Page 42 of Savage Captor (Deadly Devotion #1)

Grey

I go to the one place where I’ve always been able to work out my frustration; the gym.

I hit the treadmill first, running on a high speed with a nice incline for about an hour, then cycle on over to the weights machines.

All the while, the only thoughts crowding my mind, invading my body like a plague , are of Scarlett.

Scarlett beneath me.

Scarlett coming for me even though she didn’t want to.

Claiming Scarlett as my own, once and for all.

If I’d known she was a virgin, I don’t think I’d have held back as long as I did.

She’s far too tempting, and knowing that I would be the first and last person ever to fuck her would’ve driven me out of my mind with need.

With the absolutely primal desire to claim her, make her my own, and get her addicted to me so she never even has thoughts of other men.

I’m the only one who should take up space in her mind.

I’m the only thought she should have, period .

The budding obsession I didn’t even realize was taking root turned into a full-blown inferno the moment I got inside her, then turned into an untamable tempest when I saw the evidence of her innocence on the sheets .

The only thing that truly pissed me off is that she didn’t kiss me. That I let her say no.

I know it’s petty to be upset about something like that. I could’ve taken a kiss anyways, and I could’ve forced her to like it. Maybe wrung another orgasm out of her spent body for good measure.

But when she cupped my cheek with her small, soft hand, looked at me with those earnest, gorgeous eyes… I couldn’t say no. I can let her have that one, tiny freedom, even though her lips belong to me—as does the rest of her.

I’ll let her make it up to me soon, when I give her a very long, very thorough lesson on how to suck my cock. She can kiss my dick if she doesn’t want to kiss my lips. Maybe I’ll even have her kiss my shoes…

“Fuck,” I mutter. Having an entire person belong to me isn’t new; I’ve had that for weeks.

What’s new is actually being able to act on it.

Now, I can do anything I want to her, with her, and nobody’s going to stop me—least of all her.

Soon, she’ll stop even asking me to stop, because she’ll come to crave my touch.

She’ll beg me for it. She’ll wait for me on her knees like a good girl, and when she complies, she’ll be rewarded so thoroughly.

When she defies me, she’ll be punished just as thoroughly. I don’t think I’d even mind the occasional defiance, because even the image of her, tied to my bed, begging me to stop or begging me for more… it’s almost too much.

God dammit, Scarlett fucking Sharpe is potent, and more, she’s dangerous . She’s dangerous to me specifically because I am so goddamn susceptible to her charms. To her . The day she learns that, the day she stops being afraid of me and starts giving into me, will be dangerous for all of us.

“Lost in thoughts of your new toy?” Boyce’s voice snaps me out of my dirty thoughts and brings my surroundings into stark focus.

Jesus, Scarlett must be even more dangerous than I previously assumed, because I never lose focus of my surroundings—doing so in my line of work is as good as a death sentence.

“Nope, focusing on how to distribute the new round of hits we got this week.” I finish up my rep and slide off of the machine, turning to face my boss head-on.

“Hmm,” Boyce hums. He stands at the entrance of the gym, dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. His arms are crossed over his chest, and there’s a smarmy grin in his eyes that sets me on edge. He’s up to something. Could he know about my plans to take him down?

“Guess she’s not a very good fuck, then,” Boyce says flatly, glancing around the gym. “Maybe I should take her off your hands.”

Boyce’s obsession with Scarlett is unnerving.

I know he has beef with her father, and I know their rivalry is long-standing, but the way Boyce has locked onto Scarlett as a target makes me nervous.

He spends too much time thinking about her; time that would be far better distributed to his goddamn job.

He asks me for updates on her constantly, and regularly hints that he’d be more than happy to take her from me.

Each time, I reiterate that I have the right to keep her because it’s my twin who got killed, but my refusal only seems to spur him on further.

“I’m handling her just fine, thanks,” I say. “We’ve been over this.”

“Luther isn’t taking the bait,” Boyce says.

“He wants proof that we’re doing what we say we are.

He’s managed to keep the news of us taking Scarlett from his men.

I think a good next step would be to get her on film and send that over to him.

Preferably of her tied up, sniveling, and submitting like every Sharpe ought to.

Cain will make sure it gets sent to all the Widowers, not just daddy dearest.”

“No.” My dismissal is too immediate, an instinct rather than a carefully thought-out plan.

But the scene that Boyce paints is too much.

I just fully claimed Scarlett for the first time—not that Boyce knows this.

She came from my touch, and it was my cock that drew her first blood.

The very thought of someone else touching her, seeing her , is repellent.

I’m already going to have to physically hold myself back from punching Cain the next time I see him, and I’m certainly not in the right frame of mind to deal with Boyce right now.

“No,” Boyce echoes softly. Louder, he says, “No? Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?

That bitch doesn’t belong to you, boy . She’s just a means to a goddamn end.

Don’t go getting attached to her, Greyson, because she’ll be dead soon enough—and if you can’t handle yourself, then I’ll take her from you and do it myself. ”

I clench and unclench my fists, fighting to keep a straight face and clear mind, even as anger sets me on fire. She’s not Boyce’s, she’s mine, and Boyce has no right to even threaten to take her from me.

I could kill him, right here and right now. I’m the stronger fighter between the two of us. I could bash his head against one of the weight machines, or beat him to death with a dumbbell. Or with my bare fists.

A crystal-clear image flashes in my mind, of Boyce on the floor, blood pooling around his head and eyes staring at nothing.

Instead of acting, I force myself to remain calm.

Look at the bigger picture and play the long game.

Killing Boyce right this instant might prove to be phenomenally satisfying, but it won’t do me any favors.

It’ll throw the organization into chaos and it’ll massively piss Cain off.

While pissing Cain off doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right about now, I can’t take such risks for the future.

Not when risking the future might pose a threat to Scarlett and my claim on Scarlett.

“You have plenty of whores to fuck,” I say carefully. “Spend your time with them. Scarlett’s mine to torture, mine to torment, and when the time comes, mine to kill. Unless you want to go back on your word, which you gave me and Cain?”

This gives Boyce a pause. He’s rightfully wary of Cain.

He knows that, if Cain weren’t his right-hand, he’d have a lot more problems with the Nighthawks.

Cain is the man behind the man, pulling strings behind the scenes, and that knowledge is one of the few things that keeps the vultures away from the Nighthawks.

“If you’re doing your job properly, then there’s no reason for me to get involved,” Boyce says through gritted teeth. “But if I find out that isn’t the case…”

If he tries to intervene and touch Scarlett, I’ll kill him.

I might kill him anyway.

The door swings open behind Boyce, and Cain walks in.

He doesn’t look surprised to see us both here—he probably saw that we were in here through one of the many hidden cameras he has set up throughout HQ.

The Nighthawks would flip if they knew they were constantly being filmed, but pissing people off has never stopped Cain from doing whatever he wants.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Cain says calmly. “Greyson, just wanted to touch base with you about the assignment of ops.”

I clear my throat. “I’ll get the list to you for approval in the morning.”

“Good,” Cain says with a nod. “Boyce, if I could have a moment? There are some logistics I’d like to discuss.”

Boyce finally peels his beady eyes away from me and focuses them on Cain. I take the opportunity to get the hell out of here and go straight back to my room.

A quick check of the cameras in my bedroom show that Scarlett’s curled up on her side, either asleep or pretending to be. The urge to go in there, spread her legs, and claim her all over again is a living hum in my chest, but I ignore it. She needs a break, and I have work to get done.

Tomorrow… tomorrow, the real training will begin.

When I enter the bedroom, I see Scarlett sleeping soundly, turned on her side and clutching a pillow.

She still takes powerful sedatives at night to help her sleep—she dropped them for a couple of days and barely slept, so I let her keep taking them.

Eventually, I’ll need to find a way to wean her off them.

Sedatives are good for a short-term fix, but they can cause long-term problems—just like most substances.

The one benefit of her sedatives is that she sleeps like the dead.

It’s virtually impossible to wake her. So, in the morning, while she’s breathing deeply and still as a log, I lift her up into my arms and take her into the living room.

I prop her up on the padded chair I set in front of the couch, and get to work slowly strapping her into it.

She’s naked, and her beautiful breasts tempt me for a taste—as does her pussy—but I manage to resist her body’s call, for now.

There are a couple bits of information I’ve tried and failed to pull out of her over the last month.

Namely, who her strange benefactor was at college.

Who bought her apartment and who paid her tuition.

She didn’t do it herself, and neither did her father.

It could’ve been a boyfriend, but I very much doubt that, considering she was a virgin—and that the person who made the payments was extremely well connected and good at hiding their tracks.

I suspect it’s a rogue operative in the Widowers, someone who took pity on Scarlett, helped her escape, and set her up with a new life .

Whatever the case is, I need a name. I need to finish putting together the puzzle of Scarlett’s life. I need her to be bare to me in every way so I can invade her and start to take control.

Scarlett begins to stir just as I’m finishing up with her leg.

I check the wound on her thigh. If she struggles too much, it’ll probably hurt a little—but my plans are focused far more on pleasure than pain.

This little interrogation will coincide quite well with training, and it’ll teach Scarlett that I won’t hurt her, even when I’m punishing her.

I’ve tried to ask her who her patron is many times, even taken away her clothes or left her alone for long periods of time, but she hasn’t broken yet. I’ll break through her resistance today.

“Morning,” I greet with a grin as her eyes start to flutter. A few blinks later and they’re open, just in time for me to slide the blindfold over her eyes. She doesn’t need to see right now; she only needs to feel . And feel she will.

Her breaths speed up, turning labored as fear sets in.

She jerks at her limbs, and realizing she’s bound only seems to heighten her anxiety.

I let her struggle for a couple of moments, wait for her to tire herself out.

When she jerks particularly hard at her ankles and gasps, face screwing with pain, I press my hands to her knees and squeeze them.

“Calm down.”

She doesn’t. If anything, she struggles more, genuinely freaking out now.

“Scarlett, calm down, or you’re going to stay in this chair a lot longer.”

She freezes up, muscles tensing. She still hasn’t said anything and is struggling in silence. I wonder if that’s a learned behavior. Even when she was being tortured in the annex, she rarely screamed.

There’s still a lot that I have to learn about my beautiful captive. I intend to get started now .

“What…” she pauses, giving her head a shake, futilely trying to dislodge the blindfold, “the fuck are you doing?”

“We’re going to have a little chat,” I respond.

I give her knees another warning squeeze before taking a seat on the soft cushions of the couch, relaxing as I gaze at Scarlett.

Fuck, she really is gorgeous. It’s a good thing I have her locked up here, otherwise she’d prove quite the distraction to every Nighthawk who came across her.

“I’ve asked you several questions over the last month, and you’ve remained tight-lipped.

I admire your devotion to silence, but when I ask you something I expect a full, honest answer. ”

“Monster.” Scarlett’s voice is shaky. Her lower lip trembles. “Please, let me go. Let’s talk when I’m not like… this .”

“Answer my questions right now and I will let you go. Don’t, and…” I glance at the selection of toys lying on the couch beside me. “Well. I’ll become persuasive.”

She jerks violently against her restraints. “No. You promised… you promised you wouldn’t hurt me—”

“And I will stay true to that promise. There are plenty of punishments that require no pain, but you can forgo all of them if you simply choose to be honest from the get-go.” My voice hardens. “Who’s been paying for your college and the nice little apartment you had off-campus?”

Scarlett’s lips seal and her expression shutters completely. No hint of emotion peeks through, but I bet if I could see her eyes, there’d be the same defiant look she gets every time I ask her the same question.

“Answer and you’ll be out of this chair,” I tell her. “Don’t, and I’m going to introduce you to some implements.”