Page 26 of Siren's Salvation

And I just shattered it into a million pieces.

My mind races, replaying every moment with Shiver.

His cocky grin, those high cheekbones, the way his tattoos seemed to dance across his skin as he moved above me.

I groan, frustrated with myself.

"What were you thinking, Siren?" I mutter, sitting up and hugging my knees to my chest. "You know better than this."

I can almost hear Stiletto's voice in my head, teasing me about the 'slim pickings' in this life.

But that's exactly why I made my rule in the first place.

Getting involved with someone in the club is a recipe for disaster.

It complicates everything.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it, half-hoping and half-dreading that it might be Shiver.

But, it's just my sister.

Hope you're getting your fill.

CHAPTER FOUR

Shiver

I crack open my eyes, blinking away the last remnants of sleep as sunlight filters through the curtains.

For a moment, I'm disoriented, not recognizing the rustic wooden beams overhead or the faint scent of pine in the air.

Then it hits me—I'm in Montana, crashing at Kade's old place that the Billings charter now uses for guests.

Stretching languidly, I sink deeper into the ridiculously comfortable mattress.

"Damn," I mutter appreciatively, "I need to get me one of these bad boys for Vegas."

My own bed back home suddenly seems inadequate in comparison.

The National Charter sure knows how to treat their guests like family.

I roll onto my side, savoring the warmth of the thick down comforter.

Part of me wants to burrow back under the covers and hibernate, especially knowing there's more snow on the way.

But duty calls, and we've got business to attend to.

Propping myself up on one elbow, I survey the room.

It's simple but well-crafted, all warm wood tones and sturdy furniture.

Whoever built this clearly knew their shit when it came to construction.

I make a mental note to ask him about the craftsmanship later—might be worth looking into similar builds for some of our properties back in Nevada.

I’m a handy son of a bitch, and I’d like to try to help when I can.

With a groan, I force myself to sit up fully, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

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