Page 41 of Savage Desires

My stomach fills with butterflies, not just from the pet name but the way he looks at me so tenderly. This fierce man is capable of great violence, yet he's been nothing but gentle with me. He brushed my hair until I felt like a puddle of mush from how good it felt. The two sides—hard and soft—of him are why I sunk so deep into my delusions in the cage.

I brush my feelings aside and focus on the food. Everything looks amazing. I want one of everything… Though I'd never eat it all, I refuse to waste food.

"The muffins look good…"

"Gladys makes the best baked goods. What flavor? Chocolate chocolate chip, blueberry, banana nut, or poppyseed?"

My mouth waters at the options… If the muffins weren't so big, I would pick two, but these are huge, and I won't even be able to finish one.

"Why don't we share a plate? That way, you can pick whatever you want, and I can finish what you don't eat," he offers.

"Thank you," I choke out. Tears burn the back of my eyes, but I force them back. I will not cry because Kisten is being nice to me.

I slowly fill the plate with everything that looks good. A chocolate chocolate chip muffin, a blueberry muffin, two different mini quiches, and a variety of veggies from a tray. Broccoli, celery, carrots, brightly colored peppers, and tiny tomatoes. I drool over the fruit options next. I look at my full plate with sadness because there's not an inch of space after all that. The fruit looks so good I'm tempted to put the muffins back. I haven't had fresh veggies and fruit since I was taken. It was leftovers and scraps even in the places they fed us decently.

Kisten grabs a bowl and holds it out to me. My heart does another flip at how easily he reads me and how seamlessly he provides whatever I want and need. My attachment to him isn't going away while he's being so doting and wonderful. That's a problem for another time. For now, I fill my bowl with berries of all kinds, kiwi, and pineapple. Oh, and I grab a banana.

I really hope Kisten isn't allergic to anything and that he likes everything I picked because I know I got way too much of everything. I doubt I can finish even half of it, but it all looks so good I can't help myself. Kisten takes the bowl from me and leads me to two empty chairs.

"What would you like to drink?" he asks.

"Water is fine."

He frowns. "There's coffee, juice, lemonade, and soda…"

I used to love coffee, but I don't want to go back to craving it like a caffeine addict. It might sound silly, but I'm not keen on rejoining the world of caffeine-starved people. I've lived without it for years, and there's no sense in going back to any kind of dependency.

"Lemonade sounds great, but I'm really okay with water…"

He lets out a low growl and walks out of the room. The girls are looking at me strangely.

"What?"

"He's a little intense…" Tabitha murmurs.

"Is he?" I ask. I think back to our interactions, trying to see things from an observer's eyes. I guess maybe he could appear intense, but that's not how it feels to me. It feels caring to the point where he's spoiling me.

Stacia snorts and rolls her eyes. "It's obvious he's claimed you."

"He owns her," Lucy adds.

Stacia nods. "No man spends ninety-three thousand dollars on a woman for anything good. That's why he's kept us apart. Probably working the Stockholm angle."

"That's dumb. He saved us," Tabitha defends.

"And yet here we are, trapped all over again," Lucy snarls.

I grit my teeth at how they are talking about Kisten. "We aren't trapped. He told you that. Besides, you don't know him…"

"And you do?" Reghan asks, looking nervous. Lucy and Stacia's accusations are making her anxious. Bitches.

"I've met him before. He saved me from a public scene that got out of hand at Mecca. My client whipped me unconscious, and he wouldn't have stopped if Kisten hadn't stepped in. He took me to the aftercare area and held me until I woke up. He would've done more, but Madame came for me…"

Lucy and Stacia look at each other, but I can tell my words have had no effect on them. They've decided he's the enemy. Maybe telling them he was at Mecca just solidified their assumptions. I don't care what they think. They're wrong about him. He's not a monster like the men who took us and all the clients who paid to hurt us. He's different.

"Is that why you were in the cage?" Tabitha asks.

I shrug. "It was an important client. Punishment was inevitable."