by Bella Jewel
He has dirty blond hair that curls at the ends, making it appear thicker and more inviting. His eyes are almost yellow and his skin is olive. He’s sporting a beard, but it only adds to his incredibly handsome features. He looks rugged and yet completely normal, like you’d never know the kind of monster he was if you were to pass him on the street.
That goes for most monsters though, right? They can be very well disguised.
“I’m okay,” I say, stepping away from Dax’s touch. “Just a little sore.”
“I’ll get you some ice to take the swelling out, and then I want you to meet someone special. What do you say?”
“Someone who might take care of me?” I ask hopefully.
Well, inside I’m screaming, but I’m a damned good actor, and the club sent me in here for a reason—to get all the information I can about Dax so they’re better able to bring him and his horrible operation down. The only way I can do that is to act the part.
“Maybe,” he murmurs. “I’m not sure anyone is right for you yet, my angel. You’re special.”
“I’m not special,” I say in a soft voice. “I’m a waste of space.”
He loves it when I’m pathetic. When I’m broken. When I don’t believe I’m worth a single thing in this world.
The fucker has no idea that I’m a goddamned warrior, and he’s being played harder than even he knows how to play.
“You’re nothing of the sort,” he says to me, his eyes narrowing. “You’re unlike any girl I’ve had through here; you’re strong and brave. In fact, you’re so special I just might keep you for myself.”
Excuse me.
What did he just say?
Keep me for himself?
I don’t bloody think so, buster.
I’d rather chew off my right arm than be stuck here with him for the rest of my life.
I know, of course, I’m not going to get stuck with anyone, but still . . . the very idea of it makes me sick to my stomach.
“You want to keep me?” I ask, looking up at him with doe eyes.
He reaches out and strokes my cheek. “You make me feel something different, so yeah. I might just keep you.”
I swallow and look away. “Who do you want me to meet, then?”
“Come, come. I’ll show you.”
We walk down the halls of his massive house and into his office where an older man is standing. He’s got greying hair atop his head, and when he turns, I note his dark brown eyes and weathered skin. He’s tall, lean and well dressed. He doesn’t look dangerous, and yet something about his presence screams danger to me.
It’s him—the man I’ve seen in the photos.
Aviana’s uncle.
The man running this entire operation.
The monster responsible for all this hell that’s being unleashed into the world right now.
“Waverly, this is Peter. Peter is a dear friend of mine.”
Peter. That’s it? That’s his name?
I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’ve got nothing against that name, but this man . . . this man seems so incredibly dangerous, yet his name almost makes him sound . . . normal.
I know for a damned fact he’s not.
He’s more dangerous than even I can possibly imagine.
“Hi Peter,” I say, raising a hand and waving to him shyly.
“This is the one you were telling me about,” Peter says, stepping forward and walking towards me. I try to keep calm, but it’s hard when this monster is approaching me and I want nothing more than to claw his eyes out. “She’s a real beauty, Dax. Incredibly unique.”
I’ve been called a few things in my life; unique isn’t one of them.
“She’s special alright,” Dax tells him, placing a hand on my shoulder. “She’s strong and smart and more beautiful than most.”
He thinks that about me? From the few times I’ve been here and spent time with him?
I shake my head. God dammit, Waverly, it’s all an act.
“She is most certainly beautiful. The rest I’ll be the judge of. When can I take her?”
Wait. What? Take me?
No.
I don’t think so.
I step back towards Dax without thought. It’s just a reaction. Out of the two evil men in this room right now, I trust Dax more than I trust Peter, who is staring at me like he’s got thoughts in his head that aren’t at all pure.
Dax places a hand on my hip, and pulls me back closer to him, and I’m strangely comforted, mostly because I’m terrified of the man in front of me.
“Actually, I’m keeping this one with me for a while.” Dax speaks in a calm voice, but it’s bold, too. It tells Peter that he’s going to do it, with or without his approval. I’m not entirely sure yet of the man Peter is, but if I’m guessing correctly, I’d say he isn’t going to take that well.
I’m right.
Peter straightens and looks Dax right in the eyes. “You know the rules around here, son. Nobody keeps a woman except me.”
“Rules change,” Dax says, his voice still scarily calm. “She’s goin’ to stay here with me until I decide what to do with her.”
They’re speaking about me like I’m a small puppy incapable of looking after myself. To be fair, that’s the way I come across, but it’s also infuriating to listen to.
“I’d like to take her,” Peter says, his voice growing harder by the second. “She’s exactly what I’ve been looking for.”
He doesn’t even know me—how can he possibly tell I’m what he’s looking for? By looks alone? I’ve barely said two words to the man.
“She’s not your type, Peter,” Dax goes on.
“She’s exactly my type, and you know it.”
“This isn’t up for discussion. If you want to push me, then by all means do so, but you know exactly what I can do when pressed,” Dax warns.
Peter glares at him, and then, as if a light is flipped on in his brain, he smiles and looks at me. “I suppose you probably could use some company for a while. We’ll discuss it again in a few weeks when you’re bored of her, shall we?”
Dax simply nods, and I try hard not to exhale too loudly. I’m that relieved.
“Very well. I have business to tend to. I’ll be back, Dax. We’ll be discussing this further.”
Peter turns and walks out of the room, but the way he said that tells me this is far from over. Whatever it is about me, Peter wants it, and he’s made it very clear he’s going to do whatever he can to get it.
I feel a little unwell, and I’ll need to report this back to Alarick as soon as possible, because the last thing I want to do is get caught up with Peter. There will be no coming back from that.
“I hate to say it,” I murmur, “but I don’t like your friend.”
For a split second, I forget I’m meant to be sweet, broken and a little stupid. My comment has me panicking that Dax is going to wonder where such a statement came from, but instead, he laughs. His hands squeezes my hip and he tells me, “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
I swallow.
I’m not sure if him liking me is a good thing or a bad thing at this point.
But one thing is for sure—it just saved me from falling into the hands of the ultimate monster.
I’ll take that as a win for now.
“I MET AVIANA’S UNCLE,” I tell Alarick, walking into the large shed where all the bikers are currently sitting around a table, discussing things. The old biker, Pedro, who gave me a lift over, finds a seat and sits down. He doesn’t say much, but I’m fairly certain he’s getting a hell of a lot of death stares for letting me in the place.
I’m not meant to be in here, but as soon as I left Dax’s house, I knew I needed to come over to share the news. I couldn’t wait; I didn’t want any detail to be left behind.
“We’re having church right fuckin’ now if you don’t mind,” Mykel mutters.
“Oh, bite it, Mykel. It’s urgent or I wouldn’t be here.”
Someone chuckles.
&nbs
p; “Give me ten. We’re about to wrap this up,” Alarick tells me. “I’ll come out after.”
I nod and turn towards the door.
“And Waverly?” Alarick calls.
I glance back.
“Don’t interrupt church again.”
Oh, boy.
Bikers are moody creatures.
I wait outside the shed until all the bikers start filing out. An older man tells me I can go in, and when I return, only Alarick, Cohen, Samson, Kendric, Bohdi and Mykel are sitting at the table, still in their same spots, spread out over the large space. I cross my arms and wait for Alarick to tell me to speak. God knows I don’t want to piss him off even more.
“Did you meet the uncle?” he finally asks, nodding to a seat across from him.
I walk over and sit down, and then I say, “Yes, he was there today and I met him . . .”
“What happened to your eye?” Cohen asks. “Dax do that?”
I forgot about shiner. I press my fingers to it and wince. “Oh, no. Sissy did.”
“Sissy fuckin’ did that?” Alarick growls.
“To be fair, she asked her to,” Samson points out.
“It’s a long story.” I wave a hand. “It wasn’t an ill-intentioned act. Now, can we get back to the uncle because honestly, he scares the shit out of me.”
“What happened?” Alarick asks.
“He wanted to take me, but Dax wouldn’t let him. Dax said he wanted to keep me, which is apparently a first because it didn’t go down well and Peter, the uncle, was dribbling on about rules and finally let Dax have his way, but not without threat that he’d be back. Apparently, I’m just his type, which scares the shit out of me because that man is evil, I’m telling you. He’s the true Prince of Darkness.”
“He could have any woman. What would he want with you?” Mykel mutters.
“Wow,” I say, swinging my gaze to him. “That’s just lovely, isn’t it? What a charmer you are.”
“I mean,” Mykel grinds out, “what makes you different to the rest?”
“Not helping,” I point out. “And I have no clue what makes me different. But apparently Peter isn’t the only one who sees it because Dax has, ah, taken quite the liking to me also.”
“How so?” Cohen asks, leaning back in his chair.
“He’s kinder to me—gentle, even. He’s different with me than he is with the other girls. It’s like he actually enjoys spending time with me.”
“The man’s feelin’ on you.” Kendric nods, grinning. “That could work fuckin’ well in our favor. He trusts her, falls for her, and she gets far closer to him than we could have ever hoped.”
“Or it fucks everything up because he’s not goin’ to do things the way he usually does.” Mykel growls. “I think it’s all gettin’ too messy and she should be very fuckin’ careful because not one, but two of those men are lookin’ at her in a different light.”
“I have to agree with Kendric,” Alarick says, and I give Mykel a ‘so there’ look, to which he glares at me so hard I have to turn away. “It’s better for him to like her. It gives us more time and it lets her get closer to him. A man that has feelings is a man that’s vulnerable. That will most certainly work in our favor.”
“So, what do we do about the fuckin’ uncle?” Bohdi asks, grabbing his thick blond locks and throwing them up in a messy man bun that suits the shit out of him and then leaning back in his chair. I usually can’t stand those things, but he rocks it in a way I didn’t know was possible.
“We keep an eye on him. The last thing we want is for him to get his hands on Waverly. That happens and shit is goin’ to go south real fuckin’ quick,” Alarick says, his voice firm and commanding.
“The last thing I want is to be anywhere near that man.” I shudder. “He scared the absolute hell out of me.”
“We’re not goin’ to let him get his claws in you.”
I nod and then exhale, relaxing a bit. “Well, that’s about it. We’re supposed to be going to some holiday house on the weekend with a group of girls and some of the potential ‘buyers,’ so I’m not sure how we’re going to work that, protection wise.”
“We’ll find a way,” Alarick assures me.
“Okay then. I guess I’ll see you all later then. Who’s taking me out of here? I came in with the old guy from the bar, but he’s not going to want to go back out.”
I have to wait for to an escort to get exit, because I’m not supposed to be seen here. I was escorted in, hidden in a car, and I have to leave the same way. Mykel stands and tells me he has business to tend to at home, so he’ll take me back there. I’d love to protest, but it makes sense considering we’re both going to the same house and all that.
I turn without a word and go the back way to the car, making sure not to be seen from the front entrances. I get in the bed of Mykel’s truck and lie down. I’m used to it now, and it doesn’t actually bother me anymore.
At least I don’t have to talk to Mykel when I’m back here.
God knows, talking to him never goes well.
4
WAVERLY
“What the hell kind of kitchen is this?” I mutter, pressing my finger on the cooktop buttons over and over again, but nothing happens.
It flashes red lights at me, beeping, and I can’t figure the stupid thing out. Why can’t it just be an old-fashioned turn-the-knob-and-it-heats-up kind of top? I can’t deal with this . . . this . . . new-age rubbish.
“What the fuck are you doin’ to my cooktop?” Mykel asks from behind me.
I spin around, pot in my hand, and gasp when I see the half-naked Mykel standing behind me, hair wet and smelling incredible from his oh-so-recent shower. He’s wearing a pair of grey sweats and nothing else. I try very, very hard not to look down at his cock in those pants, because, well, I’m a woman, and there is something about sweats that make a man’s cock look so damned delicious.
Sweet Jesus, I’m having way too many thoughts about Mykel’s cock.
I look down anyway.
My eyes fall on the thick length that is clearly visible in the pants and I find myself unable to tear my eyes away. Oh god, now I’ve looked down at it too long. If I look up, I’m going to look like a perv, but if I keep looking, I’m going to look like a total creep. What do I do? Shit.
“Your floor needs some washing,” I mutter.
I did not just say that.
I sheepishly look back up at him and he’s staring at me, almost in disgust. His face is stoic, his mouth tight, his nose screwed up just a little.
“In case you think I didn’t just know you were starin’ at my cock like a starved fuckin’ woman, then I’ll break the news to you that I did fuckin’ know.”
Oh.
Boy.
And wait a second, starved woman?
Who does he think he is?
I’m not starved.
Slightly dick deprived, maybe, but not starved.
“I beg your pardon.” I wave a finger at him. “I am not starved. Not even close. I was simply admiring what all good women would admire. I’m fairly certain you do it to every woman that walks past in a pair of tight pants . . .”
He just glares at me.
Man of very few words, this one.
“What are you doin’ to my cooktop?”
I glance back at it, thankful that we’re no longer on the topic of his cock. That was getting awkward. “I can’t work the stupid thing.”
“It’s not that fuckin’ hard. Turn it on and cook.”
“It keeps flashing at me, and beeping, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing wrong.”
With a growl, he snatches the pan from my hand and presses a few buttons, and the cooktop stops beeping and a red ring lights up around the farthest burner.
“What?” I yell, frustrated. “It did not just do that for me.”
“Maybe you should take that as a hint not to be in my kitchen.”
“Girl’s gotta eat, man,” I point out, staring back at him again
.
God, why does he have to look so good? With all those muscles, and tattoos, and that gorgeous dark red hair, and those eyes and . . . Sweet Jesus, Waverly, get it together.
“Get out. I’ll cook.”
I frown and meet his gaze. “You’ll cook?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t know what I was going to cook, though . . .”
He stares at my roughly chopped vegetables and chicken, and mutters, “Somethin’ I wouldn’t feed to a dog by the looks.”
“Well, aren’t you in a dazzling mood this evening. Have you ever considered some medication for your condition?”
“Don’t have a fuckin’ condition.”
“You have a major condition. It’s called I-have-a-dull-personality condition. It’s very serious in some countries.”
He gives me a look that tells me he’s about to bust a top and I’m going to cop the raging hot contents he’s holding inside. “What were the rules in this house?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t speak,” I mutter, and then give him a cheesy grin. “But I can’t follow such a strict rule.”
“You can, and you fuckin’ will. Now go and shower while I make this dinner.”
I huff and turn, walking out of the kitchen. I’m not going to argue this savage anymore. He might just throw me into the fiery pits so he doesn’t have to look at me.
Such an unhappy human.
I wonder why?
I walk to my room, and as I’m passing a few of the doors in the hall, I can’t help but consider what’s behind them. He has so many bedrooms and office spaces in this house. Does he use any of them? Does he just keep them locked up so nobody can ever look?
Curious, I walk over to one and open it.
A bedroom, clean and tidy—nothing major to see.
I go to another one.
A small office space—well, small for this house. Again, it’s tidy. There’s nothing to see.
I go to the last door on the left and try it.
It’s locked.
I rattle it a few times, but it’s not moving. Hmmm, very interesting.
I try a few others, which are all unlocked, but I find myself glancing back at the locked door.
Only secrets are kept behind locked doors.