Saxon's Soul (Haven, Texas Book 5)

by Laylah Roberts

  Saxon’s Soul

  Laylah Roberts

  Contents

  Let’s keep in touch!

  Books by Laylah Roberts

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Reveal Me, Sir

  Captivated: A limited edition reverse harem boxed set

  Laylah Roberts

  Saxon’s Soul

  © 2019, Laylah Roberts

  Laylah.roberts@gmail.com

  laylahroberts.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  Cover Design by: Allycat’s Creations

  Editing: Eve Arroyo

  Created with Vellum

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  Books by Laylah Roberts

  Doms of Decadence

  Just for You, Sir

  Forever Yours, Sir

  For the Love of Sir

  Sinfully Yours, Sir

  Make me, Sir

  A Taste of Sir

  To Save Sir

  Sir’s Redemption

  Reveal Me, Sir (coming April, 2019)

  Men of Orion

  Worlds Apart

  Cavan Gang

  Rectify

  Redemption

  Redemption Valley

  Audra’s Awakening

  Old-Fashioned Series

  An Old-Fashioned Man

  Two Old-Fashioned Men

  Her Old-Fashioned Husband

  Her Old-Fashioned Boss

  His Old-Fashioned Love

  An Old-Fashioned Christmas

  Haven, Texas Series

  Lila’s Loves

  Laken’s Surrender

  Saving Savannah

  Molly’s Man

  Saxon’s Soul

  WildeSide

  Wilde

  Sinclair

  Luke

  The Hunters

  A Mate to Cherish

  A Mate to Sacrifice

  1

  “God damn, motherfucking bastard! Worthless piece of shit tin! You’re as useless as tits on a bull!”

  More than slightly horrified by the filth spurting from her mouth, Aspen tried to rein in her temper, but it was like fireworks on the fourth of July. Once it was lit, she was gone.

  Frustrated with the stupid car and her life in general, she pulled back her foot and viciously kicked the tire. Pain shot through her foot as her toes connected with the unyielding rubber. She grabbed at her foot, hopping around and cursing.

  “If this is a new sort of dance, I’m glad I don’t care about keeping up with trends,” a low voice drawled.

  “Fuck!” she cried out, putting her foot down. Turning sharply, she fell against the car, grateful it broke her fall. At least the heap of junk was good for something. It made an awesome leaning post.

  “Shit! You scared me!” Her heart raced as she spotted the man who’d spoken.

  Handsome and enigmatic with dark hair, a firm jaw, and a five o’clock shadow, Joel Saxon could have appeared on any Sexiest Man Alive list. He was dressed in a pair of neatly pressed slacks and a dark-blue shirt with the top button loose. How did he always look so perfectly put together? Did nothing ever ruffle him? Did he ever walk out of the toilet and realize his pants weren’t zipped? Or put on his underwear on backwards? Or spill ketchup down his shirt while eating a hot dog?

  Of course, he probably didn’t eat hot dogs. Or water down his ketchup to make it go further. Or roll up the tube of toothpaste to get that last little bit out.

  He raised his eyebrows. “I did call out to you, but you were too busy cursing up a storm. If you were mine, I’d be devising a way to punish you for that mouth.”

  Punish? She kind of thought she’d been punished enough. She sighed, trying to ignore her throbbing toes.

  Car, one. Aspen, zero.

  “I’m going to owe the swear jar half my pay.” Trouble was that her mother stole all the money she put into it.

  “Oh, sweetheart. I’d come up with something far more interesting as punishment than a swear jar. And it wouldn’t be your pocket that would be hurting.”

  Holy shit. He had to be joking, right? She stared at him. Nope. Not even a hint of a smile. His gaze was intense as he stared down at her. A tendril of heat filled her. How could she possibly find that a turn on?

  It wasn’t an empty threat, either. Joel Saxon was the owner of Saxon’s, a BDSM club and bar. And one of the sexiest and most eligible bachelors in Texas. That is, if you were into being bound, paddled, and dominated.

  Which she was not, thank goodness. Not that that did much to calm her libido around him. He oozed sex appeal, and you’d have to be blind, dumb, or too young to see it.

  She always turned into a clumsy, blathering fool around him. It was embarrassing. Although tonight might top everything else. Not often you get caught kicking a car while calling it a motherfucking bastard.

  Oh, dear Lord.

  “Are you going to tell me what the car did to you? Besides nearly breaking your toe.” He glanced down at her worn shoes, frowning slightly. “Let me check your foot.”

  “What? No. It’s fine.” Her pride had taken more of a battering than her toes.

  He stepped forward and opened the driver’s door. “Sit here and let me see your foot. I want to make sure you haven’t damaged anything.”

  He just waited. Silently. That wasn’t intimidating at all. Finally, her resolve crumbled under the weight of his stare. With a sigh, she sat and started to pull off her shoe and sock.

  “Don’t blame me if they’re hot and sweaty.”

  “I’m certain I will cope,” he replied in a dry voice, as he knelt in front of her and pulled her foot up onto his thigh.

  She searched for something to distract her from the affect his touch had on her. Who knew her foot could be such an erogenous zone?

  “So, guess this is a total switch up for you. You kneeling while I . . .” She pressed her lips together. That had sounded better in her head.

  His lips twitched. “Is it making you uncomfortable? Would you rather be the one kneeling before me?”

  Oh, fuck. “No.”

  “Hmm, that was a rather vehement no. Does the fact that I’m a Dominant offend you?”

  “No.” If it did then she lived in the wrong place. Half the town seemed to belong to his club.

  “Nothing appears to be broken, just a little bruised. Still, might be a good idea to lay off kicking cars for a while.” He slid her sock on before she could protest. She grabbed for her shoe.

  “I can do that.”

  “Didn’t say you couldn’t,” he replied easily.

  Guilt filled her. She was acting like a bitch. He was just trying to help, after all. She just wished his help didn’t feel like a parent trying to calm a chi
ld. He slid her shoe on and did up her laces. Then he abruptly stood and took a step back. “Now that your foot is taken care of, let’s look at your car.”

  “It won’t start.”

  He glanced over the car. “Are you sure it’s not just out of gas?”

  She frowned. “I’m not stupid. I checked the gas gauge.”

  He gave her a cool look, and her stomach dropped. Okay, snapping at the biggest, baddest Dom in town probably wasn’t a smart idea. And that was saying something in a town filled with alpha males. Haven was an unusual place. Ménage relationships were embraced and accepted rather than being considered strange and wrong. And the men of this town took overprotectiveness to a whole other level. And they weren’t just protective of their own families but of all the females in town was unusual.

  From the minute, she’d driven through the picturesque town she’d felt at home. The men had almost old-fashioned manners and the women in town were adored and cherished. But she didn’t know how long she’d stay, so letting herself get attached to this place or it’s people was a surefire way to get hurt. She’d learned that lesson.

  She bit her lip, looked at her car. “I don’t suppose you know anything about cars?”

  He flashed a smile and her heart almost stopped.

  Get a grip, Aspen.

  There was no way he’d ever be interested in her. And it wasn’t like she wanted anything to do with him or his dominant tendencies.

  And how many times are you going to tell yourself that?

  As many times as it takes.

  “I’m afraid I don’t. I believe in playing to a person’s strengths. Mechanics are not one of mine. I leave that to the professionals.”

  Right. So would she. If she could afford to pay a professional.

  “I’ll call Matt for you.” He reached into his pocket to call the local garage.

  “No,” she said quickly. “No, I, uh, I’ll call him in the morning

  “And how do you propose to get home tonight?”

  That was the million-dollar question. Her bank account wasn’t going to stretch to pay for a taxi.

  “I guess I’ll take a taxi.” She managed a tremulous smile, imagining a very long walk home in her future.

  He eyed her for a moment. “I don’t know you well, but I do believe you just lied to me.”

  Shit. How could he tell?

  She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, even as her stomach tightened into a knot. At this rate, she was going to give herself an ulcer to go along with everything else that was fucked-up with her life.

  “It’s not really any of your business how I get home, is it?”

  That eyebrow rose again. Disapproval was written all over his face, and she felt the ridiculous urge to apologize.

  “Actually, as a male resident of Haven, faced with a female about to put herself in a dangerous situation, it absolutely is my business.”

  “Since when is taking a taxi dangerous?”

  “We both know you just lied about taking a taxi. It’s getting dark. How are you getting home, Aspen?”

  Drat. He’d used her name. She hadn’t been certain he’d remember it. She hadn’t counted on being that memorable.

  You spilled scotch down his shirt, Aspen. How is that not memorable?

  Yeah, not her finest moment. She’d been flustered and exhausted after working at the diner then taking a shift at Dirty Delights. She’d been overworked. And it had nothing to do with the man himself? Yeah, right.

  “I could call a friend.”

  “Good choice.” He nodded. “I’ll wait while you do that.”

  Except who could she call? The other waitresses were all nice, but Aspen tended to keep to herself. It was an old habit, learned after years of moving around and having to leave friends behind. Plus, friends tended to want to know something about your life, and there wasn’t much she wanted to share.

  She closed her eyes, leaning back against the car, feeling defeated. This wasn’t her. She was a fighter. But there came a time when things just became too much.

  And this was one of those times.

  Saxon watched as the small female’s shoulder’s slumped. She leaned back against her rusty car, which should have headed for the wrecker’s yard long ago, her eyes closing. Defeat was written all over her face.

  He didn’t like it.

  He’d thought her quiet and easily frightened. Tonight was fast changing that opinion. Watching her swear at her car, her face flushed, her eyes filled with fire, he’d decided she wasn’t quite the little mouse he’d believed she was. There was a temper in there. And one hell of a mouth. He was a little shocked. Such a tiny female to have so much anger.

  Mind you, if he had to drive around in that sardine can he might be angry as well.

  Now he felt a bit guilty for causing her to look so defeated. But not guilty enough to leave her alone. He took his responsibilities seriously. Every man in Haven looked out for the women here. Made certain they were safe. He couldn’t do anything about her car, much as he longed to, but he could do something about this. He knew she had no intention of taking a taxi. It was also obvious she didn’t have much money. Her shoes were worn, her car on its last legs and he knew she was raising two children alone.

  Since she didn’t seem keen on calling anyone else, he could only conclude she planned to walk or hitchhike.

  Neither of those things were happening.

  “Aspen,” he said in a quiet voice.

  He watched as she rallied herself, once more marveling that that small body could hold such strength. Or maybe it was just sheer stubbornness.

  She straightened, opened her eyes, pushing back a strand of hair. “Yes?”

  “I’ll give you a ride home.”

  Panic filled her face. He felt a flicker of amusement. Most of the time, women fell over themselves to get his attention. Never once had a woman panicked at the idea of him driving them home.

  “I promise, just a ride, nothing more. There’s no reason to look at me like I’m an axe murderer about to drive you to your death.”

  “What? I’m not—” She blew out a breath. “Sorry. It’s a really kind offer but I couldn’t—”

  “I insist,” he told her firmly. “And I have to warn you, I really don’t like hearing the word no.”

  For a moment amusement lit her face and it lightened her, making the always-present exhaustion disappear briefly. “You mean there’s someone brave enough to tell you no?”

  He sighed, deliberately drawing it out. “Hard to believe, but there are a few foolish souls who have tried. You’re not going to be one of them, are you?”

  She smiled. “We’ll see.”

  She stole a look at Saxon as he drove. His car was immaculate, like the man. It was an expensive ride, the leather seats were buttery soft, the drive so smooth it felt like the tires weren’t even touching the road.

  Nerves filled her as they grew closer to the cabin she was renting. He’d just drop her off and leave, right? No reason for him to linger. He had to want to get home.

  “I’m sorry if I’m keeping you from work.”

  “It’s Monday, the club is closed.”

  “Oh, right.” She wouldn’t know. She didn’t have any interest in a BDSM club.

  He glanced over at her, his lips twitching. “Have you ever visited a BDSM club?”

  “No.”

  “Would you like to?”

  “Are you asking me to?” She gaped at him, unable to help herself. He was inviting her to his club? Did he think she was into that sort of thing? That she was submissive? Or Dominant? Uh, she really, really didn’t have the urge to take a paddle to some guy’s ass.

  She shuddered.

  “Hmm the usual reaction I encounter when I invite someone to the club for the first time is eagerness, maybe some nerves, or curiosity. But I’ve never had someone appear to want to hurl.”

  Oh, shit. She was insulting him when he was being kind enough to drive her home.

&nbs
p; “Sorry, I’m sure it’s very nice.” Nice? Jesus, why did she say that?

  “Nice?”

  Okay, now he really sounded offended. She watched him worriedly. She was in a car, on a dark, deserted road with a man she barely knew. What the hell was she thinking? Just because he was a resident of Haven didn’t make him safe. Sure, nobody had ever said anything bad about him. Well, no, that wasn’t true. She’d heard often enough how he went through women, how he didn’t have a heart, and that he could be an arrogant bastard. That was actually how Logan Ferguson referred to him, as “that arrogant bastard.” But she’d never heard he was violent or dangerous.

  “Jesus, didn’t I tell you not to look at me like I’m a serial killer?” he said with exasperation. “And my BDSM club is not nice.”

  “All right, it’s not nice,” she agreed with him. Try not to anger the Dom, Aspen.

  “How would you know, seeing as you’ve never been there?”

  “I know. I was just agreeing, because it seemed rather important to you.”

  He blew out a breath and shook his head. “You’re a very frustrating woman.”

  Now that seemed unfair. “You hardly know me.”

  “You run every time you see me coming.”

  “Do not.” Well, maybe just a little. The way she reacted to him unnerved her.

  “You’re lying again. That’s going to get you into trouble, little girl.”

  Those words sent her insides into a tailspin, and she had no idea why. She might be little, but she was no girl. She hadn’t been a child in a long time. She’d had to grow up quickly.

  “With you?” she challenged.