Page 8 of Devil

“Why are you defending him? Even before the other night, you weren’t afraid of him.”

“I’ve encountered worse.” Placing his beer on her tray, I lay the folded napkin beside it. “Give this to him, too.”

She watches me for a moment, exasperated, before nodding and walking away.

I turn my attention to wiping down the bar, a few people taking a seat, ordering drinks. Keeping myself busy, I try not to wonder if he’ll respond to my childish note.

I shouldn’t have written it.

Another patron orders a beer and as I finish pouring it from the tap, I turn around to find Devil sitting in front of me. His hat is pulled down low, his jacket collar pulled up high. The neon lights shine a single streak of light across his face, just enough to see something that leaves me breathless.

For the first time, our gazes lock, and familiarity hits me like a ton of bricks. His eyes are crystal blue, and they plunge me into a deep abyss of heartbreak and longing.

They remind me of Colt, and I swallow down the emotion clogging my throat.

I haven’t seen him in a year and a half. He had no way of knowing which foster home I was sent to. He doesn’t know I left and work at this bar. It feels as if I’m lost to him forever.

Devil tilts his head, his bright eyes watching me closely. I’m vulnerable under his scrutiny and it makes me want to shrink into myself, instantly regretting writing the stupid fucking note.

A throat clears in the distance, and I’m pulled from my downward spiral, passing the guy his beer. When I turn back around, I find my protector’s stool empty, but a napkin layfolded on the bar. With trembling fingers, I unfold it carefully, reading each word slowly.“I’m your devil.”

My heart rate spikes and where most people would be terrified by his words, they soothe something wicked inside my own soul.

For a moment, I don’t feel so alone. I feel seen by the devil who claims to be mine.

Who the hell is this guy and why do I care so much?

Glancing at the table in the corner, it’s empty and my stomach sinks. Folding the napkin neatly, I slide it into my back pocket for safe keeping.

Chapter Four

Devil

My little demon is curious.

I didn’t miss her breath hitching when she caught my gaze at the bar. I remind her of someone.

Someone she cared about.

She wants to know why they call me Devil. She’s not ready for the answer. If I reveal too much too soon, she may run. Even though I’d enjoy the thrill of the chase, I’d rather it be a game and not from revulsion.

She surprised me when I killed the motherfucker who attempted to rape her. She wasn’t disgusted or scared. Relief filled her beautiful chocolate eyes as she jumped to her feet, daring to move closer. Her gratitude revived the long dead organ in my chest.

She’s the only reason I’m still breathing. Every time I see her, she brings me back to life. One of the many reasons, I’m always there, waiting and watching.

Nova Bradley came crashing into my life unexpectedly two years ago and I’ll never let her go. She was a beautiful teenager, but she’s grown into a gorgeous woman filled with darkness and fury.

Her body is exquisite and I long to explore every inch of it. She’s short, about five foot four with long black hair. Her fullchest and plump ass would easily bring any man to their knees, and that’s where I come in.

She’s mine.

She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve killed for her multiple times, and I’ll continue to take the life of any man who gets close to her.

A guy smacked her on the ass a couple of months ago and I snapped. I followed him home, and no surprise, he lived alone. After hours of no activity, I slipped into his house, slitting his throat while he slept. He deserved worse, but I was pressed for time.

No one touches my girl and lives with the memory. In reality, no one touches Nova and lives, period.

A knock on my office door snaps my attention back to the present.

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