The Grace of a Savage

by Collette Carmon

Tallulah tries to reason with him, but Lyric throws her own lies at her. He’s still angry. Rightfully so, she believes, and so Tallulah doesn’t press Lyric. She’s trying to be grateful that they are alive to suffer through these problems.

  Gratitude doesn’t make the situation any less difficult, however.

  Goddamn this sucks. Leave it to Sterling to leave me when shit’s hard.

  “Came long enough to pretend he cared,” Tallulah mutters to no one as she looks around for the case of beer she came in here to fetch. Mind-numbing tasks used to keep her sane, now they fill her with too much time to think.

  “Keep talkin’ to yourself and people’ll start thinkin’ you’re crazier than a bedbug.” Jorie calls out to her with a teasing tone.

  “Pretty sure they’ve had those thoughts for a good long while now, Jorie,” Tallulah chuckles. It feels forced.

  “Well, people are dumb and always talk.” Jorie is searching for answers to a question she hasn’t yet asked. Tallulah has known her so long now that she can dissect all of Jorie’s tells without much effort.

  “What is it?” Tallulah asks, tired of all the guessing games she’s engaged in throughout the years. She wants to try living without the safety nets of half-truths and omitted truths.

  The lies are too exhausting.

  “How’s Lyric?”

  Tallulah snorts derisively, “Not great. But he’s almost fifteen so I’d say that’s pretty standard.”

  “Memphis told me he keeps seein’ Lyric walkin’ to the river when he’s supposed to be in school. Anything I can help with?”

  Tallulah folds her lips over her teeth, pressing down to keep from snapping. Jorie means well, and Jorie’s all in with her feelings for Judson.

  Something Daddy’s going to have to take care of sooner, rather than later, because Judson keeps parting those strong white thighs. Tallulah can smell him on Jorie constantly, as if he’s already made up his mind and claimed her as his. A dangerous game to play when there’s another man who’s been barking up her tree for years—a man who already hates Judson on principle.

  I don’t need any more trouble for my family.

  “I think I’ve got it, thanks,” Tallulah replies when the silence grows thick and uncomfortable.

  “I didn’t mean to overstep,” Jorie tells her with an imploring gaze. “I love you guys and I want you to know I’m here for you.”

  Me or my brother? She doesn’t have to ask the question. Jorie’s hurt frown tells Tallulah that she’s got the message loud and clear from the way Tallulah glares at her.

  “Just get the beer,” Jorie says after a cough.

  “Sure thing, boss,” there’s a definite edge to Tallulah’s terse reply.

  Jorie lets the tone slide.

  Billy Byers, the old town mechanic, is three sheets to the wind by closing time. Nothing new. Neither is the hand he slides up Tallulah’s bare thigh as she starts busing the bottles the night crowd left on the scarred bar top.

  “Best move that hand ‘fore I break it,” Tallulah tells him for what has to be the thousandth or so time since she’s started this menial job.

  “So you’ve said, honey. Ain’t broke it yet.” His beer sour breath makes her wrinkle her nose. Billy isn’t a terrible looking man, for his age, but all men have less polish since Sterling. Before he came back to town she’d learned to love less than perfect men—love them as well as a broken-hearted woman could manage while trying to hold herself together. But seeing Sterling again, touching him, made her body remember that someone out there knew how to make her feel precious.

  Not just beautiful and willing.

  “Well if she doesn’t break it, I will,” Sterling’s voice fills the room and Tallulah’s heart upticks. His boots on the worn out wooden floor are a beat Tallulah never wants to end. “Hands off, Billy.” Sterling growls, as if he’s the wolf in the room.

  “Piss off back to California, Savage. You ain’t man ‘nuff for a gal like Miss Tallulah. I’m the one that’s gotta show her what she’s been missin’.” Billy stumbles off his barstool. Tallulah has to hide her laugh with her hand when she notices that his fly is down.

  “You ain’t showin’ her anything impressive if you’re that limp, ya old drunk,” Sterling scowls at Billy. “Now get outta here, son. I’m not tellin’ you again.”

  Billy’s never been much of a scrapper. After a long, assessing squint at Sterling he wisely ambles towards the door, jangling his keys. The door bangs shut behind him and Sterling frowns after his retreating form.

  “You let him drive like that?”

  “Sheriff always comes and gives him a ride since they’re best friends. He’ll have one of the deputies follow him back to Billy’s garage with that old rust-bucket he drives.” Tallulah shrugs, going back to her task of gathering up bottles. Tossing them into a bucket that she’ll take home to Lyric, to rinse out for recycling. One of those odd jobs Jorie pays him for though she doesn’t have to.

  Another kindness she does for Judson—the bitter part of Tallulah’s mind whispers. A mean thought she smashes into submission.

  Silence descends on them as Tallulah works—heavy like a too thick blanket that suffocates in the heat of summer. Still, she ignores him. He can come to me. It’s the last of her pride to not chase Sterling—she didn’t when he left the first time and she won’t this time around. He can damn well earn me.

  “Can I ask you somethin’?” Sterling says when Tallulah starts making her way towards the small kitchen. The one that’s through a small door to the back right of the bar.

  “You just did,” she calls over her shoulder. Tallulah’s mature senses give her the ability to hear him over the sound of the faucet, but still Sterling follows her into the narrow space of the bar’s kitchen.

  “I’m serious, Tallulah Rose,” there’s a naked sincerity in his expressive face. Tallulah swallows at the sight of his earnest gaze. “There’s somethin’ I need to know.”

  Gripping the lip of the deep stainless sink, she whispers, “What?”

  Sterling steps closer, causing her to tense with anticipation. Her body singing devotions to the memories of his heat. Stopping right behind her Sterling puts his hands over Tallulah’s, where she grips the sink, causing her pulse to thunder through her veins.

  “Why?” He asks—his voice a rumble of emotion.

  “Why what?” She replies, so softly she’s unsure if he’s heard her.

  “Why did you give birth to him after what I said?” There’s a crack to the question, shreds of his soul pouring into the sound. “How could you have the baby of a monster like me?”

  She presses her back into his body, fully caving to the need for his embrace. Sterling is an addiction she will never overcome, it seems. “Because I know why you lied.”

  Tallulah can hear the click of his throat as he swallows, “You think I lied?”

  “I know you did, Sterling,” she wiggles her hands free from beneath his. Wrapping her fingers around his larger wrists she urges him to let go of the sink. He does, caving to her guidance and she encourages him to wrap his big arms around her. While he presses his nose into her hair, Tallulah continues. “I knew you said those things so your daddy wouldn’t kill me.” Not a hard guess when she could smell Beaufort’s triumph and she could sense the internal anguish Sterling’s words caused him. Both scents were so thick a baby wolf could’ve discerned their meanings.

  “During my worst nightmares I’d see him, you know,” Sterling confesses. His breath warm and damp against the shell of her sensitive ear. “I’d see him standin’ over you. With you pale as death and I’d want to rush back here to check that he’d kept his promise.”

  “Why didn’t you?” Tallulah whispers.

  Sterling’s long fingers coast the line of her jaw, so gentle it’s the same tickling touch of a butterfly kiss. She opens her lips to taste the pads of his fingertips when they reach the curve of her lips. Her teeth graze the salty skin, causing his breathing to grow ragged.


  Arousal a thick, sweet scent that surrounds them.

  “I couldn’t come back.” Sterling admits while Tallulah sucks at his fingers with something akin to a promise. “Fuck, you’re makin’ it hard to think.”

  “Keep talkin’,” Tallulah commands, even as she guides his other hand under her shirt. Encouraging Sterling to touch what has always been his. His callouses dragging over her sensitive nipple make her shiver in his hold.

  “Can I fuck you first?” Sterling begs. His teeth nipping her earlobe with the perfect amount of pressure to make her throb between her thighs.

  “Tell me why you came back, and I’ll fuck you every night for the rest of your damn life,” Tallulah pants. Her fingers already working the button and fly of her shorts.

  “Promise?” He sounds desperate for her. A realization makes Tallulah feel powerful.

  “If I like what you say.”

  The air in the kitchen feels cool against the skin of her naked ass, and Tallulah turns to wriggle herself against the front of Sterling’s jeans. Delighting at the hardness she can feel through them.

  “Fuck, don’t tease,” again she can hear his swallow.

  “I’m wet, Sterling,” she moans. “So speak now or I’m goin’ home to fuck myself.” Because much as she wants him, Tallulah isn’t going to jump on him like she did that first night when she was chasing ghosts.

  “When I saw that Tweet,” he says, pulling away from her with a groan. “Shit…that Tweet.” He bites his lip, visibly trying to focus on his words.

  Tallulah faces him, hoping up on the small counter, spreading her legs for his ravenous gaze. Her smile turns taunting when she watches his eyes zero in on the throbbing need between Tallulah’s thighs. Sterling’s nostrils flare, such a small reaction but one that she notices with a mental preen.

  “Fuck, you’ve still got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

  She snorts—amused by his compliment.

  “You can shower me with devotions later, darlin’. For now…the Tweet.”

  Sterling falls to his knees before her, face close enough to her cunt for him to smell her. Tallulah throbs more at the thought.

  “It was every dream answered, Lula. It was you, me, and a perfect kid. It was wedding rings and Sunday bullshit…a life with you played through me.” He swallows, and Tallulah’s wonders if he’s reliving that particular dream.

  “You want it still, Sterling?” It’s a loaded question. They should both know a life together won’t be easy. However, Tallulah needs the assurance that he wants this as much as she does before she’ll let him ruin her again.

  “I’ll sell my soul right now for the honor of a day in that life with you.” Sterling presses a kiss to her inner thigh—a sealed promise. “Where’s a devil who’s dealin’?”

  “You don’t need to sell your soul to any dealin’ devil, honey. Just to me, ’til the day you die.”

  Sterling’s eyes are full of mischief when he glances up at her, “How do I seal the deal?”

  46

  Sterling

  “Fuck me hard, Sterling,” Tallulah commands. Her lovely irises are nearly non-existent due to her lust—blacked out and dilated with need.

  “As my devil commands,” Sterling murmurs with a solemn vow. Placing a chaste kiss to the slick warmth he’s about to bury himself within. “I’ll come back later to devour you properly,” Sterling promises and Tallulah shivers.

  “You best eat me to the second one,” she bosses. Sterling chuckles, enamored with her attitude.

  “Only if you scoot closer to this edge so I can get in you deeper.” Sterling says while his fingers dig into her hips the way he knows she likes.

  “I’m in charge here,” Tallulah reminds him with mild affront. Digging her foot’s heel against the back of his thigh to emphasize her point.

  “Always, Miss Tallulah.” Sterling’s words lose their laughter as he presses into the wet heat of Tallulah’s willing body.

  “Worth dyin’ for?” Tallulah asks him with a gasp, meeting each measured thrust with a grind of her own.

  “More than religion,” he chuckles into the crook of her neck. Sucking at the skin, burying his teeth into her flesh enough to feel but not break the skin.

  “Blasphemous,” her fingers twist in his shirt, rucking it up higher and Sterling groans at the smear of glistening desire that he sees against the dark the fabric. “Tell me how much you need me.”

  “More than breathin’,” Tallulah moans. Sterling’s hands press up the knobs of her spine, working in to each one on their way up to the nape of her slender neck. Fingers winding in the long fall of her hair, Sterling pulls her mouth close. Devouring Tallulah as if she were to be his last meal.

  He breaks the kiss. A small string of saliva connecting them like a tender thread. One that breaks too easily as Sterling breathes against her lips, “Tell me what you want, Tallulah Grace.”

  “Everything you have, Savage.” She gets a hand full of his shorter hair, tugging on it as Tallulah kisses him with a ferocity that feels like a war Sterling gladly allows her to win. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Sterling pulls her against him. Pressing Tallulah down until her back rests on the hard counter. A discomfort she doesn’t complain about—too wrapped up in her need for Sterling to care about the bruise he’s going to fuck into her lower back.

  “Deeper,” Tallulah begs. A flush spreads across her pale skin. Painting Tallulah a passionate shade that is as perfect as it was in his memories.

  A color that was always impossible for Sterling to recreate in others.

  “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Sterling assures her, slamming into her with a primal force. Gentle can come later, when they are sated and sure that this fragile reconciliation won’t break. “Feel me,” he murmurs, low but he’s certain she catches every sound.

  “Don’t stop,” Tallulah’s words are more grunt that syllables.

  “I won’t.” Sterling promises, willing his orgasm to wait—needing hers more than his own. He cants in and out of Tallulah. Precise movements—while Sterling’s hand moves between them.

  Rolling her clit between his thumb and forefinger, placing the right amount of pressure on the hypersensitive bundle of nerves, causes her to release a delighted noise.

  “Fuck, you remembered,” Tallulah practically screams as her cunt clamps around his cock. Gripping Sterling tight while a flood of wet heat rushes over his sensitive skin—a sensation that causes Sterling’s own orgasm to begin.

  “Fuck, how could I forget?” he gasps. Her nails scrape over his forearms, causing Sterling to shiver.

  His nerves a live wire from the force of his orgasm.

  “Am I like ridin’ a bike?” Tallulah quips, sitting up on her elbows.

  “Better,” he grins, capturing her mouth with his own. “Like ridin’ a motorcycle.”

  “You always were a romantic, Sterling.”

  Despite Sterling easing his cock out of her body, she winces. “Goddamn, I’m gonna feel my back for a week.” She throws him a playful scowl. “Ain’t as young as I used to be.”

  “Me either,” he agrees. Cracking his neck and giving her a teasing wink.

  Silence descends around them, charged yet comfortable.

  Sterling watches as Tallulah finds a clean dish rag to wipe the remainder of Sterling out of her body. A cloth she tosses in a trash bin afterwards while making a glib comment about having to dock two bucks out of her pay for that.

  “Glad you were a worthy lay, two dollars is more than I’m usually willin’ to pay.” As she dresses she says, “How much would you pay for me, huh?” Her tone and eyes are teasing, but Sterling can hear the anxiety in her words regardless.

  “I’d pay every last red cent I own. And, if that wasn’t enough, guess I could go see how much a left nut goes for these days.” Sterling’s joke eases the worry that was tightening the corners of her pretty eyes.

  “I knew you were a romantic.” Tallulah tells him after she releases a bright laug
h. One he hasn’t heard for years before this moment.

  With a soft smile, Sterling nods, “It’s why I wrote you a song, my loup garou.”

  Tallulah stares at him long and hard, making Sterling wonder if she’s going to change her mind. A fear seizes him—who will I be without her?

  A fear he shouldn’t have, he realizes, when she gives him a patient smile. Saying, “There’s a lot of stuff we’re goin’ to have to work on, you know?”

  “I know,” his heart-beat is anxious, but Sterling is hopeful.

  “I’m not easy to get along with accordin’ to my brothers.” Tallulah adds with a wrinkled nose. The expression makes Sterling want to kiss the beauty mark near the left corner of her mouth.

  “Lucky for you I’m easy goin’,” Sterling replies with a chuckle.

  “I got a kid,” she whispers as if it’s a sudden, damning confession.

  “And so do I.” Sterling says with a swallow.

  “Pretty great kid, too, when he’s not ditchin’ school and givin’ this ol’ lady gray hairs.” Tallulah shakes her head.

  “Best kid I’ve ever met,” Sterling agrees.

  He follows her out of the bar as she cackles, “He ain’t the best, but I could’ve done a lot worse. Probably, he needs a daddy who can show him how to be.”

  When she reaches her hand for him, in silent offering, Sterling takes it and curls his fingers into the spaces between hers.

  A binding, a promise.

  “I’d tell you the worst is already over, Sterling, but I’ve never been much of a liar.”

  “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he falls in step at her side.

  At her Jeep, he turns Tallulah until she’s facing him. Cupping her cheeks with his hands he whispers,“And if you give me the rest of your days I’ll tell you all the other things that make me love you like I do.”

  “That a threat?” She asks with narrow eyes.

  “It’s a promise.” Sterling laughs.

  “I prefer threats, Sterling, those are rarely broken.” He can’t argue with that.