Page 53 of Savage Loyalty

I shifted uncomfortably under their piercing gazes, feeling like a lone deer surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves. The air in the dimly lit tavern seemed to thicken, heavy with unspoken accusations and territorial instincts. The women's eyes glimmered with a mix of curiosity and disdain, their painted lips curled into barely concealed sneers.

One of them, a statuesque blonde with eyes like shards of emerald, leaned forward, her low-cut dress revealing more than it concealed. She whispered something to her companion, a petite redhead whose freckles stood out against her pale skin. They both laughed, a tinkling sound that felt like icicles piercing my skin.

As if on cue, a striking brunette sauntered over, her hips swaying hypnotically with each step. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in luscious waves, and her deep brown eyes smoldered with an intensity that made my breath catch. She wore a form-fitting crimson dress that hugged every curve, the color a stark contrast to her olive skin.

The brunette's gaze locked onto me, her full lips curving into a predatory smile. She leaned against the bar, mere inches from where I stood, her perfume—a heady mix of jasmine and sandalwood—enveloping me. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, a stark reminder of how close she was.

"So," she purred, her voice low and sultry, "you're the one Wraith's been hiding away." Her eyes raked over me, assessing, calculating. I felt exposed under her piercing gaze, like a butterfly pinned to a board for examination. She circled me slowly, the click of her stilettos echoing in the cavernous room. Her fingers trailed along my shoulder as she moved, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

"I'm Candace," she said, coming to stand before me once more. Her ruby-red lips curled into a predatory smile. "Wraith and I go way back. He's told me so little about you... but then again, he always did like to keep his little secrets."

I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice. "I... I'm not sure what you mean."

Candace's eyes flashed with cruel delight as she circled me like a shark. "Oh honey," she purred, her voice dripping with venom, "You really think you have a chance with Wraith? That's adorable."

She paused, raking her gaze over my figure again. "But let's be real you're not even close to his type. Just look at you." Candace gestured dismissively. "You're not nearly skilled enough to please a man like him. Wraith needs a real woman who knows what she's doing."

I clenched my hands at my sides. But Candace wasn't done twisting the knife.

"You want to know a secret?" She leaned in close, her breath hot on my ear. "I sucked Wraith’s

soul out through his cock last night in this very room." She pulled back, her eyes glittering with malice as she pointed behind me. "Right over there next to that ratty old couch."

I turned, following her gesture. The couch in question sat in the open for everyone to see.

Candace's laughter low and menacing. Like she knew she had hit her target.

My stomach lurched as I stared at the worn leather couch, its faded surface suddenly taking on a sinister quality. I could almost see them there Wraith's powerful form sprawled out, head thrown back in ecstasy as Candace knelt before him, her crimson lips wrapped around him. The image burned itself into my mind, taunting me.

Candace's words echoed in my ears, each syllable a dagger to my heart. I felt foolish and naive. How could I have been so blind? Wraith had made such a show of claiming me, of marking me as his own. But it was all a lie, wasn't it? Just like my father another selfish MC member who cared for no one but himself.

The realization hit me like a freight train, crushing the last remnants of hope I'd foolishly clung to. I watched as Ryder sauntered across the room, his leather cut a reminder of who he is. The way he moved, all cocky swagger and predatory grace, used to make my heart race. Now it just made me sick.

“Back the fuck off, Candace,” Ryder grunts as he wraps his arm around my waist pulling me to him.

I step out of his grasp. “Fuck you, Ryder,” I hiss.

Ryder's eyes flash with anger, his jaw clenching as he stares at me. The dim bar lights cast shadows across his face, accentuating the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the furrow between his brows. I can see the muscle in his neck twitching, a telltale sign of his rising temper.

"What did you just say to me?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Before I can react, his hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my wrist in a vice-like grip. He yanks me towards him, our bodies colliding. The scent of his cologne, mixed with whiskey, invades my senses. His chest heaves against mine, our faces mere inches apart.

"What the fuck did you just say, Delilah?" Ryder demands, his hot breath fanning across my cheeks.

His dark eyes bore into mine, flashing with a dangerous intensity that makes my stomach flip.

This is Wraith, VP of the Crimson Reapers. And no one talks to him like I just did.

Before I can even think, he’s dragging me through the main room, and out a door to the back of the clubhouse.

The cool night air hits my face as we burst outside, a stark contrast to the stuffy, smoke-filled interior. My heart races, pounding in my ears as his grip on my wrist tightens. The rough brick of the building scrapes against my back as he shoves me up against the wall, his face inches from mine. His eyes blaze with anger, reflecting the dim glow of a nearby streetlight. The scent of whiskey on his breath mingles with the musty smell of leather from his jacket.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

I stare back at him, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. His eyes are dark with rage; and his jaw clenched tight. For a moment, I'm frozen, years of conditioning making me want to shrink back, to apologize, to do anything to defuse his anger. But something inside me snaps.

"You," I say, my voice surprisingly steady. "You're my fucking problem, Ryder.”

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