Page 68 of Saxon

"What would you like? We have a full kitchen."

I glance at Terra, who lights up. "I'd kill for a cheeseburger and fries. And a diet Coke."

"Same thing," I say.

The guard nods once and leaves, and just like that, we're alone again.

So Much More

Terra

We're both quiet till after the food comes, and we've both eaten. Maybe I shouldn't be shocked at how good the food is at a joint that caters to the kind of men who frequent this place, but I am. Because it’s the best damn cheeseburger I've had in a long time.

Or maybe it's just the fact that I haven’t eaten since…fuck, I don't know. Yesterday? Before the wedding. Well before.

"So. What you said to Camilla," Saxon says, putting both of our empty plates in the sink and returning to sit beside me on the couch.

I sigh. "I'm too tired for the full story, to be honest. Cliff's Notes version is that I met this guy at the gym. He was hot, he was charming. He liked me. Made me feel sexy. This was eight months ago. I'd been on a hiatus from hooking up for a few weeks because I was getting bored. It was all starting to seem kinda the same, you know? I…" I wander over to the huge glass case along the wall containing a whole-ass armory. "I fell in love with him. Moved in with him. Did everything for him. Even when the shit he wanted in bed was weird to the point of freaky, I went along with it. Average kink shit, at first. Call him Daddy, spanking, choking. But then he wanted to watch porn, and okay. Sure. I'm okay with porn. But he was into weird, sick, dark shit. Shoulda been my first clue, but even after the kink, he still had this way of making me feel attractive. I gave it up to him willingly. That's what confuses me—what I still don't get. I loved him. I never said no. And then one day, I wasn't feeling good. Ate something bad, had things coming out of both ends for days. I was starting to get over it, but still not feeling great. Just queasy, you know? Keeping down crackers and soup, but just feeling like garbage.

"He wanted sex. I was like, I can't. I'm not feeling good. And he…he got mad. Really, really mad. It was like someone flipped a switch. He beat the shit out of me, and when I was so bloody and broken I couldn't fight back, he raped me. Not just once. Repeatedly. As I was bleeding. The more I cried and begged, the harder he got off.

"Come to find out, he was an actual psychopath. Dodging meds and involuntary stays, changing his name, running from similarly horrible shit he did to other women. He hid it from me. Acted normal, for, like, months. And then, just like that, bam! He turned into a ducking demon."

"Fucking hell, Terra." He sounds like he's dealing with some complicated emotions: anger, and compassion.

"Yeah, it wasn't great. I spent a week in the hospital. I'm still paying that off, actually. I haven't…” I swallow hard. "I haven't been with anyone since. I couldn't."

"Terra, Jesus. If I'd known—"

"I had to get over it. I know better, now. I can't hide. I can't wallow. It happened. It sucked. Men suck. Men have really fucked up my ability to trust. But I refuse to let them win. If I go through life scared and reclusive and angry, hiding my body and denying myself the pleasure of sex, then they win. And for some reason, I chose you. Yeah, you're fucking hot as hell. You have a perfect body. Your face is stupid handsome, and even that scar just makes you look rugged and badass. You should scare me. But…I don't know, Saxon. There's just something about you. I'm drawn to you. I trust you." My voice drops to a whisper. "So, just…please, please, don't ruin it for me. Don't turn out like all the other men in my life."

His hands frame me in, powerful arms like iron bars on either side of me, fingers on the glass beside mine. Chest hard and hot at my back. I should feel trapped. I should feel terrified.

I don't.

I shiver, but not from fear.

My breath lodges in my lungs, but not from terror.

"I'd cut off my own dick before I ever hurt you," he murmurs.

"I'm pretty sure if I asked Camilla, she'd cut it off for me."

He laughs. "I'm sure she would."

I twist, putting the sharp cold corner of the glass case in the middle of my back, resting my hands on his bare chest. His many scars are hard lumps under my palms, his skin warm, muscles smooth and firm. His eyes search mine.