House of York
Charlotte Byrd
Contents
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I. Prologue - Easton
1. Everly
2. Everly
II. Before York
3. Everly
4. Everly
5. Everly
6. Everly
7. Everly
8. Everly
9. Everly
III. Welcome to York
10. Everly
11. Everly
12. Everly
13. Everly
14. Everly
15. Everly
IV. A Different Kind of Prison
16. Easton
17. Easton
18. Easton
19. Easton
20. Easton
21. Easton
22. Easton
V. First Rounds
23. Everly
24. Everly
25. Everly
26. Everly
27. Everly
28. Everly
29. Everly
30. Everly
31. Easton
32. Easton
33. Easton
34. Everly
35. Everly
36. Everly
37. Everly
38. Everly
39. Everly
40. Easton
41. Easton
42. Everly
43. Everly
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About Charlotte Byrd
Copyright © 2018 by Charlotte Byrd, LLC.
All rights reserved.
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Cover Design: Charlotte Byrd
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This book is a word of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Visit my website at www.charlotte-byrd.com
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About House of York
The world is mine… then she breaks everything.
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Power, control and lust is the only life I know.
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Everly is everything I am not: nice, kind, normal.
* * *
I don’t deserve her, but I have to have her. I’m a moth. She’s my flame.
* * *
This place is dangerous and unforgiving and she doesn’t belong here. But she doesn’t trust me. Why would she?
* * *
What happens when she becomes a captive and the power I thought I had isn’t enough?
* * *
What happens when they try to rip us apart?
Praise for Charlotte Byrd
“Decadent, delicious, & dangerously addictive!” - Amazon Review ★★★★★
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“Titillation so masterfully woven, no reader can resist its pull. A MUST-BUY!” - Bobbi Koe, Amazon Review ★★★★★
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“Captivating!” - Crystal Jones, Amazon Review ★★★★★
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"Exciting, intense, sensual” - Rock, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
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“Sexy, secretive, pulsating chemistry…” - Mrs. K, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
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“Charlotte Byrd is a brilliant writer. I've read loads and I've laughed and cried. She writes a balanced book with brilliant characters. Well done!” -Amazon Review ★★★★★
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“Fast-paced, dark, addictive, and compelling” - Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
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“Hot, steamy, and a great storyline.” - Christine Reese ★★★★★
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"The tension and chemistry is at five alarm level.” - Sharon, Amazon reviewer ★★★★★
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“Hot, sexy, intriguing journey of Elli and Mr. Aiden Black. - Robin Langelier ★★★★★
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“Wow. Just wow. Charlotte Byrd leaves me speechless and humble… It definitely kept me on the edge of my seat. Once you pick it up, you won't put it down.” - Amazon Review ★★★★★
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“Sexy, steamy and captivating!” - Charmaine, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
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“ Intrigue, lust, and great characters...what more could you ask for?!” - Dragonfly Lady ★★★★★
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“An awesome book. Extremely entertaining, captivating and interesting sexy read. I could not put it down.” - Kim F, Amazon Reviewer ★★★★★
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“Just the absolute best story. Everything I like to read about and more. Such a great story I will read again and again. A keeper!!” - Wendy Ballard ★★★★★
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“It had the perfect amount of twists and turns. I instantaneously bonded with the heroine and of course Mr. Black. YUM. It's sexy, it's sassy, it's steamy. It's everything.” - Khardine Gray, Bestselling Romance Author ★★★★★
HOUSE OF YORK Trilogy
1. House of York
2. Crown of York
3. Throne of York
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Also by Charlotte Byrd
Black Series:
Black Edge
Black Rules
Black Bounds
Black Contract
Black Limit
House of York Trilogy:
House of York
Crown of York
Throne of York
Standalone Novels:
Debt
Offer
Unknown
Dressing Mr. Dalton
Part I
Prologue - Easton
They are not supposed to be here. They are innocent and polite and sweet. Some of them may even be kind.
They think that they are here of their own free will.
They think that it’s a game.
They think that everything is going to be okay.
I know the truth.
They are not here by accident. They were all carefully chosen.
Selected.
Identified.
Vetted.
Some are here because they are gorgeous, others because they will be good at bearing children. A few are lost souls who no one will ever look for.
But some, well, they are here because of their ability to fight.
Propensity to fight.
Willingness to fight.
Not everyone wants a fighter. Not everyone wants someone to resist their every move.
But some of them do. And
these are the ones who will pay the most. And to find a girl who is both beautiful and a fighter? Well, that’s everything, isn’t it?
Of course, there will be the ones who fail. Most will fail at least once, but some will fail for good.
We call this game a competition to keep them pacified. Calm. Quiet.
But they had all lost their freedom a long time before they ever stepped foot on the island of York.
All but one will lose their lives.
Everly
Degrees of freedom
Freedom is difficult to describe when you have it.
You go through life bogged down by life’s little problems. You go to work at a job you don’t particularly like.
You get paid way too little.
Thirty-four thousand dollars a year.
Your rent and monthly expenses are way too high.
Fifteen-hundred in rent and another three-hundred in student loan payments plus utilities. Of course, there’s the myriad of other little but not inconsequential expenses.
The occasional lunch out.
Happy hour.
A movie once in a while.
Is this what it means to be an adult? I guess so.
After I graduated with my undergraduate degree in Psychology, I decided to work for a few years to save some money before going on to graduate school for my doctorate.
Of course, I wanted to work in the field. The only problem was that the only job I was qualified to do with just a bachelor’s degree was to answer phones at a marriage therapist’s office.
I scheduled appointments and dealt with the insurance companies. The job wasn’t anything I ever wanted to do and I hated it.
I would sit in the freezer of an office with the zipper of my dress pants digging into my stomach, and I would feel sorry for myself. College was hard, but it was nothing in comparison to the grind of everyday life. School was broken up into semesters, and semesters into weeks, and weeks into classes and assignments. Even if a class was unbearable, as some requirements were, at least I knew when it would come to an end.
I can still remember the contempt that I felt for my job and my life, in general. Days became weeks and then months and years and everything in my life stayed the same. Clients called. Appointments were scheduled. Lunch was eaten. Money was made. Bills were paid.
But looking back now, trapped in this God-forsaken place, I would give anything to be there again.
To have that kind of freedom again.
“Number 19,” a loud deep voice is piped in on the loud speaker. “It’s your turn.”
My heart sinks and I take a deep breath.
“I don’t have all day,” she says loudly.
I know what to do and I do it quickly. I pull off my tank top and take off my pajama bottoms. When the door opens, I’m completely nude. She looks me up and down.
I’m used to their glares. I don’t know her name, I know her simply as C. There are twenty-six guards here. All called by different letters of the alphabet.
“Let’s go,” she says, leading me to the end of the hallway.
The ground is cold and wet under my bare feet. I’m ushered into a large shower room. Five others are there as well. We exchange knowing glances, but none of us dare to say a word.
We have exactly two minutes to wash our hair and bodies. After that, the water turns off automatically and the guards throw us a small hand towel to dry ourselves.
It wasn’t that long ago when I worked at an office all day hating my job.
It wasn’t that long ago that I thought that I didn’t have any freedom.
Now, I know better.
Now, I know what real imprisonment is like.
Now, I know that the life that I hated so much before is one that I would do anything to get back to now.
After drying myself off, C leads me back to my cell. The walk back is even colder than before, but I appreciate being given the opportunity to clean myself.
“E will be in shortly,” C says. “It’s your turn to be shown.”
My throat clenches up in fear.
To. Be. Shown.
What does that mean?
Everly
When she gets me ready…
Being shown.
I’ve heard whispers about this, but none of the prisoners really know what’s going to happen. The guards? They know. Of course, they know, but they aren’t talking.
When C leaves, I put my pajamas back on and sit down on the bed. I wrap my hands around my knees, resting my head on top.
I wait.
A few minutes later, E comes in. Her hair is cut short, blunt at the edges, right by her chin. Her eyes are severe, without an inkling of compassion. Her skin is pale. Her bright red lips stand in stark contrast to the gray monotone uniform that all the guards down here wear.
Besides the bright red lips, she is not wearing a smudge of any other makeup.
She lays a garment bag and a big black makeup box on my bed.
“Strip,” she says, sternly.
I do as she says. I know better than to resist. Once I’m completely nude, she looks me up and down. She brings her hand to my chest and bounces my left breast up and down, examining it for…something. I don’t know what.
“Lie down on your back and open your legs.”
I want to punch her. Kick her. Smash her in the face. But I remember what happened. Besides, I can’t escape. The door locks automatically, and the only way out is through her fingerprints. Even if I could get out into the hallway, I wouldn’t know where to go. And I can’t very well drag a body with me to open the other doors.
I lie down on the bed as she says. I spread my legs.
She leans over me and again examines me.
“Stay just like that,” she says and brings over her toolbox. My heart jumps into my throat, anticipating what she is about to do to me.
But I calm down a bit when I see her pull out a waxing kit. She warms the wax and carefully applies it to me using a wooden applicator stick.
A moment later, she puts on a strip of cloth and rips out my hair by the roots.
“Ouch!” I moan from the pain.
“Be quiet,” she dismisses me.
The next strip she applies, I bite my tongue and keep quiet.
I’ve only been waxed once before and I ran out of there before the woman could finish. It was just too painful. But today, I don’t have a choice.
She applies the hot strips and peels them off with expert precision. A few minutes later, I’m completely bald on top.
“Get on your knees.”
“Why?”
“Do it.”
I flip over.
“Stick your butt in the air and spread your legs.”
I take a deep breath as she applies the hot wax to one of my ass cheeks. When she pulls the strip off, I can’t help but yell out.
“Be quiet.”
Trying to stay quiet as she finishes, I bury my face in the blanket and muffle my cries.
“Flip over.”
“Is it over?”
She pushes me back to my back.
Then she spreads me wide open, exposing every last bit of me.
“Does it look like it’s over?” she asks, pointing to the little hairs.
“You’re taking all the hair?”
“Every last strand.”
As soon as she wipes the hot wax inside of me, I realize that this is going to hurt way worse than any of the strips before. I grab onto the blankets with my hands and hold my breath.
“You’re done. Get dressed, you big baby,” E says. “Wait, before you do, lift up your arms.”
I do as she says. She examines my armpits and then runs her eyes down my body, looking for stray hairs.
“Here,” she says, handing me a razor and a bottle of liquid soap. “Go shave yourself.”
I walk over to the small sink in the corner of my cell and do as she says. I run my hands down my legs and ask for permission to shave them. She nods. When I’m d
one, I let her examine me again. Finally, she gives me a nod of approval.
After washing and drying her hands, she opens her makeup box. The box is so large that it has wheels like a suitcase. She gets out a big spotlight and shines it in my face. There is no mirror here, so I cannot see what she is doing as she starts to apply foundation to my face. All I see are the tools. Foundation brush. Concealer brush. Eyeshadow primer. Eyeshadow brush. Highlighter. After a few minutes, I lose track of everything that she’s doing.
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