Page 25 of Savage Sin

Jeans encase defined thighs and long legs. He’s in need of a haircut, but he doesn’t seem to care. Long, blonde strands slip from where he combed it back after a shower to tease the edges of his ears and jaw. Gritty, cut from stone as if chiseled with hammers and determination rather than measured strokes and patience.

He’s got broad shoulders and still hasn’t found a shirt to wear. Or he prefers to go without them, from what I can tell. Shadows cast across the wide expanse of his back while the sunlight plays over his front. Tattoos cover every inch of skin on display. I can’t make them out from this angle, but the mass of color and dark lines swirl and connect over hard muscle to create this kind of story the curious woman in me would love to decipher.

In another time and place, maybe.

When he turns around and faces me, I’m met with the same grim expression as yesterday. He’s given up on shaving. Facing me, I have time to see the rest of the ink draping over his shoulders like a colorful blanket. Sleeves of more richly inked tattoos spill down both arms. Roses, vines and leaves mostly.

I drop my gaze to his hands hanging by his side and find those red and black petals hide a deadly secret. Barbed wire lays across the skin covering his knuckles to wrap around his wrists like my bindings right now. But it doesn’t stop there. The lethal wire continues up his arms to coil around his throat amongst the thorns of the rose vines. Drops of blood drip over the vivid greenery.

The only part of him that isn’t shaded with ink is his chest. Over his pecs and abdomen there is a huge phoenix bird in outline only.

I bet there’s a story in every detailed line and image etched into his skin. I recognize pain when I see it and his story will be a tearjerker.

He’s loved and lost. No man with that much sorrow doesn’t have a dark history. A spark of something warms my heart. No, not warms. What the hell am I thinking? I refuse to be my mother and fall for the beauty of his darkness. This stranger is not handsome. I can’t think of him like that. He’s my captor, and I need to keep my head on straight. He infuriates me to my very bone marrow and leaves me wishing I could murder in cold blood and not feel guilty. Maybe I will if he ever lets me go.

He’s waiting for my final decision. He’s not going to like my answer, so I see no reason to withhold it from him.

“I’m not going to help you on your hunt for blood and death. Take that as my final answer.”

He considers me through squinted eyes and a cloud of smoke. He gives me a tight smile. Twin dimples frame his grin. “Then I don’t owe you anything. Especially a shower..” His voice is edgy and dark.

Fine. Whatever. But it is the words he’s not saying and has my palms sweating.

Words like,I don’t owe you life. There’s no reason for him to keep me alive if I’m not going to help him.

My heart pounds. He shifts his weight to the back of his heels, and that slight movement has a current of energy rolling over his chest and through his inked forearms. Muscles roll with pent up strength.

Oh.My mouth turns dry. Light glints off metal in his chest.

Wait.In?

I look again. Then raise my eyes. He’s watching me as I take in the sight of his pierced nipples.

Shit.

Right. Let the madman who has you tied to his bed catch you looking at his body. Nice move, stupid.

I turn my head and close my eyes. Some days, I fucking hate myself.

Feet move over carpet.

My eyes spring open to meet crystal blue.

In the time I’ve been here, he’s not stood this close to me for longer than it takes to give me water.

I notice every detail there is about him when he moves my hair out of my face. Like the scars on his chest. I see thoseandthe piercings. One is an interesting detail, the latter are weak points.

I can use them against him.

His touch is gentle.

“Thank you for fixing my hair,” I offer before I catch myself.

“Spasiba, Princessa.”

He holds my eyes captive. I don’t know if he realizes it or not, but he’s tracing small circles where his thumb rests on my cheek. Pain radiates off him so thick I am close to giving in. Wouldn’t it be nice for someone else to take care of one of my problems?

Sure.

---