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Copyright ©2018 Harley Wylde
The car that had delivered me to my destination took off down the road like the hounds of hell were after it. Not that I could blame the poor driver. I looked through the gates at the Dixie Reapers MC compound. Not much had changed since I was last here. A Prospect approached the gates, his face lighting up when he saw me. I got that reaction a lot. I’d always been pretty, but the last few years I’d gained some womanly curves and my face had matured. He swaggered closer, his hand tucked into his belt.
“You looking for a good time?” he asked. “Because I could fuck you all night long, sweet thing.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, I’d never heard that one before.
“Open the gates,” I demanded, trying to sound tougher than I was.
He licked his lips, apparently thinking he was getting his fondest wish. The gate slid open, and I strolled through on my heeled boots that hugged my calves and stopped just below my knees. The gate closed behind me, and the Prospect placed his hand on my waist. I quickly removed it.
“Why don’t you get on your knees and give my cock some attention?” he said, starting to unfasten his belt.
“Or you could keep your pants zipped and your dick attached,” I said.
“Did you just threaten to remove my dick?”
“Oh, I won’t be the one removing it. Torch will.”
He sneered at me. “And why would Torch give a shit about some whore who showed up uninvited?”
I held up my forearm, the brand that said Property of Torch clearly on display. I’d been marked when I was seventeen. My dad hadn’t wanted to take a chance Torch would back out of the deal later. Because I’d been underage and a virgin, Dad had refused to let Torch claim me in any other way, but I was his just the same. And I’d damn sure never told my dad about the kiss I’d shared with Torch. That kiss had remained with me all these years. I still could taste him when I closed my eyes.
The Prospect’s face paled, and he stammered an apology before getting out of my way. I walked across the concrete lot and up the clubhouse steps. Music blared from inside, and I braced myself for what I might find on the other side of the door. I’d heard my daddy threaten Torch if he so much as unzipped his pants with another woman. Casper VanHorne hadn’t been fucking around. As far as he was concerned, Torch was married to me, and my daddy expected him to be faithful, even if I had been too young at the time. My heart ached at the thought that he might not have kept his promise. The moment I’d laid eyes on Torch, I’d fallen under his spell, and it had scared the hell out of me. It had scared me so much, I’d done the chicken shit thing and run.
I’d been gone a lot longer than I’d expected. My graduation had taken place within six months of Torch branding me as his. The plan had been for me to visit family abroad for six months, then return to Torch. I’d have been eighteen by then, nearly nineteen, and it would have been legal for us to be together, but I’d been too damn scared to come back. I’d only met him the one time, but the way he’d made me feel still shook me to my core. So, I’d hidden. Not just from Torch, but from my dad too. I’d used what few contacts I had and disappeared, making sure I left no trace, until I was ready to face my fate. Not an easy feat with two powerful men looking for you. I’d gotten fake documents with a new name and changed locations every few months. Staying under the radar hadn’t been easy, but I’d managed.
I was twenty now, almost twenty-one, and I knew I couldn’t keep running. Wasn’t even certain I wanted to. I was a grown woman now, and it was time to claim my man. Or more likely, let him claim me. Assuming he wasn’t pissed beyond belief. My hand pressed against the door. My future, whether good or bad, lay on the other side. I wouldn’t blame Torch for being furious with me for being gone so long, for just vanishing. I knew my father was enraged, but I’d deal with Daddy later. But Torch… I belonged to him. I didn’t know what the punishment would be for my actions, and I only hoped I was strong enough to take it. I’d probably made him look like a fool by taking off like that. It hadn’t been my intention, but I didn’t know if he’d care why I’d left the way I did.
I blew out a breath and opened the door, stepping inside the dimly lit interior. Smoke filled the air and nearly made me choke. Through the haze I could see the bikers weren’t too picky about where they had sex. Naked women strolled through the room, completely on display for anyone to look at or touch. I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake in coming here. Daddy had made a deal, and it was up to me to keep it, but I wasn’t too happy with what I saw.
Torch was in the back corner with some of his brothers, a naked whore on his lap. She didn’t seem to be doing much but sitting there, but it still made me ill. He was supposed to be mine. Part of me wanted to march over there, drag her ass off him, and kick her out the door. But I’d never been the confrontational sort. Even after all this time, I was still on the quiet side most days. I made my way over to the bar and climbed onto one of the stools. If I was going to get through this night, I knew I’d need a stiff drink. I cursed myself as a coward, thinking I didn’t do justice to the VanHorne name. According to my daddy, I took after my mom, and since she hadn’t been able to handle Dad’s lifestyle and had died by her own hand when I was just a baby, I didn’t think that was a compliment.
“Rum and coke,” I told the Prospect behind the bar. “Heavy on the rum.”
He winked and set about making my drink, then slid it in front of me. I downed it in a few swallows and motioned for another. A hand slid around my body and cupped my breast, squeezing it to the point of pain. I inhaled sharply and immediately wished I hadn’t. Whoever was standing behind me smelled ripe, even over the smoke in the air.
“Whores aren’t allowed to wear clothes in here,” a voice slurred in my ear. “Strip and show me a good time.”
“Good thing I’m not a whore,” I said, removing his hand.
“Fucking bitch,” he spat. “You aren’t allowed to say no. Club rules.”
He jerked me off the stool and backhanded me across the face. My knees nearly gave out, but he still gripped my arm tight. I could feel him bruising my skin even as pain radiated across my cheek.
I saw stars for a moment, and when he reached his hand back again, I reached up and grabbed it before it could connect with my face. His gaze focused on my arm and his glassy eyes went wide. He looked from my tattoo over to where I’d last seen Torch, and the blood drained from his face. I heard the sound of several booted feet heading toward us and braced for whatever was about to happen.
“Boy,” a voice growled behind me. “We don’t hit women around here.”
That voice. I closed my eyes a moment, a shiver raking down my spine. All these years and I hadn’t forgotten his voice. Even now, that voice made me want to submit, to give him anything he asked for.