Page 5 of Savage Temptation (Savage Reign #2)

EMILIA

A ny day that ends with me running in the streets barefoot is a bad day.

Categorically bad. Cracked asphalt and tiny chips of cement slow me down, but I grit through the pain. I fly down one back alley after another.

Neon signs flicker with yellow and acid green from jazz clubs, casting colorful light across weathered brick buildings adorned with ornate wrought-iron balconies.

Music pulses into the densely humid night air.

Brassy jazz pours from doorways, street performers riffing on saxophones, the distant beat of a snare drum echo from Jackson Square.

I don’t stop for any of it. If I did it might save me from the next painful five minutes of my life, but I don’t. Instead, I dodge a puddle of water only to stub my toe on the edge of a dumpster causing me to stumble forward.

“Son-of-a-bitch!” Sharp jolts of pain flash up my leg. I want to scream and cry but I muffle my rage and keep moving.

Feathers from my stage costume snag on rusted cracks splintering through the sides of the next dumpster I use as a shield. Looking behind me, I’ve left a freaking trail of yellow tufts to follow.

I dodge around the next dumpster at the end of the alley. I stop, look around the edge. No biker or Russian in sight.

I check the street signs. “One more set of dodgy back alleys to go.”

I dart past crowds of locals and tourists chatting in a melange of Southern drawl and French accents.

The smell of fresh beignets and spicy gumbo drifts from open windows and food stalls causing my stomach to grumble.

Cafe tables spill onto the sidewalk, clinking with glassware and laughter, while a passing streetcar rattles along rail lines, its bell chiming.

I keep to the shadows so none of them see me.

One more dark alley and I finally see it.

The Voodoo Lounge.

Red and blue lights flash in front so I turn right and head down another alley to come up from the back.

Three more steps and my poor feet can stop moving. I spot the side door.

Primal instinct to stay alive forces my hand up. I care more about the devil putting a gun in my face rather than the demons on his payroll. My manager will see me dead before sunrise. Jagger might want me dead, but I have my doubts he’d pull the trigger.

At least that is what I hope.

I go to knock, but before my knuckles can touch cold metal, the door whooshes open and a set of gray eyes meet mine.

Recognition and disbelief war for control over his handsome, rugged features.

Black cotton stretches over a wide expanse of muscles and I’m just like every damsel in my favorite novels for the next ten seconds. I forget to breathe.

How can I when my dream stands in front of me looking like a pissed off viking warrior ready to kill? My pulse hammers harder and harder until tiny white dots fill my vision.

Our eyes connect, and it’s like coming home. This is right. Coming to him. I can feel it to my core and yet my hands shake. My knees threaten to give out from under me.

Someone stands at his side. I give her a quick glance, but my brain only narrows down on two things. Her badge hanging around her neck and the gun on her hip.

She’s not here to put a bullet in my brain so my attention snaps back to Jagger.

There are so many things I want to say to him. I love you , for starters. Please don’t hate me. That's the next thought that crosses my mind. Really bad guys are after me would work, too. I should probably ask if he’ll protect me. And, God, I missed you.

But my mouth and brain refuse to cooperate, tangled up in all the millions of questions and confessions swirling through my mind. In the end, all I can manage is a single word.

“Jagger.”

My gaze traces the curve of a broad chest before lingering on the tempting scruff shadowing a sharply defined jaw.

Warmth creeps over me. Every single memory I have of his hands on my body floods my mind.

And my body reacts with a flush of fiery heat that causes my nipples to harden and my core tighten with a need only Jagger can pull from me.

Or it could be my body confusing fear for arousal.

He looms over me like a beast made of two parts muscle and one part rage. It’s all over his expression with how his eyes suddenly narrow into dark slits. Like he’s considering putting my body in the dumpster beside me. Maybe this was a mistake.

Blood roars through my ears. I wait. And I hope that is really not the case. What else can I do?

One heartbeat.

Two.

Humid air locks in my lungs. Will he turn me away? I won’t survive the night if he does.

“Emilia.”

Oh God, thank you, I silently pray inwardly.

He finally speaks. Shock and relief filters down my spine. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die , my head screams. And then time speeds forward and my senses click back on.

His voice is more gruff than I remember. Like smoke tumbling over a bed of rock.

“Who did this to you?”

Rage and concern stare back at me with a healthy dose of control. I know without a doubt whenever he gets his hands on Oliver, he will personally end him.

As if he can read my thoughts I watch cold-blooded murder steal over his expression, pulling the already angular lines of his jaw tighter to the point it looks like his teeth might crack.

I don’t get to answer before strong arms come around me and I’m pulled into the warmth of his embrace, leaving behind the frigid embrace of darkness I’ve lived in for five years.

I’ve never been so relieved in my life.

Plums of feathers and a thin puff of glitter catch in the overhead light when he hauls me up his body and crushes my curves to his muscular form.

My arms go around him, and Jagger buries his face into the crook of my neck. The warmth of his breath rushing over my skin is my new favorite sensation. I do the same, just breathing in his essence for several minutes.

He still smells like crisp fall air, oranges and leather.

He stands over six feet, leaving my bare feet to dangle in the air.

I lift my legs and I wrap them around his middle.

My body threatens to turn to molten heat at the feel of his warm breath brushing over the tender skin of my neck.

From scared to turned on is not a logical trajectory of emotions, but I’ll take the latter any day.

He inhales deeply again and again. I count each one to help control my spiking nerves. Large hands span the width of my back, running up and down like he can’t believe it’s me in his arms.

“Emilia.” His voice is a husky whisper layered with what sounds like reverence. I squeeze my eyes shut trying to stop the tears but they fall down my cheeks to wet his shirt anyway.

“Jagger,” I choke out. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. I didn't know where else to go.” Getting all those words out through shameful tears is nearly impossible.

“Hey, baby. Shh. I don’t care what brought you back to me. You’re here. We’ll deal with whatever it is later. Let me just hold you.”

This can’t be real, but the heavy thud of his pounding heart beneath my palms is unmistakable.

As is the heat in his eyes when Jagger pulls back to stare into my eyes.

A hand comes to rest on the back of my head.

Our breath intertwines. The weight of what I did to him and us in the past pulls my gaze to fall on his chin.

I can’t seem to look him in the eye for long.

A hand cups my jaw, tilting my head up. Our eyes meet again but this time I can’t see for all the tears filling my eyes.

“Eyes up here, baby. There you go. Let me see you. Talk to me,” he says quietly. “I’m here. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He presses his forehead against mine.

I don’t know what grabs a hold of me or what right I have to do it, but those last words break me. Hot tears run freely down my cheeks. I squeeze him tightly, peppering his cheeks, his forehead and even the tip of his nose with light kisses.

I stop, pull back. His eyes shimmer with the same confused happiness I know I never expected to feel again in his arms, especially tonight.

My world comes undone and I can’t imagine another minute where my lips are not on his.

I crush my lips to his and I fuse all the regret and love I’ve stored up over the years into our connection.

Air leaves my lungs and his. We break apart only to crave more.

This time his lips find mine. His tongue sweeps across my lower lip and he growls this possessive sound that has chills spilling over my skin.

He takes the plumpness between his teeth, giving it a delicious nibble before claiming my mouth fully.

He kisses me deeply, tasting of hope. Our tongues meet and our bodies meld together. His hands come to my waist. Skin on skin. I moan softly, surprising myself. Strong hands curve around my ass, cupping me through the feathers and lacy bits of my costume.

He growls, whirls us around until my back is up against a wall. I tighten my legs and I can feel our unexpected reunion has caused a whirlwind of reactions. Not only are his kisses just as hot as I remember, but the hard arousal of his cock pressing against my covered folds is just as alluring.

Callused fingers reach for my knee before skimming their way up the length of my leg.

“Just as creamy and soft as I remember, baby.”

Those same fingers find the edge of my costume bottoms and they do nothing to keep his touch from reaching parts of me I only dreamed of him teasing again.

I cry out and his mouth takes mine again.

He consumes my moans and whimpers like they are a special drug just for him.

Because they are. I haven’t touched a man since him nor has another other man touched me.

I never wanted anyone else but him. Heat floods through me.

All the pent up desire and yearning for this man fills me until the well of emotions threatens to drown me.

I tighten myself around him, trying to touch as much of him as possible.