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And it wouldn’t have been just any hand. It would have been Bella’s.

Her palm would have landed on his chest, between his pecs, and maybe she would have stroked him a little bit. He might have liked that, if she’d gone slowly. Yeah, the more he thought about it, the more he could see himself maybe liking that—

Ah, what the hell was he going on about? The ability to tolerate intimacy of any kind had been raped out of him years ago. And anyway, he had no business entertaining fantasies of a female like Bella. He wasn’t worthy even of the angry human whores he was forced to feed from.

Zsadist opened his eyes and dropped the bullshit. The kindest thing he could do for Bella, the best way to make amends, was to be sure she never saw him again, even inadvertently.

Although he would see her. Every night he would visit her house and make sure she was okay. It was a dangerous time now for civilians, and she needed to be watched over. He would just stay in the shadows while he did it.

The thought of protecting her eased him.

He couldn’t trust himself to be with her. But he had absolute faith in his ability to keep her safe, no matter how many lessers he had to eat alive.

Chapter Forty-five

Mary paced along the second-floor balcony, just outside the bedroom door. She hadn’t been able to watch Butch and V go to work with all those chains. And it was hard to know whether the two of them preparing Rhage to have sex with her was erotic as hell or downright scary.

The door opened.

Butch’s eyes bounced around, not meeting hers. “He’s ready.”

Vishous came out lighting a hand-rolled. He took a deep drag. “We’re going to hang around here in the hall. In case you need us.”

Her first instinct was to tell them to go away. How creepy was it that they’d be right outside while she and Rhage were having sex? Privacy, after all, was a state of mind as well as a secluded, intimate place.

But then she thought of the amount of steel they’d gone in there with. That load of hardware hadn’t been at all what she’d expected. Some rope, maybe. Handcuffs. But not the kind of stuff you’d lift an engine block off the ground with.

“Are you sure you have to wait?” she said.

They both nodded.

“Trust us on this one,” Butch muttered.

Mary went into the room and closed the door. Candles were lit on either side of the bed, and Rhage was lying naked on the mattress, his arms angled up over his head, his legs spread to the point that they were stretched. Chains wrapped around his wrists and ankles and then looped about the bed’s heavy oak supports.

Rhage lifted his head, teal blue eyes piercing the dimness. “You sure about this?”

Actually, no, she wasn’t. “You look uncomfortable.”

“It’s not bad.” His head fell back. “Although I’m glad those are bedposts and not horses heading off in four different directions.”

She eyed his colossal body, sprawled out for her like some kind of sexual sacrifice.

Holy…Moses. Was this real? Was she really going to—

Stop it, she told herself. Don’t keep him there any longer than you have to. And once this is over, and he knows everything’s fine, you won’t have to do it again.

Mary kicked her shoes free, whipped her fleece and turtleneck over her head, and stripped out of her jeans.

Rhage’s head rose again. As she took off her bra and her panties, his sex stirred. Lengthened. She watched him transform for her, hardening, thickening, growing. The arousal brought a flush to his face and a mist of sweat to his beautiful, hairless skin.

“Mary…” His pupils went white and he started to purr, gyrating his hips. The erection moved on top of his stomach, the head of it reaching his belly button and then some. With a sudden rush, his forearms shot up and pulled at the bonds. Chains rattled, shifted.

“Are you okay?” she said.

“Oh, God, Mary. I’m…we’re hungry. We are…starving for you.”

Shoring up her courage, she went over to the bed. She bent down and kissed him on the mouth, then she got up on the mattress. Got