Page 36 of Savage Devotion
It’s been less than a day since I had her wrapped around my cock and I’m dying to scoop her up, take her back to the main house, and lock her in my room. I recognize in the depths of those pretty green eyes, she wants to run away one minute and run to me the next. I lost her once, but if she runs again, I won’t come back to Harlon until I find her…and our baby. Even if it means bringing her back kicking and screaming.
I smirk at the mental picture of my Arabelle tied up and fighting me. I’m a sadistic son-of-a-bitch at times. But I’d make sure she’d love every fucking minute of it.
Club members and candy mull around with cold drinks in their hands and good music coming over the sound system. Someone is manning the grill and there’s a cake around here somewhere. Charli practically pushed me onto my bike this afternoon to go pick Arabelle up for a little book club get-together. It was supposed to take place at the bookstore, but Charli is trying to play matchmaker, I think. She keeps shooting me withwhat-the-fuckglares over Arabelle’s shoulder and I keep staring right back.
“Well? If you’re not going over there, at least tell me she knows she’s wearing the club mark on her finger, claiming her as Savage blood. The Vultures see that and you might as well put a neon sign on her head that says “Good as Dead”.”
“Back in N’ Orleans, I didn’t exactly give it to her. She took it.”
And then I took it off her neck and put it on her finger.
Knowing she’s been wearing it all this time has my cock ready to jump out of my pants.
I’ve told Ash just about everything I’ve gone through with my nomad life. He knows about the deals I’ve brokered, the people I’ve made disappear and the night I realized I found the one.
“She probably doesn’t understand what wearing the ring means. Not to the extent of what you and I know, but she’s not stupid. She knows the MC life, brother.”
“But does she know whatthatring means to us? Thinking she knows and knowing she knows are two different worlds to a woman, man. Don’t fuck shit up with your arrogance. And I can say that because I’m your best fucking friend.”
“Fuck you, Ash.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
He claps me on the back, but I take it for what it is. A reminder. It’s all too easy to lose what you love most. Arabelle isn’t the first woman I’ve fallen in love with. But she is the last one. I lost the woman I loved in my early twenties to inexperience. She didn’t want to wait for a man going off to war. I didn’t want her sitting around wondering if I would come back.
So I let her go. Arabelle is not getting away from me that easily.
“Come on. Let’s see if you still remember how to read.”
There’s a bit of growling and rumbling, but Ash follows me to the ladies’ table. We take a seat next to Arabelle and she shoves a book in my hands before I get a word out of my mouth.
“To be part of the book club, you need a book.”
I look down at the book. “I know this author.”
Arabelle
All the giggling and smut talk dries up, and I know why without even looking behind me. Angel’s and Jinx’s cheeks turn a bright red and their eyes dart back to the pages of their dark mafia romance book.
Reaper is walking up behind me. I can feel his energy draw closer and closer until the scent of his cologne overtakes me and he’s the only thing running through my mind.
Instead of begging him to whisk me away to the part of the house that belongs to him, I shove a book in his hands.
“You know her?”
“Let’s just say she’s the reason I am breathing today. I got into some trouble in New York. She got me out of the corner I was painted into.”
I can sense an air of friendship as he talks about her. Instead of feeling jealous, I feel measures of gratitude.
“What happened?”
That’s Angel. She’s as sweet as her name. Her invisible wings are tattered but not broken by the shit life can throw at a person. It’s what I like most about her.
Reaper looks up at the girl he gave a home to when no one else would and gives her a placating smile. I’ve learned a lot about the people around this table, just talking about the taste we share in books. The triggers we avoid. Some don’t even know what makes them happy or what makes them pass on a book. But I like noting all those tiny details.
The girl across the table loves emotional connection.
“She wanted some insight on biker life in exchange for helping me get a bullet out of my shoulder,” he chuckles lightly. “I had no idea someone who wrote books for a living knew so much about cleaning bullet wounds.”
