Pan's Salvation by Shyla Colt

up easily. But I’d never force you to stay here. I’m more into the art of persuasion.”
    Her skin heated as she thought of how he made her beg the night before. “Yeah, I can see that,” she mumbled. “So I can go home when I want?”
    “After a time. I’m still concerned about Manuel. Matter of fact, after we see, Demon, we need to hit up your place for more clothes. You got a job you need to report to?”
    “I took a few weeks off.”
    “Perfect. Where do you work?”
    “I work at the Naughty Emporium.”
    He frowned. “What the hell is that?”
    “A lingerie store.”
    A wolfish grin lined his lips. “Fuck, you’re a diamond in the rough.”
    She laughed, despite her sadness. If there was one thing, he as good at, it was making her laugh. “What about my car?”
    “I had a prospect pick it up. It’s in the driveway.”
    “Prospect?”
    “Think of them as Dueling Devils on a trial membership for a probationary period. If they pass, they get voted in as full-fledged members after a time. If they don’t, we let them go.”
    “Ah, so you mean your bitches.”
    Pan threw back his head and laughed.
    This carefree man might just be contagious. That made him dangerous. Her stomach ached.
    If she weren't careful, her addiction to him could lead her to downfall. It seemed to be the family mode of operation.
    “I don’t like cages, but we’ll take yours since we’ll be gathering enough things for you to stay here for a month.”
    “You think Manuel would come after me?”
    “There was something too easy about that whole exchange. If I let it go and something
    happened…” He shook his head. “…This is the best way to go.”
    Part of her wanted to rebel. She’d never been a kept woman. The larger part of her needed him to keep her sane and distracted.
    The car ride was short and all too soon, Pan was pulling up to the gated area. Her heart hammered as the Prospect pulled the gate open and they drove inside. This world was a lot to take in. Prospects, Members, a president named Demon. She wasn’t sure she fit in here. Danger clung to them. She knew enough about Motorcycle Clubs to understand that. Pan’s ease in maneuvering around the cartel told her he was used to dealing with powerful men who did unspeakable things. It should’ve warned her off him, but it didn’t and that scared her.
    Pan parked and turned to her. “Were a hell of a lot more lax than the Hell’s Minions. Don’t’
    be disrespectful and you’ll be fine. No one is going to bother you and you don’t have to keep your eyes on the ground because some crazy ass fucker might take it as some kind of challenge or interest.”
    A weight lifted from her shoulders. “Thank God!”
    He laughed. “I’m all about fun. You know I could never belong to a club like them.”
    “If what I’ve been seeing is the real you,” she mused.
    “Trust me little bird, you see more than most.”
    She chewed on his words as they exited the car and walked up to the clubhouse. The door opened and they stepped inside a smoke scented, dimly lit building full of people and loud rock music. She moved closer to Pan as she took in the large men ranging in age. Vests adorned their backs boasting the Dueling Devils and each looked at them with a different level of interest.
    Pan steered them through the bodies to a hallway. They paused at the end and he knocked.
    “Yeah,” a voice boomed.
    “It’s me Demon.”
    “Come on in.”
    He opened the door and she followed close behind him.
    A lean man with an angular face, a shock of black hair and a stern mouth pushed back from the desk and placed his feet on the counter. “Who might this be?”
    “This is Lark Rosario. Lark, this is my President, Demon.”
    “Hi,” she said, smoothing her hands down her jeans.
    “Have a seat.” Demon nodded toward the chairs.
    She sank down into one and clutched the arms.
    “Tell your girlfriend I’m not about to spray her brains all over the wall, she can