Page 4 of Savage Obsession
“Venom, dude! About damn time you came and joined the living. Catch!”
Jagger tosses me a cold beer. I catch it and pass it off to a girl who has her legs spread wide over Jax’s bobbing head.
She looks like she will need to replenish her fluids after the evening she’s having. Her hand curves around my wrist when I try to move away. “Wanna join the fun, baby?”
“No thanks,” I mutter, angling past a mess of bodies and half-hearted protests from girls who don’t even remember my real name. I’m the club medic. That makes me the responsible one, the watcher, the cleaner, and the one who’s always sober enough to stitch up the broken. It doesn’t mean I want to be part of their chaos.
At the sound of my voice, Jax pops up with his arms thrown wide, crowing about the goddamn snowstorm like he’s never seen a flake of ice before.
“Venom, c’mon, man, you gotta let loose!” Jax calls, voice slurred, his grin wolfish.
“It’s not like it snows like this every year.”
That’s Jagger from nearby. He pulls the curtains open to the window at his side and yeah, he’s right. It’s a rager out there. But parties are not my thing. I would rather have a book, a big fire and whatever is in the fridge. Coffee is nice, too.
I shift directions and head for the nearest exit which gets me a sour look from my buddy.
I throw up a single finger salute to anyone looking and get a wide smile from my best friend and fellow brother, Storm. He’s got his arm around his newfound love. They look happy together and have no need of me.
Reaper is in the far corner of the living room talking about getting a massive Christmas tree while Arabelle is making the argument it’s three weeks until Thanksgiving.
I laugh to myself. She has no idea her new love has a deep affection for Christmas lights and this year there’s no way that man will not go all out and deck this place out for his new soon-to-be bride.
Come this time next week I bet the tree will be up at the very least despite the ugly crap we are dealing with when it comes to Savage business. The Savage compound is a sanctuary for everyone under its roof and our president works to keep it that way for everyone. We all do. There are four levels. Basement, this floor and two above. This level is for anyone. The basement is for the patched members of the Savage Reign crew. My brothers. The top level is off-limits and belongs to Reaper and his woman. No excuses. Anyone is welcome anywhere else. As for me, I prefer the silence of my little cabin on the back part of the property.
Looking around, yeah I get it. This is what family is supposed to feel like, I guess. For them. For me, it’s just…empty. Sometimes I think it’s because I gave everything I had to a country that forgot about me the minute I came home. Sometimes I think it’s because I buried the best parts of myself alongside the woman I couldn’t save. A snowstorm just like this one, the roads closed, comms down, and me halfway across the fucking world with a Red Cross patch and blood on my hands. I saved everyone but her. That’s the story that keeps me awake at night.
I need out. Out of the noise, out of the heat, out of the reminder that everyone else gets a happy ending but me.
Charli’s waving a wineglass, trying to talk Ash into building her more shelves for the romance section. Ash looks half-tempted, half-trapped, and for once, I’m not the only one looking for an exit.
To the far left of him, Rogue’s got a girl on her knees and that feral glint in his eyes that says he won’t be surfacing for air until morning. “Get your dick in your pants man or find a closet or something.” I smack Rogue, another patched member on the back of the head when he drops his zipper and throws me a huge smirk as the girl in front of him starts giving head.
Not what I want to see.
Beer and hard liquor flow and all the club candy is here with bonus friends. Nearly everyone is in various stages of undress and the pool table on the far side of the living room is being used as a bed.
“Roman, get the fuck off the pool table, man. Take her to a real bed!”
That’s Ash yelling at our newest brother. Well, he’s been a patched member for as long as I have but he had shit to deal with back home that took him away for nearly three years. Sad shit. Stuff I rather not think about, really.
Roman moves his long black hair out of his face and throws Ash a wink that says he dares him to come over and try to stop the fun he’s about to have with a busty red head.
A young college-aged woman in nothing but fishnets and a mesh tank, cheeks flushed with drink, drapes herself over my arm, fingers trailing the ink up my wrist. “Wanna keep me warm tonight, Savage?” she whispers, pouty and persuasive as she presses herself closer.
I gently untangle her grip. “Not tonight, sweetheart.” My voice is rough, not unkind, but firm. She’s cute, but she’s not the problem. I am.
She pouts—big, sad eyes. “Why not? I thought you Savage men liked a little snow bunny on a night like this.”
I nod stiffly. “You’re right. Some do,” I say, glancing at Trigger, who’s been eyeing the action all night, itching to prove himself worthy of the Savage patch. “Trigger, this one looks like she could use a dance partner.”
His eyes light up. He leaps at the opportunity, scooping her up with a grin. She giggles, already forgetting me as his hands settle on her hips.
No sooner do I hand off one woman does another find me from the other side.
“Hey, baby. You wanna let me kiss my way past that leather belt of yours? I have a few tricks I haven’t shown anyone in a while and you are just my type.”
This pretty thing didn’t even bother with a top. She does have some nice stickies with some dangling cherries on the tips over her nipples, though. Gotta give it to her for creativity.
