Page 28 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

Grey

I don’t sleep much that night. After Scarlett’s sobs have turned into quiet whimpers, and then morphed into steady, albeit shallow, breaths, I lie back down beside her and just stare at her. My hand rests over her heart while my eyes track a path over her tear-streaked cheeks and down her body.

She’s undeniably beautiful, even in her injured state.

Gorgeous, thick red hair. Delicate hands.

A flat stomach. Thighs that I remember being toned when I first took her, though she’s lost weight and probably muscle mass.

I fucked up a lot of things in her, and I’m going to fix them all—one by one.

Her heart and lungs will learn to behave along with the rest of her.

Scarlett will eventually realize that, while I’m a selfish prick for claiming her, I’ll be working in her best interest more often than not.

I only doze off for short naps over the following eight hours. I have to check her vitals every hour or two, anyways, which isn’t conducive to a good night’s rest. I don’t bemoan the loss, however, because Scarlett is here. In my bed. Where she’s safe, and where she can heal.

The sedatives the doc gave me do their job.

Scarlett sleeps for eight hours before starting to stir at around 6 a.m. Since it’s time for her next dose of antibiotics, anyway, I check her vitals, coax her to swallow the pills with more water, and watch as she falls right back to sleep.

Poor thing is so exhausted, she doesn’t even protest when I put my hand over her heart again.

Simply blinks down at it sleepily, mutters, “ asshole ,” and passes out again.

She sleeps until nine, which coincidentally lines up perfectly with my timeline.

I head to the kitchen to grab breakfast, then set it up on the tray and feed her again.

Her eyebrows furrow each time she’s forced to accept food from a utensil I’m wielding, but she doesn’t try to fight it.

Probably because she knows she won’t win.

Good. She’ll learn to settle into our routine soon enough. She’ll rely on me for everything; sustenance, comfort, happiness. I’ll become integral to her life until she can’t even conceptualize leaving me.

“Tell me something about yourself,” I say once I’ve cleaned up.

“I’m the daughter of the man who killed your brother,” Scarlett says tonelessly. “What else matters? That’s what I’ll spend the rest of my life paying for.”

I ignore her barb. I don’t expect progress with her to be linear, and I can’t let her work me up until I say cruel things like I did yesterday. “Something unrelated to your sperm donor.”

Her eyes meet mine, flashing with what looks like surprise. They soften slightly as she realizes that I’m making an effort to dissociate her from her father before hardening once more. “What do you want to know, then?”

“What were you studying in college?” I already know the answer, I’ve read up on her, but I’m curious to hear her tell me.

“Botany,” she says. “Specifically a mixture of courses geared toward botanical genetic engineering. Not as interesting as killing and torturing people, I’m sure.”

“Hey. Enough of that.” I tap her nose, and it wrinkles. She gives me a glare that I think is at least partially playful, or so I tell myself. “Why botany? ”

“Plants are the greatest gift Mother Nature has given us. They take our wasted breaths and turn them into clean air. I want to help genetically engineer plants that can do so at a higher rate.” She accepts another spoonful from me.

I watch her throat work as she swallows.

It’s hard not to imagine what that might look like when she’s choking on my cock.

“You believe in Mother Nature?” I ask. “Are you religious?”

“What I am is tired of conversing with you.”

“Tough shit. We’re still talking. I’ll let you know when the conversation is over.” I keep my voice firm, yet take care not to make it too harsh.

“So you own my voice in addition to my body? How lovely.”

“I own every single piece of you, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’ll always restrict you. I can be a very generous owner.”

Her eyes flash with anger. I almost like seeing it there. I like knowing that I can have an effect on her and get a rise out of her. Now, if only I could learn how to make her stop getting a rise out of me…

“You’re a prick.”

“And you still haven’t answered my question.”

She releases a low growl of irritation, but it kind of sounds like the mewl of an angry kitten.

I refrain from telling her that because I don’t want to piss her off at this moment.

Her heart rate is faster than it was yesterday, so keeping her temper in check could have an actual impact on her physical health.

I also notice that her breathing is a little shallower, though the pulse oximeter tells me she’s not in the danger zone yet.

I intend to do everything in my power to keep her from it.

“No, I’m not religious,” she says. “Every religion seems to advocate that God is all powerful, and God is all good. That’s a paradox.

If he’s all powerful and good, then this world wouldn’t be so cruel.

And since the world is cruel, then he’s either not all powerful, or he’s not all good.

Or he simply doesn’t exist.” She shrugs. “I won’t pretend to know.”

I like her cleverly-constructed argument. I like that, in addition to her prettiness, she also has a sharp mind. I like Scarlett a lot , even when she’s driving me up the wall with her arguments.

“Are you religious?” she asks quietly, then seals her lips and scowls. Almost as if she didn’t mean to ask me anything about myself, and is mad at herself for it.

Progress .

“No, I’m not religious. I’m not an atheist, but I have a similar mindset to you—religions are filled with fallacies and bullshit beliefs. If there is a greater force than us out there, it probably has something to do with nature.” I shrug. “Or maybe aliens. Who knows.”

Her lips tilt up at the corners in the beginnings of a smile, and then she’s right back to frowning. Pissed at herself once again, I suppose. I’ll get a smile or laugh out of her soon.

I’m not usually a joker—I don’t give a shit about being funny, but making Scarlett laugh or smile is strangely important to me.

Maybe it’s because, in my blind pursuit of revenge, I’ve unfairly made her cry and scream for all the wrong reasons.

Maybe it’s because she’s a pretty likeable human underneath everything.

Whatever the case, I’m determined to not be the monster she calls me. Hopefully that will last…

“I gotta go to a meeting soon,” I tell her. “Do you need to use the bathroom again?” I carried her to the bathroom this morning so she could use the toilet and clean herself up with some baby wipes, but she’s been drinking a lot.

She shakes her head. “Nope. You’re free to go.”

“So eager to be rid of me?” Done with breakfast, I lift the tray and set it on the floor .

“Was I being that obvious? Damn, here I was putting all of my superspy skills to use.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. She has a wry, witty sense of humor that I appreciate. I stare at her for a few moments, until she grows uncomfortable and starts shifting around on the bed.

“Do you like to read?” I ask her. “Or watch TV?” I haven’t previously spent enough time in my bedroom to set up any form of entertainment. I’m usually in my office or out with the other guys.

“Sometimes TV, more so reading. Are you planning on acquiring a movie and book collection all for me?” she speaks in that dubious, disbelieving tone that I’ll train out of her soon enough.

“Yes,” I say honestly. “That’s exactly what I’ll do. Again, I have no wish to see you miserable. You’ll be comfortable here. If you want something, tell me, and I’ll get it for you. Whether it’s a flatscreen in this room or a library. Or both.”

“In that case, I’d like a botanical lab and a garden,” she says. “Oh, and a herbarium.”

Cain did say he’s going to build a lab for his chosen, so I imagine it wouldn’t be that far outside the realm of possibility to actually get Scarlett all of those things.

Not immediately, but eventually. I imagine her tending to a garden during the day, maybe a greenhouse in the winters, and then coming back here to me.

Smiling at me, winding her arms around my neck, rubbing her body against mine in invitation…

Fuck . Now I’m getting hard. I stand from the bed so abruptly it makes her flinch, and this time, it pisses me off. “Stop that,” I say irritably. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her eyebrows rise. “Yeah, you have a great track record of that. We’ve gone, what, twenty-four hours since you tore open the stitches on the stab wound you gave me? ”

Her point is reasonable, albeit painful, but her delivery pisses me off.

I want to snap at her, to say something equally upsetting, but I manage to stop myself short.

“I’m going to get you a phone today. It’ll be restricted access, so you’ll only be able to contact me.

For now, if you need anything, just wave. ”

“Wave?” she repeats. “What, to the studio audience watching my every move?”

“To the camera with motion sensors watching your every move,” I correct.

Her jaw clenches. “There are cameras in here?”

I nod. “How else can I keep an eye on you when I’m out? By the way, looked like you really struggled getting to the bathroom while you were waiting for me yesterday. It’s a good thing I was here to carry you this morning.”

Just as I hoped, the comment ticks her off and makes her blush. It’s not cruel, but it does remind her of her place here.

“You’re an asshole,” she grumbles. “I’m done talking to you.”

“Works for me.” I pick up the tray. “Try to sleep, and I expect that bottle of water to be gone by the time I come back.” I jerk my chin at the water on the nightstand.

“Fuck. Off.”

“See you soon.”