Page 38 of Savage Devotion
His head rests on my shoulder and I lean mine against his. Sitting like this, wrapped in warmth and a protective shield, I only feel with Reaper, I pour my soul out.
“I was twelve or thirteen when my stepdad came onto the scene. He didn’t care about some other man’s child, much less two. But I could tell he loved my mother. But by that time, she was a shell of the woman I remembered. He cleared her debt with drug money and she gave him her loyalty all the while my older sister was pushing those drugs that paid her debt. Before long Mom was helping him, too. Within three years, my stepdad, mom, and sister were hooked on his product.”
Reaper stays silent, stroking his hands up and down my legs as I let the words flow.
“A couple of years later he went off to prison and she fell harder into drugs and alcohol. He kicked the habit while behind bars. She didn’t. Nor did my sister.”
“And you?”
I shrug and keep my eyes pinned out over the ledge of the cliff, not looking at anything.
“Let’s just say, the way you and your family built up your club, is significantly more different from the one my stepdad headed. They looked at me as a game. Instead of caring for my mother or me while he was behind bars, they chased me for fun and fed her more dope. Then the rivals, the fighting, the bullet holes in our house walls. Nights of terror thinking that night would be my last haunt my dreams to this day. I still wake up in the dead of night from panic attacks, from time to time.”
Reaper stiffens in my arms and sits up. He reaches around for me and I’m on the front of the bike spread over his lap in mere seconds.
The one time I opt for jeans, I think ruefully but I can see from the murder in Reaper’s eyes that his track of mind is not in the gutter with mine.
“Where are these men now?”
I pin my eyes out over his shoulder, my past a blur of shadows clouding my vision. “The Fire Breathers. Stupid fucking name if you ask me,” I say feeling distant for a moment.
“Where are they?” he repeats. The gentle warmth of his palms cupping my face brings me back to him.
“Gone. My stepdad is in prison again, and my mom is in rehab. I left her there and split town almost two years ago with my sister. It was a spontaneous decision for both of us. We thought New Orleans would be our ticket to freedom. As for the gang, those that didn’t go down with my stepdad this time headed out.”
“Did those men ever touch you?” his voice is laced with death. Chills scurry up my spine at the intent buried in his tone.
My gaze drifts up to his, and I stare into his bold, black eyes. “No, Reaper. I learned how to fight at an early age. I had a lot of practice.”
He wraps his arms around me and my world melts down to this moment. Right here, right now. I inhale his scent, take in the way our bodies mold to one another’s and just live in the moment.
“The night I met you, the torture in my soul dissolved. It was the anniversary of my sister’s overdose.”
“Fuck, baby. I’m damn sorry.”
He pauses a heartbeat before continuing.
“Before you, I lived with grief and pain day in and day out from my days in the military. From the days and years after when I did dirty work for men I rather not talk about. Your gentle touches and fiery kisses set something loose inside me. You healed a part of me I didn’t know how to fix. I fell asleep that night in love.”
I sit up. We are so close, that the air I pull into my lungs is the same as his.
He traces a finger down the side of my cheek. “And then I woke to find you gone and my heart broke.” His voice is tight. I can tellsharing his deeper emotions isn’t something he does often. This window into his vulnerability is humbling.
I listen, unable to form words around the lump of guilt in my throat for a long moment.
“I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I didn’t know where I belonged then.”
“And now?” He rests a hand over our growing baby while his other slides up to rest on the back of my head.
Locked in our tiny cocoon, I peel back a tiny sliver of the metal wall I hide my true emotions behind. I owe him the truth. As much as it hurts. “Sometimes, when I am alone in the back of my bookstore at night, I want to just get in my car and drive away. I don’t know where I would go, but the idea of drifting away into nothing seems appealing sometimes.”
Reaper’s whole body tenses and he hugs me to his hard, muscled frame a little tighter. “But I haven’t wanted to do that lately,” I reassure him and kiss his cheek lightly. “Our baby deserves better.”
“You are never alone. I was an asshole to not find you the second you showed up in Harlon.”
He pulls back and studies my face for a long moment. The moon has moved across the sky and the soft, silver glow leaves shadows across his handsome, rugged face.
Leaning in, he presses his forehead to mine.
