Page 41 of Devils Cut

"Corvus, I don't want to be owned," she shot back, her voice tense.

I couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I don't own you, princess. You own me."

She frowned, confusion painting her features. "I do not own you."

"Princess, the second you walked into that interview room, you owned me. I just didn't know it yet," I admitted. "But now I do."

My heart raced as I leaned in and pressed my lips against hers, sealing our connection. The taste of her was sweet and intoxicating, igniting a fire within me. Her body shivered in response, a soft moan escaping her parted lips.

The scent of her hair, apples and cinnamon, filled my nostrils as I pulled her down onto my chest. The warmth of her body against mine made my heart race, the weight of her anchoring me. Our lips locked in a soft, tender dance, a moment stolen from the chaos around us.

"Corvus," she whispered, breaking away from our kiss. "We need to sleep. We both have work in the morning."

My fingers traced patterns on her back, a smirk playing at the corners of my mouth. "Just call in sick to the boss," I suggested a mischievous glint in my eye.

A laugh bubbled up from within her, the sound like music to my ears. "You really think he'd buy that?”

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As the sun broke through the clouds, we walked into work together, the door to the bar slamming behind us. I leaned in, gently pressing my lips against Tempest's. "There should be a shipment in the storeroom waiting for you to put away," I murmured softly.

"Alright, Corvus," she nodded, her ponytail bouncing as she turned toward the storeroom. Today, she was wearing short shorts and a singlet top, revealing more skin than usual. The sight of her, confident yet vulnerable, stirred something deep within me.

My eyes traced the small scars that peppered the tops of her thighs, barely visible under the dim light. I noticed some on her upper back. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to ask her about them. If I knew their origin, there'd be no stopping the rage inside me. Someone would pay dearly for hurting her.

The scars haunted me, like ghosts trailing behind her. Tempest moved with purpose, unaware of the way my gaze lingered on each imperfection. To others, they were invisible, but they now held a permanent place in my vision.

I strode toward the back office, mind racing. There was work to be done—arranging the party at the clubhouse for Killer's patching in and contacting Mr Pavlov about his missing shipment. Someone had been stealing from him, and I wanted to know who.

Grabbing my mobile I dialled the first number. One of our head whores.

"Hey, babe," she purred. "What can I do for you?"

"Clubhouse tonight," I said, cutting her off. "Killer's patching in. Make sure it's one hell of a party, and it’s Corvus or VP from now on, understand?” I said in a sharp voice.

"Of course, Corvus." Her tone shifted to business-like. "Booze and drugs?"

"Plenty of both," I replied, grinning.

"Consider it done." She hung up, and I dialled the next number. Our local patch maker.

"Patchworks," he answered, gruff as ever.

"Need a patch made up for Killer," I said. “tonight clubhouse."

"Got it," he grunted. "I'll get it there this afternoon."

"Good man." I hung up, leaning back in my chair. Party handled. Now, Tempest...

Would she come tonight? I wanted to introduce her to everyone as my old lady. But would she be ready for that?

"Fuck it," I muttered, pushing away from my desk. Decision made. My heart pounded as I stalked down the hall, determination fuelling each step. I'd ask her.

A haunting melody floated through the air, a siren's call. Her voice. My feet moved on their own, drawn to the sound. The storeroom door stood ajar, the song laced with pain and longing, echoing off the walls. She was inside, unpacking boxes, her ponytail swaying as she stacked bottles onto the shelves. "You put a spell on me" was being sung in a slow, twisted version, making it something dark and chilling. Beautiful.

Goddamn. This woman... She was mine. And her voice – better than any siren. It hit me like a fist, stealing my breath away.

"Shit!" she screamed, spinning around as she caught sight of me in the doorway. The bottle of whiskey slipped from her grasp, shattering on the floor. Glass and amber liquid spread in a chaotic pool at her feet.

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