Page 66 of Savage Guardian

He’d missed her. Yeah, they’d had an unspoken agreement that their second night together was their last, at least until all the shit with Banshee had been dealt with, but that hadn’t meant he didn’t think about her every second of every day, wishing he could be with her, talking with her, touching her. He couldn’t get the sounds of her orgasming out of his mind, couldn’t get the scent of her arousal from his nostrils, nor the taste of her cum from his tongue. She owned him.

At least until he’d walked in on her, finally showing her true colors.

To say that he was shocked at Fae’s reaction to the news of the new tour was an understatement. So what if Carrie and Jimmy wanted to replace her on the tour—it only meant that Fae could do something she really wanted to do other than working herself to the bone? It meant that, if she wanted, she could stay in Vegas. With him. So why had she acted as if Carrie had pissed in her Cheerios?

He asked, but he knew the answer; Carrie had warned him, after all. Despite the façade of sweet, innocent, shy plain Jane Fae had worn with such skill, she was still the jealous, scheming bitch Carrie had said she was. And it had all come out, right there in the middle of the clubhouse.

And with that knowledge came the realization that the imposter, thief, and liar Banshee had written about in his letter had been Fae all along.

The truth hurt like a bitch, but he was over it. He had to be. He had a job to do, no matter how much he wanted to hunt Fae down and spit in her face—for making him believe her lies, for her betrayal. Betrayal that hurt so much more than any pain Shannon and Liam could inflict.

The power window whirred behind him as Carrie lowered it to call out, “Look in the powder room off the studio. I think I left it in there.”

He snorted, turning to stare at the building housing Junkbox. The last time he’d been there was because Benson had called, and he’d rushed to get to Fae…like a fucking jackass. Now, reduced to a fucking retriever, running off like a good boy to get his mistress’s cellphone, he wondered why she’d even been at the studio the night before, since she hadn’t stepped foot inside the building for actual work since he’d met her. Rolling his eyes at his pitiful thoughts, he pulled open the glass doors of the small studio and made to head toward the bathroom where Carrie thought she had left her phone.

Be he didn’t move.

He couldn’t.

Because a voice more familiar to him than his own heartbeat was filling the air.

Where was it coming from?

He blinked and looked up at the speaker mounted near the ceiling facing the foyer. Teddy must be working on one of Carrie’s new tracks, probably tweaking it since she’d already done all the voice work. At least that’s what he assumed, since she hadn’t been spending any time in the studio at all over the last couple of weeks. In the evenings, as Madden and Jenkins reported, she spent most of her time in the casinos, or watching shows, or tossing her money at the men of Down ‘n’ Dirty or the women at Dangerous Curves. Apparently, Carrie was an equal opportunity lech.

But…when she sang, all that fell away, and the purity and majesty of the real Aoibheal shined.

“A humble heart

So full of fear,

Fell oh so deep

An’ gave love so pure

The eye of God

Shined down to see

That humble heart,

Was true to thee

But dark came nigh

To pierce the eye

To prove love false

And send it by

The humbled heart

So full of shame

Ne’er should have tried

Ne’er should have given

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