Devil's Savior

CHAPTER 1

The only thing I can do, as I’m sweating more than I want to be or feel comfortable with, is glare at Devin. Does he know I call him ‘Demon Devin’ in my head? Yes, because I’ve said it out loud more than once.

It’s a moniker he has earned over the past few months. He even has the fucking audacity to smile at me whenever I sneer his nickname at him with all the rage my exhausted and pain-filled body can muster. He takes great pride in it, honestly.

“Come on, Sioux,” he’s going for some sort of ‘rah-rah’ tone in his voice that makes me want to throat punch him, “you have five more in you. Give them to me.”

If I were to rip his balls from his body, would he still be able to put me through his hellish physical therapy routine? I’ve wondered about it often, but then I hear my best friend, Wrenley, in my head reminding me that I need to do this and that it’s for my own good.

I know it is, but she has no idea how much the PT session wrecks me or how much they make me want to crawl into a hole and sleep for days. I don’t, but I want to.

No one would let me do it, anyways.

I know Wrenley is driven by our friendship when she encourages me, but there’s also some guilt there. It’s guilt I completely understand. She blames herself because I was shot. It sure as hell wasn’t her fault.

Hell, I feel like more of the blame lands on me than her. She won’t listen to me when I tell her that. I get it, because the day I was shot is not one I like to revisit. But I refuse to allow my best friend, someone who is like a sister to me, to carry any guilt.

The person who shot me is to blame.

But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Anarchy, the former—because I have no doubt that he’s dead now even though that hasn’t been confirmed directly—Prez of the Riding Rebels MC would have never become obsessed with Wrenley if I hadn’t insisted that we go to their bar one night. I had no idea Alloy Riot was owned by a motorcycle club, but I’m not sure knowing would have changed anything. Maybe it would have. Maybe I would have still insisted that we go out because my girl needed to let loose a little.

Anarchy tormented Wrenley to the point that she sought help from the only people she thought could help—the Devil’s Saints MC. Had she not done that, she wouldn’t be the blissfully in love woman she is now.

I also wouldn’t have been shot.

The thing is—I don’t think I would change how everything went down if I could go back.

I love seeing Wrenley happy and in love. I would have never thought she would end up with the same guy her older sister dated in high school. They were in love right up until Jessica was killed. Then Reid took off, unable to handle the pain.

Jessica’s death changed Wrenley. We were only 13; how could it not change someone? I lost her for a little while and even though her parents were alive, Jessica’s death meant she lost them as well. They never fully recovered from the loss of their eldest child and the fact that Wrenley needed them didn’t seem to matter.

I always thought it was fucked up and it made me even more determined to make sure Wrenley got the support and love she needed. We weren’t sisters by blood, but sisters of the heart and that hasn’t changed in all the years we’ve known each other.

It’s probably why we’re both still grappling with guilt over how everything went down. But maybe it was supposed to happen the way it did.

Wrenley found love.

I got shot.

And I also acquired a giant of a man who insists he wants to give me the world and who has done a surprisingly excellent impersonation of a nurse. Apostle was at my bedside when I woke up after surgery and he hasn’t left me alone since.

Hell, the man barely left me alone from the moment I met him. Wrenley invited me to DSMC clubhouse for the first time after she went to them for help and was put on a modified lockdown for her own protection.

I wish I could say Apostle is hideous or something. He’s not. He’s big, burly, gruff in most instances, sexy as all get out, and the way he looks at me sends shivers up my spine. Not gonna lie, we hooked up pretty early on. Honestly, I thought we’d get each other out of our systems and then move on. It’s not like he’s without women throwing themselves at him.

And I don’t think a commitment is in the cards for me. Relationships take effort I’m not sure I’m capable of putting in. Not when I know things can go wrong and have for me in the past. Explosively wrong in a way that has left me devastated. Because I’m not capable of loving someone half-way. I give them everything and they suck me dry.

That’s just the way it is.

Except Apostle won’t give up or give in. He watches me like I’m his prey, even in moments when I know I haven’t looked, felt, or behaved the best.

He’s never wavered, and it makes my defenses feel like glass instead of the cinderblock I want them to be.

“You got this,” Devin encourages me and brings me out of my thoughts of Apostle and the past. Thankfully.

I know I can do it. I’ve been doing it. I’m not consumed by pain anymore. Don’t get me wrong, that is great and all, except sometimes you want to have a little pity party for yourself and then move the fuck on. Wallowing is good for the soul, or something.

Fine, maybe it isn’t, but I’m really trying to stop myself from imagining kicking Devin in the shin right now. My core burns as I push myself to give into his demands and push my body just a little bit more.

“I hate you,” I grit out through my teeth.

Devin throws his head back and laughs, not giving a single fuck that I’m imagining painful ways to torture him. I’m the kind of woman who always carries tweezers. I’m fairly sure he would not like all of his body hair removed one follicle at a time.

“Come on, sunshine,” he grins at me, and I roll my eyes at him as I finally finish with my PT for the day, not counting the cool-down stretches. When I flop backwards, he’s right there staring down at me with laughter in his damn eyes. “I knew you could do it.”

I flip him off and wave my hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah.”

He won’t give me more than two minutes to rest before he has me up and stretching, but that’s always my favorite part of our sessions because then I’m done, and I can go home. Well, I can go to where I’m currently living. It’s not my home; not really.

When I was ready to be discharged from the hospital after being shot and rushed into surgery, I was expecting Wrenley to pick me up and take me home. Instead, Apostle was there in his truck. I didn’t even know the man owned a truck, but it’s just like him—big and uncompromising.

As the nurse wheeled me outside, he jumped out of the driver’s side and stalked toward me, his dark eyes taking me in like he hadn’t seen me in ages instead of just last night before I was finally able to kick him out of my hospital room for the first time in days. He looked at me like he was ravenous, and my belly flipped and clenched which only reminded me that I was not in tip-top shape.

We only had that one night together and I had no plans of going back for a repeat. The last thing I was ever planning on doing was becoming attached to a man who couldn’t commit. Considering I met him at a DSMC party where club angels were strutting around with their assets barely covered, I had no illusions about the situation.

And I was going to stick to putting him firmly in the ‘it was a fun night and that was all’ category. Except I couldn’t reconcile that with the man who always watched me when I was around, who found moments to talk to me in his low, gravelly voice while stealing little touches so gentle that my body yearned for him. The man who had kept vigil next to my hospital bed even though I told him he didn’t need to—multiple times.

I was tired, over being in the hospital, and looking forward to, finally, heading home, when I snapped at him, “What are you doing here? Where’s Wrenley?”

Apostle didn’t bristle at my tone, even though it was full-on bitch. The man smiled, something I noticed he only seemed to do around me, before he crouched down in front of me. One of his large hands rested on my knee, searing me through the yoga pants I was wearing which were a huge upgrade from the horrible hospital gown I had been forced to endure for days.

The way he studied my face and then looked deep into my eyes made me want to squirm, but I held strong. I even stopped myself from running my fingers through his beard knowing it would be soft. The longer he stared at me, the more I wanted to push him away.

After we spent our night together, I tried to put some distance between us. I needed to do it because I could feel how easy it would be to fall for the man. And how devastating it would be if everything went to hell, which it would.

“I’m here for you, Sioux.” I bit my lip because everything in me wanted to throw myself at him with his sweet words. They hit the center of my chest, especially after he had barely left my side while I was in the hospital. “I almost lost you,” his words were clipped and gruff, like he could barely get them past his lips. “You can keep pushing me away, but I’m going to be right here for you.”

I swallowed hard, wanting with everything in me to open up my arms and heart for him, but fear clawed at me. I shook my head slowly, hoping he wouldn’t see through me and my words because I knew they were a lie before they even left my lips. “You don’t need to keep watching over me. I’m fine on my own,” my voice was soft even though my words were harsh.

Instead of getting pissed at me, like many men before him had done when I wouldn’t just drop my walls because they showed me a little bit of attention and interest, Apostle smiled again. It was so broad that his damn dimple popped out on one side of his mouth. It was hard to see with his beard, but it was there all the same.

I gripped the handles of the wheelchair tighter and the nurse who was pushing me let out a huff of annoyance. All I could do was roll my eyes and, at least, accept the ride he was offering. Especially since my best friend wasn’t there.

“Fine,” I huffed, trying to get the emotions I had been trying to suppress about the man in front of me down deep in my soul. It wasn’t easy. “I’ll take the ride since you’re here.”

Apostle leaned forward and kissed my forehead and murmured, “Thank you, firefly.”

My tears welled up and I wouldn’t look into his eyes when he pulled away. I didn’t want him to see how much his care and affection were affecting me. I couldn’t. I would crumble to fucking dust if I did.

I definitely ignored the way his hands held me as he helped me into his truck. Of course, that was after I eyed the giant monstrosity like it was going to bite me. I’m not a short woman at 5’9”, but I was still a little concerned about how I was going to get into the passenger seat, and it only had a little bit to do with the fact that I was days out of surgery.

Once I was settled, Apostle reached around me and buckled me up and I had to hold my damn breath so I wouldn’t breathe in the subtle hints of his cologne and the scent that was all him. Thankfully, I wasn’t feeling one hundred percent or else I would have had to clench my thighs together. I didn’t know I would find an upside to being shot and having to undergo surgery, but there I was.

When he got into his truck, he did so with ease which wasn’t surprising considering his size. I swear the man seemed to take up all the space and air inside that damn thing. That was when I welcomed the exhaustion starting to take over. Putting up a fight I didn’t even win about him picking me up was about all I had in me, and I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes.

The next thing I knew, his large hand was giving my knee a squeeze and I blinked my eyes open. I looked around, having no idea where I was. We certainly weren’t at my place.

I grumbled, “Where are we?”

“My place,” his voice was smooth like he wasn’t rocking my fucking world with two words.

“No,” my voice was still groggy from the short nap I took during the trip. “Take me home.”

“You are home, firefly,” he drawled and then hopped out of his truck before I could say anything to him.

The only thing I could blame on not putting up enough of a fight was the exhaustion I was feeling. I had spent days sleeping in the hospital, but it still felt like I could sleep for a week straight. I’m sure it was because my body was healing and sleeping in the hospital was far from restful.

When Apostle came around and opened my door, I tried to slip out of the truck, knowing full well I should argue with him about being at his house. He didn’t let me, he slipped one of his arms underneath my legs and cradled my back with the other, picking me up with ease.

“Apostle,” I growled, finding a bit of fight again, “I can walk.”

“You can,” he agreed without putting me down, “but that doesn’t mean you need to. You’re exhausted and I’m more than capable of carrying you inside.”

I should have fussed and if I was healthy, I would have. Instead, I rested my head against his shoulder and allowed myself to soak up some of his strength.

That was months ago, and Apostle still hasn’t let me go back home. I’ve tried. I even talked Wrenley into taking me home one day, but then my giant shadow showed up and dragged me back to his place. No matter what I say, no matter the arguments I make, he shuts that shit down.

I must conjure the man in question into existence because I hear his gruff voice behind me, “How’s my girl doing?”

I would roll my eyes, but I know it’ll do me no good. No matter how many times I tell him I’m not his girl, he refuses to listen to me. Is he wearing me down? I hope not, I can’t let him in; he’ll ruin me.

He already has.

Fuck.

“I’m right here,” I give Apostle sass and look over my shoulder.

His eyes are slow to come up from where he’s ogling my ass. He does not even look a little bit chagrined to be caught. Not even a little bit.

Devin chuckles, “Our girl is doing great.” Apostle growls, but it does nothing to dim the smile on Devin’s face. I swear he has a death wish or something. “She’s almost back to one hundred percent. I’m damn proud of her.”

I might hate the man when he’s putting me through my paces, but pride fills me with his words. It’s taken months upon fucking months to get to this point. I’m looking forward to when I’m done with physical therapy. It’s felt like that will never happen for a long fucking time.

Could it be there’s a light at the end of the tunnel?

Apostle eyes me as I suck down some water. “She’s been working hard,” he directs his words to Devin, and I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes this time.

I huff, “She is right here, ya know?”

The giant man who hasn’t been willing to leave me the fuck alone flashes me a smile, with that dimple, and I force myself to look away. I shake my head and turn my attention to Devin. Living with Apostle for months while recovering has left me a little more than pent up.

That’s right—I’m horny. Okay? Don’t fucking judge me.

“Don’t think anyone could miss you, sunshine,” Devin snarks.

Apostle glares at the man and his fists clench. Not good. While it might be entertaining, I do need Devin because he’s the one who is going to be the one to sign off on my physical therapy. I need him to be alive for that, even if I’m just as guilty about imagining his death. But that’s when he’s torturing me.

Now that we’re done, he can live. Until the next session at least.

“How many more sessions do you think I need? I see my doctor in a few weeks. Do you think I can be given the green light to return to my normal life completely by then?” Do I sound hopeful as fuck? You bet your ass I do.

“I’ll assess you at our next session, Sioux, but I have a good feeling about being able to sign off on your recovery.”

Relief fills me and I barely stop myself from launching myself at Devin and peppering his face with kisses. Not only would it be inappropriate, but there’s no need to poke the bear.

Apostle wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against his side. “Come on, firefly,” he drawls, “time to go home.”

Yeah. Home. His home. It sure as hell isn’t mine.

Even if it does feel like it is more than I want to admit.