Page 35 of Ravaged Saints

“Bryn,” I call, and her head snaps up, surprise flickering across her face. “Get a lemon for the meat,” I say, nodding toward the tree outside. She wipes her hands on a towel and hurries out the door. I chuckle at how quick she is to follow orders.

Leaning against the counter, I cross my arms. “Aspen was flustered when Ryker and I walked into her room.”

Dante tilts his head, his knife pausing mid-cut. “She did the same when she told me about her infected wound.”

Interesting.

“She also nearly drooled over Ryker when he opened the window for her,” I add, my tone dropping low, my gaze narrowing as I watch her reaction.

Dante smirks, sliding the sliced meat onto a plate. “Did she now?”

“She tried to hide it, but when she caught me looking at her breast, I swear her pupils dilated.”

Dante chuckles, his smirk widening. “So, our fiery doll is softening up, huh? Let’s test that theory.”

He picks up the tray of food and water and gestures for me to follow.

We reach her door, and Dante knocks lightly before stepping in. The sound of hurried movement greets us, and when we walk in, Aspen is sitting on the bed, her cheeks flushed like before.

“Dinner, doll,” Dante says, setting the tray on the dresser.

Her chest rises and falls quickly as her eyes dart between us, and I catch the subtle tension in her throat as she swallows.

“I need to check that cut,” Dante says, kneeling next to the bed. She stiffens slightly but nods. She moves closer, and he lifts her shirt just enough to inspect her side, his fingers brushing deliberately against her bare skin.

Her breath hitches, and that’s when I notice the tattoo on her hip—unexpected. A butterfly, black with shades of red, but not a normal one; in one of the wings, there is a skull.

Not the type of tattoo I was expecting to see on Aspen.

“See, Max? Almost healed,” Dante says smoothly, but his eyes glint with something darker.

I step closer, moving to her left, boxing her in between Dante and the bed. Her eyes flick to me, wide and uncertain.

“That’s good,” I murmur, her eyes following my every move.

I reach for another small cut along her arm, my fingers grazing her skin as I lean in close, my lips near her ear. “And this one, sweetheart?” I whisper. “Does it hurt?” I press my thumb gently against the cut.

Her breathing quickens, a rosy blush creeping up her neck. “No…” she whispers, barely audible, and her eyes lift to mine, wide and dark, and I see the way they flick to my lips.

“Do you want to kiss him, doll?” Dante’s tone is calm, almost soothing, but there’s an edge to it that I know too damn well. The fucker is playing with fire.

She doesn’t answer with words, but her gaze stays locked on my mouth, her lips parting slightly as if in invitation, and I don’t hesitate.

I lean in, brushing my lips softly against hers, and she exhales sharply, her breath warm against my mouth. Dante’s hand comes up to her hair, his fingers threading through it as he tilts her head, guiding her closer to me.

Her lips press against mine, and I part them slightly, my tongue flicking out to taste her. She shivers under my touch, her body trembling as Dante pushes her head further into me.

“Open your lips, Aspen,” Dante commands, his tone rough.

She obeys, and I press my tongue into her mouth, teasing her, tasting her. Her lips are soft, her tongue hesitant but responsive, and my eyes stay on her face, watching the way her lashes flutter closed, the way her breath catches in her throat.

Her hand moves tentatively to my chest, resting there lightly, and when a quiet moan escapes her lips, I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers.

“That’s it, doll,” Dante murmurs from beside her, dripping with approval. “Let Max show you how good he can make you feel.”

Her body leans into mine, her defenses slipping away. Dante’s fingers caress her hair. His touch is gentle but possessive, as he stays kneeling beside her. Aspen stands between his legs, her face turned toward me, surrendering to the moment, caught between us.

I break the kiss, her eyes still shut like she’s savoring every second. “Fuck, Aspen,” I murmur, low and thick. Her lashes lift, heavy with desire, and I feel the heat radiating off her skin like a flame daring me to get burned. I take one step back. My cock is hard, and seeing her like this takes all of my control not to snap and throw her into the mattress.

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