Page 34 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

I expect a retort like, who’s fault is that , but instead, another flash of shame dims her gaze. Ah, she doesn’t want me to see her naked. Her arms are wrapped around her chest, and her legs are pressed tightly together, shielding herself from my view as much as possible. That won’t do.

“Now, Scarlett. If you don’t feel like doing it yourself, I’ll do it for you.” There. That came out calm and dominant, not angry or crazed.

Scarlett’s eyebrows knit. She reaches for a pillow, holding it vertically along her torso so it hides her breasts and pussy from view, then slowly pushes herself into a sitting position, wincing.

She reaches for another pillow, awkwardly twisting to arrange it behind her while shielding her modesty and avoiding shifting around her thigh too much.

Her caretaker. Her provider .

I gently climb onto the bed and arrange several pillows for her. She watches me with wary eyes, as if I’m a predator who’s about to bite her head off .

I gentle her back against the nest of pillows, then tip my chin at the pillow she’s clutching to herself like a lifeline.

“I took away your clothes so you could be exposed. Covering yourself with a pillow or blanket detracts from that. Accept your punishment with grace, or you’ll be spending tomorrow without clothes, as well. ”

She stares hard at her pillow, still not saying anything. Well, we’ll change that soon enough. She’ll learn to listen to my orders the first time I say them.

“Scarlett,” I warn.

She frowns, giving the pillow a squeeze.

I think I’m going to have to take it from her, but then, she sets it aside.

Immediately tries to cross her arms over her chest, though an arched eyebrow from me has her hands falling to her sides.

Then, she turns her gaze away from me, cute little jaw clenching.

“Silent treatment, is it?” I ask. “Here I was going to offer answers to the many questions that must be floating around in that pretty little head of yours, but I guess we can spend the day in silence. I’ve got work to do, so I’ll be back when it’s time for your meds—”

“No,” she says. Her voice is quiet yet firm. “Please,” she adds, just to entice me further.

I settle onto the mattress, propping one palm on the soft bedspread and leaning against it. Scarlett is still looking anywhere but at me, trying to pretend that I’m not here, staring at her.

“Here’s how this is going to work,” I begin. “You need to learn that my touch does not mean I’m going to hurt you. You need to get comfortable with that concept. So, I’m going to touch you. I’m going to explore. And, while I’m exploring, you can ask me all the questions you want—no repercussions.”

Her face twists with a mixture of fear and determination.

She’s scared, but that won’t change her decision.

I think that’s the number one thing I admire about her.

Most people will do anything they can to run from or resolve their fears, but Scarlett sits with her demons.

She’s braver than most hardened men—myself included.

“What are the Nighthawks, beside an organization of assassins?” she asks quietly.

“If we’re going to have a conversation, you’ll do me the respect of looking me in the eyes,” I say in lieu of an answer.

She inhales and exhales a single shallow, shuddering breath, squeezes her eyes tight, then opens them and locks gazes with me.

Her gorgeous green eyes brim with equal parts fear and defiance.

She really is a fascinating girl.

And she belongs to me.

Slowly, deliberately, I reach out and place her hand on her good leg, right at the calf. Her muscles stiffen and tighten but she doesn’t push me off. She swallows hard, blinks a few times, and looks away again.

“Look at me,” I prompt.

Eyes, now bright with anger, fix on me.

“The Nighthawks are an elite organization. Some consider us kings of select parts of the criminal underground. Assassination makes up the bulk of what we do, but we also have controlling interests in the black market. Pharmaceuticals, organs—”

“Human trafficking,” she whispers.

I shake my head. “No human trafficking. You are not a girl who’s going to be trafficked, Scarlett. You’re assuming a very honorable position, one part of an old tradition.” That is, she’ll assume that position if I do my job right. Otherwise, Cain will revert to his version of training.

Scarlett’s lips thin, but she doesn’t say anything.

“We’re looking at an expansion model in the near future, but nothing is certain yet. ”

I squeeze her calf gently, and she tenses again, but doesn’t bat me away. I hold it until I feel her relax, and then I gently start running the pad of my thumb over her soft skin.

“What is this tradition you’re referring to?”

“I think it’s called The Claiming,” I respond.

“In any case, it’s an old tradition, dating back nearly three hundred years.

It’s meant to keep every Nighthawk focused on their work rather than out in the world chasing pussy.

We’ve lost multiple guys to that. In essence, every Nighthawk deemed eligible by the standing leader is ordered to find a lifelong companion for himself.

Take her, train her, then claim her. There’s a ritual of sorts that happens at the end of the training period, where the chosen one and Nighthawk swear their loyalty to each other.

” I stop myself from mentioning the trials; I don’t want to overwhelm Scarlett. I’ll go into details in due course.

Carefully, I slide my hand up over her leg.

“Where are we?” she asks, her voice slightly higher-pitch.

“Rural country. A place called Silver Forest. It’s gorgeous here in the spring and summer—you’ll love it.

” She’s too interested in my words to pay much attention as I continue sliding my hand up her thigh, though she does wince a little as my fingers ghost over her hipbones.

I rest my hand there for a moment, letting her get used to the feeling.

“Ask another question,” I prompt her. She’ll need a distraction for when I venture higher.

“W-what’s your story?”

“That’s a pretty broad question. Give me something more specific.” My hand is resting on her stomach now, fingers tracing her bottom rib bone.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. ”

Her lips pinch. “That’s… quite a bit older than I am. Don’t you think I’m an inappropriate chosen one for you?”

“I think you’ll be perfect, with a couple of lessons. You’ll learn.” I can’t resist adding on, “Especially with that self-proclaimed emotional intelligence of yours.”

She’s not amused at my jab. In fact, her irritation makes her ignore the slow climb of my hand up to her right breast.

“What made you think I was the one who delivered your brother to my father?”

“The current leader of the Nighthawks, Boyce, lied to me. Even falsified evidence to make you look guilty.” My hand cups her breast. It’s not like the hold I had on her perky little tit last night; this is less medical, and far more personal.

Her jaw clenches as I test the weight of her breast in my hand, then run my thumb over her nipple.

Her eyes widen a little at that, and she looks down at my hand, gazing down at it with confusion and curiosity.

I rub her nipple with firmer pressure, and that seems to shock her out of her temporary docile state. She tries to shift away from me, panic filling her eyes, but I shake my head and tighten my hold, pinching her nipple. “Don’t. Stay right here unless you want the game to end.”

Her jaw tenses. I’m sure there are a million sassy retorts resting on the tip of her tongue, but she mutters, “Fine.”

I smile. “Good girl.”

Her little fists clench by her sides, but she perseveres.

Again, admirable. I’m effectively luring her into this game by offering answers she’s doubtlessly starving for, and she’s willing to indulge me if it gets her what she wants.

I make a mental note of this moment, storing it away to use in the future.

“Are you on the outs with Boyce?” she asks .

I have to think about this for a moment.

If I tell Scarlett the truth, she could talk, but I plan on quarantining her in my room until she can be trusted—and probably until Cain pulls the trigger on our mutiny.

Until then, the only person I’d let around her is Max, and it doesn’t really matter if she talks to him.

Besides, she has as much reason to hate Boyce as I do. I don’t think she’ll try to put a stop to my plan to end his life.

“Yes,” I finally say, strumming her nipple.

I reach for her other breast with my free hand as I go on.

“Boyce’s leadership has been shit. He’s giving the Nighthawks a bad rep, which has serious consequences in our world.

A few Nighthawks are planning to… remove him from the equation.

” Scarlett’s breath hitches as I cup her free breast, and she briefly flicks a look down, that strange curiosity entering her eyes once again.

She might be afraid, she might hate having my hands on her, but she’s not unsusceptible to my touch.

She can be manipulated, at least physically.

So long as I never try to play on her empathy. Good to know .

“Is Boyce the one who told you to… do this to me?” she actively avoids acknowledging her current predicament by calling it exactly what it is; her belonging to me.

“He suggested I kill you and send you to your father the same way Sam was sent to me. Make sure Luther receives your body in front of his men so they demand he start a war over your murder.” Her eyes flash up to mine, filling with fear.

I shake my head, kneading her breast a little harder to distract her.

Her eyes flutter. “I told him no. Cain suggested an alternative route; turning you into my toy, my pet. Boyce agreed.”

“So I’m your pet, then?”