Page 14 of Savage Guardian

He told himself that he’d be back in the morning, and that should appease the need to remain.

With a nod at Madden, who was standing at parade rest beside the door, Hawk mounted his fully restored 1983 Harley-Davidson XR-1000, and headed to Danny’s Diner for some fucking chocolate cream pie.

The light above him—yellow and flickering—did nothing to dim his delight.

Standing before the full-length mirror hanging from the back of the motel room door, he scanned the entirety of his naked body.

Long. Lean. Sun-kissed. A smattering of hair on his chest and leading down, over his belly, and to the apex of his groin, where his cock stood erect.

Gripping his dick in his fist, he squeezed, closing his eyes and groaning at the ache in his balls. An ache that hadn’t abated in long months.

Soon.

He would sink his cock in to her tight, wet, hot pussy her soon. Soon, he would know, intimately, what her insides feel like. And he wouldn’t even have to cut her open to do it. His dick would know the squeeze of her cunt when she came. And she could come hard—and he would, too. And he’d fill her to the brim with his seed. He would claim her in the most primitive way. Once his cum was in her womb, once his baby was growing inside her belly, she would be bound to him, body and soul, and no dirty asshole biker would get in his way.

When he’d left the apartment he’d been renting by the month in Dayton just outside of Olsen, and made his way to the shitty motel that was his current bolt hole, he’d been expecting his fairy queen to stay within her usual perimeters. He counted on her being the same woman he’d been watching and loving for the last two years. One of things he loved most about her was that she was so predictable. He could go to work for hours or days, then come back and check on her activity, and know that she’d barely made a ripple. Moving to Vegas for even a week was a big fucking ripple. It was a goddamn tsunami. His fairy queen wasn’t doing what she was supposed to: spending all her time indoors, creating her music, shying away from attention, and saving herself for him.

Color him fucking surprised when his buddy told him that—not only had she checked into one of the poshest and most pretentious hotel off-Strip—she and her sister had also hired one of the most expensive and elite private protection agencies in Nevada. Yeah, he understood her need to protect herself from crazies and make sure no one touched her, but why did she have to hirethem?

Those Savage Raiders fucks.

Those filthy bikers who prided themselves on doing club business a little too close to the edge.

He’d heard about them long before his Treasure got the idea to go there and ruin his plans. The Savage Raiders were well known through the dark web for their under the table dealings with sick fucks like the Chavez cartel, and they had pinged more than a few federal and local law enforcement databases.

They were mostly ex-military nomads looking for the brotherhood they missed after being discharged, but there were a few among them that were only part of the club for what it could give them.

Which of those fuckers would cling to his beauty like an infected scab?

Just the thought of one of those dirty, diseased bikers touching her perfection made him want to tear the city apart and burn the entire club to the ground. But he couldn’t. Not yet. His plan wasn’t fully in place yet.

He just had to wait a little longer…and she had to do what she wassupposedto do.

Unfortunately, she was being bad, refusing to remain in Olsen, Ohio, where he could keep watch over her. Where she was safe from the attentions of other men. Where she stayed hidden from everyone…except him.

Now, she was in Las Vegas, planning to bring Aoibheal out of the shadows and into the glaring light where every asshole on the planet would see. His Treasure most precious. She thought she could fool the world, that no one would see beneath the surface to the truth. But he could see. He knew. And he would use it to his advantage.

The taste of imminent victory made his mouth water.

Gritting his teeth, he gripped his cock hard, squeezing the tip between his thumb and forefinger until pain pulsed through it. He shuddered, his big body flexing.

Beside him, on the table near the door, was the gift he’d spent the last two days sourcing for his Aoibheal. It had taken longer than he’d anticipated to wrangle and prepare it, but now that the gift was packaged, he could rest until tomorrow. Tomorrow, he’d take the steps to make sure she received his gift.

He smirked at his reflection, imagining the look on her face when she opened the box.

Shock and awe? Would she tremble in terror, or would she scream in fear? Perhaps both. No matter what her reaction, he knew she would be one step closer to being his. Because the gift was just a taste of what he could offer her.

Laughing, the sound discordant in the silence of his fleabag motel room, he pinned his gaze back on his reflection and grinned. Yes, he was perfectly formed, a man his fairy queen would look at with desire. His skin was sweaty and sticky from exertion. Dismembering bodies was hard, messy work. But it was work that needed to be done.

With one last glance at himself in the mirror, he turned back to the blood-soaked bed, sparing not a single thought to the naked man, his arms and legs chained to the metal bedframe. The blood from his many knife wounds coagulated along the tears in his flesh. Thankfully, the motel was a pay-by-the-hour wreck, so he cared little about the man’s screams as he’d been sliced.

He wouldn’t scream anymore, though.

His head was gone.

The chirp of his cellphone pulled him from his gruesome, glorious thoughts.

Taking a few moments to wipe the sticky blood and pre-cum from his hands, he dug his cell from his pressed trouser pockets. Checking the screen, he knew he needed to make a call.

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