Page 29 of Devils Cut

"Corvus... don't leave me," she whispered, clinging to me like a lifeline.

"Never," I promised, holding her tight. But even as I said the words, I knew I'd fucked up. I shouldn't have let her get so close, shouldn't have allowed myself to need her like this.

"Go back to sleep, princess," I told her, brushing the hair from her face. "I'll be right here."

As her breathing evened out, I couldn't help but admit to myself that I didn't want to sleep alone anymore. The realisation hit me hard—I was falling for her. She could be my old lady.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, my chest tightening with the weight of my emotions. The scent of her hair, apples and cinnamon and the feel of her skin against mine, it all felt like a drug I couldn't resist.

At 4 am, the room was filled with the soft sound of her breathing. Carefully, I untangled myself from her warm embrace, not wanting to disturb her sleep. She'd asked to be alone, but I couldn't help but want to protect her from the nightmares that haunted her.

"Fuck," I whispered to the darkness. This wasn't me. I didn't get attached. But she was different, and I couldn't deny it any longer.

Instead of heading back to my own bed, I went and did a workout, my body wasn’t from DNA, it was from hours in the gym that was housed out the back of my place, I usually spent a lot of my spare time here, but hadn’t set foot out the back since Tempest came into my life. This must be what married men say when they get a“Dad Bod”.

After my workout, I showered and decided to make her breakfast. Google had told me Aussies loved bacon and eggs, so I went all out, frying up a feast in the kitchen. The sizzling of the bacon filled the air as I cracked eggs into the pan, hoping she'd appreciate the gesture.

The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on Tempest as she shuffled into the kitchen. Her hair was a wild mess, and her eyes were clouded with fatigue. Handing her a plate piled high with bacon and eggs, I watched as her tired expression morphed into shock.

"Um, thank you." She blinked up at me, still trying to comprehend the unexpected gesture, before turning to sit down at the table.

I slid into my seat across from her and dug into my own breakfast. The room was silent, apart from the clinking of our forks against the plates.

"Hey," I finally said, breaking the quiet. "The bar's closed today, so you got the day off. Anything you need to do?"

She glanced up at me, considering it for a moment before shaking her head. "Nope. I think I might just sleep today."

I grinned, the corners of my mouth turning upward as I studied her sleepy features. "Sounds like a plan," I agreed, pushing my plate away and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "I've gotta head out tonight for a job, but I'll be home after nine."

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she cocked her head to one side. "A job?" she asked, her voice hesitant.

"Yeah," I replied, leaning back in my chair as I regarded her, a wry smile playing on my lips. "I am the VP of an MC, remember?"

Recognition flickered in her eyes, and she let out a soft chuckle. "Oh yeah," she admitted sheepishly. "I'd forgotten since you're at the bar most of the time."

"True enough," I shrugged, acknowledging the fact that I spent a lot of my days at the bar. It was our main source of income, our financial lifeblood and where we laundered our money. But there was more to my life than just slinging drinks and keeping rowdy patrons in line. "But the bar ain't the only thing we've got going on. We do some other… odd jobs too."

Her eyes widened, and she blurted out, "Illegal jobs are not odd jobs…"

I couldn't help but laugh at her innocence, her naïveté making me feel even more protective of her. "No, I suppose they ain't," I conceded, still chuckling. "But jobs they are."

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The past five days had been a blur, each one melting into the next. Tempest worked the day shift at the bar, and we both left together at 5 pm. I couldn't remember the last time I went home this early before her arrival, but now, I found myself itching to get back to my place with her by my side.

Every night was the same - I'd read in the lounge room until my eyes grew heavy, then head to bed. Like clockwork, Tempest's screams would fill the house, her nightmares clawing at her mind. I'd slide in behind her, wrapping her up in my arms like a protective shield. Her breathing would slow, and she'd drift back off to sleep, safe in my embrace.

But that safety was short-lived. Every morning at around 4 am, I'd slip away from her warmth and head outside for a workout, the cold air biting at my skin. As much as I wanted to stay with her, I couldn't let her see how vulnerable she made me feel.

Tomorrow, she was supposed to receive the keys to her new house, and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I enjoyed having her stay with me, holding her every night, but I wasn't sure how I would adapt to not having her here anymore. There was no doubt that I had strong feelings for Tempest - more than just liking her - but at this point, I could only acknowledge them as a mere like.

The bourbon bottle glinted beneath the dim bar lights, its amber liquid calling me like a siren's song. I needed something to dull the ache in my chest, the pain that had settled there since last night.

"Hey, Tempest," I said, leaning against the worn wooden counter. "Pour me some of that, would ya?"

"Sure thing, VP," she replied, her fingers wrapping around the bottle with practised ease. As she filled my glass, her brows furrowed, and she studied me with concern. "You okay, VP?"

"Fine," I grumbled in response, purposely avoiding eye contact with her. The title of 'VP' always bothered me; she started calling me that at work while using my real name, Corvus, at home. Among my club, being addressed as VP was a sign of respect, but I preferred it when she said my real name. "Just gotta head out soon for a job."

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