Page 31 of Savage Devotion
Agonizing seconds pass by as he looks at the positive sign. Burning irritation at his silence forces me into saying the first thing that comes to mind.
“Reaper, look…” Okay, not the way I ever saw this particular conversation starting.
“Is the baby mine, Arabelle?”
My body trembles from the power of his dark gaze. His silence. The next moments will determine the future of my baby.
I nod, not truly trusting me to say the words.
Reaper falls to a knee and takes either side of my waist in hand. I rest mine on top of his before moving to run my fingers through his hair.
“Yes,” I whisper.
He rests his forehead on my abdomen and inhales slowly. “That fucker will die for touching you and putting our baby in harm’s way.”
When Reaper stands, death comes with him. It glows in the dark pools of his eyes.
“No one will ever touch you again. Ever.”
There’s a deep conviction in his tone.
“Let me see you. Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital? Get a doctor?”
For the first time in my life, I actually believe I’m in the safest place I can ever be.
“No, I’m fine. We are fine. Promise. I’m not that delicate.”
The creases between his brows cut deeper with more worry.
“Promise,” I reassure him.
He nods once and then he bends and scoops me up.
12
ARABELLE
Reaper doesn’t speak, just holds my body against his. He throws open the door and we are back in my ruined bookstore. A few strides and we are tucked between the shelves of fantasy and dark mafia romance.
Sweet irony at its best.
“Put me down, you big freaking ogre!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He plops me onto my feet and backs me up until there’s a shelf at my back and him at my front. Large, foreboding. Hot to the touch.
I guess he’s made his mind up about something because the questions I saw lingering behind thick lashes earlier no longer shine through.
Just pure lust is there now. And devotion. I know the look in a man’s eyes when he is fully smitten. Well, I’ve read about it a thousand times. That counts, right?
His lips crush mine, and I moan into his mouth. He tastes like expensive cigars and sin.
Wide shoulders and a broad chest block the view of anything but him. I want to let go, let my body mold into his, but I pound on his chest with the flat of my fist.
I tear my mouth from his. “You brute. Look, I know you are trying to do the right thing, but I have opinions and wants. You can’t kiss me stupid and just start throwing around demands.”
I get a deep growl of appreciation in return.
