Page 33 of Savage Saint

We’ll see. ~Santo

The reply comes in fast.

Three months, godbrother. Don’t make us kidnap you. ~De Leon #2

Asshole. I lock my phone and pocket it, continuing down the hall toward my bedroom. The doors are closed when I reach them; my automatic reaction is to step inside, but I don’t want to scare her—a foreign reaction for me.

She’s been through enough.

So I stand there. Right against the wall and wait, one shoulder against the wall across from the doors, and I listen to the faint movement coming from inside. She’s changing; there’s some mumbling going on inside, and I know it’s not from her phone.

That’s been in my possession since she passed out in the SUV, along with a debit card and her identification. The latter has her home address.

She also shouldn’t be carrying any of this information inside her cellphone’s cover.

Literally built into the plastic as a slot that should be convenient, while all I see is something easy to lose or steal. Convenient for me, not smart for her.

The handle turns, and there she is.

No makeup. No blood. A shy grin.

Her damp curls fall down her back, darkened from the shower, with drops of water still clinging to the ends. Then my gaze drops to my shirt and shorts on her; both are too big for her tiny frame, and I like the look more than I should.

Everything hangs off her. Tiny everywhere except⁠—

No bra. The thin, wet-in-spots cotton, molding to her breasts. Her nipples press hard against the black fabric, perfect little points that cause my mouth to water. For my cock to thicken again.

Not the first time today. I like how bossy she can get.

At the same time, Genesis gasps, and I look up. Brown meets hazel, a little tired and hooded, but it’s the heat slowly crawling over her cheeks that makes my jaw clench.

“Diosito, help me,” she says, barely above a whisper as I push off the wall, moving two steps closer. I still hear every word, and lower my head to hers when we’re just a few inches apart, my lips grazing her ear for the second time since we met.

The difference now? I’m calm. Too calm.

That might be more dangerous for her.

“Let’s go get you that drink, Pocket Doc.” Immediately, her face flushes at my words, the soft pink spreading from her cheeks and down her neck before disappearing into the collar of my shirt. But more surprising than her shy moment is how much I like the way the blush looks against her soft, tanned skin.

I can’t help but look at her, taking in the slip of a woman drowning in my clothes one more time, before heading downstairs. Her footfalls are almost silent behind the stomping of my boots, delicate against brute, and the contrast between our two worlds is just as decisive.

I owe her.

Genesis is silent as we walk into the club’s main room, stopping beside me when I pause, my cold stare on the long couch. A brother and cuero are sitting there, his hand on the back of her head, pushing her toward his still-zipped cock—he stops when our eyes meet.

He jumps up quickly. She falls off the couch.

“Out.”

“I’m sorry, Saint.” The apology isn’t necessarily for me. This isn’t the first time someone’s fucked out in the open, especially since the single patched members have no problem sharing a woman, but he is out of line today.

His VP was shot.

The now-frozen guest beside me deserves respect.

This is not her world.

“We’ll talk later,” I say, and his face turns a little ashen. He knows what’s coming. Punishments are doled out by me; I’ve never had to correct any member more than once. Once the two leave the room, I turn to Genesis and hold a hand out. It takes her a moment, her small fingers slipping into mine, and they’re shaking. Every part of her is. Whatever little energy she had upstairs is disappearing fast; her eyes are heavy, shoulders beginning to sag.