Pan's Salvation by Shyla Colt Page B

cause you fell into my lap and I recognized my personal treasure.” He rocked his hips.
    Lark sighed and leaned in toward his chest, wrapped in a cocoon of bliss. His words broke down the last of the brick wall that she placed around her for protection.
    The door opened with a chime.
    They jumped apart guilty.
    “Hello, welcome to the Naughty Emporium, where sassy is a way of life,” Lark parroted.
    The older woman with blonde hair smiled. “Hi, I’m just browsing.”
    “I’ll let you get back to work, little bird. Why don’t you pick out some things for us?” Pan glanced at the racks of lingerie, smacked her ass and winked as he strolled away.
    She was still gaping when the door shut behind him.
    “If every purchase came with one of those?” The older woman nodded toward Pan’s retreating back. “You’d be rich by now.”
    Lark laughed. Hartley Sumner you are a gale force hurricane .

    “Look at this motherfucker walking in here all glowing and shit,” Monkey yelled as he re-entered the bay.
    “My mood automatically improves when I get away from you fucks for thirty-minutes,” Pan replied.
    “No, I don’t think that’s what it is,” Monkey countered. “I think you got yourself a woman. I recognize the look on your ugly mug. Monster here, had it when the little woman started working here.”
    “Fuck off,” Monster called from beneath the bike he was working on.
    The garage burst into laughter and Pan flipped them off. He was nervous about bringing
    Lark around too early and spooking her, so he was starting out slow. Bettys’ Hangout was a local bar and grill that catered to bikers. It would get her around his people and the back patio had a decent ambiance. Since when did I give a shit about ambiance? Part of him felt like a pussy. The other portion just didn’t give a shit. She made him feel incredible. The last time he remembered consciously making a decision that felt this right was when he joined the Dueling Devils. He made a habit of fucking up good things. It wasn’t a mistake he planned on repeating with her.
    Ignoring the heckling, he was out of the garage and on the back of his bike, the second five o’clock rolled around. He parked his bike inside the garage and rushed to the shower. He had plans for his woman and the sooner he got things ready, the sooner they could begin. With the help of lye soap, the oil washed down the drain with the day’s sweat. He had to be squeaky clean to play inside Lark. She was fast becoming his favorite place to be.
    What are you going to do when this goes to hell? The negative voice inside that always led him reared its head. It won’t. He ignored the deluge of negativity attacking him and continued to prepare for her. A month earlier, he would’ve been running for a drink. Now, he had a reason not to.
    “Pan?”
    The sound of Lark’s voice made him grin. So far, their game had been all about her. Today, would be about both of them. He pulled the white t-shirt over his head, replaced his cut and removed a mid-sized black case from his drawer. He set the case on top of the dresser and walked over to the doorway. “In here, little bird.”
    A couple of minutes later, she appeared in the doorway. Bracing her arm against the frame, she gave him a saucy smile. “Did you come up with that nickname because I’m a Lark?”
    “No, because you’re delicate, wounded and my Lark.” His eyes skimmed over the black button dress that cinched in with a belt and highlighted her womanly figure. “Are you ready to play? This game has many different steps. If you’re up to the task,” he said giving her a chance to back out.
    “No, I–I want to.”
    He saw the determination flickering in the depths of her whiskey brown eyes. She was
    willing to take risks too. “Come here.”
    She walked over and stood beside him.
    Pan turned to the dresser and lifted the lid. Two glossy, metallic gray balls rested in circular indentions. “Do you know what these