Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel

by Thomas, Natasha

  Working her way free of my arms she sat up in bed with the sheet that was covering her falling down exposing her gorgeous tits to my view. I’ll openly admit I’m a breast man. I don’t care if they aren’t huge as long as they’re perfectly rounded, firm, and topped with delicious, tight nipples I could care less what size they come in. And Tilly has the best tits I’d ever seen.

  Just more than a handful, her tits have a slight hang making them shaped like perfect teardrops. She has small cherry red nipples that harden beautifully under my tongue and at the touch of my calloused hands. And right now they’re staring me in the face, which has my brain all but short circuiting.

  Although I know I said I’d come to regret telling her we were done if she didn’t fess up, I also didn’t think it’d be this quickly that regret set in. Glaring at me, her eyes promise to inflict all sorts of pain for the ultimatum I gave her.

  “Then we’re done,” she states jumping out of bed, not caring she’s still completely naked. “This isn’t something I’m going to change my mind about, Tobias. I’m never going to tell you how I got them or why, so if that’s a deal breaker for you then so be it.”

  Stomping over to the side of the room where I’d discarded her clothes earlier, she angrily starts pulling them on. Pissed at her for being so determined to keep it a secret, and upset she’d throw what we’ve got away over it, I follow her lead. Rising from the bed I’d just made love to her in twenty minutes ago, I dress quicker than I ever have, and make my way to the door. Before I walk away from her for good I need her to know how important this is to me. How important she is to me.

  Taking her face gently in my hands, imploring her to look at me with those beautiful, deep brown eyes of hers, I kiss the tip of her nose.

  “I love you, Tallulah Annaliese Walker, and I always fucking will. I’m not going to say I understand why you won’t tell me because I don’t, but what I will say is, I hope it’s worth losing me over, babe. I hope your secret’s worth throwing what we could’ve had away, because that’s what you’re doing.”

  Releasing her, I lean down and place one last soft kiss on her mouth before moving away from her completely. I don’t even make it the entire distance down the hall before I hear her break down in great, soul shattering sobs. Every part of me wants to turn around, go back into her room and gather her into my arms. I want to be the man to soothe her, dry her tears, and tell her everything will be okay, that we’ll be okay, but I can’t do it. Her not trusting me enough will eat away at me, I know it. I might not be able to tell the future, but I know myself well enough to know that. I’d never be able to trust she wasn’t lying to me or hiding things, and that’s the basis of what a relationship’s built on, trust.

  Tilly and I didn’t talk or see each other aside from around town for just over a month after that. When she did see me she turned tail and took off the other way. I didn’t go after her. I didn’t approach her once. What I did do was drown myself in what amounted to be almost a vat of Jack Daniels every night, and sit around feeling sorry for myself. It didn’t matter one single bit that I’d done this to myself, my heart, the one I’d broken when I told her we we’re through, couldn’t differentiate between the agony caused through losing her, and the agony of never being with her again. Nothing made sense without her. The days were longer and darker, and the nights were even worse. They were fucking endless. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. I barely got out of bed. When I did it was only because my most recent bottle was empty.

  My brothers were worried about me, they’d said as much, Glock more than the others. Another certainty was that they weren’t going to leave me alone much longer to drown at the bottom of a bottle, or shirk my responsibilities. I’d been slacking on my club duties for a while now, about as long as it’d been since I’d seen Tilly in truth.

  They knew the reason why I had and up until now they’d been mindful of that, but that wouldn’t be the case when it came time for the run we had the following week. If I missed that one they’d have my ass in the cage in five seconds flat, and I was pretty sure they’d put me in it with Reaper just to teach me a lesson. Him or Tank, I hadn’t decided who’d be worse to come up against, but neither would go easy on me.

  Everything changed four days later, or should I say I made a decision four days later that changed everything. It was a regular Friday night party at the clubhouse, shit got wild, men got loaded, and women got loose. I’d been one of those men who hadn’t minded the easy pussy, flowing alcohol, and thumping beat of the heavy metal playing throughout the room before getting together with Tilly. That all stopped the second I met her though. Sure, I still liked to have a few beers with the guys, and heavy metal would always be my music of choice, but the women, they evaporated the second I claimed my girl as mine and became a distant memory the second after.

  The difference between tonight and any of the others over the past month was that Tilly was in the clubhouse too, and she looked fucking furious. Marching through the doors in painted on jeans so faded I thought they deteriorate at any second, her trademark tank top, and her Chucks, Tilly’s eyes scanned the crowd locking on me immediately. Pushing off on her right foot, Tilly started running at me and all I could do was widen my feet to shoulder width apart and brace myself for impact. Which did in fact happen seconds later, but just not how you’d think. No, not my Tilly.

  Where I thought she’d throw herself into my arms, beg me to take her back, and promise to tell me every last detail about her life, in particular the secret that’d torn us apart, Tilly did none of that. Instead she reared her leg back and kicked me square in the shin. Bending down clutching my poor abused leg, I bellowed.

  “Why in the fuck did you do that? What is fucking wrong with you?”

  Spitting fire, not literally but I’m sure if she could’ve she would have, Tilly pushes at my shoulder jarring back an inch saying,

  “What is wrong with me? Don’t you mean what is wrong with you?” Struck dumb by her line of questioning, I stand there gapping at her. Tilly might have torn strips off me verbally before, we fought it was expected in a new relationship, but she’d never so much as raised her voice in front of other people previously. I have to admit, I was proud and more than a little turned on by this feistier side of her.

  “Nothing’s wrong with me,” I reply sullenly. Yeah, I sound like a whining bitch but whatever. I didn’t have the energy to get in a knock-down, drag out fight with her, or anyone else for that matter. Sullen and moody was going to have to do.

  “I don’t remember you drinking your weight in bourbon, hiding out in your room, ignoring your brothers, and cutting out of work before, but maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you did, and I just never knew it, huh?” The last word she said on a huff.

  “You tell him, girl.” Was yelled across the room by Vic followed by grunted agreements, and the odd thumbs up from a few of the assholes sporting shit eating grins. By my estimation Tilly had just garnered even more respect than she already had before her little outburst, and if I didn’t do anything soon I’d lose some of mine. Fucking traitors.

  “You could be right. Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t. But that’s the thing about secrets though, Tilly, you never know what to believe.” It was a low blow and she flinched when it hit its target, but I was angry and hurt. I was willing to lash out with everything I had to protect myself until she said what she did next. Then that plan was shot to hell.

  “Do you know the first time you told me you loved me was also the same day you told me we were done? I’d waited for months for you to tell me. Months. I didn’t tell you first because I didn’t want you to think I was pushing you for more when you weren’t ready. I didn’t say it even though I think I fell in love with you the second I saw you.” Her eyes are wet with tears threatening to spill over, but she takes a depth breath, composes herself, and continues anyway. “And now I know I was right not to. I’m glad I didn’t tell you I love you, every part of you, with all my heart, because relationships are a
bout give and take. Compromise and respect. You didn’t respect my right to keep something important to myself. You told me. No, you demanded I tell you, and if I wouldn’t you put our relationship on the chopping block. I get it is important to you, but did you even once consider that if I was willing to let you walk out the door, it was just as important, if not more, to me?”

  Shaking her head sadly, Tilly takes a step away from me, and when I go to follow she throws her hand up to stop me.

  “No, stay back,” she says on a screech. “I want you to think about everything I said, and this too. If I could have picked a man that was perfect for me I wouldn’t have chosen you. I wouldn’t have chosen you because I didn’t know men as good as you existed. I would have picked someone safe and easy. But that’s only because I had no idea there were men out there that could be loyal, strong, protective, and fierce at the same time as kind, sweet and compassionate. There isn’t one thing about you I don’t like, and that’s not something many people can say. That’s special. That’s what we had, Tobias, something special. That’s also what you threw away. All because you couldn’t handle me having one thing that was mine.” Turning on her heel, Tilly marched out the way she came, but not without me and the rest of the curious onlookers in the room staring after her.

  That night I lay in bed and decided I was going after her. It wasn’t much of a decision, more like a realization. Something I’d intended on doing even before she came in here and blew my world apart. I promised myself I would do whatever it took to win her back.

  It took me three weeks of doing shit I’d never done before, and would never do again for any other woman to win her over. Flowers, chocolates, sappy love notes, and trinkets, but in the end she forgave me and I never looked back. Not once did I begrudge having to work at it to get her back. My woman is stubborn as hell, and she may not have made it easy for me, but the fight was worth it, because when I had her it was magnificent.

  I eventually accepted I’d never know the origin of her scars. I didn’t like it and I wished someday she’d tell me, but I stopped pushing. After that we fell into the beautiful kind of life I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have, and it wasn’t until the clusterfuck with Stacey that we ran into problems even close to the ones we had during our rocky start.

  Our life wasn’t without its ups and downs though. We fought. She cried. I yelled. But every time, before we went to bed, we kissed and made up without fail, so in my book it was all good. It was as close to perfection as you can get…Until it wasn’t. And what Priest had just told me took care of that.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Tallulah

  “No, I didn’t lose my mind…

  It got scared and ran away screaming.”

  - Rotten eCard

  Saint saying Elias’s name simultaneously chilled me to the bone and sent my blood boiling. I never wanted to hear that monsters name ever again, let alone have it fall from the lips of my husband. Emotions I wasn’t ready to address, nor did I think I ever would be, bombarded me. My only escape was the blissful darkness I fell into only seconds later.

  Elias ‘Demon’ Walker is my Uncle by blood. My tormentor too, but I’m sure you already worked that one out for yourselves. Once, a long time ago, I loved him fiercely, almost as much as my Dad, but then one day that all changed. I went from hero worshipping him to despising him in the matter of a day. I’d never had cause to distrust him before, so I didn’t pick up on any signs that would alert me he was any danger to me. He had always just been my Uncle Eli. That was until he took on another name, one very similar to his club name in fact.

  When I was eight years old I wanted to be a ballerina. Seriously, what little girl hasn’t had that dream at one time or another? My mom enrolled me in dance classes, dropping me off and picking me up after every lesson. One afternoon mom got stuck picking Priss up from cheerleading because their practice session had run over, and asked Uncle Eli to collect me. I was excited to see him so I could show off what I’d learned in class that day, and like always, he was more than happy to watch, encouraging me the whole time.

  Taking me back to his place, that was where he told me mom was picking me up from, wasn’t an odd because I often spent time there. Most of that time either Priss, mom, or dad were with me, but I loved my Uncle so much that any time I got to spend with him alone I cherished. That day something was off with him though. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but something in the distant way he answered my questions and the way he was staring at me made me uneasy. But at the tender age of eight, when an adult tells you they’re fine, that everything is okay, you blindly, and stupidly believe them. And that wasn’t any different for me. I didn’t even think to question he wasn’t telling me the truth. Why would I?

  A lot of that first day is still a blur to me. Things happened so quickly that I have trouble dissecting reality from the all-encompassing terror I felt. Going inside, dropping my backpack at the door like always, and heading to the kitchen for a snack, I was brought up short when Uncle Eli wrapped his huge hand around my bicep. He roughly yanked me to an abrupt stop that had my body colliding with the wall, sending the photo frames hanging on it crashing to the floor.

  At this point I wasn’t scared or hurt. I was confused as to why he looked so angry with me, and upset that I’d done something to make him mad at me, but not scared. In the eyes of an eight-year old that worshiped the ground he walked on, upsetting my Uncle was the last thing I wanted to do. I apologized profusely, begging him not to be angry with me, and promising to not do whatever had upset him again, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. Uncle Eli wasn’t listening, instead he was glaring at me with such menace that I began to retreat into my own head.

  This was a problem for me. When things got too overwhelming, or I didn’t know how to deal with something I tended to go inside myself until I felt it was safe to come out or someone drew me out. Either way, it was a common reaction to stress for me. One that happened a little too frequently if you were to ask my dad. For me it was just a way to sort things out. I’d always been more of a thinker than a talker, and I didn’t really see that changing. Regardless that this was part of me, it was in my make-up to be like this, my dad told me I would have to try harder to let people in. That I had to let people help me sometimes. I still hadn’t mastered that skill, even though I was trying, but at that moment in time I was glad I hadn’t.

  Uncle Eli dragged me down the hall behind him, he was still gentle enough with his grip that it didn’t hurt per se, but I knew I couldn’t get free even if I tried with all my might. Maybe that’s what I should have done. Fought harder for him to let me go, but I didn’t. Call it terror, panic, or shock, whatever you like, but I didn’t fight him. I let him take me to his room, sit me on the edge of his huge bed, and I said not a word when he went to the chest he kept in the bottom of his closet and pulled out something long, shiny, and deadly.

  It’s funny what you notice when you’re in a life threatening or stressful situation. It’s as if your mind protects you from trauma, replacing fear inducing visions with ones that intrigue you instead. Things like; were beds really this big? How did he fit it through the front door of his house? Because honestly, it was a really, really, big bed. It had to have been custom made for him. A California King, and then some. See, strange.

  Stripping his hunting knife from its sheath, Uncle Eli walked toward me with great big strides, eating up the distance between us in seconds. I still wasn’t scared though. No, it had gone way past that. Now, I was freaking terrified. The large blade reflected light off the walls, so that strips of light illuminated the usually gloomy grey of his bedroom. Again, I thought it strange that my mind wandered to thinking; how could such beauty be created by something so sinister?

  Then I remember nothing but the slice of the blade searing the tender skin on the inside of my thigh. Over and over again, the burning agony of it tearing through my flesh as I screamed for him to stop. That’s what I remember the most about that day. That
I begged and cried for my Uncle to let me go, but that he didn’t listen. He didn’t flinch once at my pleas that became nothing more than pitiful cries. They began to ebb to whimpers after more than ten minutes of the most intense pain I’d ever felt, and I just knew that I’d never be the same. Never again.

  A large section of both of my upper inner-thighs was bleeding profusely. Caused by the perfectly straight lines crisscrossed over them that he’d carved permanently into my skin. I knew they would never heal completely. I also knew I would be forever scarred by his anger. Not only by his blade, but by the ability to trust that he’d stolen from me.

  That wasn’t the only time it happened. There were so many more times over the years that I’d lost count. So many that I’d tried in vain to erase from my memory. In the beginning I threatened to tell my dad, my mom, and Uncle Priest, but at Eli’s threat to hurt Priss the same way as he was hurting me, I stayed quiet. I wouldn’t let him hurt her. More than that, I couldn’t. It didn’t matter what happened to me, as long as Priss stayed safe and unharmed everything would be okay. He knew that too. Eli knew she was the only leverage he had on me. That there was nothing else he could use to keep me quiet, available, and at his mercy. He utilized that threat often. Sparing none of the details when he explicitly described what he would do to my sister if I ever breathed a word to anyone.