Savage's Sun

Chapter One (Part One)

Present

July 2010

Dean

Struggling to breathe in my three-piece suit, I inhale and loosen my tie. I watch my brother Luca and the rest of the men on the roundtable discuss a vague business plan. Sometimes, I add my two-cent, but my being here is just a formality, so my nearly non-speaking role doesn't alert anyone.

I can barely keep myself awake. The walls are closing in on me, their images become more blurry every second. My mouth feels like it hasn't tasted a single drop of water in days while someone has been having fun shoving buckets of sand down my throat.

I've heard addicts describe this feeling. In fact, I've seen them like this. The Savages excel in producing men like this to get anything we want out of them. It's one of the best methods my brother Erick loves to use to gain information and more from our enemies. Because once a man is hooked, you control him. You can make him do anything. He'll do and say anything for a fix.

I've seen men break out in cold sweat right before they give in and betray the people they work for. And right before they die. Code of honor, be damned.

But as far as I know, I'm not an addict. At least, not a drug addict. So these clear signs of withdrawal should feel irrational to me, but right now, they are as real as any of a man in Erick's dungeon.

The meeting is concluded. I'm the first to stand up and start shaking hands in cordial but quick "See you soon's."

Luca must have noticed my unusually pale complexion, bloodshot eyes, and overall irritable demeanor because after the whole board dissembles and we exit the conference room, he calls out to me as I'm speeding my way to the elevator.

"You alright, Dean? You look like shit." My little brother says with a chuckle so as to soften the blow. “Who’s been torturing ya? And will he share his techniques?” He bumps my shoulder with his fist and winks. But his large green eyes soften with worry after I wince and swallow.

I can't blame him. If I look like how I feel, which, I have a slight suspicion that I do, I’d want to know who the asshole is who’s been starving me of sunlight and nutritional needs.

I run my fingers through my damp black hair, wanting nothing more than to catch my jet and leave Nevada as soon as possible.

I can't do it anymore. Can't stay away from home another second.

After I left home last week, I was positive I could take this time apart, give her the space she said she needed. At first, it wasn't easy, but it was bearable enough to get through, and I was able to act as if my whole body wasn't starting to disagree with me the moment I took my first step out of the front door.

But gradually, it became painful; the hours seemed to move slower and the days longer as I went to and from my empty hotel room. The days started to bleed into each other and the nights fell the hardest they've ever fallen. As if time slowed down to use my aching body as a passageway, the hours slashed through me, taking my appetite with them.

And this morning, on my last day of this hellish week, I didn't have to wake up because I never even went to sleep last night.

"How's New York treatin' ya?"

"Luca… Hey, I—." I clear my throat, turning to face him. My little brother looks better than he ever has. His pale green eyes shine with a light I haven't seen before.

For years, this is what he's always wanted. The youngest in our family, at just twenty-four-years old, he's always been the least interested in the family business and wanted for the longest time to do something else, anything else. I've never understood him more than this very moment.

This must be the same light that have shown through my own eyes for the past eleven months. But now, as I look at my reflection on the glass wall next to us, I can't find my eyes, they seem to be infinitely obscured by the big and dark circles that replace them.

"Sorry I haven't been fully… here with you. I know how important this project is to you." I'm surprised I'm still able to stand on my own two feet even as I feel my body shutting down, rebelling against my time away.

In almost a year, this is the longest I've been away from her, and it's as if my heart knows this; it’s cold, barely beating one moment, then the next it beats furiously in protest, pumping my blood hot in frustration.

Luca can never understand my unique ordeal, especially since I have told him nothing of my new life, and not having interacted with him in nearly a year.

He shakes his head. "You kiddin'? I didn't even expect you to make it this week. Thanks for being here. I'm glad you're taking this seriously with me. You'll see, this is going to be such a success." He pushes me playfully with his fist and the impact nearly sends me flying.

He catches me by the shoulders before I tumble down. "Whoa! Big bro! You alright! Who's been starvin' ya?"

I swallow again, my dry mouth and throat aching, but somewhat gaining back a bit of my equilibrium. "Yeah, thanks. I'm good."

"You look like you haven't seen the Sun in days, Dean. You sure you're alright?"

I nod, clearing my throat. "I'll be alright." I tap lightly on his shoulder, adding, "And I want you to know how proud I am of all of this. All that you've managed to accomplish separate from father and everyone else."

A stupid grin that I can barely register thanks to my blury vision hugs my little bother's face. "Thanks, Dean. I really appreciate you saying this. I can't wait to let to let everyone know what you and I have done here."

"Have a safe drive home." I turn on my heels. My steps are hurried as I walk away, feeling like I'm on the verge of collapsing.

On the flight, I go through the agonizing loop of falling asleep and waking up again only minutes after. I dream about her, only of her, taking her, tasting her, only to wake up with a start in a pool of my cold sweat as the dream ends with her on that day, a week ago, telling me to go and never come back.

But of course my dreams have been exaggerated. In my mind, I know what really transpired that day; before I left for Nevada, she hadn't told me to never come back. All she had said was that she needed space. I never went away under the impression that I would not see her again. That was never an option. I wouldn't have allowed it.

But this doesn't stop the nightmares of her disappearing, of her rejecting me, of her hating me, of my brain torturing me.

This doesn't stop my doubts when I'm awake; what'll happen once I get home? Will she tell me she needs even more time or that I need to stay away for good this time? Will my past be enough to destroy the best thing I ever had and will ever have?

Every muscle in me aches as I quiver with the need to have her in my arms again, bury my face in her hair, feel her soft kisses, get lost in her moans as we make love.

The thought of her pushing me away again makes it hurt to breathe, and it hurts worse whenever I masochistically decide to humor the possibility of losing her for good because of who I am.

I lost my appetite two days ago, so my stomach growls unpleasantly at every turn. The cold meat platter the flight attendant places in front of me just makes things worse.

The hours pass by as if my own life is passing me by.

I am truly nothing without her.

How absurd…

And yet, it's a truth I've had to learn over the course of this week from Hell.

I, of course had my suspicions. In the back of my head, ever since the beginning, I knew that this woman has taken me. Body. Soul. In every possible way. But this has been the irrevocable proof. Not that I needed it, but it has been a painful reminder to always be honest with her.

When I'm not sleeping, the hallucinations start again; they're a mix between memories of our lovemaking, fantasies of what I want to do to her, and nightmares of her leaving me; they're both my heaven and hell, they make my c**k hard as a rock, leaving me with no relief as it throbs like a fresh wound.

Even after making progress with the company I now own with my little brother, making him and our other partners happy, the first good news I've heard all week, is when Sam my pilot now announces that we've landed in Naples, New York.

The following best news comes an hour later, after nightfall when Joe my driver tells me I'm home.