Page 66 of Siren's Salvation

My eyes drift across the clubhouse, seeking a distraction from the churning in my gut, when I spot her.

Siren.

She walks in like she owns the place, all confidence and curves, and my breath catches in my throat.

But my momentary elation crashes as I notice Dex trailing behind her, his eyes fixed on her ass like it's the last piece of candy on earth.

A hot flash of jealousy surges through me, catching me off guard.

What the fuck?

I shouldn't care who looks at her or how.

We had our fun yesterday, but that doesn't make her mine.

She’s right.

She doesn’t belong to me, even if I damn well want her to.

I clench my fist under the table, willing the possessive feelings away.

Siren catches my eye and throws me a wink, her lips curving into that mischievous smile that drives me wild.

Things are so hot and cold with her, I never know what to expect.

I force myself to nod casually, like her presence doesn't set my blood on fire.

"Damn, would you look at that fine piece," Dex whistles low, sidling up to our table. "Siren's looking extra tasty tonight, ain't she, Shiver?"

I grunt noncommittally, fighting the urge to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, I take a long pull from my beer, letting the bitter liquid cool my rising temper.

Dex prods, his eyes still glued to Siren as she makes her way to the bar. "What's the matter, brother? Cat got your tongue?"

I set my bottle down harder than necessary. "Just enjoying the view, same as you," I manage, my voice surprisingly even.

Dex chuckles, clapping me on the shoulder. "Well, don't get too attached. Heard you're heading back to Vegas soon. Might have to console her myself once you're gone."

The thought of Dex's hands on Siren makes my stomach turn, but I force out a laugh. "Yeah, good luck with that. She'd eat you alive."

As Dex saunters off toward the bar, I can't help but let my mind wander.

Once I'm gone, there's nothing stopping Siren from hooking up with Dex or any other member.

Hell, she's free to do whatever she wants now.

We're not exclusive, not even close.

I watch as she leans against the bar, laughing at something her sister says.

She's magnetic, drawing everyone's attention without even trying.

And in this moment, I realize how fucking screwed I am.

Because as much as I tell myself I don't care, the thought of leaving her behind is tearing me apart.

I drain my beer, the bitterness matching my mood.

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