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I fisted my hands in the pillow either side of his head and buried my face in his shoulder.
“I’m here,” I whispered. It became a vehement growl as I told him, “And I’ll be here with you until my dying day.”
It had been him who’d left. Against his will. Because of those sadistic shits.
They’d taken him from me!
They’d taken him!
I slammed my fists into the tiled wall over and over then, as something else I’d been trying to play down hit me like a concrete block to the fucking face.
Even when we got him out, he could be damaged.
And not just physically.
He could be really fucking twisted up inside.
I just… after we’d come so far… after he’d come so far… I couldn’t stomach the idea of that being shot to hell because of what those bastards had made him suffer in that goddamn torture chamber.
A loud and forceful knock on the bathroom door had me pulling back my fist before it connected with the now ruined shower wall.
I sucked in a breath and staggered back, watching my bloodied knuckles drip down into the swirling shower water.
The knock sounded again, harsher this time.
“Busy!” I called back. “Can’t a man take a shower in peace in this shoebox of a house?”
I heard rattling at the door and it had me jerking the shower curtain aside, then stepping out.
I’d only just wrapped a towel around my hips when the door flew open.
All the more surprising, considering I’d locked it.
I started as Caleb walked on in, a pair of what seemed to be his go-to gray sweats slung low on his hips—and nothing else. All that muscle was out in full force, fucking rippling as he strode toward me with sure, forceful steps.
His eyes were hooded, the normally mocha pools almost black.
Dark intensity was rolling off him in waves.
He shoved me with all the power that muscle afforded him and I smacked into the wall beside the sink.
He was there in the next moment, one hand fisting in the front of my towel, the other wrapping around my throat.
“What the—”
“Let it out,” he rumbled.
“I can’t,” I rasped against his constricting grip.
“You need your head clear for what’s to come, to bring him back to us. Killian is volatile enough, you can’t be the same. So, let it all out, Savage.”
I swallowed hard around his brutal grip, the sensation of my throat working rolling through me.
His other hand stroked over my cock and I felt my hardness against his palm, and couldn’t help grinding into it.
“Good boy,” he growled.
Fuck me. Those goddamn words had me thickening in his hand.
