Page 35 of Savage Hero

Gloating over the fact that he made me come.

And I hate him for that. I do. I could set him on fire and dance in the light of the flames…but I’m too busy unraveling.

He plants a final kiss on my clit, sending a harsh shiver racing through me, and slowly slips out between my legs. I’m so broken, I just lie there with my thighs still wide apart, one arm dangling off the side of the couch, the other thrown over my forehead like I’m recovering from a corset-induced faint.

Savage gently draws my sweats up my legs. His touch makes goosebumps break out over my skin. He’s looking at my body, not at me, and that gives me a chance to study him.

I’m still high as fuck after riding that tsunami of an orgasm, but there’s something else now. I don’t know what it is, but it’s making me uncomfortable.

I forgot who he was. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to live this life. A hot boyfriend who gives me head and who doesn’t back away when I pick a fight.

A yin to my yang.

I’d always assumed there was no one out there for me. Yeah, I’ve had a few one-offs, but nothing that lasted longer than my first period with them.

Shark week takes on a whole different meaning if you’re prone to punching people when they don’t agree with you.

That’s how I thought it would always be. Me against the world.

Maybe if I met someone like Savage whowasn’tthe member of a Colombian cartel, then—

Savage snaps the waistband of my sweats against my tummy. I come to with a soft groan and realize he’s standing right beside my head.

There’s an impressive bulge in the front of his jeans which I guess he expects me to sort out for him in exchange for all the sorting out he just did for me. I reach for it, but he slaps away my hand. “Now will you listen?”

I take my time sitting up—not only because I don’t want him thinking he has any kind of control over me, but because my muscles are still a little shaky. “That’s what this was all about?”

He cocks his head at me. “What did you think, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. Little girl. I’m sick of it. But I also realize we’ve reached some new level in this shit show of a relationship. I might have a little more leeway than before.

“On one condition,” I say, sticking up my finger. “I get to make a phone call.”

Savage thinks on this for a second and then nods, glancing away as he slips a hand in his pocket and pulls out a cell phone.

It’s not mine.

I take it, stare at the screen. He unlocked it, but there are hardly any apps on the home page. Google, Maps, YouTube. My mind scrambles but comes up short. “I need my phone.”

“No can do.”

“I don’t know the number.”

“Lucky for you, I do.” Savage takes back the phone, touches the screen a few times, and hands it back to me.

It’s dialing a number. The contact name is Athena Gray.

A cold wave washes through me as bile rushes up my throat. “How did you—”

The faint, wary voice of my sister comes through the speaker. “Hello?”

I throw Savage the kind of scowl that could make popcorn kernels explode, and jump to my feet. He lets me push past him, and I hurry to the other side of the room before I murmur, “Athena, it’s me.”

There’s a relieved sigh from the other side of the line. “Nyx? Where the hell are you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you—”

“I can’t explain right now, but I’m…” The word lodges in my throat. I glance back at Savage. He’s over at the coffee machine. Two new cups beside it. He has his back turned, and he may be out of earshot. “I’m safe,” I whisper.

“Then why are you whispering?”

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