Wild Devotion (Wild Savage Hearts #3)

Chapter One

Caleb

What the fuck?” Chantel yelled over the pounding bass.

My cousin had been in a bad mood all night—longer, if I was being honest—but whatever had caught her attention across the room took it to a whole new level.

Someone had pumped the volume about an hour ago, turning the house party into something closer to a rave. Pretty standard for one of Zane’s gatherings. They were always a combination of locals, tourists, cheap beer, and a kitchen floor that was sticky by midnight.

The look on Chantel’s face had nothing to do with the scene, though. Something was going on with her, and it was bigger than the stress of her recent move to Copper Ridge. But I was only home for the night, so I probably wouldn’t get the chance to figure it out.

“What’s wrong?”

Her scowl deepened. “Just give me a minute. I’ve got to take care of something.” Then she was gone, disappearing through the crowd like her ass was on fire.

I leaned back against the wall, sipped my warm beer, and watched a girl in a sequined top try to teach her friend a new dance move.

They were terrible at it. They were also having the time of their lives. And something about that dichotomy pulled at the already restless ache in my bones.

Usually, parties were my thing. I loved the noise, the energy, the way a crowd could swallow me whole and spit me back out lighter and happier on the other side.

I’d been dropping in on my cousin Zane’s, invited or not, since before I was old enough to drink.

Show up, plug in, let the room do the rest.

Except tonight the plug wasn’t catching.

Maybe the vibe was off. Or maybe it was just me and the dread trying to pool in my gut every time I thought about going back to Toronto tomorrow.

A year ago, university in the city was everything I wanted. The freedom, the anonymity, a limitless life beyond this overbearing small town. A future I could control.

It hadn’t taken long for crowded sidewalks, lecture halls, and roommates who were strangers to prove my theory was garbage. Anonymity wasn’t freedom, it was indifference and disconnection.

Loneliness and fucking boredom.

But even now, standing in my cousin’s living room, absorbing the chaos of a party in full swing, I still felt empty.

Zane materialized out of the crowd with two fresh beers, handing me one without asking if I wanted it. “Happy birthday, kid. Try to look like you’re enjoying it.”

“I am.” I forced my usual grin. “I’m just tired.”

“Tired?” He said the word like it personally offended him. “You’re twenty-one. You’re not allowed to be tired.”

“School’s been kicking my ass.” It wasn’t. Even with an advanced course load and working through the summer semester, school was the easy part. But it sounded better than the truth.

“So drop out.”

My mouth opened, but I had no words. Drop out? He couldn’t be serious. And I couldn’t actually be considering it.

Could I?

He clinked his bottle against mine before I could recover. “Relax, I’m kidding. Sort of. Just try not to look like someone died, okay? You’re scaring my guests.”

He slapped my shoulder, then disappeared back into the kitchen, where I could already hear him pivoting into another conversation, his laugh cutting through the music like it always did.

I settled back against the wall and tried to take his advice. Look like I was enjoying myself. Drink the beer. Watch the crowd. Find someone to flirt with for an hour and remember that every minute of life was precious.

Try not to let his words circle my mind too many times.

Chantel reappeared, looking worse than when she’d left. “Caleb. I need you to do me a little favor.”

“On my birthday?”

“Mon dieu.” She rolled her eyes. “Fine, it’s a giant favor. Consider it payback for letting you crash at my place tonight, no questions asked. Unless you wanted me to mention it to your parents.”

I laughed. “A favor and a threat. You’re really winning this one, cousin.”

“No more jokes.” Her tone made it clear the decade between us put her in charge. “My best friend’s here, and she’s shit-faced. That’s what I’ve been dealing with. She shouldn’t be alone.”

“Okay.” I pushed off the wall, my two nearly full beers already forgotten on a side table. “Should we take her home?”

“Oui. You should.”

“Me?” Maybe she’d missed the part about it being my birthday. “What about you?”

“Remember when I said I was on call tonight? Well, perfect fucking timing, I just got paged. I’ve got to go.”

Without waiting for my agreement, she grabbed my hand and dragged me through the crowd, bumping into whoever got in our way. As we crossed the living room toward the woman I’d be babysitting, I was already calculating how fast I could drop her off and get back to salvage this birthday.

Until I saw her.

Motionless, she sat with her head hung low, staring absently into an empty glass—her somber profile a sharp contrast to the circus surrounding her.

Everything else dropped away.

The music. The crowd. The cold knot in my stomach. Toronto and every other thing that had been running through my brain vanished.

Chantel’s hand was still wrapped around mine, but it didn’t matter anymore. Something had caught in my chest and was dragging me forward all on its own. Pulling me straight toward the most intriguing woman I’d ever laid eyes on.

Unruly curls framed her petite face, tumbled over her shoulders and down her back. Mascara was smudged across her skin, painting blurred lines between the freckles scattered over her cheeks. She had a full, kissable mouth, and dark eyes that hadn’t looked up but were already captivating me.

She was wrecked. She was stunning.

She’s mine.

The thought came out of nowhere, knocking the air from my lungs.

It made zero damn sense. I didn’t know her. Not her name or her story. I didn’t know if she was single or taken or something in between.

But the thought was there anyway, planted deep, and I couldn’t dig it out.

Fuck, I didn’t even want to try.

Chantel was right. This woman shouldn’t be left alone here. A woman who looked like this—wounded, vulnerable, completely unaware of the effect she was having on me—shouldn’t be left alone anywhere. Ever.

And I was going to make damn sure she wasn’t.

“Zadie,” Chantel yelled, tapping the woman’s shoulder. “Zadie, pay attention.”

She shot up from her seat, brushing her chestnut hair from her face, and her deep brown eyes finally landed on me.

Something flickered in her gaze. Surprise, maybe. Or curiosity. Then it was gone, shuttered behind an expression so guarded it told me more than any fake smile ever could.

“Caleb, this is Zadie.” Chantel pulled us closer together. “Zadie, meet my cousin, Caleb.”

Neither of us spoke as our eyes locked. The humid air between us seemed to spark, and my pulse roared over the bass.

“He’s a good guy,” Chantel added. “You can trust him. He’s going to get you home safe tonight. Now, I’ve got to run. I’ll check in when I can.”

She turned and walked away, but after only a few steps, called back over her shoulder, “Be good. Both of you!”

Just like that, she was gone again, leaving the two of us in her wake. Zadie, doe-eyed and burrowing under my skin, and me, trying to breathe through the lust hitting too fast and too fucking hard.

I’d spent the whole night contemplating what I wanted. What I was looking for. Only, I’d been asking the wrong damn question.

It was never what. It was who.

And Zadie was the answer.

A short, curly-haired, freckle-faced mess of a woman who was watching me so intently I felt exposed. Was she expecting me to speak? Deciding if I was worth trusting? Or maybe she was just waiting to see if I’d stay or bail.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

“So…” The corner of my mouth twitched as a current snapped through me and I was finally plugged in. “Come here often?”