Savage Savior (Savage People 3)

No. Oh my God, Dahlia, what the hell are you thinking about? Filters! Use them!

We’re just a few steps shy from the door. I can already feel the cool New York night hitting the flushed skin on my face. The air is cold and crisp, waiting for me to cool down from my brief encounter with Graham.

I march straight between the bouncers who’d just let us in…and feel a strong hand grabbing me by the waist. It twists me around effortlessly, and my breath is stuck in my throat. I ball my fists up immediately, thinking it might be the creepy dudes from the bar.

It’s not. It’s my step-dad, and he is looking like my worst nightmare, ready to explode.

He scrunches his devilish brows and his jaw tenses. Shit, his suit. His scent. For the millionth time since my mom and I moved in with him, I’m forced to see how hot he is up-close. I always try to ignore it, but it’s hard when he is so tall, so broad and fucking scary. And it’s becomin

g harder every day since I turned sixteen and started noticing men in general.

I wonder if he has a girlfriend? Probably not a good time to think about that, though, Dahl.

“Dahlia,” he says simply, but his voice sends shivers down my spine. His tone is so gruff and rough, so dry, I feel like he touches me when he speaks to me. That’s why I always make sure we exchange very few words when he’s around.

I clear my throat and look around.

“I was just leaving,” I state, avoiding eye contact. God, I’m such a pussy. A stupid one at that. Why was I so, so sure he wouldn’t be in Williamsburg? It’s not that far from Manhattan.

“You were? Without even saying hello? I’m fucking hurt.” He gives me a once-over, and he’s not being subtle about it, either. Almost like he wants me to know he disapproves of my outfit. His words are light but their meaning isn’t. He is being sarcastic, and my stomach coils with nerves.

Also, I forget to mention that my step-dad swears. A-fucking-lot. Shame he’s still the responsible one out of my two parents.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter, looking down. Jade, next to me, just stares at him like he just landed from another planet, and still hasn’t stripped out of his silver UFO coverall. Graham shakes his head and moves his index finger down my cheek in a way that’s not fatherly but not erotic either. It’s just plain intimidating. I shiver under his touch and close my eyes, inhaling deeply.

When he leans closer, my mouth falls open.

“To my office, kiddo,” he murmurs into my face.

Jade and I exchange terrified looks before I follow him silently as he leads the way. Jade takes a few steps in our direction, but he turns around swiftly, placing one hand on her shoulder. She literally jerks in surprise and I can’t blame her. Not only is he scary, but his hand feels like steel. He once gave me an impersonal hug on my 17th birthday and it felt a lot like he did something entirely different to me. I had to take care of that side effect in my personal bathroom. Twice.

“Not you. What’s your name?” he almost barks at her.

Jade opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Jesus, I hope she’s not going to faint.

“Her name is Jade.” I tilt my chin up, grabbing her hand in mine once again. I’m not going to let him intimidate my best friend. In a lot of ways, Jade is the only person I really talk to; it’s certainly not Annabelle I turn to when shit goes south.

“Right, Jade.” He scans her like she’s a piece of trash he needs to take out. I’m pretty sure he is going to forget her name before the night is over. “Well, Jade, I’m not your dad and it’s not my job to discipline you. A cab will be waiting for you outside, free of charge. Don’t worry, I’ll call your parents tomorrow to fill them in on your little adventure. Carter, Rome,”—he jerks his chin toward my friend— “make sure she gets home safely and take the driver’s number and license plate. Dahlia, in my office, now.”

I hug Jade quickly, mouthing “sorry” and feeling our hearts clashing together, fast and furious. Then I wipe my sweaty palms over my mini dress as I stagger into Graham’s office. I’ve never been there before—never been to this club, actually—and for some reason coming in here makes me feel alarmingly excited.

I close the door behind me and scan his office, all brown leather and deep oak furniture. It looks like it was decorated by a caveman. Then again, Graham is a bit of a beast. One in a special-made suit, at least. His Irish accent is soft but his voice is threatening when he leans against his desk, his palms flat over the surface, still standing up.

“You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Really? I wasn’t the one whose club was playing Ghost Town. You should fire the DJ and burn down his station before you hire someone else.”

I swear this stupid shit just slips out from my mouth without even meaning to, and I think Graham is biting down a smile but I can’t know for sure, because believe it or not, I’ve never actually seen him smile. It’s a depressive thought, but luckily I have no time to dwell on it.

He shakes his head. “Take a seat.”

I take a seat on the chair next to his rich-wood desk, exhaling sharply.

Then I fold my hands over my thighs and look down, playing my part as the chastised child. I’m not scared of my mom. She hardly ever tells me what to do, and she sure as hell doesn’t give a damn. But Graham…Graham is someone I don’t want to cross. I’m not even sure why, he’s never been mean to me. He’s never been anything to me, to be honest. Mostly he just ignores me. But I know that he’s a very capable man. Capable of ruining me, among other things.

“Care to explain what the fuck you’re doing in my club?” He leans on his desk, looking casual yet somehow frightening. His eyes, green like lime, shine with a hint of danger in them, and his lips purse.

“I wanted to…I dunno, to unwind. Have some fun.” I shrug, looking down.