Copyright
Copyright ©️
Envy (Seven Deadlies MC)
Content Copyright 2017, Kaitlyn Ewald.
Published in United States of America.
First electronic publication: May, 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Disclaimer: The following ebook is a work of FICTION. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for third party websites or their content.
Cover: Victoria Cooper
Dedication:
To my person,
I know you’ll be surprised to read this little bit, especially since I hid it from you for weeks, but surprise! (Notice how I used your favorite form of punctuation?)
It’s taken me a while to figure out what exactly I can say to you to make sure you understand how important you are, but nothing seems adequate.
So, I’ll keep it short and sweet.
Whenever you're feeling low, or the darkness becomes too overwhelming, look back on this journey we've taken together. Think about how much of yourself you've given to this series, to these characters, to me. Know that I’ll always be here, even when the distance between us feels far too wide or great.
And finally, when you begin to doubt yourself, remember these three things:
You are smart.
You are capable.
You are worth it.
Never settle for anything less than you deserve, which is (obviously) the world.
Prologue
Fire.
It’s everywhere.
Hot, biting flames licked at the air, spurred on by the heavy winds.
Damon Michael knew that the chances of him surviving said flames were slim to none; he was aware of the fact that the heat nipping at his skin was probably his own karma.
Damon realized that the fire melting his body into the pavement was the universe’s way of repaying him for all the blood he’d shed over the years.
He wasn’t naive enough to think that if he closed his eyes for good, he’d be met with angels- unless, like Lucifer, they had horns- but he’d made his peace with it.
Damon was ready to leave the world the same way he’d come into it.
Alone.
He was ready for the pain to stop, for the ever-loving-searing of his flesh to finally cease-but it didn’t.
If anything, the pain only intensified.
He hadn’t even realized he was screaming until the wind carried the echo of his voice back to his own ears; he wasn’t even sure how his lungs could fill with that much air, being that the smoke surrounding him was thick enough to choke him.
It was choking him.
Damon’s fingers were gripping the cement as if the grainy surface could keep him from leaving this world, but the only thing keeping him grounded just so happened to be the fact that his leather cut was sticking to very highway he was going to die on.
Damon Michael was going to die, and as he felt the flames consume him entirely, he let his green eyes close.
Fire…
It’s everywhere…
Chapter 1
Blood.
Esmerelda Quinn was used to the viscid substance.
She knew how it smelled, what it felt like pressed against her skin, how easily it stained her clothes…
She was familiar with it.
And, why wouldn't she be?
She’d seen her fair share, drawn a good amount of it, worked hard to make sure she didn't spill any of her own…
Esmerelda was a veritable master at protecting herself.
At least, she used to be.
Esmerelda Quinn used to make every single decision based on at least three possible outcomes: the good, the bad, and the worse.
Worse…
Esmerelda didn't imagine herself to be the smartest woman on the planet, no, but she did imagine that she knew right from wrong.
Yet, the sight of her husband, of her old man, lying lifeless inside of a casket made her feel like maybe she didn't know the difference after all.
How could she?
The only person she had left in the world was dead.
Dead.
Dea…
De…
Despite what she wanted to believe, she knew that Chris wasn't coming back.
Yet, through the sickening stench of roses, she swore she could smell his aftershave lingering on the cool North Carolina breeze. Esmerelda was almost certain she could hear his laughter as she moved slowly through the crowd dwarfing the entrance of the Lone Rangers's clubhouse.
Her feet felt heavy, as if she were wearing shoes made of cement; she should be moving faster, shouldn't she?
Yet the only movement she could manage was to tighten her numb fingers around the decanter in her hand.
The bourbon burned the back of her throat, but the mild sting was nothing compared to the burn she felt deep down in her bones.
The aching loss that echoed inside of her surely hollow chest as she took another slow step towards the small room that she knew housed the body of her beloved.
Could she do it?
Esmerelda had no notions of saying goodbye; not yet.
The words lingered in the back of her throat like an ever-present infection that threatened to immobilize her completely, and yet, part of her was still convinced this was all a sick joke.
When Axel had called her to inform her of her old man’s fatal accident, she was sure he was lying.
He had to be.
God wouldn't be so cruel as to give her a happily ever after, just to take it away…
would he?
Her signature was barely dry on their marriage certificate.
Chris is dead…
Muted voices broke through the barrier of her thoughts, but she couldn't stop them even if she wanted to.
Everyone in the clubhouse was giving her distance, and apart from a few random people paying their respects, she was left alone.
Esmerelda appreciated that.
She didn't have much to say anymore.
The idea of trying to hold a conversation while she was still trying to gather her courage to face her husband had her pressing a hand against her pursed mouth.
Can I do it?
Am I strong enough?
She’d asked herself that very question a hundred times at least in the past hour, and every time the resounding answer was fuck no.
Esmerelda’s hands were trembling, rocking the ice inside of her glass; the steady tinkling sound it made as it smacked against her snifter was the only anchor she had as she took another step towards the darkened room that she’d been actively avoiding.
She took another step, and it felt like her entire world was crashing in around her.
A cry escaped Esmerelda’s lips as her tears finally fell.
Inky, wet, paths of agony decorated her cheeks like a freshly painted portrait, and wasn't that the irony of it all?
Esmerelda Quinn knew that she didn't deserve the best of everything, hell, she didn't even expect it- but surely she deserved better than being widowed only weeks after her wedding day?
Surely, she deserved better than to find beauty in such an ugly life, only to lose it to something as simple as a rainstorm?
Another step.
Take another fucking step, Esme.
She took another step, and this time, she caught the gaze of Axel through the crowd.
His somber eyes were glued to her much like her own despair, and so she raised her glass only slightly in his direction.
He’s been kind.
He knows how badly this hurts.
Axel knew what it was like to love and lose, so Esmerelda didn't mind that he was watching her.
No, she didn't mind, because she was taking another step and this time the roses were so close she could practically taste them.
She could imagine how soft their petals were, how utterly fragile their faces were; much like her, much like her heart.
She wanted to rip them apart.
Esmerelda wanted to take all the pretty red roses into her shaking, numb, fingers and tear them to shreds.
She hated what they resembled; mourning.
Loss.
Emptiness.
As Esmerelda took another step forward she crossed the threshold into the very room she wanted to flee from, and then she saw it; the shape of Chris’s casket.
It ruined her.
Her glass fell from her hands, the slippery crystal gliding through her twitching digits as her entire being caved in.
The air slipped from her lungs as she hurried to press her hands against her mouth. Maybe if she tried hard enough, she could keep the cries inside.
But, they kept just coming.
Esmerelda tried her damnedest to steady her breathing, but there was nothing she could do to quell the pain inside of her.
She took another hesitant step forward, her heels scraping against the broken glass, but she didn't notice.
She didn't even care.
All Esmerelda cared about, was the fact that her forever was laid up inside of a coffin, not moving.
As the darkness ebbed, and she saw the outline of his face, she had to press her palms against her wet eyes; she had to suck in a harsh breath in hopes that oxygen would keep her from screeching to the heavens above.
That didn't happen.
Instead, Esmerelda found herself wrapping her fingers around Chris and latching on.
She found herself crying into the collar of his black dress shirt as she prayed for him to come back.
Come back, Chris.
Come back to me.
“Just come back,” She whispered brokenly.
Strong arms gripped her before she got a response, and she fought against Axel’s hold like a hellcat until his ragged voice met her ears.
“He’s gone, baby. Relax. I got you,” He said against her black hair.
I got you.
“Nobody has me anymore,” She argued through her tears.
And just like that, she stopped fighting, and let herself collapse against him.
Nothing.
There’s nothing left to fight for.
Axel’s scarred face came into view as he turned her to face him, his strong hands keeping her grounded.
“I do. I won’t let you down,” He promised as he cupped her cheeks roughly.
But, he was wrong.
Esmerelda didn't have the heart to tell him, as she stood there sobbing into his chest, that he couldn't let her down.
She was already at rock bottom.
Things couldn't get any worse.
Esmerelda knew that she’d already reached her own ending, and it was not happily ever after.
Chapter 2
Six Months Later…
Esmeralda Quinn sat with her hands tucked between her knees as she smoked a cigarette.
She didn't really want to, never really liked the taste, but it kept her occupied.
She needed the distraction.
She watched the members of the Lone Rangers meander about, most of them working.
Esmerelda didn't want to move from her spot just inside the clubhouse; she wanted to keep drinking, to keep smoking her cigarette, but Axel put a stop to that when he slammed one large hand onto the counter.
“Cut ‘er off. She’s done for the day,” He barked at the prospect behind the bar.
Esmerelda swiveled in her chair to meet him, her blue eyes washing over his scarred skin.
“What can I do ya for, cowboy?”
He scoffed and shook his head as he motioned towards her drink.
“Sober the fuck up, for starters.”
Slowly, surprised by the anger in Axel’s voice, Esmerelda lowered her glass and pushed it away from herself.
Axel nodded in approval.
“Good. Now go to Chris’s room, and pack your shit. You’re goin’ on a little vacation,” Axel said.
She blinked in confusion, her eyes widening.
“What?”
Axel ran a hand through his hair, a telltale sign that he was frustrated.
“Walk with me.”
She was met with the sight of the back of his cut and instantly moved to follow him.
“I don't understand,” She said softly.
Axel turned down the hallway that led to her, Chris’s, room.
“I know ya don't baby, and that’s my fault. I’ve been too soft on ya. But, I can't watch you wither away anymore. My brother died, but I won't let you go down with him.”
His kind amber eyes met hers and she swallowed her rude retort.
What do you know about it, she wanted to ask, but she refrained.
The reality of it was, Axel knew a lot about it.
“So you’re making me move out of the clubhouse?”
“No, I’m sending you to stay with a friend. Truth is, the beef with the Silver Bullets is heating up, and I don’t need you stuck in the crossfire if shit does go down.”
She narrowed her eyes and wrapped a hand around his forearm as he began to rifle through her room.
“Wait a minute! What if I don't wanna go?”
Axel paused in his search, his eyes landing on her.
“Esme, you don’t have a choice. Your old man would have my hide if he knew how bad I’ve let you down. You’re better than this, and I won’t watch you waste the life ya got left,” He said gruffly.
She was shaking her head before he could finish his sentence, but he set the bag he was holding down onto the bed and nudged her gently under the chin.
“Yes, Esme. This is whats best for you right now.”
Esmerelda didn't feel like it was what was best for her; she felt like Axel was kicking her out of her home, she felt like he was taking away all she had left of Chris.
“Where will you send me? When you get rid of me?,” She asked bitterly.
Axel sighed heavily and resumed his packing.
“You’re going to stay with Ox and the Seven Deadlies.”
Esmerelda tried to remember anything about the Seven Deadlies that she could…
“You mean the club with the crazy old lady? What was her name? Roxy or something like that?”
Axel smirked as he glanced up at her, a pair of her purple panties in his hand.
“Rayna, and I wouldn't fuck with her if I were you.”
Esme snorted.
“Nothing scares me anymore.”
Axel stopped moving altogether as he glanced at her, his hand now holding the matching bra to her panties.
“Yeah, I know that, too. You’ve proven that to me.”
Esmerelda had nothing to say to that, so she gestured to the lingerie in his hand.
“You want my help, or are you completely comfortable handling my unmentionables?”
Axel looked at the bra dangling from his grip and hurriedly shoved it into the bag he was holding with his other hand.
“Shit, sorry. You gonna fight me on this, or are you gonna do as I say?,” He asked pointedly.
Esmerelda had half a mind to argue, to tell him to fuck off, but she knew that he had her best intentions at heart.
Even if it hurt like hell to say goodbye to the only home she’d ever shared with Chris.
“I don’t want to leave, Axel.”
He nodded his head, his long hair falling into his eyes.
“I know, baby. I don’t want you to go either, but I thin
k you need this.”
Esme didn't know what she needed, so how could Axel?
“Okay,” She finally said.
His head shot up.
“Okay?”
Esme nodded.
“If you think this is best, then I’ll do it.”
Axel’s hands stilled as she took her bag from his grasp.
“What I think, is that you’re wilting here. There’s nothing else I can do for you, and maybe being somewhere new without all the memories will do you some good,” He suggested.
Esmerelda flinched as she packed a pair of jeans.
“These memories are all I’ve got left,” She said, her voice clipped.
Hold it together, Esme.
He isn't trying to punish you.
“Don’t you think I understand that, baby? The reality of it is, you deserve more than I have to offer you. You deserve to find something better than this miserable existence you’re living. Ox can give you that,” Axel said adamantly.
“Really? What does he have that you don’t?”
Axel threw his hands out in frustration.
“He’s a good man, Esmeralda. That’s all you need to know.”
Esmerelda wasn't so sure that he was right.
She wasn’t so sure Axel was wrong, either.
The last six months had been hard, too hard; impossibly hard.
She couldn't seem to let go of Chris’s ghost, and of course she knew that it wasn't healthy. She knew she was being crazy and that she was holding on too tightly, but what did Axel expect? She needed his memory. Esmerelda needed Chris’s memory, because what if she let go, and realized that she really did have nothing?
What if she decided to move on, and she forgot him?
What kind of wife would that make her?
What kind of a person would that make her?
Her fingers traced the edges of a photo taken on their wedding day.
Her long black hair was curled to perfection and tucked behind her ears as she smiled lovingly up at Chris; his chocolate brown eyes were crinkled at the corners as he leaned in to kiss her.
They’d been happy.
Esmerelda knew that all too often the life of an MC could wear a marriage down, could gut it and renew it, could ruin it all in one go.
Envy (Seven Deadlies MC Book 1) Page 1