Forged: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel

by Thomas, Natasha

  That was a good day. One of the best in recent memory really. The days that followed didn’t herald quite so good things, not even close, but at least I had that to hold on tight to. The worst was when we received the news that none of the sources the MC had approached had any clue where Demon was. No one had seen or heard from him in months. Effectively he was a ghost.

  Priest told me unless it was absolutely necessary he wouldn’t be sharing my story with his brothers, that my dad and Tobias knowing was enough for now. I should have felt relief knowing I wasn’t going to be looked at with pity, or be the topic of countless conversations between the brothers, but at this point I could care less who knew. As long as they found him, they could take out an advertisement in the paper describing in detail what happened to me if they wanted to. I was passed being worried about the opinions of others. I couldn’t control what they thought of me, how they judged me, or whether or not they gossiped about me, so why concern myself with it I figured.

  Tobias keeps me up to date with what’s going on, where they’re looking, and if they’ve made any progress. He says he doesn’t want secrets between us and I love him for it, but at the same time the lack of progress is disheartening to say the least. He also reassures me every time he tells me there’s nothing new yet that they will find him, and when they do it will be taken care of, permanently. I should probably feel bad at what he’s hinting at, but I don’t. Not even a little. Maybe that makes me as heartless as Demon is, or cold and unforgiving, but as often as I’ve tried to find some compassion in my heart for the man who tormented me I can’t. I come up empty and lacking every time.

  There have been two other significant events during the course of the last two weeks, one of which isn’t my story to tell, and the other is standing in front of me openly glaring at me.

  His anger is partially my fault, I know that, but where the rest of it, the fury rolling off him in waves is coming from is anyone’s guess. I’m not naïve, I know he was attracted to me, but to be perfectly honest I didn’t think it went any deeper than that. Simple attraction. Obviously I was wrong.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Robert

  “You can’t make somebody love you.

  You can only stalk them and hope for the best.”

  - Rotten eCard

  I thought if I gave her time to come to her senses she would. I didn’t realize she’d let that motherfucker move back in with her at the drop of a hat. I thought she was stronger than that.

  When Glock told me Saint and Tilly had reconciled and he was going to help his brother move his shit back in, I thought I’d lose my fucking mind right then and there. I managed to keep my mouth shut until he left, but just barely. All the while praying he was wrong, that he’d been misled, or he’d misheard what he’d told me.

  I’ll admit everything I did after that was borderline stalker-like. Probably not even borderline to be honest, it just plain was. I sat outside her house watching who came and went. I catalogued when that asshole left for work and when he came home. I even went as far as to time how long it was after he got home until all the lights went out except for the one in her bedroom. Yeah, I know, fucked up. But I couldn’t help it. I fucking love the hell out of that woman, and I’d be damned if I let her go back to an asshole who cheated on her. She deserves better than that.

  That’s how I ended up on her doorstep this morning furious and hurt. I’d held off for as long as I could, longer than I’d wanted to, before all the waiting became too much and I cave under the pressure. I drove over as soon as I knew he’d left for the day, because I wanted to talk to her and I don’t want interruptions when I do.

  When she opened the door I couldn’t help the hungry way my eyes ate up her body. Fuck, she’s stunning. All legs, softly flared hips, high, full tits, lush, long blonde hair hanging in waves down her back, and beautiful pink, pouty lips. The woman is a fucking knockout. Taking in the way her eyes widen at me standing there I ask,

  “Babe, can I come in for a minute? We’ve gotta talk.”

  My heart is beating out of control at her turning me down, but I can breathe a sigh of relief when she says,

  “Um, okay. Come in, Rob.”

  Her voice is one of the things I love most about her. It sweet and soft, with a hint of huskiness that makes it the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Following her lead and shutting the door behind me I take a seat across from her in the living room. I want to be able to see her face when I say what I have to say. No, what I need to say. I want to be able to read her body language and see her expressions. I want to know if she’s as effected by me as I am by her.

  Tilly’s fidgeting with her hands in her lap and I don’t know if it’s because she’s nervous or uncomfortable, but the action is unsettling. I thought we were past this shit. I though she knew me well enough to be comfortable in my presence. But most of all I thought she’d want me here, that she would have welcomed me in. Instead she looks like she’d rather slam the door in my face and forget I’d existed. And that shit fucking burns.

  “What brought you over today, Rob? Are you okay? Is Glock okay?” She asks quietly.

  Disappointed, I shake my head internally berating myself for caring about this woman so much. Is she honestly clueless enough not to realize how I feel about her? Sure, we mightn’t have had a physical relationship, not even a single kiss, but we were close. So close I thought we were headed somewhere together, before she took her cheating, asshole of a husband back that is.

  “We’ll get to why I’m here in a second, babe, but to answer your question, Glock’s fine but I’m far from it. Far fucking from it, Tilly.”

  A look of worry crosses her face that has her reaching across the space between us gripping my hand tightly in hers.

  “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Did you hurt yourself?”

  I hate hearing her upset. I fucking hate it, but I can’t help it give me a thrill she’d be worried about me too. That’s got to count for something, right?

  “I’m not sick or hurt, Tilly. I’m confused and pissed off, but I’m not sick, babe.”

  Cocking her eyebrow she asks innocently,

  “Why are you confused and pissed off? Was it something I did? I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but things have gotten kind of crazy around here. What with Joanna being born, me helping to look after the twins for Lexi, and Tobias moving back in. I’m sorry if I hurt you by not calling you, I just got wrapped up in it all,” she finishes taking her hand from mine and pushing herself further back into her chair.

  I watch her closely trying to work out the best way to approach this conversation we need, but I wish we didn’t have to have. With her legs crossed in front of her and her arms wrapped around her middle, she looks so small, so vulnerable. It has me making the decision to just come out and say it. To tell her how I feel and let the chips fall where they may.

  “Got a few things to say, Tilly, and I’d really appreciate if you’d hear me out before saying anything. It’s not easy for me to say any of this shit, so you’ve gotta let me say it before I lose my nerve, yeah?”

  Waiting for her agreement I listen to the blood rushing in my ears. I feel the thud of my heart rattling around in my chest. I know my lungs are working, they’re doing their job, but I can’t draw in a full breath until she nods at me weakly. Smiling at her in what I hope is a reassuring gesture, but comes across more like a grimace, I start by saying,

  “First up I’ve got a question for you. Just one before I say the rest of what I need to. I really fucking need you to be honest with me here, babe, because I’m confused as fuck about what’s going on. The last time we talked you were kicking the cheating motherfucker out, and now he’s living here again. I don’t get it. You wanna explain that shit to me?”

  “Where have you been? Living under a rock?” At my deepening scowl Tilly lets out a giggle confused by my anger. “He didn’t cheat on me, Rob. It never happened. Stacey made out that he slept with her, drugged his beer and climb
ed into bed with him, but he never slept with her.”

  “Bullshit. They’ve got a kid together, Tilly. How can you be so fucking naïve? They had to have slept together at some point to make that shit happen, babe. It wasn’t immaculate conception that’s for sure,” I spit back at her. She can’t really believe her dickhead husband didn’t fuck around on her. The proof is in the pudding so to speak, or in this case the child they created together.

  A humorless laugh leaves her throat at my statement only pissing me off more. This shit isn’t funny, so why is she fucking laughing?

  “Tucker isn’t Tobias’s son, Rob. He’s Dagger’s. Stacey has had a thing for Tobias for years and wasn’t opposed to naming him her baby daddy in order to have him in her life somehow.” Sighing she turns to me with an apologetic expression on her face. “I should have called you and told you all this sooner, and for that I’m sorry. When it comes down to it you’ve been a really good friend to me at a time in my life when I needed one, and I’ll always be grateful for that, always. Priest had a ‘come to Jesus’ talk with Stacey and she admit everything. She’s never slept with Tobias. Tucker is not his son, Dagger is that little boy’s father, and she agreed to leave us alone. That’s about all there is to it, but it should go a long way in explaining why I obviously couldn’t go through with the divorce. He didn’t cheat on me, Rob. And if he didn’t cheat then why would I end my marriage to the man I love?”

  Fucking hell. Hearing her say she loves him is all my mind can zero in on. She loves him? The asshole that treated her like she was expendable, like she was an afterthought for years. What a fucking joke.

  “You’re fucking kidding, right? He is an asshole of the highest order, and what, because he didn’t stick his dick in some two-bit, used up snatch he’s all of a sudden forgiven for the rest of the shit he’s pulled. The years’ worth of ignoring you, neglecting his wife and kids so he could go off and play super-fucking-hero to some kid that isn’t his. Is that what you’re telling me? That you forgive him for treating you worse than the shit on the bottom of his shoe.”

  A pain filled gasp leaves her lips just as the front door slams open ricocheting against the wall, and banging shut again at the force of it.

  “What the fuck are you doing in my house? And why the fuck is my wife sitting there looking scared shitless, crying?”

  Turning, I notice not only Saint standing in the doorway, but Glock two steps behind him.

  “Brother, what are you doing here?” He doesn’t look pissed like the furious biker in front of him, but he isn’t happy about my presence here either.

  I stand up to face them and square off against Saint. We’re almost toe-to-toe, only a foot of distance separating us. We match each other in height and weight, but his anger is something that will be an advantage to him in a fight, and something I don’t have. All of mine has turned to hurt after a few words from the woman I care about more than myself.

  “Tilly’s my friend, and I was worried about her. I wanted to come see she was alright, and what the fuck was going on with her. That alright with you?”

  I know the answer I’m going to get, so I’m not surprised when he says,

  “No, it’s not fucking alright. You want to come check on her, see her, be friends with her, whatever, but you don’t do it upsetting her or making her cry. She’s been through enough shit she doesn’t need yours too asshole.”

  “Yeah? You’d know seeing as you’re the one who put her through most of it,” I snarl. “Yeah, I was here when you weren’t, motherfucker. I was the one who dried her tears when she was crying over you. I was here to take your girls to the park when you were too busy with your other family to keep your promises to them. And I was the one who loved her when you only loved your fucking self, so don’t tell me what she’s been through, I know. I know it fucking all.”

  The room is eerily quiet before Saint’s voice breaks the silence. His tone is low and deadly, and that’s when I know there’s no avoiding the fact this conversation has taken a turn south and is going straight to hell in a handbasket.

  “What’d you just fucking say?”

  Sneering at him, all but baring my teeth, I reply,

  “You heard me. I said I loved her when you didn’t. I still love her.” Turning my back on him was the worst decision I made that day, but I needed to see Tilly’s face when I said it. I needed to see if there was even the slightest hope she loved me back. “I love you, Tallulah. I think I fell in love with you the day I met you, running around like crazy woman, covered in flour, messy hair everywhere and all. I fell that day, and fell hard. I’m just sorry it’s taken me so long to pull my head out of my ass and tell you.”

  Taking a step toward her is when I get my answer to whether she feels the same about me. The woman I fell madly in love with, even though she wasn’t mine to have, takes a step back. She takes one meaningful, telling step backwards away from me. Away from the hand I’ve outstretched for her to take hold of causing my heart to shatter at the same time my world goes black.

  **********

  Sometime later I wake up not able to feel my arms or legs. My vision’s still blurry on the edges, and I can barely see out of my left eye. Shifting restlessly it doesn’t take me long to realize I’m fucking cable tied to a chair with a piece of tape across my mouth. Part of me is glad it’s so dark in here, because if any of the men I’ve called friends could see me now they’d laugh their asses off.

  I’m fucking terrified of being tied down, and I don’t give a shit who knows it at this point. I tug on my wrists until I feel warm, sticky, blood trailing down my fingers slowly dripping onto the floor. The thing about cable ties is, they’re more likely to saw straight through the flesh, through tendons, veins and arteries than they are to break. Anyone who knows anything about restraining someone knows if you don’t want them to get lose you use these bastards. The ones currently tethering me aren’t the thin either. These are the industrial kind. The kind I’ve got no hope in hell of getting out of unless someone sees fit to cut them off me.

  The darkness sharpens not only the vision in my good eye, but my hearing too. The raised voices outside the door belong to two people I know well, and one I can’t place.

  “I know what he did was fucked up. I get it, okay. He gets it, or he will when you let me get in there so I can fucking talk to him. You don’t have to tie him up, brother. Fuck. Just let me in there to untie him, please, brother.”

  The sound of Glock’s voice isn’t doing shit to calm the panic attack I can feel coming on. But then I don’t think anything will calm my shit down right now. My eyes are darting around the room seeking ways to escape. My heart rate’s increasing steadily with every second that passes. I can feel my vision narrowing, the black at the sides invading more of my peripheral than not. My breath is coming in short, harsh pants, and I know it’s not long until I pass the fuck out again.

  I know I’m dreaming when I hear the most angelic voice I’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing, and it’s not Tilly’s.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind?” Okay, so angelic might have been a stretch, but it’s not what she’s saying, it’s the soft, velvet cadence of her voice I find comforting. “If you’re going to drag unconscious men out of your house in broad daylight, then you bet your ass you’re going to have people paying attention, idiot.”

  “Settle the fuck down, Alysia. I said I wouldn’t hurt him too badly, didn’t I? What fucking more do you want?” That’d be Saint’s voice ringing in my ears. Fucking dick. At least I know the angels name now. Alysia. Why does that name sound so familiar to me?

  “I want to know why, when I’m out innocently minding my own business changing the oil in the beast, you and your equally barbaric caveman here are carrying out a huge dude with a hell of a shiner, and a goose egg on the back of his head the size of a tennis ball and stashing him in a van like he’s a piece of meat.”

  Silence. Absolute silence.

  “Fine, don’t tell me, but let me
tell you this mister.” I chuckle lightly imagining her poking Saint and Glock in the chest to get her point across. “I am not leaving until you let him go.”

  “Not happening, darlin’. Sorry, but he and I need to have words and he’s not going fucking anywhere until we have them. Go home, Alysia,” Saint replies sharply. At the tone in his voice my skin prickles. An uneasy sensation tickling up my spine.

  I hate I’m tied down. I hate I can’t get in his face and tell him not to fucking talk to her like that. And I really fucking hate that I feel so goddamn helpless. I expect her to walk away, forget what she’s seen, what she’s heard, but she surprises me by letting out a low throaty laugh instead.

  “Yeah, not going to happen, big man. Nice try though, I’ll give you that. How about we try it this way. You go and have your scary, me-man-you-prisoner words, and then you let me take him home because that’s the only way I’m going to be forgetting about what went down this afternoon, bucko.”

  What sounds like a snort comes from Glock before he says,

  “Not a bad idea, brother. Let Alysia take him home, and you can talk to him later. I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna go anywhere near your woman again any time soon, Saint. He gets the message, yeah?”