Page 30 of Poisonous Savage

Okay?Theword seemed foreign, inadequate.Istared back at him, unable to explain the empty abyss that had settled in my heart.Shellshocked, yes, but alive.Ihardly heard as he walked away and started the shower before coming back and stripping me.Iwas too stiff, too numb to move, allowing him to pick me up and carry me into the bathroom.

Theheat of the water licked at my skin, feeling weird compared to the cold clutching my insides.Hunter’shands skimmed over my flesh with a tendernessInever expected him capable of, washing away more than just the grime of battle.Histouch seared through the numbness, awakening parts of meIthought would be quiet for a long time.

"Leanback," he growled, no room for argument in his tone.Thecommand in his voice was familiar, comforting in its authority.Iobeyed, letting my head dip into the water, feeling it cascade over my scalp.Hisfingers worked through my hair; he’d picked my strawberry shampoo as he untangled knots like he was unraveling the chaos inside me.

Icaught his gaze, those nearly black eyes of his piercing through the steam.Theyheld shadows, reflections of the darkness we both harbored now.Butthere was something else there, too—a fierce protectiveness that wrapped around me.

"Turn," he said, a single word cutting through the silence.Hetended to each bruise, each cut with an intensity that left me breathless.Histouch on my skin stoked a fire that had nothing to do with the violence we'd seen.

Outof the bath, he wrapped a towel around me, the fabric rough against my heated skin.Wemoved in a quietdance, his body guiding mine to the bed where fresh linens lay crisp and untouched by the night's sins.

"Sit," he instructed, andIperched on the edge, the towel clinging to my damp body.Hispresence enveloped me, a living shield from the chaos that still whispered beyond these walls.Heknelt before me, his silhouette a dark promise against the soft light of the room.

Myheart hammered as he positioned himself between my legs, kneeling as he looked into my eyes.Hishands found mine, resting on my knees, his thumbs rubbing circles into my skin.

"Areyou okay?"Again, his question rumbled through the space between us, laced with concern and something heavier.

Okay?HowcouldIbe okay?Istared down at him, my vision blurring.Everythingwas different now.I’dbeen riding the line, not truly understanding what this world was until tonight.IthoughtIdid, but pulling the trigger and watching the life die out of my father's eyes really hit home.

"Rosalind?"Hepressed, his voice a rough whisper against the storm within me.

Butwords failed me.Mythroat tightened, choking back the screams clawing their way up.Hisgaze searched mine,seeking answersIcouldn't give, reading the turmoil that twisted my features.

“I…I’mokay.”Icould see his concern as he got into bed and pulled me into him.Hekept talking in a low voice, andIcaught snippets of an old fairytale,TheFrogKing,and how the princess chose the prince even though it meant she’d stay an ugly frog.

Ifell asleep thinking how like us that was.

HUNTER

Istalked into the kitchen,Marcoalready there, leaning against the counter like some goddamnGreekGod.Frigidair seeped from the open fridge, reminding me ofRosalind'scold withdrawal from me.Fromherself.

"Shit'sfucked up,"Igrunted, thumbing the scar that ran down my arm—a nervous tickIhadn’t had for a long while.

"Rosalind?"Marcoasked, not missing a beat.

"Whothe fuck else?"Islammed the fridge shut, the sound echoing off the stainless steel. "She’sbeen holed up in that room like a damn prisoner.Doesn’teat.Barelyspeaks.It'slike she's given up on breathing."

Marcopushed off the counter, muscles rippling under his shirt.Hemoved closer, the scent of his aftershave a sharp contrast to the grease and grime of our daily sins.

"Patience,Hunter," he said, voice steady as a blade. "She'sstrong, but she just killed her dad.Giveher a minute to grieve, even if he was an asshole, we all need to grieve sometimes.Keeploving her; that's the key.She'llcome back around."

"Love.I’venever loved,Marco.Ido protection and dominance.Ikeep my shit and my people safe.Buther… it’s like she’s making me a whole ‘nother person, andIfucking hate the fact that she’s made me vulnerable again.Ihave a weak spot.That’sa fucking dangerous position."

"Loveis just another weapon, brother.Useit right, and it'll bring her back."

"Fuckpatience."Ismashed my fist into the wall, plaster crumbling under my knuckles. "Butif it's a weapon... thenI'llwield it likeIdo a gun or a knife—until it fucking works."

"Good."Marcoclapped a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm. "Justremember, we need her with us, not just alive.Aliveand kicking, ruling by your side."

Thesilence afterMarco'swords hung heavy.Shewasn’t just ruling by my side, though, was she?She’dalso picked him.Goddamnit.Ican’t even believeI’mthinkingsomething like this, but…Ipaced the kitchen.Theidea churned in my gut.Rosalind… her spirit dimmed with each passing day, andImissed my fucking light.

"Brother,"Isaid, gritting my teeth.Ihated thatIeven had to ask this, much less that he’s fucked my wife, butIwas grasping at straws. "Tonight,Iwant to be with her."

Hiseyes widened, a flash of surprise that he quickly masked. "Youserious?"

"Deadly.IfIcan’t pull her out, maybe you can.Sheain't just some broad; she's my wife.Myfucking queen.Treather right, andIwill continue to allow… whatever the fuck this is."

Along pause.Anod. "Alright, man.Ifyou’re sure,Idon’t wanna wake up with your knife in my gut."

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