepbrother snort, “I’m so done with this shit.”

“Where are you going? We’re not done here,” Marcus shouted.

“I am,” Jaxon insisted, his voice now louder. I realised that he was leaving the kitchen a little too late and this forced me to move away and attempt to make it up to my room. My stepbrother’s voice then stopped me as I just made it up the first few steps of the stairs. Waves of embarrassment at being caught eavesdropping crashed through my gut. Was he going to shout at me too? I bit my lip, anxiety pumping through me.

The silence pulsated with menace. “Nosey much?” he rasped, his voice full of aggression and something else. There was nothing I could do but stop and turn with barely concealed doom.

My breath hitched in my throat as I fought with my reply.

“What’s the matter? Nothing to say? I’ll be seriously disappointed if you’ve lost the ability to use your tongue.” I didn’t miss his intentionally sexually suggestive tone as his eyes dropped to my lips.

“What do you want me to say?” I said, shrugging one shoulder.

Jaxon’s eyes then locked with mine. “Do you get off on hearing me and Marcus fuck each other up?”

He strode closer and I could see he was upset. The need to comfort him raised its misguided head and I squared my shoulders. “No. The opposite. I hate to hear you fighting with your father,” I replied, almost at eye level, being a couple of steps above him. He inclined his head as he came to stand in front of me.

“Considering you and your fucking mother are usually the cause, I find that hard to swallow,” he bit back. His neck was corded with tension.

I winced and practically growled in frustration, “You’re such a nasty bastard.” He didn’t like that and he loomed closer.

“Why, because I say it how it is?”

“And how is it Jaxon? You talk to him like dirt. I don’t understand what he’s done to deserve that.”

Jaxon exhaled, looking up at the ceiling briefly before his eyes clashed with mine again. Frustrated aggression thrummed through him. “Do you know how many times I’ve been here Wynter? Four, four fucking wives. They never last and you and your mother won’t either. It’s a novelty for him. He generally treats women like shit.” I almost bit my tongue at that one.

“And you don’t?”

“That’s not the same. I don’t give out empty promises. With me, they know the score,” he huffed.

I recalled what Jaxon had said to me in the early days. “It won’t last. It never does. Once the novelty of banging your mother wears off, my father will ditch her and you’ll be gone. So don’t get too comfortable sweetheart.” That is what I had gotten instead of hello. Talk about bad first impressions.

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