Page 2 of Savage Devotion (Savage Reign #1)

ARABELLE, ONE YEAR LATER

O ne night of sin.

Our little secret.

What are you waiting for?

Let the Gilded Key Society sate your every sinful desire.

Ay Dios mío. I almost feel the need to say a Hail Mary and cross myself.

That’s the good Catholic girl I was raised to be doing the talking.

The bad girl sinner side of me passes the tip of her tongue over the blunt edge of her teeth and lets a wild fantasy race through her mind.

Without the sufficient funds in my bank account, this is as close as I can get to a place like the Society.

Besides, could I really let loose at a place like that?

Probably not. The broke waitress in me would want to refill drinks and make sure everyone had what they needed.

Can’t fix muscle reflex after months of training.

Even so, my mind plays with the idea. It’s like allowing yourself a sliver of the chocolate cake you’re craving instead of wolfing down the whole damn thing.

A strong kindling of curiosity piques inside me as I continue watching the moving billboard fifty feet overhead.

Three heavily inked and pierced men full of arrogant swagger and carnal knowledge surround a woman dripping in glittery gold body paint.

What would it be like to be the object of three men’s desires all night long?

Hell, I would settle for one. With five hundred and thirty-two days of a dry spell, my body heats at the prospect of being a queen for a night to just about anyone willing.

An aura of intoxicating arousal bleeds through the screen as each of the three men takes the willing woman’s mouth in a sultry kiss before turning back to the viewer.

Wow. My ovaries just quivered.

My gasp is primal and then it all whooshes out on a long sigh. My heart fills with a desire for freedom and to be the owner of my own life. Instead, I’ve just barely finished paying off my sister’s funeral expenses and business night classes.

Mesmerized, I’m unable to look away. I mean it’s a billboard, but it strikes a nerve.

Together they paint a fantasy a girl like me could never pull off.

But I will say, all the romance books stuffing my ereader and limited apartment shelves have nailed one thing.

The forbidden is always the most tempting.

“What are you looking at, Bells?”

I come crashing back into reality as Laila slings a bare, slender arm over my shoulder and tucks me into her side. A move she’s done since we both had a crush on the growly beast before he became a common prince back in second grade.

My swaying skirt and tight halter top clash with her daisy dukes and motorcycle boots.

Frilly and quiet meets tomboy rowdy. Our parents never saw our friendship lasting.

As teens, we would joke about my love of kohl eyeliner over her obsession with falsies.

But that is where our differences end. She knows my sordid past and I know hers.

And she was the only friend I had when dealing with the aftermath of my sister’s overdose.

Laila and I love the same mascara and have similar tastes in boys—the bad boy ones that never seem to last. Only she’s good at catching and releasing them back into the wild while I prefer to keep them at arm’s length like the beasts they are.

I’ve seen what they can do to a woman’s life. No gracias.

I point to the billboard glittering high above us. If desire were ever featured in the flesh, my God, that is what it would look like. “Them.”

Head back, eyes wide, she purses her lips into a tight pucker telling me the gears in her head are spinning with horrible ideas. Which normally lands us into trouble hip deep and me playing the sane thinker of our duo. Her next words prove me right.

She sucks air through her teeth and says, “Oh, kinky shit. The Gilded Key Society does sound fun. Do you see what they offer?” Mischievous eyes meet mine.

“Wanna have some fun? I mean that is what tonight is all about right? We promised each other tonight would be the night to reclaim fun and life, remember?”

Mierda . This girl never met an idea she didn’t want to see through to the end.

I’m almost sorry I stopped to marvel at the sensual display.

But she’s right. It’s been one year today since Adora died.

I can’t hide out at the diner or tucked behind a book all my life.

My heart hurts, but I can’t do another dark year of no color in my life.

“I remember,” I murmur, considering my options.

Laila wraps her arms around my middle. “You know you wanna. Look at all that lickable man meat. The fuck-me-now vibes are off the charts! I could lick all those mountain ridges and pierced nipples for a day and a night when they look like that.”

I can’t stop a smile from overtaking my mouth. “You have a serious problem, you know that?”

With a throaty moan, she admits what we both know. “I just like dick, that’s all, Bells.”

Laila wiggles her brows at me and I laugh knowing all too well what usually happens next, and you know what?

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes.

But I’m Little Miss Reality tonight and we’ve already spent way too much.

First, it was a delicious night at a local steakhouse and then the first round of drinks two streets back.

And then there was the massage parlor. Wow .

Pricey but my muscles loved every second of Pedro’s oiled hands on my body.

I grab Laila’s hand and lead us across the street toward her cheap hotel—the one she insisted on staying at instead of my “too-tiny” apartment, as she calls it.

Raising her voice over the clanking sound of a passing streetcar, she counts out all the reasons why The Gilded Key Society is a great idea.

“One, we wanted to get lost and have an adventure for once, which leads me to number two. There are so many rooms to pick from and you know I like some kinky shit…”

I tune her out because while I might be realistic, I’m also human and I have needs. Much more and I’ll be hopping us both on the next streetcar heading toward The Gilded Key.

Sweat trickles down the center of my back.

I could use a really cold beer. And another shower wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Fun, kinky yes, but what I think you meant to say is crazy expensive, right? Last I checked we have enough for a few more drinks tonight, breakfast, and just enough gas money to get you back to Seattle tomorrow.”

She taps the front of her teeth with a freshly painted nail the color of midnight. “Right. New plan. Maybe next girls’ night out we can explore the finer sites. But for now, what if we get some sexy men to pay for our drinks instead?”

I hike the hem of my long skirt up, and tie the ends off in knots as we dodge around leftover water puddles. I thought the nice early afternoon shower would make the night cooler, but the humidity seems to have thickened instead. “What men?”

Maracas and the tap of fingers over taut bongos carry out into the streets. Mixed scents of old wood and cigar smoke drift in the humid air as we make our way back to Laila’s little hotel. And my waiting cold shower.

I practically see Laila’s ears prick up, and the look of excitement on my friend’s face sends an unexpected thrill through me.

“Okay, you need to trust me right now.”

Pleading eyes turn on me.

Uh-oh. “Err…okaaay,” I manage. I trusted her, but we also spent a night in county jail two summers ago following one of her “trust me” moments.

She checks the street signs. “Yeah, this is the spot. A friend told me about a busy local club and I want to see you work your moves on the dance floor before we have to head back to reality.”

Laila changes our trajectory, and pulls me down a dark alley before spinning us out a block over into a busy street.

Locals mill around and the sound of salsa music spills into the street from a line of clubs.

Seriously, you can’t tell where one ends, and the other begins.

Which explains the source of the bongos and cigar smoke.

Wide terraces extend out from the clubs and on the balconies are tens of partygoers out enjoying a humid New Orleans Saturday night.

Glittery dresses and nicely dressed men are all over the place. I look down at myself and wrinkle my nose. I look more prepared for a day of sightseeing than a night out.

“None of that. Here. Take my lipstick.” Using my darkened phone screen I slide on kiss-me-red before slipping them both into my handbag.

Paired with the touch of bronze and a brush of mascara, it will just have to do.

The deep dip of my halter top and tight cling of my silky skirt over my ass gives a hint of dirty sexy fun.

Dark brown eyes turn on me and the look of a woman on a mission pulls over the soft lines of my friend’s expression. “Beautiful! Now, this mamacita needs a drink and a hot guy. And so do you. Just for tonight, stop thinking and just feel. Tomorrow we both can go back to the real world, okay?”

The pleading in her eyes is hard to resist, and our fingers link and for the first time in so long I relax. I just don’t have it in me to burst her bubble. “Okay, what the hell. Why not!”

I glance up long enough to see the name on the outside.

Large letters spell out a glowing pink The Voodoo Lounge.

Behind the letter is a skull with glowing eyes and a top hat, wrapped in a wreath of bones and bayou flowers.

Smoke curls from a cigar clenched between its teeth, forming serpent-like wisps that twist into musical notes.

Behind the skull, a shadowed crescent moon bleeds red light.

I take a deep breath. Not foreboding at all.

I instantly clock this as Savage Reign territory.

Something Laila knows nothing about. The local biker gang is not your typical group of rowdy party-goers looking for a bar brawl.

This crew is all about the business, not that any of them hang out on the floor with the patrons.

I’ve tended bar a couple of times here for some extra cash and I’ve never seen one Savage.

So yeah, there probably won’t be any jail time tonight.

But anything is possible.