Total pages in book: 178
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 819(@200wpm)___ 656(@250wpm)___ 546(@300wpm)
First her foot moved to the beat of the music, and then her head. She couldn’t help herself. She had that perfect pitch, and the music was alive in her. He could see her face light up, her hands patting out the rhythm on her thighs as she danced sitting right there on the bar stool. He doubted if she was aware of it, but it was sexy as all get-out.
There were eyes on her. Too many. He didn’t like it. “Fuck.” He whispered the word aloud. “We should have provided an armed escort.”
“You give her a choice? Did you try to save this girl?” Reaper asked, watching her.
Yeah, he’d tried to save her, but how hard? He didn’t know. But now he had an excuse, now there was her gift and what it was doing to her.
Savage shrugged. “I gave her a choice, Reaper. I told her this was my territory. Her house was hers. She threw me out. If she came here, she was mine. That was the deal. She came.”
He felt his brother’s eyes on him. Weighing him. He didn’t like that. Reaper saw things others didn’t, but the scrutiny didn’t matter. Savage was there to further his claim on his woman, and no one could get in his way. She made the choice. That was their code.
“You absolutely certain she’s the one?” Reaper asked, his voice gruff.
Savage’s fucking chest hurt so bad, the pressure was enormous. Just looking at her made him happy. He pressed his hand over his aching heart just to reassure his brother without words.
Reaper nodded slowly. “You need help?”
Did he? Savage was certain he was borderline crazy. His only hope was the woman sitting on the bar stool, who hadn’t once, not one single time, looked around the bar in order to try to spot him. He was going to have a word or two about that tonight, when they were lying together on her bed. Just the thought of being in her bed, of wrapping his arm around her hips, his head on her belly, hearing her voice in the darkness enfolding him in silk and velvet, was almost more than he could take.
His head hurt like a son of a bitch. It had for days—weeks. He had no idea what she did to bring him peace, but whenever he was alone with her, he felt different. Calm. Settled. Happy. Hell, just looking at her made him feel that way.
The song ended to the sound of applause. A few bikers raised their beer bottles. Seychelle slipped off the bar stool when Maestro beckoned for her to take the microphone. She was graceful when she walked. Her ass swayed invitingly. Her generous tits pushed at the very modest dark navy tank she wore. She hadn’t dressed up for him. She wasn’t wearing makeup on her skin. That smooth, soft skin on her face was all her. She’d enhanced her eyes, giving them a smoky effect, the same as the day he’d met her. He remembered that.
The band swung into a song after a brief consultation with her, and she began to sing. At first her voice was low, blending in with the soft beginning, and then the music and her voice began to swell, filling the bar with the promise of love. There was joy and laughter and then sorrow. Every emotion was felt through her incredible voice.
He knew her voice touched everyone. He wasn’t an emotional man and yet somehow, like the other times he was with her, close to her, she tapped into some emotion buried so deep he hadn’t known it was there. The sound slipped into one’s body and eased aches or compounded them depending on what she was feeling as she sang the lyrics. She wove a magical web around them all. Mostly, he was certain, around him.
The second song was pure Seychelle. It was a song designed to bring peace and happiness to others. Savage never took his eyes from her. He felt her energy, her compassion and her need to help others, to lift them up when they were down. He saw the various expressions cross her face as her gaze touched on individuals in the crowd. That golden net began to climb the wall and over the ceiling, sliding down to touch this person or that.
The crowd was mesmerized by her. Stunned by her. That magic in her voice captivated them, but as Savage continued to scrutinize her every expression, her every move, he noticed she flinched occasionally, or hunched in just for a single second.
Puzzled, he tried to figure out what it was he was missing, and it was something very important. She turned her head, and he felt the instant impact of her eyes. She didn’t smile, but her expression softened. His heart twisted. His head had been pounding all day and the loud noises in the bar hadn’t helped. He almost missed the way a frown flitted across her face and she looked just a little strained for that split second, and then she looked away. His headache was gone.