Page 8 of Savage Devotion (Savage Reign #1)

ARABELLE

H arlon, Louisiana is the last place on Earth I ever thought I would find smut-loving readers like myself, but I’ve been proven wrong.

This quiet, unsuspecting, small parish tucked away out of sight among vast expanses of trees and some surrounding marshlands thrives on the dirty stuff.

When I arrived, I half thought I’d be run out of town.

I’m happy that hasn’t been the case yet.

I laugh softly. “You need any help?”

I hear a muffled laugh from a newly made friend before a stack of books is plopped down on the freshly polished wood countertop of my brand-new bookstore.

“No, honey. This is nothing. I’ll be right back. There’s more.”

My mouth gapes open a little considering there must be fifteen books in this pile.

“Damn. How many more can you read in a weekend?”

I watch as Charli disappears into the multiple rows of shelves probably to help her friend get the dirtiest of my books.

Yep. Broken Chapter Asylum is one hundred percent all mine.

I smile fondly at the name, which is a little dark but no less true.

It seemed perfect when Adora and I thought it up on our road trip south.

We were both broken in our own ways and this bookstore was our new chapter.

Something our addict mother could never sully and was all ours.

But we didn’t always think like that. Growing up we saw her as our tree of life in our tiny little world.

When my dad split and she met my stepdad, one by one her leaves fell off.

She turned into a husk of a woman, ruined by the crimes of her new criminal husband.

She became a dead tree, inside and out, by the time he went to prison the first time.

After that, I saw books as my escape, my shelter. My asylum.

And here it is in brick and mortar. A dream turned into reality and it belongs to me. Every dirty, smutty corner of it. No leeching stepdad nor an alcoholic mother here to ruin it for me. I only wish Adora could see it.

My heart hurts at the pain I hold inside toward and for my family, but the truth is a coldhearted bitch sometimes.

It took me a long time to realize I needed to go after my dreams if I wanted them to be more than just ideas.

And it’s just like I pictured. Non-fiction and horror dominate the far-left corner complete with a sitting area with lamps and free coffee. If you are a regular, you know I keep some bourbon on hand too.

Shelves of romantasy take up the front to center rows for those who like bite with their dirty sex scenes. And in the front windows, everyone walking down the street gets a nice eyeful of some collectible Edgar Allan Poe alongside some V. C. Andrews.

But the middle to back rows are where my heart lies in spicy romance—kinky reverse harems and mafia bad boy book boyfriends. Yes. Please! I have plenty of those from some of my favorite authors and others I can’t wait to try.

Much to the disdain of the local parish pastor, let me tell you.

A wolfish grin pulls over my lips at how many of those spicy tales his wife took home with her last Monday.

He can thank me later.

A tiny bell over the door jingles as the mailman wheels in a fresh load of boxes. I sign for them and start unpacking the first of about fifteen just as Charli pokes her dark head around the corner.

“Holy crap! Come to momma! Did my order just come in?”

Hopeful eyes swing to me, and I reach out to hug my friend.

A couple of weeks back she came in with a list as long as my leg.

I’m still in shock. Some women buy fancy coffee, but not Charli.

At least for the time I’ve known her. I barely opened Broken Chapter Asylum before she was through the door telling me it was about time someone with good taste came to their small parish.

She’s been here almost every day since.

I laugh loving how excited she is over books. “I think so. Let’s see.”

Charli is a biker chick for decades through and through, sweet to a point, a bourbon lover, and someone you would never suspect of being a serial smut binge reader.

“Here, lemme help ya, honey.”

I stand back as she whips out several new copies of the latest series from my—now our—favorite romance author.

The saucy tale-spinner wrote a long series based on a kinky sex club.

Swoon! One woman, three men. All the ladies of Harlon can’t seem to get enough.

Which I can safely assume is because of Charli.

We both marvel over the sexy covers. “Did you finally take Abel up on his offer to build you all the bookshelves you want?” I ask, taking the stack of books she passes over.

I pull chairs up for both of us and narrowly miss a hard side-eye.

At fifty-five, Charli makes getting older look appealing.

With jet black hair I’m sure she dyes and smooth smoky eyes, there’s not a man in town who hasn’t tried to claim this chick as their ol’ lady.

Abel “Gator” Evans is just one of many trying to win her hand from what she’s shared.

But Charli is a special breed of woman and lets everyone know she’s not into strings and attachments. Maybe that’s why she loves reading so much.

“ No gracias , as you would say, amiga. His bookshelves are hitched to wedding bells. I know how to use a saw and screwdriver myself. Besides, all the boys at the compound fall over themselves to make sure I have what I need.”

I get a wink and she’s right back to hauling out more books from their boxes.

Boys meaning the Savage Reign crew. Harlon’s very own motorcycle gang I had no idea Reaper was president of until Charli sat me down over coffee and cupcakes about a week after arriving. I knew Reaper was part of the underground criminal rings, I just didn’t put two and two together.

She props an elbow on the table and pins me with a hard momma bear look. “Now it’s your turn. Have you given my idea any thought?”

Ugh. I push to my feet and start sorting out the other boxes.

“I don’t know. What if no one shows up?” I get knots in my stomach just thinking about cupcakes and coffee going stale while I’m stood up by the whole parish.

“A book club is no big deal. I’d make sure the place was packed every time.” She cocks a perfectly defined brow at me, looking every bit as confident as she sounds with her sweet southern drawl and no-nonsense attitude.

“You’re focusing on all the wrong things,” she presses on. “Five copies of each book aren’t nearly enough, honey. Not having enough books for all the horny ladies in this parish, now that’s a problem.”

A smile slides over my face at the idea of a fight breaking out in my reading corner over books.

Hair pulling, bitch slapping, and ripped books.

I cringe at the last thought and make a mental note to get more copies of a few books that are hot sellers.

It took busting ass this past year and a couple of months since Adora died to save up for this place.

I don’t have a lot in savings but enough to put more stock on the shelves.

“So, what do you think?”

“I hear you. I really do. I’ll think about it, okay?

” But truth be told even with all the instant success of Broken Chapter Asylum, I’m not sure the small-town setting is right for me.

I came here for all the wrong reasons and though the book sales are great, maybe I should have stayed in New Orleans.

I liked the vibe and Laila was there with her men.

She told me I was a fool to walk away from Reaper and repeats her opinion during our weekly calls without fail. Like I’ve forgotten after hearing it a thousand times.

“I know a book club will make you feel like you’re puttin’ down deeper roots than this store. And I get that probably scares the crap outta you.”

That and a secret I haven't even told Laila about. My one-night stand didn’t end after that morning. Despite the condom and the pill I was on, I still got pregnant.

My hand hovers over a new pile of books instead of my where I will have a baby bump in a few months’ time. Sooner actually.

Charli’s words slice deep. It’s not that I don’t want roots. But what if Harlon isn’t for me? A deeper voice says what if, when I get the courage to approach him, Reaper rejects me? Could I stay here?

I school my expression and clear my tone of the fear restricting my airways. “Um, what makes you think I’m scared?”

“I see it in your face, honey. You might as well paint your heart in your eyes. The second the idea of doing anything that makes you feel like you belong you get this weird look in ’em.”

She wraps a warm, comforting hand over mine.

“Not judgin’. I had the same feeling about Harlon a long time ago, too. Give it time.”

She looks pointedly at the chain around my neck and the ring hanging between my cleavage. There’s no hiding the emblem on it matches Savage Reign’s skull and fanged viper. She hasn’t pressed me for how I’ve come by it and I haven’t offered. But I can tell she has questions.

“Here’s a little advice. Take it or leave it okay.”

I nod.

“Don’t let something that happened in your past ruin something good for you in the here and now. Take it from someone twice your age who has lived through it.” She gives a tiny nod as if to say and that is that.

“And now I’ve done my good deed for the day. Less talkin’ and more book shoppin’.”

Charli’s words whirl through my head as I rip open another box and she does the same.

To a degree she’s right. I only signed a one-year lease on the place because I am scared.

Scared of seeing him though the truth is I came here because of Reaper.

Stupid as it sounds and truly, a decision I might regret.

But he has to know. Eventually. First, I want to make sure he’s the kind of man who will be good for the baby we made together.

I know he’s more than just a bad boy I remember from a fun night of celebrating. He’s exactly what I swore off a long time ago. A biker. And worse. The leader of his motorcycle gang.