Koyn (Royal Bastards MC)

by K. Webster

  It’s all so…easy.

  I don’t do easy.

  Easy makes me uneasy.

  My hackles rise and I search out the threats. What’s hiding behind the false sense of security? Dragon sits in a lawn chair, kicked back and talking to the guy named Katana. They’re both sharpening knives. Definitely the threat in this homey scene.

  A little girl with brown pigtails runs over to Dragon and bounces into his lap. He grins at her, dropping his knife into the grass to tickle her.

  He may look like an adoring uncle, but I’m not fooled.

  Stormy prances over to Filter, who emerges from the garage, grease smeared on his bare chest. I rake my gaze down the golden god’s body, appreciating the view for a moment, before looking for him.

  Prez.

  Koyn the boyfriend murdering bastard.

  As I search through the growing crowd of people, I take note of the property. Trees surround the compound. The house is massive and so is the garage beside it. The back patio is covered and filled with chairs. I walk to the edge of the house and peek around the corner. A giant pool fills the space and to my surprise there are kids already diving in. It must be heated.

  What kind of Twilight Zone am I in?

  Man Mansion. Giggling kids. Heated pools. Fucking brisket.

  The shindigs we had with the Roaring River MCs were wild and insane and filthy. This reminds me too much of a time when I lived at home and was part of a real family. The urge to escape intensifies.

  I need a plan.

  One that doesn’t involve blatantly sneaking off. Because I’m not stupid. I see the cameras. I notice the way Dragon’s smile is for the little girl, but his green eyes are locked on mine. It doesn’t get past me that Filter watches me like a hawk even as he gropes Stormy’s ass. These guys aren’t your usual run-of-the-mill bikers. They’re smarter and more calculating. Vicious monsters who choose to hide behind smiles and money.

  I’m not fooled.

  I gaze at the woods, wishing it were that easy. It’s then I see someone. Hidden in the shadows. It’s the one they call Payne.

  “What the fuck?” I mutter. What a creep! How long has he been standing there watching me?

  I beam at him and give him my middle finger. I see you, asshole. Problem is, they all see me. My plan has to be smarter. More detailed. Intricate. I need to warm these people up, earn their trust, and then skip the fuck out of town when they least expect it.

  For tonight, I’ll drink, maybe dance a little, and eat more of that fluffy fruity nonsense.

  Koyn

  I snap my laptop closed and pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. For hours I’ve stared at this screen hunting for Putnam. I’m tired as fuck but tonight is the Q. I need to get out there and make an appearance.

  With a grumble, I leave my office and saunter through the empty house toward the back where the party will be in full swing. It’s dark out and Gibson is already entertaining the masses with his own rendition of Bad Company’s “Shooting Star” on his favorite Gibson that he named Bocephus—a replica of Hank Williams Jr.’s all-maple guitar from the ’70s. His deep, raspy voice has a Southern twang but with just enough of a rock and roll growl to be cool. He’s got his own little fan club—all female.

  We’re all used to Stormy’s flirty ass shaking her tits and singing along. What we’re not used to is her.

  I stop dead in my tracks.

  Anger swells up inside me, hot and violent.

  Fucking Hadley.

  She’s wearing a pair of Stormy’s pink booty shorts that barely cover her ass. Her fucking cheeks are hanging out like it’s not goddamn November. The black Pantera sweatshirt she wears hangs off her shoulder and from this vantage point, it reveals nothing but bare skin. I don’t see a bra strap and for some reason that sets me off.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I snarl, stalking over to her.

  She swivels around as I approach, her fingers pushing up her hair as she works her hips perfectly in tune with the music. Her eyes are glassy—a telltale sign someone’s been allowing her young ass to drink. The bitch winks at me and then turns her back to me, continuing her seductive dance.

  Bermuda eye-fucks her as he sips on his beer and mutters words to his brother beside him. Bizzy looks seconds from nutting his pants. Filter and Copper seem amused. Katana is disinterested. Payne’s probably watching from the shadows. Fucking Nees is dancing like the little bitch he is. Hell, even Halo’s eyes are glued to her teenage ass.

  And Dragon…

  That fucker is pacing, his eyes on the prize.

  On my prize.

  “Pageant Girl,” I bark out. “Get your ass over here.”

  She shoots me a scathing look, before dancing right into the line of danger. Dragon stops his pacing to cock his head at her. He’s going to pounce. And when he gets that evil glint in his eyes, he’s either going to fuck or kill. I’ll be damned if I let him do either.

  I stalk right over to her, sling an arm around her narrow waist, and drag her away from Dragon. My eyes sear a warning into his.

  Calm. The. Fuck. Down.

  Filter, becoming aware of the silent showdown, walks over to play peacemaker. Katana nudges Dragon with his shoulder to pull him out of his trance.

  “Let me go!” Hadley shrieks.

  Nope.

  Not after this.

  I fucking warned her.

  Not only did she ignore me and undermine my authority, but she taunted the deadliest guy around. She knew what the fuck she was doing.

  And now she needs to be punished for it.

  I wasn’t kidding when I told her I’d whip her ass if I had to.

  Someone needs to and her daddy’s not around.

  She kicks and screams to no avail. No one’s going to save her.

  I drag her unruly ass into the house. She bellows, but I’m focused. I’m reminded of the time Blaire used my credit card to buy a bunch of bullshit online when she was thirteen. I’d told her she was going to work it off and she fucking laughed at me. Like a little ungrateful shit who thought she could walk all over her daddy. It was the last time I whipped her, but I got her good. She never sassed me quite like that again.

  “Stop!” Hadley yells.

  Ignoring her, I push her thin body over the arm of the sofa and hold her down with my hand as I work at my belt buckle. Her entire body freezes.

  “I don’t want to have sex with you,” she whimpers, almost cracking my resolve to punish her. Almost.

  “I’m not some fucking perv,” I bite out. “I’m going to whip your ass for that stunt.”

  “What?!”

  She starts squirming a lot worse than when she thought I was going to stick my dick in her teenage pussy. I yank out my belt from the loops with a swish.

  “Stay still. I’m giving you three licks. You fight me, and so help me, PG, I’ll give you ten.”

  I crack the leather against her ass over her booty shorts and she screams, her back arching. The girl doesn’t listen to a goddamn word I say because she tries to crawl away. I fist her Pantera sweatshirt, keeping her in place, before whipping her again. I’m able to land one more lick of the leather before she launches herself out of my grip and scrambles to the other side of the sofa.

  “You whipped me!” she accuses, sobbing.

  “Fucking right I did. You’re under my roof and you’re going to follow my damn rules.”

  “YOU ARE NOT MY DADDY!”

  I grab a fistful of her hair, dragging her to her knees on the sofa. Tears streak down her red cheeks, leaving black lines of despair. Her bottom lip trembles.

  She looks so broken.

  Fuck.

  Rather than whipping her some more or getting in her face, I haul her up further and into my arms. Her fingernails dig into my shoulders like she’s about to go fucking crazy trying to get away, but then her body deflates in defeat. She relaxes, giving in to her tears. I toss the belt, grab her tender ass, and hoist her up like she’s my little girl. He
r body is wrapped around me like I’m the only tree in a storm and she’s gotta hang on to survive. I stroke my fingers down her spine and kiss her hair.

  “Good girl. I’ve got you.”

  She sobs louder and hugs me tighter. I bounce her like she’s a toddler, gently and in a soothing manner, as I pace around the living room. I catch Stormy and Filter peeking in, but they don’t come inside.

  “I know you have me painted as a bad guy, and I am, but I don’t enjoy spanking,” I grumble. “I’d rather you behave. Then I don’t have to remind you that you’re not the boss around here.”

  “I was just having fun,” she whines tearfully. “I was dancing.”

  “Half naked.”

  “I’m not half naked,” she growls.

  I pat her bottom again, and then run my finger along the hem of her shorts. “Your ass was hanging out.”

  She shivers. “No one was looking.”

  I roll my eyes. “PG, everyone was looking.”

  “So? Why do you care?”

  “Because you’re not theirs to look at.”

  “What? I’m yours?”

  “Not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re mine to fuck. But you’re not. I’m just looking after you, PG.”

  She pulls away slightly to regard me with her messy, teary face. Her brown eyes flash with anger. “Maybe I don’t need to be looked after.”

  “Had I not intervened when I did, Dragon would have been on you. Sure, he’s got a pretty face, but you do not want to taunt that man. He would devour you.”

  “Maybe I wanted to be devoured by him.”

  “You’re too young.”

  “To fuck?”

  My nostrils flare. “Yes.”

  “I fucked Junior plenty of times. Probably would have fucked his dad too.”

  Her words make fire burn through me again. “What the fuck did you say?”

  “Magna. I already sucked his dick.” She shrugs. “He would’ve eventually fucked me.”

  I snag her jaw in my grip, staring at the young girl with the sassy mouth of an old lady. “Now you’re taunting me.”

  Her brow hikes up. “Why do you care who I fuck?”

  “Because you’re not old enough.”

  “I’m not your daughter. I can fuck whoever the hell I want.”

  “No,” I growl, biting my fingers into her jaw. “You fucking can’t. When you’re here, you will fuck no one. If you want to fuck again one day, I suggest you tell me who the hell your dad is so I can send you on your goddamn way, brat.”

  I release her jaw to grab her shorts, pulling them up her ass crack. I smack her ass cheek hard, reveling in the surprised wail that escapes her. Her thighs clench around my waist.

  “Keep talking,” I warn. “I’ll whip your ass all night if I have to.”

  Her bottom lip wobbles and tears pool in her brown eyes. I’m thrust back to the night when Blaire stared at me with teary eyes silently pleading for me to save her from the bad man. Just like this. Except Hadley needs saving from herself. Once again, I pull her to my chest and stroke my fingers through her hair.

  “You ready to behave?” I ask, my palm sliding down her back to gently pat her exposed ass.

  “I guess.”

  It’s the best answer I could have hoped for.

  “Good girl. Now go have fun. With Stormy. No one else. Stay away from those men.”

  I knock back another shot, the world in front of me blurring. Ever since I had to take the belt to Hadley’s ass, my mind has been on my wife and daughter. Fuck, I miss them. Having Hadley around makes my heart yearn to have my little girl back. It’s majorly screwing with my head.

  Bizzy started a huge ass bonfire and everyone that’s left is sitting around it getting shitfaced. The women have gone home with their children, leaving us Royal Bastards with a few stragglers, including Randy. Stormy is in Filter’s lap, straddling him, and dry fucking him for all to see. My eyes, though, are on Hadley.

  After our come to Jesus meeting, she changed into a pair of sweats. She sits curled up in the chair, a blanket wrapped around her, staring into the fire. Bermuda sits close enough that his foot taps against her chair in a steady way that seems as though he’s rocking her. Dragon has lost his fire and animatedly tells a story about this orgy he was a part of when he was at church camp. There’s so much wrong with his story, I don’t even intervene. Just let him tell us some wild shit that’ll have us sent right to hell along with him.

  “Prez,” Gibson says, passing me another shot.

  I suck this one down and lick my lips. Hadley’s stare locks on me. When she yawns, a sense of fatherly duty washes over me.

  She needs to get to bed.

  I rise unsteadily on my feet and stumble. Stormy cries out when Filter grabs her hips, sitting her back in her own chair. He stands and stalks over to me. I try to shake him off, but he’s not having any of it.

  “What’re we doing, man?” he asks, his voice low.

  “My little girl needs to go to bed.”

  His fingers bite into my bicep. “Koyn, man, that’s not her.”

  I yank my arm from his grip, anger surging through me. “The fuck she ain’t.”

  “That’s Hadley,” he says in a calm tone.

  Hadley.

  Not Blaire.

  “She’s mine,” I argue, heat flaring inside me.

  “Not your daughter, though.”

  “I still want her in bed,” I snap.

  “As long as it’s not yours, I can help with that.”

  “The fuck you say?” I snarl, shoving his chest. “Did you just accuse me of some pervert shit with my little girl?” I shove him again, the liquor fueling me on. “I’m not some sick child predator, Ryan.”

  Filter flinches at his real name.

  “Koyn, dude, calm down.” He reaches for me and I swing at him.

  Crack.

  There’s a scuffle of grunts and groans before I’m being dragged away by Payne. Halo helps Filter up off the ground, shooting me a penetrating glare. And Bermuda…I’m going to kill him.

  Hadley is on her feet and Bermuda has her in a protective embrace.

  I charge, hell-bent on ripping him away from her, but Payne yanks me back.

  “Get her to her room,” Filter instructs. “Prez has had a little too much to drink. Get him some fucking water, Payne.”

  I watch as Bermuda guides her back to the house. She looks over her shoulder at me, her features pinched. Payne slaps my cheek just hard enough to get my attention. I turn my angry glare on him.

  “Water, Prez. Get some fucking water before you do something you regret.”

  I regret letting that fucker walk away with my little girl.

  Hadley

  I wake with him inside me. Him. Oh God. What is happening? I sob, confused and betrayed, but then his mouth is covering mine. Silencing me. Poisoning me. My world darkens as I check out. This is not my life. This is not my life. This is not my life.

  A scream tears from my throat, jerking me awake for real this time. My clothes are drenched with sweat and I’m trembling. The room is dark, but I can feel even darker shadows lurking.

  Is it him?

  Has he found me?

  A terrified whimper crawls up my throat as the door swings open. Heavy footsteps stalk forward. Despite sweating, I drag the blanket to my chin, blinking tears from my lids.

  “Who’s there?” My voice is small and afraid.

  “Daddy.”

  Not my daddy. Koyn.

  “I’m scared,” I admit in a whisper.

  “Don’t be scared,” he says in a soothing voice. “I’m here.”

  He crawls into bed with me, curling his strong arm around me. I expect for the anger to flare up, but it’s gone. Completely absent. All I want is for him to hold me and chase away the fear.

  “You’re safe with me,” he vows. Somehow I believe him. “Go to sleep, baby girl.”

  And I do.

 
; I squint against the morning light and take stock of my situation. There’s a man in my bed. Not just any man, him. Koyn. And my needy ass is wrapped around him like I belong there. Worst part is, he wears nothing but a black pair of boxers. His body is on full display for my morning viewing pleasure.

  God, what a pleasure it is, too.

  He’s muscular and a tangle of thorns in the shape of a heart is inked over his heart. I see their names woven in: Eleanor and Blaire. His body is smooth with a dusting of chest hair over his pecks and upper torso. Then, there’s a dark trail of hair from his bellybutton that disappears into the waistband of his boxers. The blanket covers what’s hiding in those boxers, but I’m curious. So curious, I drag the covers down to see what he’s packing.

  Nice.

  Really nice.

  Of course my captor would be hung like a horse. I try to ignore the jittery feeling that instills inside me. I’m not supposed to be attracted to a monster, but he’s here and I’m fucking attracted. Ignoring the need to stare at his boxers covered cock any longer, I trail my stare back up his chest to his face. His arm is resting over his eyes and his bicep bulges. I’ve never had the urge to touch underarm hair before, but his looks dark and soft and clean. I curl my hand into a fist so I don’t do anything bizarre like pet his armpit.

  Besides, this is the guy who spanked me last night. Like a little kid.

  He also held me and kept the nightmares away.

  I’m torn between being thankful and angry.

  I settle for agitated and focus on his full, pink lips and the dark facial hair that’s grown in some along his jaw. From beneath his arm, I see the mottled scarring on his face. I’m curious as to how he came to get a giant “X” permanently gouged into his skin. It’s creepy, but also kind of sad. Stormy said his family was murdered. Did they try and murder him too?

  I notice the moment he wakes because he tenses. His arm remains over his eyes, but I can feel him taking in his surroundings. He doesn’t speak. Just continues to hide as though he didn’t crawl into my bed last night. To test him, I brush my fingertips between his pecks, marveling in the way his nipples harden, before walking my fingers down the groove between his abs right toward his—