Saved By Sin (Damned Saints MC #8)

Chapter 1

Ruby

Be outside in five minutes.

My stomach flips the way it has all afternoon. The kind that feels like excitement until you look closer and realize it’s mostly nerves dressed up pretty.

I stare at the message. Then at my mirror.

Then at the black box on my bed.

Luke sent the dress three days ago. No note. No explanation. Just sleek packaging, tissue paper, and a flash of red that looked like trouble. It was clearly meant for tonight, our three-month mark.

I tried it on once for maybe ten seconds, then shoved it back inside like it might bite.

It’s short.

Short like a statement.

Short like I’m supposed to stop being a person and start being a shape.

I tug at the navy dress I picked instead, the one that wraps and ties and lets me breathe. It’s still nice. Still feminine. It feels like mine.

My hands smooth over my hips, my stomach, the parts of me that have always been discussed like they belong to a committee.

Too soft.

Too round.

Too much.

My parents had a thousand ways to say it without ever using the words.

I left them for a reason.

Swoon Peaks was supposed to be quiet. Bookstore shifts, my rented room upstairs, a life where nobody watches me like I’m a joke they can’t wait to tell.

It’s a small room, tucked up a narrow stairwell above the shop with its own entrance, but it’s private.

It’s mine.

Five minutes pass.

I grab my purse, take a breath, and head down to the door.

Luke is waiting outside, leaning like he belongs in glossy magazines. Dark hair styled. Clean jaw. Crisp shirt. An expensive watch on his wrist.

His gaze sweeps over me.

The easy smile he usually wears hesitates.

“What’s that?” he asks.

I blink. “A dress.”

His eyes slide down my legs and back up. “Not the dress I sent.”

Heat crawls up my throat. “I thought this one was nicer.”

Luke’s mouth tightens. The charm shifts into something sharp at the edges.

“This is an important night,” he says.

“I know.”

“Then why make it harder than it needs to be?”

His voice stays low, careful, like he’s giving me a chance to fix myself before anyone else sees.

He steps closer. “Ruby. I sent you something for a reason.”

My fingers curl around my purse strap. “The red one is really short.”

Luke’s eyes narrow slightly.

“That’s the point.”

I search his face for the Luke I know. The one who brought me coffee during morning shifts. The one who leaned on the bookstore counter asking for stories with happy endings.

Three months ago, he walked into my quiet life and made it feel less lonely.

He had city confidence, money, and the kind of smile that works on people who want to believe.

It worked on me.

Because he was nice. Because he listened. Because he looked at me like I mattered.

Because he looked at me at all.

Luke hooks a finger into the tie at my waist and tugs lightly.

“Wear what I picked,” he says.

Something in me goes still.

I recognize the tone.

This isn’t a conversation.

“I’ll change,” I say.

His smile returns, smooth as glass. “Good.”

I turn toward the stairs.

“Ruby,” he calls.

I glance over my shoulder.

“Make it fast. We’ll be late.”

My room feels smaller when I step inside again.

I pull the red dress from the box. The fabric is soft, expensive, completely wrong for the life I actually live.

I change quickly, avoiding the mirror until the last second.

The hem sits high on my thighs. The neckline shows more than I’m used to.

It doesn’t feel like it was made for me.

It feels like it was made to show me off.

I force in a breath and head back downstairs.

Luke’s eyes light up the moment he sees me.

“There,” he says. “That’s better.”

My cheeks burn. “It’s… a lot.”

“It’s you,” he replies, stepping close enough that I smell his cologne. “You just don’t know how to own it.”

My throat tightens. “I don’t want to be stared at.”

Luke laughs softly.

“Sweetheart. With your curves, people stare whether you want them to or not.”

The words land heavy.

Curves.

He slides a firm arm around my waist. “I had to hunt for this in your size,” he says. “Not easy finding something exquisite for a body like yours.”

Exquisite.

Body like yours.

I swallow. “Thanks.”

Luke kisses my cheek. “You should be grateful I bothered.”

Something hot flickers behind my eyes.

I blink it away.

He’s teasing. Luke always has that edge, that playful arrogance that usually makes me laugh.

Tonight it doesn’t.

Tonight it leaves my stomach hollow.

He opens the passenger door of his car and watches while I climb in.

The leather seat is cold against the backs of my thighs.

Luke slides behind the wheel and pulls away from the curb like nothing happened.

The road out of town is dark, lined with trees and mountain shadows. Swoon Peaks fades behind us with every mile.

Luke drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on my thigh.

“You’re quiet,” he says.

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pretend you’re not nervous.” His voice softens. “It’s cute, but you don’t have to be.”

My heart stutters.

That sounds like the Luke I fell for.

Luke has been patient.

That’s the part my brain keeps circling.

I’m twenty-three and still a virgin. Not because I lack desire, but because every time things got close, I heard my parents’ voices.

Who would want you?

Be realistic.

Luke never made me feel like that.

Not until tonight.

He squeezes my thigh.

“After tonight,” he says smoothly, “you won’t be so tense all the time.”

My breath catches.

His hand slides higher.

“As in,” he adds, “you won’t be… untouched anymore.”

Heat flashes up my neck, half fear, half something harder to name.

“We’ve only been dating three months,” I manage.

Luke glances over like I’m being adorable.

“And I’ve been a saint,” he says. “Patient. Respectful.”

Saint.

The word twists in my stomach.

“I appreciate it,” I say quietly.

“You should.” His smile sharpens for a second. “Tonight’s going to be special.”

The road curves. The trees thicken.

Then the glow appears ahead, sudden and sleek against the dark.

A club.

The sign is bright and elegant, neon letters curling.

Velvet Reign.

A velvet rope. Black SUVs. Men in suits with earpieces, faces blank as stone.

My mouth goes dry.

“This place opened a month ago,” Luke says. “It’s exclusive.”

“It’s… a lot,” I whisper.

Luke chuckles. “You’ll get used to it.”

We pull up, and a bouncer looks into the car, then at Luke, then steps aside immediately.

No waiting.

No questions.

“How do they know you?” I ask.

Luke’s eyes flick toward me. “Salazar Huntington, my boss, owns it.”

“Your boss,” I repeat, because I still don’t know what Luke does for a living. Just vague business talk and long hours and money that shows up like magic.

His car is expensive. His clothes are expensive. His life feels expensive.

I’m a bookstore girl with a room above a shop and a bank account I check twice before I buy new boots.

Sometimes I catch myself thinking I should be grateful he ever looked at me.

That he chose me.

Luke puts his hand on my back as we walk inside. “Just smile,” he murmurs. “Be pretty.”

The club is dim and glossy. Velvet booths. Mirrored walls. Music pulsing through the floor.

People laugh too loudly. Men watch too closely.

I keep my shoulders straight and try to look like I belong.

Luke moves through the crowd with easy confidence, greeting men with quick nods. A woman in a black dress glances at me and looks away like I’m nothing.

We pass the bar and head toward a guarded door.

The guard opens it immediately.

The music dulls as we step into a quieter hallway.

Warm air. Thick perfume.

And applause.

My pulse stutters.

Luke’s hand tightens on my waist.

“Don’t talk,” he says softly. “Just follow.”

A cold thread slides down my spine.

The guard opens another door, and the room beyond steals the air from my lungs.

It isn’t a lounge.

It’s a theater.

Tiered velvet seating. Men scattered through the rows with drinks in hand.

A low stage under bright lights.

On it, a girl stands in a silky chemise, her face blank.

A man with a microphone smiles down at a clipboard.

“Sold,” he announces. “Via phone to one of our long-time clients.”

The men clap.

Two security guards escort the girl off stage.

My vision blurs.

I turn to Luke. “What is this?”

His smile stays polite.

“Relax.”

“Luke.”

“Don’t start,” he mutters, still smiling for the room. His fingers dig into my waist. “You’re going to ruin everything.”

The presenter taps the microphone.

“Alright, gentlemen,” he says cheerfully. “Next.”

My heart slams against my ribs.

This is an auction.

My knees weaken. I try to step back.

Luke’s grip clamps down.

“No,” I whisper.

The presenter laughs lightly. “Don’t be shy.”

My fingers go numb.

“Luke,” I breathe, “we need to leave.”

He leans close, his mouth at my ear.

“You’re not leaving.”

My stomach drops.

“You said tonight was important for us,” I whisper.

“It is,” he says. “For me.”

The presenter checks his clipboard.

“Next up,” he announces brightly, “we’ve got something special.”

The room shifts.

Men lean forward.

My skin crawls.

Luke’s hand tightens around my wrist.

“Come on,” he says quietly.

“Luke—”

He pulls me forward.

I stumble after him as he drags me down the aisle and up the short steps to the stage. The lights hit my eyes, blinding.

The presenter smiles wider.

“Ruby Novak.”