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Tuesday, October 24, 2017

Ravaged Chapter 1

Today starts the release of RAVAGED (Devoured from Lucas's POV)!!!! I will be releasing it as a free serial on my blog and Wattpad! I wrote the book as a thank you to my loyal readers who've followed and supported Lucas and Sienna so I want ANY reader to be able to access it.

Ravaged on WattPad: https://www.wattpad.com/486020687-ravaged-chapter-1



Chapter One

“Nashville,” the redhead laughs as she pads out of the bathroom, toothbrush in her mouth. She’s naked, tits bouncing as she struts across the hotel room that’s become more like a second home to me. She stops a few feet from the bed and rests one hand on the dresser behind her. “It wasn’t on your schedule online, so what’s there that you can’t find in LA?”
Where the fuck should I start?
A change of scenery.
A city where the hotel staff hasn’t nailed down my fuck habits to a tee and doesn’t already have my room waiting for me and whatever groupie I stumble in with.
A place to get away from my ex, so I can make music again. Your Toxic Sequel’s the biggest band in rock right now, but nearly every song on the album we’ll be recording soon was written by someone else.
Yeah, the list goes on but I’m not going to share any of the reasons with this woman. I shouldn’t have even said anything about where I’m taking off to next. Not with the way she’s literally foaming at the mouth right now, drumming her fingertips on the dresser. Arching one leg to give me another glimpse of what I’ll be missing while I’m gone.
I think I’ll survive without more pussy.
She’s here because after my last show for a while ended tonight, I was nostalgic. Thinking of another redhead I’d fucked over.
It was only after she was beneath me with her mouth open in a scream that would’ve made Cal’s last girlfriend—some porn star who didn’t mind telling the band she won an award for best on-screen gangbang—blush, that I realized I couldn’t fool myself. Her hair wasn’t as fiery. Eyes weren’t blue. The woman I brought here tonight had thrust her hands out to me the second I said the word “handcuff,’ and I’d despised myself for thinking of the one who hadn’t.
Sienna.
My fourth regret.
She’s on that list of reasons why I’m going to Nashville, too. Just the mere thought of the place makes me think of her. Fucking nostalgia—it gets me every time.
The redhead places her toothbrush on the dresser, swallows the mouthful of toothpaste like it’s a shot, and grins. “So,” she starts as I reach for my boots, “will you be coming back soon or—”
“No.” I bite that single word out so fast, she snaps her legs together and blinks at me while I tie my shoes in silence. The truth is, I’ll be back in California by this time next month. My trip to Nashville will be short—I’ve got to resolve an issue with the foreclosure I bought and then there’s the new music Your Toxic Sequel will record while I’m there. Still, this woman doesn’t need to know any of that since I won’t see her again after tonight. She’s got to realize that because her flirty pout slinks into a sneer.
It doesn’t even affect me anymore.
That speaks volumes for my character. She’s looking at me like she wants to rip the tattoos right off my body, and I just don’t give a fuck.
“What about me, Lucas?”
That’s my cue to leave. I get off the bed. Take a step toward the door. “You’re welcome to the room for the rest of the night.” But I doubt she’ll stay. Hell, she’s already storming around the room like a tornado to collect her clothes from the floor. The slinky black dress. The sky-high heels. Nothing else because she’d come in wearing only that—the dress and the pumps.
“I’m welcome to the room for the rest of the night?” she repeats, pulling her dress over her head.
“That’s what I said.”
She snorts. “No. Thank. You.” She claws the black fabric down her body and shakes out her red hair. “God, I can’t believe you think you can get away with treating people like this, but don’t worry, I’m going to let the world know. I’ll put it everywhere. I’ll—”
“I’ll be sure to Google myself tomorrow.” I know telling her that will only piss her off more, but I don’t like threats. I get enough from my ex-wife. And I sure as shit don’t need them from someone I’ve known a few hours.
Fire shoots from her eyes as she slowly moves her head from side to side. “Unbelievable. I give you the best fuck of your life and—are you leaving?” I pause at the door, looking back to see her gripping her shoe like it’s a prison shank. “You’re actually leaving.”
“Something else for you to let the world know, too.”
Her voice follows me into the hallway, yelling for me to choke on a dick. I anticipate the shoe, and I’ve got good reflexes, so I easily dodge the platform heel when she hurls it at my head. It smacks against the door across the hall. When the door flies open before I have the chance to leave and some guy in a bathrobe glares back at me, I shrug.
“Guess she wasn’t a fan of the shoe either,” I mutter.
*
I’ve shoved the incident at the hotel out of my head by the time my assistant pulls our rental car down the snow-covered drive to my new house two days later, but it doesn’t take me long to realize I’ve got a whole new issue on my hands. A foreclosure shitstorm. That’s the only phrase to describe why some little fuck who looks like he was manufactured by Abercrombie and Fitch is standing outside the front door, arms crossed over his chest and a look on his face like he wants to fight.
If that’s what he wants, he picked the wrong one.
“Is this kid fucking with me?” I force through my teeth. Kylie shoves the Escalade into park and twists around to face me. She’s wearing that smile that drives me crazy, the one that tells me she only tolerates me at this point. “I thought you said this was handled.”
I’d bought the house at auction, but the previous owner has fought me every step of the way with taking ownership. Kylie’d told me yesterday that the woman had agreed to leave instead of going back to court again. Judging by Wondershit posted up on the front porch, though, I don’t think that’s the case anymore. 
“No, I told you your lawyer told me that she was working on it.” She’s using her singsong voice now. Combining it with that tolerating smile. Giving me the urge to fire her, even though we both know I’ll hire her right back because we share the same mother and father and I love her more than she irks me. “You remember that, don’t you?”
“You tell me a lot of things, Ky.”
She huffs, blowing blue and black hair out of her face. “Next time I’ll find a free spot on your chest and have it tattooed: Sorry, it’s not handled.”
“It will be.” I swing the door open and enjoy the sheer panic that takes over Wondershit’s face the moment my boots crunch into the snow. Kylie’s right behind me, tugging at my arms and hissing how she’s tired of cleaning up my messes, but I break away from her and bound up the front steps. Wondershit takes a step forward, puffing his chest out. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demand.
He narrows his eyes. Tilts his blond head to one side. Sizes me up like he believes he can do some real damage. “My gram owns this house.”
“Your gram foreclosed.” I draw closer to him, grinning because he instantly backs down. Pussy. “I own this house.”
“The eviction notice says she doesn’t have to be out yet so why did you come here? To scare her? Bully her into leaving and—”
I lift my hand and shake my head. For all my faults, that’s the last thing I want to be known as: a man who bullies old ladies. “I’m here because I was under the impression she was gone.”
He bares his straight white teeth. “Well, she’s not.”
“You don’t think it would be easier for her if you stopped stringing this out? If—” I thin my eyes to slits when Kylie steps between Wondershit and me. My kid sister, the mediator. “Move, Ky.”
She won’t because she’s never been good at listening to me. Instead, she gives me a pleading look. Glances up at the blond and gives him that smile that’s always made my closest friend fall right into her hands.
“Look, I know this is a bad situation,” she starts, laying a hand on his forearm. He jerks away from her so quickly, I’m almost sure he’s about to shove her away. I drag her behind me, and his eyes go wide in fear. “Jesus, Lucas, he just didn’t want to be touched,” Kylie grumbles as she resumes her position between us.
“I don’t. Not by people like you.”
“Right.” Kylie shoves her hands in her back pockets and rocks back on her heels. “Maybe there’s something we can do to make the move easier for your grandmother. We came in from Los Angeles just for this and—”
“Eat shit,” Wondershit grinds out. A muscle twitches in my jaw and he notices because a grin splits his pretty face. He reaches for the doorknob behind him, taking a step back, flicking his stare between Kylie and me. “We’ll see you at the court date next Monday. That’s about as easy as we’ll make it.”

I notice her well before she sees me.
She’s standing beside of that little fuck who’d given me such a hard time when I went out to the Previn house—correction, my house—a week ago. With wisps of her flame red hair escaping from her long ponytail and her arms crossed tightly over those amazing breasts that I came so close to unwrapping back in Los Angeles, she looks frazzled. Just like she did the first time I met her.
Sienna.
Not even two years and dozens of women could have made me forget her.
“Lucas?” The sound of a soft, feminine voice brings my attention down and to an entirely different set of tits. My attorney—and for the life of me, I can’t think of her name right now—moves her lips into a satisfied smile when she realizes she’s managed to catch most of my attention. “I was asking if you’re interested in grabbing a drink with me to celebrate?”
The last thing I want to do is celebrate putting an old woman out of her home, but I don’t tell her that. I shake my head. “I’ve got plans.”
The attorney stops me before I can walk away, placing her palm on my forearm. “You can reschedule, can’t you?” Her voice has dropped to a whisper, and I release a rough laugh as I stop her from tracing her fingernail around one of the tattoos on my wrist.
I lift my gaze back to Sienna. “I’ve got to pass tonight,” I say, frowning. The guy beside her is whispering something into her ear, and when he’s done and pulls back, she’s glaring. I hope she’s not with that dick. And if she is, I hope she just told him to fuck off.
Turning away from the shithead, Sienna’s blue eyes lock with mine. She doesn’t react, and I’ve got to admit, it’s a kick to my pride that she doesn’t recognize me. But then, she turns that delicious shade of red that crawls up her chest and creeps up her beautiful face, and I know I she remembers.
I also know that I’m about to lose her again as she hurries out of the courtroom.
My attorney doesn’t physically try to stop me when I take off after Sienna, but she calls after me, “If you change your mind, you have my card.”
“I won’t.”
It doesn’t take me much effort to catch up to Sienna, but I don’t approach her as she ducks into a themed cafĂ©. Instead, I walk around the block, oblivious to the cold and snow as I work out what to say to her.
Sorry for telling you to fuck off two years ago.
You were one of my regrets.
Fuck, I still want you.
When I finally go into the cafe, I find her at a table near the back with her head down and her phone out. She’s furiously tapping away at the keyboard, and I can’t resist touching her, covering her hand with my own. She’s soft, and all I can think about is how her fingers will feel clawing their way across my back.
Gasping, she looks up at me, knocking over a bowl of sugar packets.
I grin. “Room for one more?” It doesn’t matter if there is—I’m going to sit across from her whether she wants me to or not.
Her pink lips curl into a sneer. “Not much for spending time with strangers. So, sorry, there’s not,” she says through her teeth as I slide into the booth.
Even though I had every intention of apologizing for kicking her out of my place two years ago, that doesn’t happen. Instead, for the next ten minutes, we go back and forth—with her refusing me and me flustering her more and more. It’s not until right before she leaves that she drops a bomb on me after I demand to know why she’s here in Nashville. Why she’s with Previn’s idiot grandson, even though I don’t come right out and ask her that particular question.
Jerking out of my grip, Sienna offers me a stiff smile as she slams her phone into her purse. “I’m here because some douche bag musician from California”—taking a deep breath, she smooths down strands of her hair—“bought my grandmother’s house.”
I’m stunned as I process what she just said—that she’s Previn’s grandkid and either the Wondershit’s sister or cousin. “I see,” I finally say.
She nods slowly. “So you’ll understand why I’m saying this: Go fuck yourself, Lucas.”
Something about hearing her say those words sends me over the edge, and I know I’ve got to have this woman. That I’ve got to own her. It isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to do that, but I’m not letting her go until I follow through. “I’ve only heard you that forceful once, so I’ve got to ask: Was that for your grandma or for what happened with us?” I demand, leaning close to her.
She shivers. “Both.”
As I watch her throw down some money and stalk out of the restaurant, I realize just how much I’ve won today.

Sienna’s already given herself to me—she just doesn’t know it yet.

Copyright © 2017 Emily Snow Books

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