“Survivor’s guilt?”
I lift my hand and start counting off fingers. “He self-isolates, is irritable, depressed, having nightmares, hardly eats, has headaches… insomnia…” I lower my hand. “I’m not a doctor, but I know the signs. He’s not alone in it, either, babydoll. I’ve made promises I didn’t get to keep and not by choice.” I let out a sigh then put my hands on her shoulders. “I love loving you, baby. I love waking up and getting to fuck you first thing in the morning or waking up to you getting fucked and joining in. I love every sound you make, from your giggles to your ferocious little snores—”
“For the last time, I donotsnore—”
“—But the thing I love the most is watching you fall apart for me, for him. My favorite thing in the world is making you come. My least favorite thing in the world is seeing you cry because you’rehurting.” Damn it, we had such a good day yesterday.
She opens her mouth but I shake my head again. “I know the difference between your real tears and your sex ones. Those were real. My job was to protect you.Bodily. Somewhere along the way, the lines were blurred, and I started caring for you mentally and emotionally, too. But it wasnevera burden, baby.Loving youhas never been a burden… It's an honor. An honor I hold higher than any other. And that fucker should feel the exact same way, baby.”
“Do you trust me?”
I search those jade eyes of hers touched by the moon. “With every fiber of my being.”
“Then trust me when I say I can handle him.”
I cup my dick and turn around, ready to head down the stairs to my old room I haven't had to use in months. “Then I won’t be witness to that. And if he hurts you, Bri… I’ll fucking kill him. Our husband or not.”
She clears her throat. “Erhm, Savage?”
“What?” I turned my head to face her.
“The door, please.”
I tilt my head to the side, noticing her arms are still bound behind her back and there’s no way for her to open the door. I scrunch up my face and take a step down the stairs. “Nah.”
Maksim finds me in the library reading the latest Lela Martin book,Beautifully Shattered,which I picked up in October and never finished due to… well, being shot. Also, I’m glad I didn’t take it on the plane on our way to Wales because that woman can write some intense shit. I close the book with an irritated snap when he takes a seat on the sofa opposite me, two cigars in his hand, and stare at him.
"She's resting,” he informs me with a smug grin, taking a seat on the blush pink sofa, then offers me a cigar and I take it. Dark eyes blink at me as we light up and he inhales. He squints as he exhales, the cloud of smoke rising. “You want me to tell you how she begged me to fuck her?”
I really wish I didn't have the visceral reaction I’m having right now, but I don't reply, just lean back and watch as he settles into the cushions even more.
“With her consent, of course,” he adds.
The fact is, I do. I love knowing when Sabrina gets the attitude fucked right out of her. Mostly I love hearing it come from her pouty, plump lips. Again, I don’t reply, just rub my thumb on the underside of the cigar before I take my next drag. I let the smoke swirl around my lungs and blow it out.
Maksim clears his throat. “You… were missed.”
I take another drag and let it out slowly, letting words form on my tongue. “You know, before I was discharged I went through a few rounds of burn care in the intensive care unit. I was staring out the window of a clean hospital in Greece. The military had transferred me out of the Middle East, an area where all I saw for weeks or months at a time wasbeige. Sand. Sandstorms. The roads. I swear some days I looked up into the sky and the clouds seemed to be tinged orange.
“I don't exactly know how long I was out. But it was long enough they were able to transfer me over a strip of water and into a different country and work on me. I’m told shock can do that to a person. I woke up and it was so bright… and quiet. No gunfire. No Marines chirping at each other, fighting over snacks or MREs. I thought I’d died until I remembered what happened. I knew I was in a hospital; I mean, shit, I was bandaged from my left shoulder to my ass cheek. It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. But it was so…blue. From my window I could see the ocean. The sandy beaches, the cliffs, and the neighborhoods along that cliff with their terracotta rooftops. It was beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my thirty-one years of life.
“Then my commander came in. A motherfucker I hadn't seen in almost three years while I was out doing his bidding. I took one look at him and knew everything, Maks,everythingI had worked so goddamn hard for… was no longer within my grasp. I asked him what happened even though somehow I felt I already knew the answer, and he told me. His mouth started moving, and there was this slight ringing that started in my ears. One long, monotonous ring that grew so loud the longer he talked until something broke through that barrier. Somethingtiny, but it was enough. I dragged my sight from my commander, followed the trail of bright white along the walls ‘til I got to the blue. My sight creeped just a bit more until I spotted this little baby bird in a nest just outside my window. It had fire-redfeathers on its chest. It was the first colorful bird I’d seen in a while, and I latched onto it. The way the red on its chest faded the closer it got to its little black feet. I came to when my commander informed me I was being honorably discharged.
“I was the only one who survived the mission. The only other survivor was DOA on the hospital’s helipad. Dead on Arrival. I made it all the way here, and she… she didn’t make it past what would be the border. She died there… and her soul stayed there. Then he congratulated me on completing said mission, shook my hand, told me to ‘get better soon,’ and walked out.” I shake my head, but don’t tear my gaze away from Maks. “I survived because a group of kids pulled me from a burning, collapsing building. They died going back in to pull out more of my brethren.” I glance down at the cigar, then back up to the window behind Maksim. “I’m man enough to admit I cried after he left. Then, when I was discharged from both the hospital and the Marine Corps, I fucked everything in sight. If you had a pussy and could take a pounding, then I made sure you were banged like a screen door in a hurricane. I was doing everything I could so I didn't feel anything. Didn’t go to any more funerals or wakes or whatever had to deal with saying goodbye again.”
Maksim takes a hit of his cigar. “What made you stop?”
“One day I was balls deep in this chick about the same age as Sabrina. She had used her safe word, but I dissociated so hard I didn't hear her. It wasn’t until I looked down, saw the blood, and felt her nails clawing at me that I stopped. I let her beat the shit out of me, too. I deserved it.” I look back up at him. “Tears ‘cause I’m gagging her so hard—I love that shit. Tears because I won't let her come and she’s not used to not getting her way? Fucking adorable. Tears because you make her sad or unhappy?Unacceptable.”
“You punched me.”
“You were fucking her like a dissociated zombie. Blank expression, vacant eyes. I called your name and you didn’t hear me. What would’ve happened if I hadn't been in the room, Maks? If she would have called out to you to stop and you didn’t?”
He doesn’t answer.
“You’d be dead, Maks,” I educate him monotonously with the same goddamn blank expression he’d had on his face.
His nose does that weird little twitch.
