Page 30 of Savage Hunter

“I can’t believe it’s you. Is it really you?”

“It’s me, my angel. It’s me. Come back to me.”

The force of her slamming into me is the best fucking feeling in the world. “Oh, Wolfe. I dreamed about you every single night. Every night…” Her voice trails off and the dark agony etched in the lines between her brows daws my touch. I caress the pad of my thumb over the fine lines.

“Feel me and let me feel you, my sweet angel.”

She leans back in my arms and looks up at me. Her gaze spears into mine, her pupils dilate, a hard breath racks her chest.

“I’ve been so cold for so long. So alone.” Her tears drive a blade through my heart.

“Every night I dreamed of you. Shh, Angel. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” Sleep was an illusion. The second I closed my eyes, all I could see were the horrors she had to be suffering at the hands of Society 69. When I finally slept, her angel eyes followed me through my tormented dreams.

I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her neck. Vanilla and brown sugar. Warmth. So much warmth and softness. The ice in my veins breaks apart. I draw in her scent. Her heat calms the raging monster inside me enough to sate my thirst for blood. I’ve spilled so much of it the last few months there’s no way I’m not going to hell for my crimes. But holding her is worth the pain I’ll suffer later.

I pull back and wipe at the tears running down her cheeks. “Don’t cry, Angel,” I say gruffly knowing damn well I’m not doing much better in the tears department. Her hands drive beneath the leather cut and she clenches her fingers in my shirt.

She leans in, kisses my cheeks and wipes at my tears. I’ve never cried over anyone in my life. But Harmonia…she’s the single person in this world who has the strength to bring me to my knees. Literally.

I stand and bring her with me as I hear heavy footfalls coming up behind me. I look down at her and realize she’s in nothing but a towel and a skimpy one at that.

Damn, it barely covers both ends. I reach for a robe hanging on the back of the door and quickly wrap it around her just in time to see Ares come to the door. It’s not much better than the towel but at least it’s something.

The other man’s face hardens the second he stops outside her door. “Moy brat, mind telling me what is going on?”

His tone grates on my nerves, but respect has me holding back from telling him to fuck off.

Who I think is Nova, unless there is more than one heavily pregnant woman here, comes up beside the president and rests her head on his arm. “What’s going on? Avery, is everything okay?”

Avery.

I look down at Harmonia and there’s a plea in her gaze that I do not ask questions. Okay, I can do that. For now. But later, when I get her alone, I have a ton and we are not going anywhere until she answers them. And I refill my bone dry well with her—her scent, her taste, her warmth. Death’s hands have been a constant fixture in my life without her in it and I’ve grown tired of the frosty touch. The feel of her skin under my hands is all I need to feel alive.

“He’s an old friend,” Harmonia offers for me and I back it up with a nod. I’m more than a friend, but we can leave it at that for now.

Ares’ perpetual scowl irritates me but it’s the way he questions my hands on her with a cutting look that makes me want to throw fists.

“Friend?”

Nothing about the other man’s expression looks friendly. “Yes.”

One word question gets a one-word answer.

I don’t see the need to explain my relationship with Harmonia. There are four people in this world who know why I am with the Savages and none of my reasons are because I wanted to belong to a biker crew.

They’ve been hunting the Society through Ares worthless, murderous brothers.

And all the tails I’ve followed have led to dead ends. Lorelei Primrose is cunning and good at staying hidden. The Savages are my way in, eventually.

Maybe it’s time I share some hard truths.

Harmonia’s tight grip on my shirt is another silent signal to keep my lips sealed. She’s not told her new friends who she is and she evidently never shared details about me. Interesting. I file that away for later.

“If you will excuse us,” I go to close the door not caring who I offend but Ares’ eyes reflect accusations as though I’m full of shit. “Friend. As in someone she’s serviced for the Society—”

I flinch. What the holy fuck did I just hear? His acquisition comes like an unexpected right hook to the jaw. “Finish that sentence, Ares. I don’t care who you are or what oath I’ve taken, brother. You’ll eat every word.”

Serviced? Acid churns in my stomach. That is the last word I want to hear attached to someone as soft and kind as Harmonia. Feeling as though I’ve swallowed a gallon of gasoline, I look down at her sweet face to see her eyes are pinned to the space on the floor at her feet.

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