Page 39 of Savage Guardian

“It was just me and Teddy.”

“What do you know about him?” Another one to add to the list of people he should have run a check on before letting Fae—or Carrie—anywhere near him. Fuck, his failure to remain objective was coming back to bite him in the ass.

“I don’t know much of anything about him, actually. Jimmy hired him before we got here.”

“Hired him? Doesn’t he work for Junkbox?”

She shook her head. “No. Junkbox is basically a rental space. People can rent the studio, but they have to supply their own engineer and producers. Teddy was here when we got here, and he seems competent enough.”

He’d never heard of that set up before. Then again, he knew nothing about the music industry.

“He’s actually the one that found the box,” Fae admitted. “It was on the doorstep when he opened this morning. It isn’t the first package that was left by fans who learned from gossip that their favorite musician was recording there.”

“So Teddy thought nothing about it. He just brought it inside.”

“Yeah. He put it on the box of other fan letters and packages my dad forwarded from Olsen. Aoibheal has a P.O. Box there.”

“You usually open Carrie’s fan mail?” he asked, curious. “I imagine she gets some threats.”

He could feel her trembling again, no doubt picturing the head in the box. “There have been some. Mostly pissed off listeners, or people like J.P. Dalton—the guy whose head….”

Was in the box, he finished mentally.

“Anyway, today was the first day where…Aoibheal got something that was actually…threatening. I mean, why did this guy cut off Dalton’s head and send it to Aoibheal? Was it a message? Was he trying to get in her good graces by eliminating someone he thought posed a threat?”

All good questions.

“Wasthis Dalton guy a threat?” He’d have AFK do a deep dive on him, see what he could dig up. All info was good info as far as Hawk was concerned.

“He was all bark and no bite. Sure, he said some nasty things that cost some sales, but nothing that Aoibheal couldn’t shake off over time. There’s always some asshole hating on something they don’t like. If it isn’t politics or religion, it’s art.”

“Ain’t that the goddamn truth,” he grumbled.

Silence filled the room…as did a tension he was familiar with. The want. The desire for the woman snuggled up next to him.

She was vulnerable, tired, having gone through the worst day of her life. But the bastard that he was, it didn’t stop him from holding her hard against him. From inhaling her scent into his lungs. From imagining what it would be like to lay her back on his bed and rip the clothes from her lush body. He could make her forget all the shit she’d endured that night. He could flood her body with pleasure and her mind with only thoughts of him.

Struggling between the bone-deep yearning to fuck her senseless and his hard-earned duty to keep her safe and untouched, he held himself still, willing his raging desire to wane.

“Hawk?”

Snap!

Fae’s soft voice banished the sliver of control he was holding on to with the very tips of his fingers. Curling his finger under her chin, he lifted her face to look at him, his gaze catching and holding hers.

She gasped, her whiskey eyes widening, her mouth forming an O of surprise. Her breath shuddered out, the pulse at her neck visible in its rapidity.

He knew she could see the hunger in his eyes, could feel his body hardening next to hers, could sense the awakening of the beast, ravenous for her.

Her face flushed, her eyes becoming hooded, their whiskey color darkening to aged honey.

“Hawk?” she whimpered, her need for him like an ache with a voice.

“Fuck me,” he growled, before slamming his mouth down on to hers and feasting.

What is happening?Was her first thought when Hawk’s mouth took hers. Her second thought was:holy shit, this is happening.

Hawk fisted her hair, angling her head to deepen their kiss, his ravishment. This tongue invaded her mouth, sliding over hers, holding hers in place for his sensory buffet. He had complete and utter possession of her. The hand in her hair tightened its grip, holding her there as the other one gripped her waist, his large hand spanning between her belly and her back. She could feel the heat of his touch through her old t-shirt.

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