Savage Princess

Savage Princess The Savage Trilogy Book 2 M. James PNK Publishing Contents 1. Elena 2. Levin 3. Elena 4. Elena 5. Levin 6. Elena 7. Elena 8. Elena 9. Levin 10. Elena 11. Elena 12. Levin 13. Elena 14. Levin 15. Elena 16. Elena 17. Elena 18. Elena 19. Elena 20. Levin 21. Levin 22. Elena 23. Elena 24. Levin 25. Elena Elena I will keep you safe, Elena. I’ll do everything I can. I’ll fight and kill anyone I have to in order to get you back to Boston and your sister. But I won’t touch you again. Not like that. I can’t. Levin’s words ring in my ears as I sit there, feeling half-stunned, and a flood of other emotions that I can’t entirely untangle. I’m not sure if I’m sad or angry or some combination of those, but I do know that I’m not regretful. I don’t regret what we did. If I could rewind time back to that night on the beach, even knowing we’d be rescued, I would do the same thing all over again. I would choose Levin. I don’t think he can say the same, and that’s what hurts. That’s what makes me angry. It’s not that I feel used, exactly–I think Levin went to great pains to keep me from feeling that way–but I want to feel as if he would have chosen me no matter what, just as I would have him. And I’m fairly certain that’s not true. As soon as he walks out of the cargo hold, I want to go after him. I want to ask him what the difference is now, why it matters when we’ve already done it. Why he wants to take back something that he so obviously wanted and enjoyed as much as I did. But I don’t. I sit here on my folded-up blanket, fists knotted in my lap, and I let myself cool off before I go find him. As much as I want to yell at him and demand answers, I know nothing is going to be solved by doing that. If anything, it’ll make the situation more tense. When I feel like I can at least speak to him with a level head, I force myself to stand. My ankle throbs painfully the second I put weight on it, and I suck in a breath–which only serves to send my stomach churning. The space below deck smells like sea brine, damp wood, and something mustier, and as warm as it is down here, it all combines to make a truly nauseating smell—to me, anyway. The following steps don’t feel much better. I grit my teeth against the pain, limping slowly towards the stairs. The only thing that keeps me going is the fact that it feels worse to sit below deck and do nothing, wondering what happens next. Levin isn’t going to be happy with me for wandering, that much I know—but as far as I’m concerned, he should have finished the conversation instead of leaving me down here alone. The ship seems to have a somewhat sparse crew, at least compared to what I’d think would make sense for a ship of this size—not that I really know anything about that. I’m glad, because it makes it easier to look for Levin without drawing too much attention that I don’t want. The attention that I do get, however, makes my skin crawl. As I walk up to the second level of the ship—where the warm, damp smell is at least a little less prevalent—I see several shirtless crew members turn to watch me as I go, eyes raking over me in a way that makes me shudder. It feels like the way Diego looked at me—the way the men at the auction looked at me, like a piece of meat dangled in front of them, like predators sizing up prey. As if they’re imagining what I look like without my clothes on and feasting on everything beneath. These men are rawer, though—more hungry. It makes me walk faster, even as the weight and pace on my ankle shoots pain up my calf and into my thigh. I want their eyes off of me as soon as possible. I want to be back with Levin—where I feel safe. It doesn’t help that I heard the man who negotiated with Levin say that he wouldn’t bother telling his men to stay off of me. I’m stiff and tense as I hurry towards the next set of steps as best as I can, waiting for one of them to come towards me, or catcall me. Almost there. I hear a whistle behind me, a grunt of approval, and I see one man grab his crotch with a sweaty hand, leering at me—but no one tries to approach, much to my relief. Maybe Levin put the fear of god in them. He did say this was the kind of danger he could protect me from. When I find him, he’s standing alone on the upper deck of the ship, arms crossed over his chest. His back is mostly to me, and it gives me a moment to just look at him in a way I don’t often get to without him catching me. It sends a different kind of shiver down my spine. He’s made me feel this way since the first day I met him. As I look at his broad shoulders, the muscled arms crossed over his chest, and the inky tattoos crawling down the side of his neck and forearms, I wonder if I will ever stop feeling that shiver of desire when I look at him. If years of knowing him, being with him, would change it—or if it always feels this way. I want to ask my sister if Niall still makes her feel this way, now that he’s hers. If desire is a product of novelty, or if it lasts forever, the way it feels right now.