Savage Road

#1 New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan explores uncharted territory in the new Torpedo Ink Motorcycle Club novel.

When Savin "Savage" Pajari and Seychelle Dubois first met, their connection was instant, their attraction undeniable. Their relationship has been full throttle since day one. Even though months have passed, the passion and love between them has only increased.

Savage completely owns what he is: a sadist in the bedroom who can only get off on his partner's pain. He believes he's not a good man, but he loves Seychelle with a fierceness that shocks him. He wants all of her, but only if she gives herself freely with eyes wide open.

Seychelle never imagined the lure of mixing pain with pleasure, or how much she'd crave Savage's darkness. She's been shaken to her core, but Seychelle is committed to Savage and their life together—even though he's keeping a piece of himself back. And to truly make their relationship work, he has to give her everything that he is, just as she is doing for him.

Savage knows that what he really needs could break his woman if she isn't ready. She agreed to come into his world, and he's not about to give her up. He has to find a way to let her see the monster inside without pushing her away. But the real Savage might be more than Seychelle can bear... and he knows he wouldn't survive losing her.

Christine's Notes

Christine Feehan
Dear Reader,

When I first began to form the idea of Torpedo Ink, I knew it was going to be a very gritty, edgy and raw series, certainly not for everyone. In fact, at first, although I had to write the stories because I felt it was necessary, I doubted if I would ever publish them.

I had learned over the years that males, when molested, were often not given the same treatment as female victims. Often families were too ashamed to have the child go into counseling. They didn't want friends and family to know what happened. Sometimes the family members would even applaud the boy if the offender was a female and tell him how lucky he was. Other times, the males in the family would shun the boy or even want him sent away if he was molested or raped by a male. To me, it was a tragic situation. I hope that over time, these responses have changed a little, but I don't think they have by that much.

Why a motorcycle club? First, most motorcycle clubs are not running around the nation committing crimes. Often, they are men and women getting together because they like the freedom of riding. Many clubs fundraise for all kinds of causes. There is a real club who stands for victims like the children I portray in my novels. Usually the perception of those riding motorcycles is that they are tough. I wanted men and women my readers saw as tough. These are men and women who started out as victims. They survived abuse and understandably have PTSD and issues with sex due to their backgrounds. I needed readers to understand and be sympathetic toward my heroes/heroines.

Nevertheless, even by portraying them as close to reality in these conditions as possible, these are still works of fiction. I have tried to handle these situations with understanding and compassion and without judgment. I read as much as possible on each issue and then consult with primary sources before I feel able to write on the subject without prejudice or judgment. I don't ever want to depict one moment where a character is in a position where they are in an abusive situation and have no choice. The books are intense and some of the situations can be abusive, especially in Savage's book as he is a sexual sadist. I want any reader picking up this book to be clear on that fact before choosing to read this book. Savage's first book, Annihilation Road, stopped prior to Seychelle's training. That was a deliberate choice I made so readers demanding his book, knowing what he was, but also knowing they would have difficulties, would still have a satisfactory happy ending to his story.

Savage Road is much more difficult to read and much truer to life after the beginning of the love story between two people who truly love each other and have made a commitment, but come from very different worlds. Savage's world could easily be one of abuse. There is a very important moment where Savage makes certain the heroine knows she can speak with her friends and receive support about their relationship if she needs to.

Again, it is important to me when writing a book, to research the subject matter heavily so I can write without prejudice. There are many different lifestyles and needs and not all people are alike or have similar pasts. People are shaped in many different ways by their experiences. Seychelle entered consensually into Savage's world because she needed the same things he did which made them a perfect couple. She entered the relationship knowing what he is and wanting to enter into this lifestyle with the man she loves and trusts wholeheartedly with her body, mind and heart.

For the readers who have decided to continue the ride with Seychelle and Savage, I hope you feel that I've done their story justice.

Christine Feehan

Christine regularly writes about her books (and all kinds of subjects) in the following places:


Savage Road

More Order Options

Torpedo Ink ,
Book 7

Release Date: January 25, 2022
Number of Pages: 480 pages
Publisher: Berkley
Language: English
ISBN: 0593437373

Savage Road (Torpedo Ink, #7)


Seychelle had whispered the words to him, kissing his throat, his neck, then pouring that love into him.  He felt it every time she touched him—when she looked at him.  He wasn’t giving that up because she was afraid.  He just had to figure out a way to help her through this adjustment period and still give her the real man and not some choir boy version.

 “I’ll never be that man, Angel.  I’m a fucking devil, not a choir boy, no matter how much I want to be for you.”  Sometimes he just watched her sleep because she was so beautiful, he had to make certain she was real.

Her laughter was muffled by the pillow, a low musical raining of golden notes that teased at his skin, feathering over his nerve endings until little electrical pulses beat in time to the music she created. 

“Are you having delusions, honey, or did some misguided soul, one of your many admirers, actually tell you that you were a choir boy?  I can rid you of that misconception right now.” Her little giggle came again, along with those notes spilling over his body.  He actually saw her laughter in golden notes.  He saw her music that way as well.  When he was a child, he’d been able to see people’s voices in colorful notes drifting around them, but that had been wiped out abruptly when all joy had been stomped out of him.

Seychelle turned her head toward him, her thick braid moving across the pillow as she looked over her shoulder at him.  Light came through the open window.  She refused to close the damn thing no matter what he said about security.  She liked it open and he liked the way the moonlight managed to shine perfectly on her.
Laughter was in her eyes, that totally relaxed look she got on her face whenever they were here in her home—her little cottage by the sea she loved so much.  He had tried to recreate a space on the bed in his master bedroom just like hers, but he’d failed.  She still wasn’t as relaxed, all tension gone, ready to tease him and play like they had for months before they made their relationship official, not in his master bedroom.
In retaliation, he nipped her hip and then soothed the sting with his tongue.  “I’ve been a fucking choir boy for an entire day.”  That laughter was killing him.  He loved the sound of it. 

“You can’t say choir boy and fuck in the same sentence and be a choir boy.”

She sounded all prim and school-marmy which made him smile.  His first reaction was to roll over so she was sprawled over the top of him and he had access to her bottom. That was his usual response when she teased him like this, but he didn’t want any bruising, not when he made up his mind to ease up and give her a few days to adjust.  He would always be a controlling bastard, wanting everything his way, and maybe taking one thing at a time was the best way to go.

“Babe, told you, I was going to hell.  Might as well do anything I want.  And that’s mild in comparison to all the things I think about saying and doing.”

Her laughter was contagious.  “You should have seen your face last night when the red hat ladies showed up at the bar to hear me sing.  All those darling ladies, Zyah’s grandmother leading the way.  She’s so cute, by the way.  I adore her and she adores you.  Obviously, the two of you have a past and she made it clear last night that you, Destroyer, Maestro and Player are her little darlings.”

“You’re going to get yourself in trouble if you bring that up,” he growled against her pristine skin, settling his teeth against her in warning.

She didn’t pay him in the least heed.  “Who knew you were so popular, Savage? All those sparkly hats and all of them wanting to dance with you.  I had more requests for songs. The other bikers in the bar last night were quite enthusiastic about making certain the right music was requested.  Everyone had ideas.  I even saw Jackson and Jonas slip in.  They were grinning from ear to ear and at first it looked as if they might have been there on official business.”

That did it.  At the mention of the cop, there was no way he was going to be a saint.  Savage rolled and took her with him, so that she sprawled over the top of him, her sore bare ass in the air, legs on either side of his hips. Her amazing blue eyes laughed right down into his causing his heart to perform some silly weird melting sensation.  He rubbed her bottom hoping she would consider that a threat.

“You didn’t tell me I had so many rivals for your affection. I went into that blind.  All those ladies giggling.  They brought cookies, Savage. There were plates of cookies with your name on them.”

If a man like him had the ability to blush, he might actually have done it when the Red Hat ladies marched in with their crazy purple and red hats and their wild clothing, as if each had tried to outdo the other in outlandish skirts and layered dusters.  Secretly, he applauded them for their carefree apparel and their insistence on living out their lives the way they chose.  If they wanted to go to a biker bar dressed in a cross between fairy godmothers and something out of Mid Summer’s Night’s Dream more power to them.

Ten of the Red Hat Women had shown up all bearing plates of cookies.  And then Zyah, Player’s wife.  She had come along to keep an eye on her grandmother. Anat Gamal, her grandmother, had unofficially adopted all of Torpedo Ink as her grandchildren. Savage wasn’t going to admit to his woman that he might really be one of the favorites because she would give him no end of grief over it.  She was already far too amused over how the evening had played out.

“I shared the cookies with you, you little monster,” he pointed out.  He kissed the hollow of her neck.  She always smelled so good, that wild strawberry fragrance that was just so subtle.

“You weren’t very generous with the bar.”

“They were snickering.”

“Because you wouldn’t dance. Those ladies wanted to dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You dance with me.”

“You’ve got something I want, baby.”

“What would that be?”


Featured Videos

Savage Road

Someone wants to hurt Torpedo Ink. Savage will have to make an impossible decision. Show Seychelle the monster within...or let her go.