Page 33 of Soul

“When’s the last time you had a checkup?” he demanded.

“Huh?” Kiki asked.

“A medical, to check your STD clear. When was your last one?”

“A few weeks ago,” Kiki replied.

“She is lying. She can’t remember, and she has not been examined lately. But she has been using cream for something. Worse, she’s fucked three men last night and one today and hasn’t cleaned herself once. Warden, Kiki’s a walking disease,” I said.

“That’s not true,” Kiki exclaimed.

Warden swivelled his head. “Have any of the whores had a checkup in the last four weeks, Slasher?”

“Not with me, and Romeo’s right. I can see diseases on several of them. And on some of our brothers,” Slasher answered.

“What the hell?” Anubis yelled. “They’re meant to be clean.”

“They ain’t,” Slasher replied.

“Fuck me,” Warden growled.

“Half of the brothers have an STD,” Slasher explained as his eyes narrowed and he studied us all. Thank God I didn’t touch those skanks.

My brothers looked appalled; everyone began yelling.

“Are the men STD clear?” Vogue yelled, and I winced.

“Yes. The male sluts are good and see me every two weeks diligently,” Slasher confirmed.

“Riley, Levi, and Rowan care more than those cunts,” Dynamo sneered.

“Our guy’s rock,” Dare inserted, setting the air on fire.

My head reeled as thoughts blasted at me, and suddenly, they died.

Noble nodded at me, and I reached out and found myself in a bubble. Thank fuck for Noble.

I sank back in relief as Slasher sent healing vibes towards the thumping headache I developed. Undertaker’s legs went under him as the vicious energy that erupted took him out. Noble extended a hand, and I knew that he’d placed Undertaker under a bubble, too.

The atmosphere would have been far too much for Undertaker’s empathic ability.

Aura was the next to pale, and Noble reached out to him as well. Everyone else was psychically fine. Although Dynamo’s hair had become static, and Vogue’s fingertips were issuing little sparks.

“I want all whores out now. I don’t want you back until you bring me a medical certificate saying you’re clean. And this laziness of yours is also gone. You are paid to fuckin’ help around here, and you don’t do shit. The old ladies do most of it. The free ride is over,” Warden growled.

“But the cookout is tonight,” Silky complained.

“You ain’t welcome. The male sluts are, but not you lot. At least they’ve got pride and look after themselves,” Warden snarled.

As he berated them, I began raising my barriers to protect myself, but a random thought hit me. It had to be particularly layered with hate and spite to reach me behind Noble’s barrier. Someone has just thought that we’d get our own and we weren’t as smart as we believed. The malice lingered, and I saw Undertaker jolt with it. Somebody here meant the club harm.

“Get yourself cleaned up. I want test and medical certs. If you don’t have them within a week, you’re gone. Not dealing with freeloaders. Tomorrow afternoon there’ll be a mandatory meeting for all sluts. If you ain’t there, your shit will be outside on the road and dumped. You’ve gotten away with too much crap,” Warden snapped.

‘Asshole, McKay will make you pay,’ the thought floated on the air. We had a traitor who’d just revealed themselves. I scanned everyone’s faces and surface thoughts, but whoever it was had buried their negative sentiments deep.

I watched as the whores were forced from the clubhouse, and blessed silence fell.

“Those of you who are infected, get in with Slasher and be grateful I’m letting him heal you. Fuckin’ idiots, you’re just as bad as them. You should check they’re clean!” Warden berated.

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