Page 41 of Savage Fire

Standing from the uncomfortable chair he’d been sitting in for several hours, Fang stretched his screaming muscles and stifled a groan. It didn’t matter how uncomfortable it had been, he’d wanted to be there for her, like he’d been all those nights after her attack. When she would wake up screaming. Thankfully, she’d rested fitfully but deeply the night before. Her beautiful face relaxed in sleep.Dios, what he wouldn’t give to take off his clothes, lay next to her, and pull her languid, warm body into his embrace. Where she belonged. As it was, his arms were aching to hold her, to remember when her form felt like pressed against his. The juxtaposition of softness over the flex of muscles gained through hard work and discipline. She hadn’t had a full-on work out for almost eleven months, but he knew she still hit Savage Fist a few times a week. He knew because he made sure to be there. He never made himself known, knowing she needed that time to herself, to get out of her head, to work off the emotions and tensions of the day. The past week, he’d been hiding, knowing that if she saw him, she’d likely remove his head from his body with a spinning back kick.

Moving toward the sleeping siren, one foot at a time, he stopped just beside the bed, his hands curling in, the desire to reach out and touch her like a living thing he couldn’t tame.

Dammit! Too much. The need was too much.

Leaning in, he lifted his hand and slowly, gently, like feathers over her flesh, he traced a finger down her exposed cheek to her chin. He traced the edge of her ear, smiling when she shuddered at the sensation. He brushed his fingertips over her mouth, tracing the line of her plump, perfect lips. Lips that needed no fillers or makeup to look kissable as fuck. Lips he’d touched with his own, tasted, ravished.

He smiled down at her, his heart warming at the sight of her, so soft, so warm, so vulnerable, yet so strong.

In some ways, she reminded him of his mother. Ana Lopez. She’d been kidnapped and sold into sexual slavery before she even hit puberty. She’d gotten pregnant with Javier when she was barely seventeen, and she hadn’t just tossed him aside like many women in the same predicament. She kept him, kept him safe, and did her best to educate him. With barely a sixth-grade education, his mother had taught him reading, writing, and math. And the other women in the brothel had taught him everything else. Everything. Things Jose Calderone had used to turn him into achulo di putas, a man who used and sold women to the highest bidder. And he’d been good at it. Too good. He’d amassed a fortune for the Cartel, millions of which had been his. He’d been one of the richest men in Colombia, living large off the backs of women like his mother. And he’d enjoyed it. Thrived on it.

Until his mother died. Murdered by a man who didn’t like that she’d said no. He’d been devastated, wrecked. He’d collected his mother’s broken, bloody body, and that same night, he determined to burn it all down.

She loved him with everything she was, but his mother had hated what he’d become, so much so that she’d written him off, choosing to continue on living in the degradation of the bordello than to accept anything from him. Selling her body was all she knew, and to her, it was an honest living. She didn’t steal, she didn’t kill, she was willing…unlike so many of the women Javier had stolen and sold. And he knew that Tessa would be no different. He knew she cared about him; she’d admitted it with her words and her body. But…if she found out the kind of man he was before he came to the Savage Raiders, her anger about his Hive would be like a drop of water in the vast sea. She would hate him forever. And he couldn’t stomach that. Because Tessa was different. She was more than just a piece to fuck and forget. She was more than just a line in a contract and a warm body to add to his collection. He knew that now—had always known that. But his arrogance, his refusal to acknowledge what she truly meant to him had led him to do the shittiest of shitty things. He cheapened something priceless.

Tessa could gut him, utterly ruin him. And all he wanted to do right then was lean in and kiss her. Give her something he’d never given another woman. Kissing was intimate, a sharing of air, like passing a piece of your soul to another person. He’d never trusted another woman enough to want to share more of himself than his cock and prowess in bed. None of his Hive knew his kiss, and especially none of the women from the bordello, whose mouths were often used to pleasure clients. Kissing one of them would be like kissing one of the club whores: ill-advised.

His gaze caught on Tessa’s lips, his mouth watering. He wondered what she would think, what she would say, if she knew that she was his first kiss. The night of their date, he’d seen her dressed for him, offering herself to him outside the clubhouse, and he couldn’tnotkiss her. Couldn’t not taste her, inhale her breath into his own body, and exhale his soul into hers.

The cell in his pocket vibrated. Again. Five times in the last hour. He didn’t look. He didn’t need to; he knew who it was. Lacy was sending him spank bank pics of herself naked in her bed. She took delight in capturing shots of her inflated tits, her flat stomach, and her bare pussy—all things he’d once thoroughly enjoyed. If he really wanted to, he could leave Tessa, go home, and be deep inside that bare pussy in less than thirty minutes. But the thought of taking what Lacy was offering made his guts twist, his skin feel tight, and his mouth turn sour.

It wasn’t Lacy he wanted—n0 matter how many naked pics she sent. The temptation wasn’t there. The need wasn’t there. Not for Lacy.

Squatting beside the bed, his face now level with Tessa’s, he leaned in and pressed a soft, agonizing kiss to her forehead.

He felt his heart thud when she sighed, turning her face into his kiss. Awake, Tessa would have snapped and hissed. Asleep, she yearned for his touch.

As she began to make murmurings of wakefulness, Fang rose to his feet, still not taking his gaze from her. He’d leave her now, but he’d be back.

He refused to believe it was over between them. I couldn’t be.

He needed her like his next breath.

Fang quietly left the room, heading toward the common room, holding his breath until he saw her later…and could breathe again.

“Oh my God,” squealed an ugly voice that belonged to the equally ugly Amelia. Lord, when would that woman’s cunt fall out so she couldn’t come around the clubhouse anymore? “If isn’t the doughy doc and her patient, the butch bitch?” Amelia sneered.

Then again, even if Amelia’s snatch was DoA, her mouth would still work. Mentally rolling her eyes, Tessa watched as Amelia, teetering on six-inch heels, sashayed her ass over to the booth through the pot smoke and scents of beer, to where she and Liz were sitting.

Liz had come to the clubhouse after an already full day of running around doing her concierge doctor thing so that she could give Tessa a checkup. She’d checked the knot on the back of Tessa’s head, she’d checked Tessa’s ribs, and now they were imbibing on chili fries—care of Preston who’d whipped them up in the club’s kitchen—and two Jack and Cokes, also thanks to Preston. The man was well on his way to being a fully patched brother—he’d already earned it twenty times over for handling all of Skathi’s random preggo food cravings, all hours of the day and night. Preston had actually stocked up on chicken nuggets, cookie dough ice cream, and Vidalia onions.

Liz caught Tessa’s gaze across the table, shaking her head. Liz was a professional, not letting the constant barbs from the whores and the dark glances from Trouble keep her from doing her duty as a healer.

“It’s okay, Tessa. I was on my way out anyway,” Liz said, offering a sweet smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She reached down beside her to grab her black medical bag, preparing to go—and she hadn’t even gotten the change to finish her fries and drink!

Well, that was bullshit! If she was going to be stuck inside the clubhouse for however long, she needed to be able to connect with someone other than the whores and the brothers—especially since all of them were already strumming her last nerve. Tessa needed Liz’s pragmatic yet snarky personality to add some fun to her day, so letting a bitch like Amelia run her off—hell to the fucking no!

Turning back to Amelia, Tessa did what Liz was too professional to do. “Lay off, cum pocket,” Tessa sneered. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you…neither does that horror show of caked on makeup you have on your face. Why don’t you whore stride your way out of here and blow your own dick somewhere you can’t bother anyone.”

“Fuck you, you fat bitch!”

Tessa snorted, rolling her eyes. “Original.” Tired all of a sudden, Tessa slipped out of the booth and stood, still taking care not to jostle the ribs. Liz reached out in an instinctive helping gesture, throwing Tessa a concerned glance.

Tessa threw a “I’m good” look, and stood to her full height, still a couple of inches taller than Amelia, even in her stabby heels.

Movement near the bar reminded Tessa that the room was full of brothers looking to unwind after a full day of whatever it was they did for the club. Drinking, shootin’ the shit, and taking the edge off with whores. Trouble was glaring in their direction, which was his usual whenever Liz was in the building. Tessa never asked what was up with that, but she could tell from the tension between them, and the looks they would steal when the other wasn’t looking that something had happened between them years ago.

Amelia hissed up at Tessa, her face turning an ugly red. Then…something even uglier flashed through her eyes.

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