Page 54 of Siren's Salvation

Kade hops in the truck and shuts his door.

Zane speaks up, "We've lost too many people in the club because of people like her," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "There's no way in hell I'm gonna let her live. So, if she is pregnant, she’ll get to be a fuckin' incubator until I can make sure she goes six feet under."

As we start heading back to the clubhouse, I can't shake the feeling that something's off.

Siren's been quiet, too quiet.

Her eyes keep darting around, and there's a nervous energy about her that sets my teeth on edge.

What is this personal shit she and Dex have to move? Huh?

We get back to the clubhouse and everyone piles out of the truck.

Siren heads straight for one of the garages.

She opens the garage bay and grabs one of the side-by-sides, her movements quick and purposeful.

She's trying to avoid my gaze, but I'm not letting her off that easy.

As she gets behind the wheel, I slide in beside her.

The engine roars to life, and we're off, tearing through the property toward the shed.

The frigid wind whips around us, but it does nothing to cool the heat building between us.

Hell, I know they have some sort of doors for these damn things. Maybe Zane should think about investing in some.

As we ride, I can't help but think about that text message.

It's eating at me, and I need answers.

We come to a stop outside the shed, and before Siren can scoot out, I grab her wrist.

"What was that text really about? The one to Dex?" I ask, my voice low and demanding.

She tries to pull away, but I hold firm. "It doesn't matter," she says, not meeting my eyes. “It’s none of your concern.”

I tighten my grip, not enough to hurt, but enough to make my point. "It matters to me. You belong to me, Siren. Your secrets, your lies, everything. It's all mine."

She whips her head around, hazel eyes flashing with defiance. "I don't belong to anyone," she spits out.

I can't help but chuckle at her fire.

God, I love it when she gets like this. "That's where you're wrong, my little plaything," I lean in close, my lips brushing her ear. "You knoweverypart of you belongs to me."

I feel her breath hitch, see the way her pupils dilate.

She's turned on, and she hates that she is.

It's written all over her face.

"Fuck you, Shiver," she says, but there's no real venom in it.

I smirk, running my hand up her thigh. "Maybe later, if you're good."

She tries to glare at me, but I can see the desire warring with her anger.

It's a beautiful sight.

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