Devil (Savage MC--Tennessee 1)

“Got my mind on shit,” I growl, which isn’t a lie. It definitely is—even if it shouldn’t be.

“You’re starting to get as broody as Diesel, dude, or that fucker you talk with every once in a while—Beast.”

The irony in that makes my mouth twist in self-derision, because I’m forever nagging Beast, trying to get him back into the land of the living.

“You ever miss Ellie?” I ask Fury. Ellie was his old lady. The two of them were inseparable for over a year. Something happened between them—I don’t know what and I don’t think anyone does. Fury closed up over it. All I know is that one day Ellie was here and the next she was packing her shit and heading out of Tennessee. We could all see it was tearing Fury up inside, but he stood and watched her leave. He didn’t try to stop her… Not once. The men and I have never brought her up, because we see the pain in Fury every damn time something happens to remind him of Ellie. Last Christmas, a few weeks after Ellie left, a Christmas card came for her and Fury stayed drunk for a fucking week. He broke windows out of the club and threw chairs—breaking them and fuck, anything else he could get his hands on. The man was torn the fuck up… Which means it’s fucked up I’m asking about her now, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“She made her choice,” he answers, his face changing to the point it’s almost painful to look at. He looks like he’s been carved in damn stone.

“Still, man—”

“I don’t know what the fuck has got you like this, Devil, but I’m not talking about this shit.”

“A woman,” I mutter, taking another drink. “A motherfucking woman,” I answer, feeling like the sad fuck I am.

Fury watches me for a minute and then the bastard takes my bottle, using his shirt to wipe off the rim of it.

“I’m not going to give you fucking cooties,” I growl, barely feeling the buzz of the Jack, even if I’ve managed to drink a fourth of the bottle in two gulps.

“I’ve seen the bitches you play with. I’m not taking any chances,” he laughs, though his voice still sounds angry. He takes a drink, letting out an “Ahhh…” as the burn moves down his throat. Then he takes another drink.

I jerk the bottle back before he can drink it all and ruin my chance to get shit-faced.

“Haven’t played with any bitch in so long I think my dick is dead,” I admit sadly.

“You’re really that sprung over that nun chick?” he asks, as if he can’t believe it. And I can’t say as I blame him. I can hardly believe it myself.

I’ve been stalking her. There’s not another fucking word for it; that’s what it is—and I’ve been doing it for over a month. I can’t explain why. There’s something about her that captured my attention from the very beginning and it’s not letting me go…

She’s not letting me go.

“There’s something about her,” I mumble.

“Yeah, her pussy belongs to God,” Fury smirks and I want to hit him. I want to smash my fist into his face and keep hitting until the frustration inside of me is gone.

“Didn’t know you were religious,” I respond instead.

“Didn’t say I was. I only know you’re shit out of luck,” he says with a shrug. “You’d do better to get back to the party and find you a bitch in there and fuck her out of your system.”

“And that works for you?” I ask, knowing that it doesn’t. It’s the reason we aren’t allowed to talk about Ellie.

“Trust me, Dev. Women aren’t worth the pain, man. They never are.”

I listen to him, and I do it taking another drink.

What I don’t do is go back to the party and find another woman, knowing I’ll be outside that damn convent tomorrow looking for a certain brunette.TorrentHe’s not there.

As I look out across the street, disappointment sinks in. I really thought he would be there. I’ve started looking forward to seeing him and this is the first time he’s failed to show.

He’s given up.

That’s good. He needed to give up. I need him to stay far away from me. Logically I know all of this, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I feel letdown by Devil, even if I shouldn’t, and the weight of that emotion is almost crushing. A smart girl would go back to her room and pretend to be a good little girl. I’m not smart. If I was, I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in right now.

I catch the other girls working in the garden and I sneak away. I look over my shoulder repeatedly, afraid someone will see me. I can cover if they do, but I need a break—even if it’s a small one.