Devils Cut

Chapter 8

Corvus King

She whispers softly, ”Thank you.”

”Get some rest,” I reply gruffly, trying to keep some semblance of control over my emotions. I manage to turn and walk out of the room. My heart”s pounding in my chest like it”s trying to break free from its cage. Fucking hell. What”s gotten into me? I”m the goddamn vice president of an MC, not some lovesick teenager.

I close the door behind me, my thoughts racing. It”s just something about her, the way she looks at me like she sees right through me. Like she knows what I”ve done, what I am, and still, she thanks me. As if I deserve any gratitude.

”Shit,” I mutter under my breath. This isn”t right. She”s eighteen, for fuck”s sake. And I”m old enough to be her father. Besides, what would a girl like that want with someone like me? Someone who”s only ever brought chaos and destruction wherever he goes?

But I can”t shake the feeling that there”s something more between us. Something I”ve never felt before – something that scares the shit out of me. And the thought of her down on her knees, looking up at me with those innocent eyes... God, it makes my cock as hard as steel.

My footsteps echo through the empty hallway as I make my way to my bedroom. The weight of desire and guilt makes each step feel like a mile. I can”t help but wish I could just stay in the spare room with her, and watch over her as she sleeps. But that”s not me. I”m not some fucking knight in shining armour.

”Get your shit together, Corvus,” I mutter under my breath, clenching my fists. Tempest - she does something to me, makes me feel unstable like I”m losing control. And that”s something I can”t afford, not with all the shit going on around us.

I push open the door to my bedroom. Slamming it shut behind me, I don”t even bother turning on the lights. The darkness matches my mood. Without hesitation, I stride straight to the ensuite bathroom, desperate for any sort of relief.

”Fuck,” I curse, yanking off my clothes, the cold water hits my skin like a thousand icy needles as I step into the shower, hoping that it”ll help calm the fire raging inside me. My dick has never been this hard, and it”s all because of her – those goddamn haunted eyes, that wicked mouth. I can”t keep going like this. It”s been a week since I first laid eyes on her, and I”ve never jacked off as much as I have during these past few days.

”Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, my heart pounding against my chest. I can feel myself slipping, losing control over my feelings for her. She”s just 18, for fuck”s sake – what the hell could she want with a man like me? A man whose hands are stained with blood?

I try to shake off the thoughts of her. But they”re relentless, clawing at the corners of my mind. Just thinking about her sweet mouth, those plump lips, and how they would feel wrapped around me... The image is enough to send all the blood rushing south.

”God damn it,” I curse, gripping my dick and giving it long, slow strokes as I imagine the things I want to do with her, to her. It”s wrong, I know it is – but I can”t stop myself. She”s like a drug, and I”m already addicted.

My mind drifts back to the park car park. She”d looked me dead in the eye, fire burning in her gaze, and told me to fuck off. She had said it with a level of defiance I hadn”t expected. It had been like a punch to the gut – or more accurately, straight to my dick. I”d felt it harden instantly, straining against the confines of my pants as if it might burst through at any moment.

Now, standing under the cold spray of the shower, I can”t help but think about that moment, about what might have happened if I”d given in to my baser instincts then and there. The vision of her, defiant and unyielding, morphs into one of submission. I imagine her on her knees before me, those fiery eyes locked onto mine as she takes me into her mouth.

”Fuck,” I groan as the image pushes me over the edge, my release exploding from me, splattering against the glass shower door. I watch with a mix of satisfaction and disgust as it slides down the glass, mingling with the water running off my body.

”Shit,” I mutter, grabbing the shower head and directing the stream at the evidence of my weakness, watching as it washes away, disappearing down the drain. This isn”t me. I”m not some desperate, lust-driven fool.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the lingering images of what I can”t have. Stepping out of the shower, I quickly dry myself off, not bothering to cover up with the towel as I stride back into the bedroom. Naked, I grab a pair of boxers and pull them on before climbing into bed. The clock on the nightstand reads 6:30 pm – too early for sleep, but I need to clear my mind.

”Fuck it,” I mutter, grabbing the worn novel from the nightstand. It”s one of the old classics; something about immersing myself in a simpler time helps me escape the chaos of being the VP.

I turn to the page I have dog-eared and dive back into the story where I left off. The peace it brings is welcome, even if temporary.

I lose myself in the pages, pushing the relentless thoughts of Tempest away. For now, this is where I need to be – far from the dangerous allure of a girl, that has already caught too much of my attention.

———————————————————————————

I bolt upright, heart pounding, as a bloodcurdling scream pierces the night. Tempest. My body moves before my mind can catch up, and I”m out of bed, tearing down the hallway to her room in seconds.

”Tempest!” I yell, praying it”s not too late. The door doesn”t stand a chance against my adrenaline-fuelled rage. Splinters fly as I shoulder through it with a sickening crack, ready to face whatever twisted fuck has gotten into our territory.

But there”s no one here.

Just Tempest, tangled in her sheets, thrashing and sobbing, trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Her eyes are wide open but unseeing, filled with terror. Every muscle in her body is taut, like a cornered animal ready to fight or flee.

”Fuck,” I hiss under my breath, taking in the destroyed door that now hangs uselessly from its hinges. I need to calm her down, but how? She hates being touched.

”Shit,” I mutter, with adrenaline still pumping through my veins, I shove it back into place as best as I can. It”s not perfect, but it”ll have to do for now.

”Tempest,” I say, walking over to the bed where she lies trembling, her face streaked with tears. ”Get off me, get off me,” she whimpers, lost in her own hellish nightmare.

”Hey, hey...” I try to soothe her, grabbing her shoulders. ”I”m not on you, princess. You”re having a nightmare.”

Her breathing hitches, and a flicker of recognition crosses her face. But there”s still fear in her eyes, and I know I need to calm her down before she spirals again.

”Corvus?” she chokes out.

”Right here,” I reply, keeping my voice steady. ”You”re safe, Tempest. Just breathe, alright?”

She looks at me, her hands gripping my arms tightly. This is the first time she”s ever willingly touched me.

”Corvus,” she whispers, her voice shaking. ”Please... don”t leave.”

I realize then that she needs to feel safe – truly safe – in this moment.

”Never, princess,” I promise, scooping her up into my arms. Her body trembles as I cradle her, sitting at the head of the bed with my back to the board. I can feel her heart racing against my chest.

Tears stream down her face, wetting my chest. I hold her closer, trying to shield her from whatever haunts her dreams.

”Shhh, it”s okay, princess,” I murmur into her hair. ”I”ve got you.”

Her breath hitches and she clutches at me like I”m a lifeline. Slowly, her sobbing begins to quiet, and the tension in her body lessens. I can feel her heartbeat gradually slow to a more steady rhythm.

Fuck, I think, as I look down at her. What the hell happened to her?

She doesn”t let anyone touch her and keeps people at arm”s length. But here I am, holding her tight as she seeks comfort. My mind keeps racing, trying to piece together why she wound up here, so far from home. Australia is a long way away after all.

As she calms down, I find myself wishing I could ask her about her past, about the things that have led her to this moment.

The scent of apples and cinnamon fills my nostrils. Her breathing has finally evened out, the tears dried on her cheeks. I can tell she”s fallen back into slumber, the nightmare momentarily chased away by the reality of my embrace.

”Alright,” I murmur to myself, ”time to let you rest, princess.”

I start to shift, intending to lay her back down on the bed when her whimper stops me cold. The sound is low, almost lost among the blankets, but it”s enough to send a shiver racing down my spine.

”Fuck,” I swear under my breath, feeling her grip tighten, her body unconsciously seeking the safety of my arms. She might be asleep, but her mind is still trapped in terror, unable to break free.

”Okay, okay,” I reassure her, wrapping myself more fully around her. My chest presses against her back, legs tangled with hers. The warmth of our bodies melds together, creating a cocoon of security from the darkness that threatens her peace.

And as the night continues to stretch on, I remain wrapped around her, a living shield against the demons that plague her dreams.