Page 14 of Savage Devotion (Savage Reign #1)

ARABELLE

H e can’t be serious. I blink up at him a couple of times, making sure I heard his alpha chest-thumping demand correctly. “The hell I am!” I keep my tone even, but firm. Yay, me! Because what I really want to do is chuck this heavy book in my hands at his head.

I hold back a snort. I’d probably have a shit-ton of bikers on my ass if I hurt their precious president.

I round the counter and start picking up one book and then another. I slam each of them down on the counter and glare at him. Who the hell does he think he is?

He’s on my ass and practically breathing down my neck. His cologne warps my senses. “Yes, you are. You can slam all the shit you want, but you are coming to the compound where I can keep you safe. No argument.”

“Brute. Fucking. Animal. No,” I hurl at him and continue keeping my hands busy so I don’t wrap them around his neck.

It’s not that I am against help. Obviously, I needed it a minute ago. What I loathe is having my options taken from me and treated like a child who can’t think for herself.

I think I surprise him because for a second the only sound I hear is the rain on the pavement outside my broken window.

“Why are you even here?” I half expected him to follow me here after I finished helping Lily out at the bar last night.

Irrational rage rolls through me like untamed fire.

I feel an uncontrollable amount of anger and frustration dig into my muscles and knot them from the inside out.

Not only because Reaper shattered my front window but because this is exactly what I didn’t want.

Bikers ruining the life I am working so hard to build for myself.

Reaper bends, gathers a few books, and hands them over going in for more.

“I’ve got that.” I jerk the Lord of the Rings from his hand and shoot daggers at him in return for the help.

My chin is in his hand and his lips are on mine the second I take the book from him.

He softens his touch and caresses the pads of his fingers across my cheeks. The move momentarily soothes my ruffled feathers.

“You can’t be riding in here and saving me every time I get in trouble, Reaper. I don’t need a knight.”

He softens his voice to a husky whisper. “No, you need me. Make no mistake, I am no one’s hero. But I am your protector.”

Before I can tell him hell no, revving bike motors cut off my smart remark. Probably for the better, too. I angle my head toward the front to see a truck pull up behind the bikes with Savage Reign crew in the back.

“What do they plan on doing?” I ask over my shoulder. The men bail from the back and surround the store, hammers, and boards in hand. Others climb off their bikes looking mean. Hearing the news of a Vulture getting through their defenses probably rubs their egos the wrong way.

Reaper passes me and joins his men.

I can’t tell what he’s saying. Club business most likely, but a few minutes later he’s back inside and the hammering starts.

“They are going to cover the window for now.”

For now? Meaning there is more to come. “I’m not here to start some freaking war. Or land in the middle of a turf war. Been there, done that. Not going back to that kind of hell ever again,” I huff, dropping my hands to my sides. It’s better than slapping that passive arrogance off his face.

He doesn’t respond for a long moment. I think he’s shocked to hear I don’t come from some hippy family out west with my flowing skirts and easygoing vibe.

His expression turns pensive and his lips are white from him pressing them into a thin line. He has questions. I can see it clearly on his face. But instead of asking them, he says, “They will stand guard over that front door until I give the order they can stand down.”

In other words, he doesn’t care what I say. He’s going to do this his way.

He prowls across the front of my bookstore and suddenly I feel a lot like a rabbit being hunted by a wolf.

I take a step back. Then another.

“Huh, is that so?” I purse my lips and consider my admittedly limited options, not feeling as bold as before.

His smirk turns animalistic. “It is.”

The huskiness in his voice dips to shiver-inducing levels.

I take another step in the opposite direction. “What if I say no?”

The enormity of the moment crashes over me. I run and he’ll give chase and when he catches me then what?

“You can try. They won’t listen. The Savage Reign crew only takes orders from their president.” It’s small, almost unnoticeable but the slight shrug of indifference grates against my nerves.

Arrogant prick. I’m walking in circles, aiming for the back room which has a back exit.

“I don’t need you or your crew.”

“Hey, Prez, don’t mean to interrupt. Ash sent me. Said you need me to do somethin’?”

Standing in what feels like the Bermuda triangle of situations precariously hovering over the edge of an unseen abyss, the Savage to my right looks expectant at the man to my left.

“Wolf, good man. I need you at the door. Ash will explain what’s gone down. Keep your phone on you and stay dialed in with your VP. If you see any Vultures or suspicious activity let us know.”

Shaggy hair falls over a smooth forehead as the young man, maybe a year or two older than me, nods.

“You got it, Prez.” Hard eyes turn to me.

He doesn’t look like he’s been in the biker life long.

The scent of new clings to him. But there’s a color of darkness that hangs around his aura I’ve grown to associate with a hard life growing up.

I hold a hand up when he starts to walk away. “Wait. You don’t have to do that. Truly. It’s not necessary. The sheriff rides by often and he checks in.” I throw a wide-eyed look at an unmoving Reaper. “Tell him. I’m serious. I don’t need this or you.”

“With all due respect, ma’am, that old-timer is always lookin’ for a way to shut us down. And, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t take orders from you.”

Blunt.

Okay then.

I whirl on the ball of my foot just in time to be thrown over a massive shoulder.

“Liam Black!” I scream and pound my fists into his muscled back. He marches toward the back and slams the door behind him. He plucks me down in the middle of the small room. Near the end of the bed is a small bag large enough to fit a few changes of clothes.

Reaper picks it up and wiggles it to knock out any of the contents. “Fill this up with what you need to last a few days.”

Just as he says that a white tube falls to the floor by his feet.

Fuck. Me.

My pulse speeds up when he bends over and picks up the pregnancy test I kept for sentimental reasons.

Agonizing seconds pass by as he looks at the positive sign. Burning irritation at his silence forces me into saying the first thing that comes to mind.

“Reaper, look…” Okay, not the way I ever saw this particular conversation starting.

“Is the baby mine, Arabelle?”

My body trembles from the power of his dark gaze. His silence. The next moments will determine the future of my baby.

I nod, not truly trusting me to say the words.

Reaper falls to a knee and takes either side of my waist in hand. I rest mine on top of his before moving to run my fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He rests his forehead on my abdomen and inhales slowly. “That fucker will die for touching you and putting our baby in harm’s way.”

When Reaper stands, death comes with him. It glows in the dark pools of his eyes.

“No one will ever touch you again. Ever.”

There’s a deep conviction in his tone.

“Let me see you. Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital? Get a doctor?”

For the first time in my life, I actually believe I’m in the safest place I can ever be.

“No, I’m fine. We are fine. Promise. I’m not that delicate.”

The creases between his brows cut deeper with more worry.

“Promise,” I reassure him.

He nods once and then he bends and scoops me up.