Page 8 of Savage Fire

Soon enough, Tessa Grimes would be in his house, in his bed. At his beck and call.

A flood of fire roared through him, drowning him in filthy hunger so ravenous his muscles ached with it.

Tessa was quickly becoming an obsession, one that haunted him, teased him, twisting through his mind and soul. All it took was one. Single. Look. A year ago. And he was fucking hooked. How much more darkly beautiful would that obsession be once he finally had her beneath him, writhing in pleasure and crying out his name as she succumbed to his power?

He shuddered, prickles of delicious sensation thrilling beneath his skin.

Tessa…mi fuega….My Fire.

She’d better get fucking ready, because the wolf was determined to sink his fangs into her sweet, juicy flesh.

And fuck if he’d let her say no.

As if conjured by mist and sex, one of his Bees entered the room, smiling at him like she was hungry for Papi dick. Turning his face to offer his cheek to red-stained lips, Fang fought back the irritation that had been building all morning after another night of ignored texts from Tessa Grimes. The woman had been giving him fucking fits all week; ignoring his texts, acting like he didn’t exist even when they were in the same room, glaring at him with cold indifference no matter what he said or did to rile her up.

And it fucked with his cool, the wall of stone he’d built around himself to keep the demons inside. With each day, it was getting more and more difficult to play the game with her, when all he wanted to do was grab her by the throat, rip off her clothes, and claim the fuck out of her. He was becoming a goddamn pussy-crazedpendejo, and all because of one stubborn woman he couldn’t get out of his fucking head.

In his pocket, his cell vibrated, notifying him of a text. Knowing Grimm was working on something for him, he pulled the cell out to read the text. It was from one of the prospects.

JACK: YOUR WOMAN IS HERE GETTING BLITZED.

A slow, diabolical smile spread over his face. Tessa was at the club house, and if Jack was telling the truth, hismamitawas getting drunk. And it wasn’t even dinner time yet. He chuckled to himself. Drunk Tessa was all sorts of fun.

This just might be the opportunity he was looking for. He ignored the pang of guilt at the thought of using her inebriation to push her into finally saying “yes’. He was too damndesperatefor her to allow something as trivial as guilt to stop him. Guilt was light leaving the soul, and his soul was pitch black now.

Fang paused, remembering that today was Tessa’s last day of physical therapy, which meant she had gathered with her lady friends at the clubhouse to celebrate. It was safe there, so she could party without the fear…fear she was good at hiding from everyone but him. Almost eleven months later, and his beautiful Tessa was still fighting the ghosts of what happened to her. She was jumpier, spent more time at home or at the club, and she refused to work the night shift, saying she preferred the monotony of the day rather than admitting she was actually scared of the dark. Or rather, what lingered in the dark waiting to hurt her again.

No matter what he said or did, Tessa lived with a necklace of anxiety and paranoia around her pretty neck.

If only she’d let me rip that off and replace it with a choker made of diamonds. A choker of his possession. And protection. But she was stubborn as hell.

Point in fact—Why hadn’t she texted him today? He had been with her since the beginning. He’d been the one to carry her from that warehouse of horrors, stay with her in the hospital, day after day. He’d been the one to practically move into her house, living on her couch, to make sure she wanted for nothing as she recovered. He’d been the one to drive her to and from her doctor’s and PT appointments until she could drive herself. He had been her partner, her friend, her late-night confidant when the nightmares became too much. And now, that she’d completed her physical therapy, bringing that chapter of her life to a close, she hadn’t even bothered to texthimabout it.

What the fuck?

“Will you be home tonight, baby?” Lacy asked, hurrying toward him, and pushing her medically enhanced breasts into his chest. They were firm, large breasts, and they’d cost a fucking mint. But they’d been fun to play with on those nights she’d been summoned to his bed. He threw his arms around her and pulled her into his body. Tall, long-legged, blonde, with a banging body that made her thousands of dollars a night as a headliner at the Dangerous Curves, Lacy was his newest little Bee.

“No, so don’t wait on dinner for me,” he answered, dropping his arms, and moving away from the cloying scent of whatever French perfume she’d bathed in that morning. If he had his way, he wouldn’t be home for dinner because he’d be too busy eating Tessa, dragging the word “yes” from her mouth.

“But you’ve been out most evenings lately, when will I get some time with you?” Lacy pouted, her filler-filled lips puffy. Fang could appreciate Lacy’s beauty because she was gorgeous and knew how to work her body like a fucking professional. It was one of the reasons he’d added her to his Hive. “It’s been months since you’ve made me come, Papi, and I miss your cock.”

Grunting non-committedly, Fang turned to see another of this Bees enter the kitchen. State-of-the-art, a chef’s dream, the kitchen was large and shiny—chrome and black marble as far as the eye could see. His ladies loved to cook for their man, and he loved to eat. Lately, however, his appetite had dwindled to practically nothing.

And not just for food, either.

“He not coming home for dinner again?” asked Stella, the only one of his Bees that chose to remain at home without the stresses of a job. He didn’t mind—whatever his Bees needed, he provided. Four of his five Bees chose to work because they loved what they did, and he didn’t mind them working as long as they were available for him when he wanted them. And they always made sure to jump when he said jump, and spread their legs when he crooked his finger. They did whatever he wanted them to do, whenever he wanted them to do it.

It was a lifestyle that had been working for five years.

Hadbeen.

Now, though…. Fuck! He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with him, only that the freedom and power he once felt having such stringent control over most everything in his personal life now felt…constrained and in flux.

Lacy dragged a hand down his chest and to his belly, pawing at him like a purring kitten. “No,” she answered Stella. “Papi is going to be out tonight as well.” The pouting continued.

Stella sighed, throwing her long red hair over her shoulder in a practiced move. Eyes the color of melted chocolate, a short curvy body meant for sin, Stella was his first Hive Bee. She’d been living in his home with him for five years, had pleasured him many a night in the years since they’d met, and of all of his Bees she was the one he felt the most comfortable with. When they weren’t in the bedroom fucking until they broke the headboard, they were chatting comfortably in the den, watching trash TV together and laughing at theidiotasputting their jacked up personal lives out there for the world to see. Stella was a few years older than him, had been married and divorced before they’d met, and was as jaded about love and commitment as Fang was. It was the perfect relationship. Fucking for fucking’s sake, with a little companionship thrown in. No strings. No deep emotions. Just the way they both liked it. It was comfortable. Easy.

It was like that with all of his Bees.

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