Savage Tracker by Maggie Cole

12

Selena

Everything is warm and safe.I snuggle into Obrecht's chest, not wanting to wake up. I know it's him without opening my eyes. His intoxicating scent fills my nose. His lips flutter on my head. Tingles burst along the skin of my hip where he strokes it.

"Mmm."

"Are you awake, my dorogaya?" his delicious voice murmurs in my ear.

I slowly force myself to open my eyes and glance up at him. His lips are slightly curved up, but his gaze is serious.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing. Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

His blue orbs singe into mine, and more worry fills them.

Why is he looking at me like that?

The more he stares, the more uncomfortable I get. Then the events of the previous night assault me. I bury my head in his chest, embarrassed about my episode. I mumble, "I'm sorry. It hasn't happened in a long time. I'm not sure... I...please don't hold it against me."

"Shh. It's not your fault, baby girl. You haven't done anything wrong. But you're feeling okay today?"

I force myself to look at him. "Yes."

He smiles, but the worry lines around his eyes never disappear. I wish I could somehow force them to, but he continues studying me as if something is wrong.

My chest tightens, and I admit, "You're making me anxious."

His eyes widen. "How?"

I reach up and trace the lines around his eyes. "When these pop out, I know you're worried. I'm fine."

He smirks. "That's just from being old."

"You aren't that old."

He arches an eyebrow. "How do you know how old I am?"

I slide on top of him. "You handed me your driver's license, remember?"

He grunts. "Forgot about that. So you already know I'm an old man."

"Mmm... Is forty-five old?" He's almost five years younger than Jack.

"It is compared to you, Ms. Barely Thirty."

I freeze, trying to recall telling him my age, but I know I didn’t.

"What?" he asks.

"How do you know I'm barely thirty? I never told you."

Guilt lights up his expression. He kisses my forehead and says, "I have my ways."

"Mind sharing your secrets with me?" I ask in a teasing tone.

He pins his gaze on me. "I told you I know lots of things about you, baby girl."

"But how?"

"I did my research." He winks, pecks me on the forehead, then flips me on my back. He cages his body over mine. My heart races, and he positions himself so we're face-to-face. "I have a friend coming over I want you to meet."

"Oh?" An excited flutter erupts in my belly. If he wants to introduce me to his friend, I must be special to him. I'm assuming he doesn't introduce his other bottoms to them. Maybe he realizes we can be more? Maybe he'll agree to being my Dom or Master?

He drags his finger over the curve of my waist. "Yes. She will be here in fifteen minutes."

"She? Do you hang out with a lot of women?" I ask, attempting to sound nonchalant.

"Hang out? No. I mostly only do things with my family," he says.

My suspicion rises. I have no right to feel envious of his friendship with her, but I do. "But you hang out with this woman?"

He shrugs. "She's a friend. I've known her for a long time, and she helped me with some things."

"Like what?" What could he possibly need help with from this woman? He's a real-life Superman as far as I'm concerned. Every inch of him is sexy perfection. He's successful and confident. I'm pretty sure he never needs help.

His face darkens. "How to deal with certain things." He pecks me on the lips, and the darkness fades. Amusement appears. "We should get dressed before she gets here. I mean, I could wrap you back up if you want. I wouldn't mind. She wouldn't, either, but she might get the urge to tell you to kneel and give you some commands."

My stomach flips. I attempt to sit up, but his dense frame doesn't allow it. "Are you trying to pawn me off on her?"

He chuckles. "No. Not at all. Sorry if I gave you that impression. She's another top at the club I belong to."

"She tops women?"

"Women. Men. Whichever bottom she wants to negotiate a session with. She's very popular," he says.

I bite on my lip, unsure why he invited this woman to his house to meet me, but something feels off about it. As much as I was initially excited about it, it's quickly deflating. Obrecht and I aren't in a relationship. He made it clear he doesn't get attached. I heard him say it. I try to push it out of my head when it pops up. As much as I want to be one of those cool women who are okay with open relationships or casual sex, I'm not. My pulse pounds in my neck. "Have you slept with her?"

His lips curl. He arches his eyebrows. "You heard me say she's a top, right?"

"Yes."

His expression is a mix of cocky and amused. "Is there any part of you under the impression I'd submit to anyone? If so, I'm going to have to show you more of what I got, baby girl."

I relax and laugh. "So you haven't knelt for her?"

"I don't kneel for anyone, my dorogaya."

"You knelt for me," I blurt out.

His face turns to surprise. "When?"

My cheeks heat. "In the shower."

Fire blazes in his orbs. He slides his hand between my thighs. "Not the same."

Tingles race right to my core. "No?"

He softly chuckles. "Who was determining what happened, baby girl?"

"You."

"There's your answer."

"So you haven't slept with her then?" I repeat.

He pushes my hair behind my ear. "No. I've not slept with her or done anything sexual with her. She's a friend. A very good one whom I trust, and I don't trust many people."

Relief fills me. "Okay. And you want her to meet me?"

"Yes."

Excitement pops up again. She's his good friend. If he wants me to meet her, I must mean something to him, right? "When did you say she's coming?"

"Mmm, my guess is we're in the ten-minute zone. She's pretty punctual."

I push his chest. "I need to shower then. She's going to think I'm your stinky bottom."

He sniffs hard. "You smell like sex. I'm down with your stinkiness."

"Obrecht!" I groan.

He rolls off me and rises. He holds his hand out. "Come on. I'll scrub you down."

"Yes, sir," I reply and take his hand. When I rise, the black ribbon falls around me.

"Spin," he commands.

I do as he says.

He pushes my hair off my neck and kisses me. "I never unwrapped your ass."

I laugh and stick my booty out to him.

He splays his hand on my spine and pushes my torso over the bed. Using his foot, he spreads my legs. He drags his other hand over the crack of my ass. "I haven't punished you yet," he murmurs.

My stomach fills with butterflies. "What did I do?"

He smacks my cheek.

I gasp and arch up, but his hand holds me down. He slaps me several times. Tingles erupt over the stings when he rubs his large hand over the spot where he smacked me. The few times he's spanked me weren't anything like when Jack used to do it. Before we were married, he did it a few times and I liked it. Once we were married, and he showed his true colors, the spankings became beatings with paddles. But I never forgot how I initially liked it, and Obrecht's slaps create delicious sensations in me.

"Don't ever ditch your bodyguard again, got it?" he barks.

"Yes, sir," I agree.

"Good, baby girl. Hand me my phone."

I reach for the cell and hand it to him. He keeps his palm on my back and calls someone. "We're jumping in the shower now. I'll text you the code. Come up and make yourself comfy." He circles my forbidden zone then presses against it but doesn't break the rigid barrier. "See you soon." He tosses the phone on the bed and smacks my other ass cheek.

I lurch up, but he still has me held down. "That's for assuming I'd submit to anyone."

I glance over my shoulder at him. He rubs the sting as his lust-filled gaze sends more heat through me. "Best gift ever, baby girl," he says as he pulls at the ribbon. When it's off, he tugs me off the bed and leads me into the shower.

I twist my hair into a knot so it doesn't get wet. "What's your friend's name?"

"Carla."

"Why is she coming over?" My chest tightens. I should be satisfied with him wanting to introduce me to his good friend, but I want him to admit I mean more to him than any other bottom he's topped.

His words rock me. "She's a therapist. I told her about you. She can help you."

I freeze. My skin begins to crawl. "Help me?"

He places his hands on my cheeks. "Yes. You've been through a lot, and she understands things other therapists don't."

My insides quiver. "Other therapists?"

"Yes. She's the best. A lot of people in the BDSM community who came out of abusive relationships work with her."

I glance down at his chest. Heat rises in my cheeks, and the air becomes harder to breathe. He talked to her about me. A stranger who I've never met. When I speak up, my voice shakes. "What did you do? Tell her I'm extremely fucked up?"

"No. Not anything like that."

"You told her about my marriage?"

"Yes, just that—"

I push out of his arms and step out of the shower. I grab a towel and don't even dry myself off. I wrap it around my body and keep going.

He follows me. "Selena!"

Anger, embarrassment, and betrayal surge through me. I don't trust easily, and I stupidly gave it all to Obrecht. He told whomever this woman is private details about me. Things no one knows, except him and me. Embarrassing parts of my life.

I can barely see straight while I try to find my purse. I leave the bedroom and see our plates from last night's dinner still on the table and the tray I cooked it in still on the oven, unwashed. I don't remember what happened between dinner and when I woke up in the middle of the night, but more shame fills me. It's not in me to leave a kitchen or table anything but spotless. Jack would have beaten me and made me go in my cage for a week. It's another reminder of how I majorly screwed up, since I'm so messed up. Tears prick my eyes as I look for my purse. I need to get out of here quickly.

"Selena!" Obrecht grabs my arm and spins me into him. "Why are you upset?"

I stare at his beautiful face and then at the snake tattoo wrapped around his neck. So many emotions hit me at once, I feel suffocated.

"Baby girl—"

"Don't," I whisper.

"I'm only trying to help you."

I see my purse out of the corner of my eye and shrug out of his grasp. I sling it over my shoulder and head toward the elevator.

"Selena, stop," he barks out.

I freeze and hate myself. He has power over me just from the tone of his voice, and I can't go against it if I tried. My insides quiver harder and I blink fast.

He steps in front of me. "What's happening here?"

"You honestly don't know?"

"No. I—"

The elevator opens. A gorgeous woman with an edgy bob steps inside. Her hair is brown with thick blonde streaks running through it. Her makeup is flawless, and she's beyond stunning. It's clear she has her life together. I don't, and both she and Obrecht know it. Her eyes dart between us. "Hi. Am I interrupting something?"

I wrap my towel tighter around me. "No, I was just leaving."

"Selena—"

"Am I free to make my own decision and go, or are you holding me hostage here?" I snap through tears.

Obrecht's eyes widen. "Of course you're free. I—"

I step away from him and jump in the elevator as the doors shut. I push the button for my floor and attempt to hold my tears in until I get inside my condo.

The elevator stops. I get in front of my door and dig into my purse for my key. I fumble with the lock but finally get it open. As soon as the door shuts, I sink against it and let the tears fall. It's one thing for Obrecht to know I'm screwed up and about my history. It's another for a complete stranger, and especially a therapist. I already went to the one Kora recommended. She said she was the best therapist in Chicago for women who had experienced domestic abuse. After two sessions, I couldn't go back. I felt like she was judging me. I don't need anyone else doing that. I'm hard enough on myself.

When I start to shake from my lack of clothing, I climb into bed and stay there for several days. I don't eat. I barely drink any water. I can't breathe.

I ignore the pounding on the door and calls and messages from Obrecht. I finally turn my phone off.

The first time my heart broke, Jack Christian was responsible. There was nothing I could do and nowhere to run. I thought he crushed my soul.

I was wrong. My soul survived him. As horrible as it was, it now seems overstated.

Nothing feels as bad as a betrayal from Obrecht Ivanov.