Page 21 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“I seem to remember calling you the devil once too,” I remind him. I scan the bedroom. The heavy brocade curtains. The plush maroon carpet. The hideous carvings in the headboard.

The first time I walked in here, I’d been convinced Carrson Ashford was a monster.

Now I’m in bed with him.

Naked.

Well, I was naked back then too, but this time it’s willingly.

“It was in this very room, but I was wrong about you.” I reach up and brush an unruly piece of hair off his forehead. “Carrson, what if we’re wrong about Silas the same way?”

Carrson sets his jaw, shaking his head no before I’m even done.

“Fine,” I huff, “if he wanted to hurt me, why would he keep me alive? Let me come back to you?”

“Because dead girls can’t be used,” Carrson counters. “Because now you’re bait.”

“Bait for what?”

He blows out a frustrated breath. “I’m not sure. To get to me? But he already knows where I am. To get information from you? But he had a chance when you were with him.” Carrson pins me with his eyes. “Silas didn’t ask anything about me?”

“No, egomaniac.” I roll my eyes. “We didn’t spend our time talking about you.”

“Why not?” Carrson cocks a brow. He gestures to himself. “Have you seen me? I’m fantastic.”

I burst out laughing, which makes his grin widen. Leave it to Carrson Ashford to turn a conversation about kidnapping into a discussion about how attractive he is.

“You’re incorrigible.” I laugh again and kiss him, still smiling.

“You and your big words.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek.

We can’t stop smiling at each other. It’s ridiculous.

I love it.

Finally I drag my gaze from him and stretch, extending my arms high above my head. I freeze, then bolt upright, realization crashing into me. “I don’t hurt.”

Carrson sits up immediately. “What do you mean? You said you were okay?”

“No.” I twist away, trying to see over my own shoulder. “My back. It doesn’t hurt from the whipping.”

“Whipping? What whipping?” His voice goes up an octave.

“Your dad...” My voice trails off as I reach around, pulling at the skin of my shoulder blade.

“What? My father?” The color drains from his face. “Laurel, what happened?”

“After you passed out, your dad wanted to keep punishing you, but I stepped in and took the rest. Ten lashes.”

Carrson’s eyes are wide with horror. “No. Why?”

I stop my contortions to look at him. “Because I had to. Because it’s what you would have done for me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he says. “Why would my father do that? Scratch that. I know why. Because he has no heart. He’s evil.” Carrson’s fists clench the bed sheets, crumpling them.

I don’t bother to argue. I’m too busy crawling behind Carrson, wrapping my body around his so I can see his back. When I do, my hand comes up to cover my mouth.

“Carrson,” I whisper, “your back…”