Possess(The Syndicate: Crime and Passion 1)(7)

I let my gaze drop to her shoulders, then lower, over the more-than-full curve of her breasts, the even fuller curve of her hips. I’d been with beautiful women, women whose looks far outshined Senna’s sweet, quiet prettiness, but I had never craved the sight of anyone the way I did her.

Countless times, I had beaten back the urge to hug her closer, fill my arms with her full yet small body, wanting to know once and for all if she was as soft as she seemed, wanting to know if she would be a perfect fit like I imagined.

I never had, though. Not once had I given in to the desire to hold her.

At first, I’d agonized over why I had discarded everything I knew and believed and let her live. I’d never understood why I’d done so, why I continued to every day. I didn’t agonize anymore. I’d accepted I might not ever understand the why, so I no longer bothered with the question.

All that mattered now was that Senna was my beating heart.

I never told her that, never showed it, but I accepted it as true.

I didn’t know what she felt for me, if she felt anything at all, but I didn’t care.

Senna was oxygen, my breath, my life. Not seeing her would surely end me, and I wouldn’t risk being without her long enough to try.

She turned, looked at me, seeming to finally notice my presence as she lifted her lips in a soft smile.

“Hello, little flower,” I said.

I could remember when I had first called her that, how I had watched her for some protest, some reaction, but there had been none. She hadn’t protested, she hadn’t shown any reaction at all. More than once I had considered not calling her that anymore, but I loved the way those words rolled off my tongue, the way I felt when I said them, so the name was one that had stuck.

“Hello, Maxim,” she said.

It was a common thing, the way Senna always said hello and good-bye and please and thank you, something I had picked up from her, at least the greeting aspect anyway. It was sweet, funny, one of those fascinating things about her in the list of things that I found endlessly fascinating.

“I made dinner,” she said.

I sat, and she walked toward me with two plates.

I didn’t ask what it was and didn’t care.

Over the years I had shed almost everything of the crucible that had been my childhood. I was a lifetime removed from the hunger, the desperation that hunger brought, but I still valued every meal and wasn’t picky.

I finished quickly and then watched Senna as she ate.

She glanced at me, furtively, a sign that something was on her mind.

This was a new development. Senna was seldom furtive and had always been far more direct than the circumstances should have allowed.

I knew the source of this furtiveness, though.

“You don’t like being here,” I said.

She paused, her fork dangling from her fingers in midair. Senna recovered quickly, took another bite.

“No. Not really,” she said.

“Do you want to leave?” I asked.

I hated myself for the words, but I couldn’t help them. I did this sometimes, gave her little tests, though I often wasn’t aware of what I was doing until after I’d said the words.

“What if I say I do?” she said, her eyes dark but giving me no hint of how she was feeling or what she was thinking.

“I’ll tell you that I’m sorry, but you have to stay,” I said.

She didn’t respond but continued to eat dinner. I thought on that dynamic, wondered what would happen the day she finally did say she wanted to leave.

I’d been waiting on that day for ten years now, certain that it would come. It hadn’t, though. I’d never told her she had to stay, but she’d never asked if she could leave. Had never even hinted at it.

Which was for the best. Because I’d never intended Senna to be my prisoner, had never treated her as such, but I didn’t trust myself to let her go.

I stood and walked toward the door, but I lingered for a moment, resisting, but just barely, the sudden desire to touch her shoulder. I kept my hand at my side, though, wouldn’t give in to the new and strong impulse no matter how much I wanted to.

“Thank you for dinner, little flower,” I said.

She turned, lifted her eyes to me, and give me a slight smile. I stared at it, watching the slight upward curve of her full, soft lips. Seeing her like this, having her near me, was the only reminder I had that there was a world outside of the Syndicate. That there were good people, people who deserved protection.

People like her.

Despite my earlier decision not to, I lifted my hand and grazed my fingers against her shoulder.

Her smile deepened. “You’re welcome, Maxim.”





Three





Senna



I hadn’t seen Maxim for several days, but I wasn’t worried. Adrian would have told me if there was something to be concerned about. So I ignored the lingering discomfort that knowing Santo was near brought and busied myself with getting us settled in. It seemed we would be here for a while, so I wanted to make sure Maxim was as comfortable as possible.