Savage Kind of Love

  Savage Kind of Love

  Prairie Devils MC Romance

  by Nicole Snow

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Savage Kind of Love: Prairie Devils MC Romance

  I: Three Nights (Saffron)

  II: His Business (Blaze)

  III: Into Temptation (Saffron)

  IV: Jealousy's a Bitch (Blaze)

  V: Like a Rollercoaster (Saffron)

  VI: The Demon Instinct (Blaze)

  VII: Repercussions (Saffron)

  VIII: Inferno (Blaze)

  IX: So Bright It Hurts (Saffron)

  Thanks!

  Description

  SAVAGE LOVE: FIERCE, SEDUCTIVE, AND LIMITLESS...

  Shelly “Saffron” Reagan's life is in shambles, and it's about to get worse. Keeping up a broken home and a brother in the vicious Grizzlies MC is more than any woman can handle. Remembering the tough talking biker who nursed her after a savage attack is all she has, a bad boy who's impossibly out of reach.

  Or so it seems.

  When Saffron gets caught in biker's crossfire, there's only one man to lead her out. One man to protect her, one man to lay his claim, one man to make her burn forever with his kiss...

  Michael “Blaze” Sturm swears he won't get tied down by any woman. Easier said than done when the babe with the body he can't forget keeps storming back into his life. When he answers her desperate call one dark morning, nothing will ever be the same.

  As President of the new Prairie Devils Montana charter, Blaze always gets his way. Now, his sights are set on beautiful Saffron, and he won't stop until she's wearing his brand and surrendering her lips.

  Will Saffron find outlaw love in his fire – or will Blaze's harsh world turn her heart to ashes?

  Note: this is a dark and gritty MC romance with language, violence, and love scenes as hard and raw as they come. Outlaw love strikes without mercy!

  The Prairie Devils MC books are stand alone novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers allowed! This is Saffron and Blaze's story.

  I: Three Nights (Saffron)

  They say it only takes one night to change a woman's life. For me, it was three, each more savage than the last.

  Deep in the darkness, forced to wrestle with dreams and desires and nightmares, a girl finds out what's really important really damned fast. And when it's all over, there's no more doubt.

  Scars don't lie, and neither do hearts.

  Three sunrises later¸ I knew I'd never know uncertainty again.

  Three nights. Three vicious, unforgettable, pitch black collisions with life and death, love and hate. Three nights to mold me into what I was always meant to be.

  I still think about the last one the most.

  Starting with the way the sick, soulless bastard held the knife to my throat, digging in so deep he drew blood. His words echoed like a lion's growl in my ear. Distant and distorted by fear, but unmistakably dangerous.

  “I see you've made your choice, baby doll. If you're not gonna tell us what we need to know about your boyfriend and his Prairie Pussies, then I guess we'll do things the hard way.” He paused, his stained teeth shaping a smile. “Lucky for you I like it hard.”

  “Kill me now. You're a dead man either way,” I growled.

  The knife relaxed its deadly pressure on my throat. His other hand tangled itself deeper in my hair and jerked, twisting my face to his, just the right position for a grotesque kiss.

  I'd bite his lips if I had to. Only one man's skin belonged on mine, and I wouldn't forget it, no matter how hopeless this battle was.

  Evil excitement flickered in his dark eyes, mingling with surprise. He stopped just short of planting his kiss and getting my teeth ripping at his lip.

  “Kill you? No, dolly, I'm in no rush. Not until I've torn you up and sent you home to Blaze with plenty to remember me by. Gotta fucking burn some sense into you, make you give up what you're holding behind that pretty little face. And then – maybe then – I'll put you and the rest of those Devil cocksuckers out of their misery...”

  My mind usually blanks at the sound of my belt coming unbuckled in his dirty fingers. Then everything becomes a mess, a deafening chaos like the world itself ending.

  The fire consumes everything. My pants drop, and he lowers his cigar, letting it linger so close to my skin I can feel the heat.

  “What the fuck is this?” He rubs tenderly near my hip, tracing my tattoo. “My, my. Pretty flowers for a pretty lady. It's nice to have a target. Hold still, doll. Those flowers can't do much screaming, but you sure as hell can...”

  Did I really live through it?

  Hell yes. This night, and so many more.

  Nobody ever said becoming an old lady to the biggest badass in Montana was easy...

  Never in a million years did I expect to end up on the stage, shaking my tweny-four year old bare ass for grubby dollars.

  At home in Missoula, I was Shelly Reagan, a college dropout who couldn't even get a damned job stocking shelves. Here in Python, I was Saffron, the most popular dirty dancer since June did her last act on the stage before taking on the manager's role.

  Rolling my hips and wearing nothing but a fuckable smile paid the bills a lot better than shuffling around a grocery store. It wouldn't have been so bad, except for the fact that everybody I'd grown up with knew who I was and what I did.

  Everybody except Mom, of course, and she was my only friend left since the others took flight. Same as it had been since my older brother Jordan went West after our family's last explosive fight.

  A working class girl does desperate things in a recession with a disabled mother and a big brother missing in action. The dollars were all that mattered.

  Dollars and drinks, maybe. At least Pink Unlimited's drinks were free to dancers, and the managers were nice.

  My supervisor June was a stone cold bitch on the outside, but deep underneath, I could tell she cared. I stayed on her good side by doing my job and making money for the Prairie Devils' new strip joint.

  I think she respected me for not whining and creating worthless drama like the other girls.

  It was a good gig, until the night when I ran into a giant in leather out back.

  I was trying to breathe in the fresh mountain air when the bike came roaring in. He rode an older Harley, and it snorted an oily, greasy stink into the narrow parking strip, mucking up my lungs.

  So much for break time! I thought unhappily.

  I tried to ignore him, but I couldn't when I saw him coming right for me. June always said to leave the guys sporting patches alone. I knew enough about MCs not to question her advice. Didn't have any trouble drawing the line between their club business and ours, just like the boss said.

  “You work here?” he asked, eyeing me up and down.

  Men ogling me wasn't anything new. Still, I wished I'd at least thrown on my pants before going out here instead of the flimsy robe we wore to cover up when we weren't dancing.

  “Nope. I just like to stand out here half-naked.”

  I should've known. Sass never got me anywhere, and it wouldn't tonight.

  The man pushed closer, corralling me against the wall with his gut. His huge leathery hands slapped the brick, poised on both sides of my head.

  Jesus, can't you take a joke?

  “Let's try this again, bitch. You give me a serious answer this time. This is strike two, and I don't do three.”

  He smelled drunk. This wasn't at all how the Prairie Devils who owned this place were supposed to be. Then I noticed his patches for the first time.

  They're different. Is this a support club?

  “Yeah, I'm on my break. How can I help you, sir?”

  Stuffing the sarca
sm wasn't easy. Unfortunately, not knowing who this stranger was or what he wanted didn't leave me much choice.

  “Need to speak to your boss. Got some cash to pick up, and it better be ready. Take me backstage so I can get the hell out of this dump.” He looked down and his eyes feasted on my cleavage while I wondered how to answer. “Fucking Devils. Fucking whore.”

  My eyes narrowed. I ignored the leering and studied him instead. I'd seen the Prairie Devils guys a few times, and their patches weren't like this. They definitely didn't have a strip going up the side of their jackets that said GRIZZLIES MC.

  Uh-oh.

  How could I be so damned dense to miss it? The Grizzlies had terrorized towns in the Flathead area for at least a generation.

  The reeking alcohol rolling off him suddenly smelled like trouble. So did the greasy bandage tied tight across his head.

  He pushed past me and grabbed for the back door. I caught up, gently tugging on his sleeve. He swore when the lock caught.

  “Open this fucking thing. Right now!”

  “You can't go in there! If you have a message, I'll pass it along. Manager's instructions. I'm sorry, we've all got our rules and it's what I've been told to –“

  He spun, a nasty twitch in his lips pulling at his unkempt beard. His fist was like taking a brick to the face. Everything turned to giant red stars, exploding in a fiery ring around my socket, anchoring around my poor eyeball. I fell.

  It took me several seconds to realize he'd punched me in the face. Then several more to look up, crying at the pain.

  The same fist hovered in mid-air. I rolled into a ball, afraid he was about to beat me to death. He stuck out his finger instead.

  “Pass this along: if we don't get our fucking money, the deal's off. You can tell that asshole Maverick and his whore that they've got twenty-four hours to cough up what's owed, or else our whole charter's gonna pay them a visit.”

  I tried to remember the threat, but the stars blossoming in my skull wouldn't let me. They swelled bigger, brighter, ten times more painful.

  The roar of his bike was the last thing I heard before I blacked out.

  I woke up chilled to the bone. Must've been out well past break time.

  The sharp fire in my head was gone, replaced with a steady throb. I threw my hands against the wall and used it to help myself up, wincing when I touched my eye. New pain howled fiercely through the tender flesh around my socket, so sharp I thought I'd faint again.

  “Shit...need help,” I muttered to myself.

  My brain was barely functioning. My legs switched onto auto-pilot and carried me inside, fumbling for the key card to the back entrance in my pocket. Never knew how I got it in and opened the door half-blind and consumed with agony, but I did.

  June flipped out when she saw me. It was the first time I'd truly seen her surprised. Ironic, because that night was the last time I saw her.

  I mumbled something about a stranger hitting me in the face, and she helped me over to a vending machine. For the next half hour I had a cold can of root bear on my face and Sandy at my side. Some other badass showed up and June had to step away, leaving me with the other girl to make sure I didn't have a seizure or something.

  My boss and the beast in leather approached a little later. Jesus, I was scared, begging him for protection. I couldn't go home tonight. Not after this.

  He granted my request to spend the night at the clubhouse. I had to wait it out until I could go home in the evening, just like normal. Mom wouldn't even notice if I was gone longer than usual, though I wasn't sure how I'd hide the bad eye.

  Ice cold metal nipped at the pain in my skull. It wasn't a proper ice pack, but it did its job. Numb twilight buzzed around my brain when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

  I flew out of my chair and would've hit the floor if Sandy wasn't standing by to catch me.

  “Jesus, Mister! Can't you see she's a little jumpy? A hello would be nice!” Sandy sounded pissed, ready to lay into him. But her words melted when she raised her head and took a good look at the man.

  “Maverick sent me. See this patch?” He tapped the VP tag on one breast.

  I felt Sandy nod.

  “Means I'm here to help your friend stay safe from the assholes she really needs to worry about. Same patch that writes your check too,” he growled. “Let me see it...”

  A powerful hand tugged at my arm, quick but gentle. I struggled to my feet, opening my eyes for the first time in awhile.

  I couldn't make out much more than a tall silhouette with broad shoulders, medium length hair, and some serious stubble on his face. He took both my hands, steadying my feet, drawing me into him.

  “Fucking shit, my bro never said it was this bad.” He shook his head with a snort. “Those fucking bears are gonna pay big time. Can you walk, baby?”

  I groaned incoherently. Thought I could, anyway. Maybe I just wanted to be away from bikers so badly right now I convinced myself of the impossible.

  “That's okay,” he said, softening his voice. “Slow and easy. Come to papa. I'll get you home safe and put some real ice on that shit.”

  His powerful arms went to the small of my back, and then the whole world turned upside down. My stomach lurched at first, adjusting to the movement. I realized I was floating.

  He was carrying me outside, careful to avoid jostling me too much. I let my head slump to his leather clad shoulder, wondering what I'd gotten myself into.

  Should've just asked to be taken home. Do I really want to be at their clubhouse if something's going down between two clubs full of men like this?

  A resounding NO rattled in my head. Too late, though, because we were already out in the darkness.

  Going home wasn't much easier. Mom was sure to lay into me if she saw my eye, and then I'd have to explain how I'd gotten nailed at a strip joint she didn't know I was working at. All while I had the brutal headache throbbing behind my eyes too...

  Big mistake. Everything.

  Every part of me screamed I'd made a mistake ever taking this job. Beneath the cool and sexy mask I wore to make money, I wasn't cut out for this life, not for the violence and crime, and probably not even for shaking my tail.

  God damned bikers! If their drugs and scuffles hadn't trashed this town in the first place, maybe there'd be more real jobs.

  Anger pulsed through me. I had a feeling an MC had something to do with Jordan up and disappearing too. He'd talked about going West and joining up to ride since he was eighteen. Three years later, all signs said he'd actually done it.

  It was easy to hate the men on bikes who roared around like they owned the fucking planet.

  Except for right now, when the tough guy carried me so sweetly to his truck, tucking me into the seat and fastening my belt. What little I could see through my bad eye said he didn't look like the brute who'd thrown his fist at my face.

  Didn't smell like the same either. This man had a different scent altogether, rich and earthy and soothingly masculine. He smelled strong, without giving off the nauseating musk I often picked up in the strip club after a full night passed with way too much testosterone swirling through the stuffy air.

  “What's your name?” I whispered, wondering if he could even hear me as he slid into the driver's seat and started the truck.

  “Name's Blaze. I'm VP of the Prairie Devils in this area. No need to bore you with more details than that. You just lay your head back and enjoy the ride, woman. You're safe with me.”

  Safe?

  Nothing about my life felt safe right now. Somehow, the rugged confidence in his voice made me believe it, or maybe it was just the blow to the head.

  I dozed on the short drive to their clubhouse on the outskirts of Python. He parked the truck, rounded to my passenger side, and plucked me into his arms again.

  God, a lady could get used to big, strong, tattooed arms like his around her. Even if he was the last guy on earth who ought to be dating material.

  I giggled softly through the
pain as he carried me inside their place.

  “What's so damned funny?” he asked, stepping toward the low lit bar.

  “Nothing. The brain thinks stupid things when it's been rattled like this. You got any aspirin?”

  He grunted in the affirmative and gently laid me down in a booth. I tried not to blush as his hands brushed near my breasts. No way did I want to admit to a silly crush I wasn't even sure I had.

  My eye was still so damned swollen I couldn't get a good look at him. Blaze was just a sexy outline moving around his brothers in the darkness. He returned about a minute later packing aspirin, water, and an honest-to-God ice pack.

  I wolfed down the pills, taking several handfuls before he snatched the bottle away from me. Bad eye or not, I could make out the sharp question in his eyes: are you fucking crazy?

  “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “With the kinda jobs I've had, I'm used to this stuff. Haven't worked anywhere off my feet since I was sixteen.”

  Well, when there was work to be found, I thought with a shudder.

  “Easy, baby. Can't let you do anything you'll regret while you aren't thinking straight. My fucking brother'll nail my ass to the wall if anything happens to you.”

  “Brother? Is he Maverick? The man with June?”

  He nodded. “Half-brother by blood, full bro by patch. One notch higher than me as Prez of this charter too. Well, temporary President and temporary charter, really. Him and I are Nomads, same as most of the others in this club. My bro can't wait to hit the fucking road after we're finished here.”

  His words were soothing. I wasn't sure I fully comprehended what he was saying, but I listened anyway, loving the deep cadence in his voice. I pushed the ice pack deeper to my damaged eye, soothing the rough pain.

  I heard a bottle cap hit the table, and realized he was cracking open a drink. His arm brushed mine as he took a long swig and set it down.

  Sweet tingly fascination swept up my back, a strange interest in this man my body had no business feeling right now. Anytime blood shifted around in my veins, the throb went straight to my head, harsh as hell.

  What are you doing? How much brain damage did that bastard's fist do?