Devil's Savior

CHAPTER 20

I’m fucking pissed. It’s possible that anyone who looks at me can see steam coming out of my ears. That is how angry I am right now. And I have every right to be angry.

Today was my doctor’s appointment after I had physical therapy yesterday. And I got great news during both appointments. I’m not mad about that.

What I am fuming about is the fact that Crosby wasn’t there for either appointment. Yeah. That’s right.

The same man who didn’t want me to lift even my pinky finger for months and insisted on driving me to every single appointment until I was given the all-clear to drive again, didn’t show up to my last, and arguably most important, appointments.

I’m shocked, honestly.

And hurt.

I think that’s why I’m as mad as I am. Because my heart aches.

What I can’t understand is why he put in so much time and effort to be there for me, to show me who he was, only for him to fumble right at the end. It doesn’t make any sense, but you better fucking believe that I’m going to get to the bottom of it.

I shake my head as I grip the steering wheel tighter as I grind my molars together. Everything in me is screaming to run and hide, but I’m not going to be a coward. Not today. Nope.

I know that the club has been dealing with some shit. I was more than willing to give Apostle some leeway. I didn’t push him even though he’s been distant the last few days.

No, it was more than being distant. It was like he was conflicted about something.

I was really worried about him, but I didn’t want to push him. Not with everything he was wrestling with. I was hoping he would come to me and talk about it, but he didn’t.

And now he didn’t show up to either of my last appointments. I didn’t need him there yesterday to antagonize Devin again, to be fair, but I really thought he would want to hear my doctor give me a clean bill of health today.

Crosby always looked so fucking haunted every time the shooting was brought up. I don’t think he had a change of heart, but I can’t figure out what could keep him from showing up.

He’s always showed up. Even when I was pushing him away and wishing on every falling star for him to leave me the fuck alone. Now that I’ve accepted him, now that I’ve fallen in love with him, he doesn’t show. Really? What the actual fuck?

It doesn’t make any sense.

When I pull up to the gate of the DSMC clubhouse, the Prospect there looks surprised to see me. As he starts to walk toward me, I direct my anger in his direction. He immediately holds up his hands and opens the gate.

There are a lot of bikes and cars in the lot in front of the clubhouse, far more than would normally be here at this time. But I tell myself that they’ve been dealing with more than they usually do, and it’s probably an all hands on deck kind of situation.

Every step I take as I climb out of my car and head toward the clubhouse door feels like winged fury. And that fury fucking explodes, leaving me feeling vulnerable while still pissed, the moment I swing open the door and freeze.

Because the first and, frankly, only thing I see is Apostle sitting on one of the couches with a young woman looking up at him. Her eyes are big and round, but even I can see the innocence and honesty she’s trying to convey is fake as fuck. If how close they are wasn’t bad enough, she’s touching him.

Fucking touching him.

My breathing becomes labored pants, as I try and keep myself from screeching out a war cry and launching myself at them. I don’t even know who I would attack at this point. I can read my Crosby like a book and there is no interest in his gaze.

The way he’s looking at her is nothing like the way he looks at me.

Still, knowing it doesn’t stop the rage from becoming a flame that slowly engulfs my body.

Then there’s her. She knows exactly what she’s doing. I’ve known calculating women in my time and this one thinks she’s a master. The way she believes that she has my man wrapped around her finger is almost comical.

Almost.

The silence in the common room is deafening.

I’m a little too far away to hear exactly what they’re talking about, but I can read her body language. Her lips move and whatever she says to him is a proposition. Crosby’s lip curls up slightly in disgust, but he tempers his reaction for some reason.

It hits me like a damn sledgehammer—this is the woman he rescued from that place.

Well, I guess that’s one way to show your gratitude.

The trust I’ve put in Crosby—and I do still trust and believe in the man I love—isn’t enough to stop the sadness and betrayal tainted pain from rolling through my soul. It almost brings me to my knees, but this is not the time and place to show an ounce of weakness.

Crosby’s head turns toward me so quickly that I almost wince, because that couldn’t have felt good. When he jumps up so quickly that I’m almost afraid he’ll trip over his own feet and starts to move toward me, I hold up my hand. I don’t want him to touch me. If he does, I’ll start to cry and now is not the time.

I glance around the room, needing to know who, exactly, gets to witness my shame and misery. The only people in the room who seem to be taking any pleasure from the situation are the angels present. Everyone else is glaring at Apostle.

Well, I suppose that’s nice.

My eyes roam over the man I love, knowing that I’m going to get over this. After a thousand apology orgasms.

One thing I know about my man is that he would never hurt me deliberately. He, literally, isn’t built like that. He also has a soft heart that wants to do good, even when he has to rely on death and violence to do good.

Guilt and regret have been eating him from the inside out since the night of the rescue and I’m sure that he’s not the only brother in the room who has been feeling the same way. Those emotions can make people blind to what is right in front of them.

But that’s why I’m in his corner. He’s mine to protect the same way I’m his to protect.

With a flick of my hair over my shoulder, I dismiss Crosby and move my focus to the woman who is now standing slightly behind my man. As she starts to reach for his arm, I make a clicking sound with my tongue, and she freezes.

Crosby’s looks down at her. When he notices how she’s holding her hands, he takes a step away from her. That’s great and all, but she felt comfortable enough to touch him just a few minutes ago. And he didn’t stop it.

My price for forgiveness should probably be two thousand orgasms.

“Hello,” I address the woman, a smile plastered to my face that is as fake as it can get while still being welcoming.

“Hi,” her greeting is timid, but it’s all an act. I can see the malicious gleam in her eyes. She glances around, but mostly between Apostle and me. Her voice starts to shake, “Wh-wh-who are you?”

Crosby narrows his eyes at her as she gives him big doe eyes, clearly expecting that he would come to her rescue even though she’s not in danger. Well, not yet anyway. Time will tell on that one.

“I’m Sioux,” I tell her simply.

“My old lady,” Crosby rumbles and takes a step closer to me. When I meet his dark eyes, I can see the way he’s pleading for me to not push him away.

The woman, I think Crosby said her name is Tara, gasps, “What?” Just as my man wraps his arm around my shoulders and tucks me into his side, fat tears start to roll down her cheeks. “You have an old lady? Why didn’t you tell me?” I look up at Crosby to see genuine confusion on his face and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. “You told me we were going to be together after I do rehab or counseling or whatever.”

I swear everyone in the fucking room gasps and I’m almost positive that I smell popcorn being made in the kitchen. I give the onlookers a death glare, but I know it’s not going to do a damn thing. Which is fine because I would rather have them here to have our back than not.

Tara is a snake.

Now, that doesn’t mean she didn’t get caught up in a tough situation and needed help. Both things can be true.

Crosby mutters, “What the fuck?” Anger washes over his features, the confusion chased away completely. Poor man. He just had his rose-colored glasses yanked off his face. Every word his lips form is a thinly veiled threat, “I never said any such thing. I have been encouraging you to do rehab or counseling because you need help. Clearly, more than I thought at first,” the last sentence is murmured, but everyone still hears it clearly.

Scythe lets out a bark of laughter before he slaps his hand over his mouth and turns around. Which is all fine and good, but the way his shoulders are quaking is a dead giveaway about what is really going on over there.

“And,” Crosby adds, his voice ice cold, “why would I tell you about my personal life? You’re a person we’re helping, sure, but that’s all you are. You’re not my family. You’re not even my friend. I felt bad for you because no one should be traumatized. That’s it.”

Tara seems to fold in on herself. It does make me feel a little bad, but at the same time, this is the bed she made. Now she must lie in it. Her mouth opens and closes a few times.

I let out a sigh as Crosby’s arm tightens around me. Lucifer steps forward, a look on his face as he meets Crosby’s gaze that could be ‘I told you so’ or ‘you’re an idiot’. He clears his throat, authority oozing out of him. “I do need to know which you choose because I need to make arrangements for you.”

“I guess I’ll go to rehab,” Tara sniffles. She casts one more look at Crosby before focusing on the DSMC Prez. There’s hope in her voice, “Can it be in another state?”

Crosby lets out a sigh of relief and he’s not the only one. Lucifer’s grin isn’t unkind, but it’s sure as fuck doesn’t hold the warmth that I’m used to seeing. “Of course.”

Cherise slips her arm through her husband’s when he points toward his office to get her to move in that direction. The knowing look Cherise gives me tells me the queen of old ladies has no intention of leaving her man alone with the young woman.

Probably for the best.

Just as the three of them disappear, I step out of Crosby’s hold. The pure devastation on his face with my action has my heart clenching. But then it morphs into pure determination that has my heart pounding in my chest.

“No,” he grunts and closes the distance between us again. He cups my face in his hands, not giving a single fuck who is around as witnesses. “I won’t let you push me away again. I almost didn’t survive it the first time, Firefly. I will not do it again.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the feral part of him peeking out at me through his dark eyes. “I never,” he emphasizes the word with a level of vehemence that has my nipples tightening, “looked at her that way. It didn’t even cross my mind. I wanted to help her because she lost her parents and because I wanted to be the man who deserved our kindness and love.”

Damn it.

I purse my lips as his words sink in and I find, after all the time I spent keeping us apart when I didn’t need to, my resolve is fucking weak. I do believe him, and I can even understand his logic.

I reach up and cradle his jaw in my hands. “I trust you, Crosby. I understand that you didn’t see her as a manipulative witch who is more interested in her next conquest than the help she needs. Not seeing it because you wanted to be a good influence in her life is admirable.” His eyes light up and I pause. “But that doesn’t mean you don’t owe me two thousand apology orgasm.”

There are snickers and belly laughs around us, but I barely hear them because Crosby’s eyes go from worried to hungry. Before I can tell him not to even think about it or what the doctor said, I’m up and over his shoulder. His footsteps are quick as we head toward where he still has a room.

“Oh,” I project my voice because I want everyone to hear me, “by the way. My doctor has signed off on my full recovery.”

Crosby freezes and then slides me down his body as cheering erupts from everyone in the common room. I find myself smiling until I look up into Crosby’s eyes to find them glassy with unshed tears.

“I missed it,” it’s not a question, but a statement. He closes his eyes, his pain plain to see, “Fuck, I missed it. I’m sorry, Sioux.” His eyes open and I can see the truth there. “I wanted to be there for you and to celebrate with you.”

“We can celebrate now.”

“Well, I do have an orgasm debt to pay,” there’s a teasing in his voice, even though the sadness and regret remains.

I’m hauled back over his shoulder and his large hand spanks my ass, the sound of it echoing around us and causing our friends and family to cheer even louder as my cheeks heat. When we reach Crosby’s room, he slams the door closed behind us and locks it for good measure.

I let out a squeal as he tosses me onto the bed. He follows behind me, and looms over me. As I focus on him, the pride in his eyes makes me feel powerful, accomplished.

“You did it, Firefly,” he rumbles. “I knew you could do it.”

“You kept me going even when I thought for sure I didn’t have it in me,” I admit.

His hands move toward my clothes, but he stops, and his dark eyes search mine. “You really believe me, right? That nothing happened with Tara? It never even crossed my mind. All I saw was a broken young woman who needed help. I thought I could relate to her because we both lost our parents.”

I sigh, “I know you Crosby. I believe you.”

“Good,” he breathes out, “because I love you so fucking much, Firefly. I want to live the rest of my life at your side. No matter where it leads us. It’ll always be you.”

Tears well up in my eyes and I don’t blink them away fast enough to stop a few from spilling over. The thought that I could have lost this moment, so perfect in its imperfections, hits me hard.

“I love you, Crosby. My loyalty, my love, my heart are all yours.”

Knowing the men of the DSMC, I know the gravity of the vow I’ve just made.

But I also know that it will be given back to me multiplied.

“I’m going to put my property cut on you and my ring on your finger very fucking soon. And you need to pick out which house design you want for the place we’ll build on the compound.”

My mouth drops fucking open with his words, and I can’t fully process them at first. But when I do, I can feel how right they are.

“But before any of those things happen,” he says as he starts to remove my clothes slowly, ramping up my desire and my need for him, “I owe you two thousand orgasms.”

My voice is breathy, “That’s true.”

“I should get started on that right now,” he growls as he crawls down my now naked body and settles himself between my thighs.

“Probably. Yeah,” my words are distracted because the anticipation has me turning into a puddle of arousal.

This time he doesn’t dive between my thighs like he’s starving. He savors me until he wrings three orgasms out of me. And yes, he counts every single one.

I’m loose and languid when he crawls back over me and holds my thighs open with his large hands. As he fills me with his cock, I know I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

Sure, I could have made him work for it a little more, and he certainly does have some penance to pay, but why should I do that while denying what I already know is true? Crosby is the only man for me, and I know, deep in my soul, I’m the only woman for him.

He will honor me.

He will cherish me.

He will work to be the man I need.

I know because he’s already proven it to me and shown me exactly who he is.

And if I had let Tara manipulate him, I would have lost a fundamental part of myself—the other half of my soul and my savior. And what a shame that would have been.

By the time I pass out, he’s already paid off some of his debt—six orgasms to be precise—and the smile on my face is filled with satisfaction and love.