Page 27 of Ruthless Savage

I can feel Devlin’s eyes on me.

“What was that about?” he tosses out coarsely.

“Nothing.” I throw on an innocent smile. “Just Karen being Karen. You know how she is.”

“Mm-hmm. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

The appointment lasted all of twenty minutes, then we were out. Was told to take some painkillers, ice it, and elevate, but that I should be fine to go to school tomorrow as long as there is no major pain. Everything I already knew, but Mister Overprotective had to drag me out for no reason.

“I can walk, you know,” I huff as he carries me into my dorm building like a child. Students whisper as they see us. “This is embarrassing. Seriously, the doctor said I won’t die. You can put me down.”

His bicep muscles tense around me, and the veins on the top of his hand ripple. “Not until you’re in your room. Then I can go.”

“Fine…”

I know there’s no use in talking to him. Once he has his mind made up, a fight is hopeless. He always wins.

Entering my code, he opens the door and carries me to my bed.

When he gets ready to go, I have every intention of making him stay. But I know there’d be no point. He’d just sit here staring at me. The days when he could open up to me are long gone.

“Can you pass me my backpack?” I ask him, eyeing the black canvas bag on the desk, hoping to get some reading done for my literature class.

He reaches for it, and as he does, a book on creative writing slips out.

Shit. He can’t see that.

He might realize I’m taking writing classes and report it to my dad.

My father believes I plan on becoming a vet. He has no idea I decided to follow my true passion and become a writer. I want to write for online magazines, or maybe even novels one day. But my father doesn’t believe there is a career for writers, not one that is worthy of our name, so I have resorted to lying, but I know he’ll find out eventually. I’m just not ready for that day yet.

I’ve been accepted into a small writing class for advanced students by Professor Montgomery. She’s brilliant and has become a mentor of sorts. I’ve told her how my father has never been supportive of my passion. That he doesn’t believe an English literature degree is going to take me anywhere. But this is what I want.

Once I get a job doing what I love, maybe he’ll finally believe in me. Until then, this must remain my secret. Even Iseult doesn’t know. I can’t risk her slipping it to someone.

“What’s this?” he asks.

“Um. Nothing. Just a book.”

“On writing? Are you taking writing courses? I thought your father told you not to.”

I grind my molars, my pulse racing in my ears.

Think. Think!

“Eriu…”

“You can’t tell him!” I advance on my feet, dragging myself toward him, grabbing the collar of his shirt in my trembling grasp. “Please, Devlin, don’t take this away from me.”

His blue eyes soften, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s sympathy.

“Why don’t you tell him? Secrets are always bound to come out.”

I snicker. “You know how stubborn my dad is! He’d never allow it. He’d take me out of school and move me back home. Then I’d have no life. I’ll be married to some man who will probably beat me and I’ll?—”

In an instant, he cups my chin and his eyes bore into mine. My breaths still.

“Lass, I’d never let that happen.” His gaze turns intense, blazing with promise. “If you think that my vow to protect you will end when you’re married, then you don’t know me. Your husband will have to deal with me for the rest of your life.”

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