Page 21 of True Bastard
Now, faced with this raw, humiliating truth, that flicker was a burning ember, scorching me from the inside out. And the worst part? A twisted, dark corner of my mind whispered that I should have fought harder, that I could have found a way to appease them, to survive this. The thought itself was a betrayal, a surrender to the very degradation I despised.
But then what? Become one of them? Degrade myself further to save myself from degradation? It was a choice I refused to make, a line I wouldn’t cross. But my refusal felt weak, a hollow defiance against an inevitable tide.
I had no idea how long I stayed in the shower, but when the chill of the water clung to my skin, I sighed and turned off the faucet. Reaching for a plush towel hanging on a hook, I wrapped it around me before stepping back into the suffocating air of the room. There, a silhouette against the oppressive grandeur of Firestride’s dresser, stood a predator. His gaze, devoid of warmth, bored into me, a dead, cold thing that promised nothing but ruin. The air crackled with an unspoken warning: this motherfucker was pure poison. It was there, in the icy depths of his eyes, in the sneer that twisted his lips, in the way he licked them, slow and deliberate, a predatory gleam in their wetness. His hand, rough and calloused, moved witha deliberate, suggestive glide over the rising bulge beneath his jeans.
“Been a long time since we had fresh pussy in this place.” His voice, a low growl that vibrated through the silence, rasped against my nerves. “Get the fuck over here and suck my cock.”
A scream clawed at my throat, but only a single, defiant word escaped. “No.”
His eyes narrowed, his pupils contracting to pinpricks of icy malice. “It wasn’t a suggestion, cunt.”
“ZEPHYR!” A roar ripped from the doorway, a guttural eruption of pure fury. Morpheus, a towering shadow against the light, filled the frame. “Get the fuck out. NOW!”
A smirk, as sharp and dangerous as a shard of obsidian, sliced across Zephyr’s face. He continued his suggestive caress, the friction of his grotesque movement a silent testament to his burgeoning arousal. “Was just introducing myself, brother.”
“Now,” Morpheus growled, his voice laced with a dangerous venom, as he advanced into the room, his presence an almost physical force.
Zephyr, a phantom weaving around the behemoth that was Morpheus, exited, leaving me adrift in the suffocating silence, alone with the president of the Brotherhood of Bastards.
“I knew you would be fucking trouble the second I saw you.” The towering man sighed before he slowly looked around Firestride’s room. “You are going to change everything.”
Gripping the towel around me, I whispered, “I don’t want to change anything.”
Morpheus smirked. “Too late for that now, I suspect.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this. I just wanted to leave.”
“You think this is a joke?” Morpheus’ voice rumbled, a low, dangerous growl that seemed to vibrate the very floor beneath me. He was a formidable presence, his sheer size and the aura of raw power radiating from him making the opulent room feelsuffocatingly small. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, pinned me in place, a predator assessing its prey. “You’ve stirred up enough shit already. And now you’ve got Firestride all riled up.” He took a step closer, his eyes scanning my still-bruised face, the raw mark on my cheekbone a stark testament to my defiance. “You’re a liability, Kitten. And liabilities have no place in the Brotherhood.”
A cold dread settled in my stomach, a premonition of what was to come. He hadn’t come here to offer sanctuary, or even just to deliver a warning. He was here to assess the damage, to decide what to do with the unexpected variable that had entered their brutal equation.
The knowledge that my defiance, my desperate attempts to cling to some semblance of agency, had only tightened the chains that bound me was a bitter, crushing realization. He saw me as a problem, a disruption to their carefully ordered world, and I knew, with every fiber of my being, that I would have to fight harder than ever to prove him wrong.
“However, Firestride’s made his choice,” Morpheus continued, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone. “And now, your life is in his hands. You’ll do as you’re told, Kitten. You’ll earn your keep, and you’ll learn your place. Or you’ll wish for death because I won’t lose a brother over some bitch.” He turned, his massive frame blocking the doorway, a silent, unyielding barrier. “Now, get dressed. And try not to provoke him again. He’s got a short fuse, and you, Kitten, are the powder keg.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kyllian
A week.
Seven long, agonizing days since Firestride had stormed out, leaving me locked away like some prized possession in his gilded cage. Each sunrise had brought forth a fresh wave of despair, each sunset a bitter confirmation of my continued captivity. My defiance, once a roaring inferno, had dwindled to a fragile ember, threatening to be extinguished by the relentless monotony of my confinement. The plush furnishings, the scent of sandalwood and mint—it all mocked me, a constant reminder of the freedom I’d lost and the control I’d been stripped of.
The thought of Jessup, of the debt he owed, gnawed at me, a constant undercurrent of dread. Was Firestride hunting him? Was this entire ordeal merely a means to an end, a brutal negotiation I was caught in the middle of? Or was I simply a pawn in a much larger, more dangerous game, destined to be played with until I was no longer useful? The uncertainty was a torment worse than any physical pain, chipping away at my resolve, leaving me hollowed out and weary. I’d tried to find a way out, searching every nook and cranny of the room for any weakness, any escape route. But the walls were too thick, the doors too secure, and the knowledge that he, the Devil in leather, held the keys to my freedom was a constant, crushing weight.
A soft knock at the door preceded a click before the door slowly opened, and a young teen with sandy blonde hair stuck her head inside. “You awake?”
“Yes,” I muttered cautiously, wondering what fresh hell was about to befall me.
The young girl, or should I say preteen, pushed open the door and walked in. “Hi. My name is Anna Joy. Morpheus said I should come here and introduce myself. He said I could ask if you wanted to go to lunch with me and Momma.”
Blinking, I looked at the young girl. “I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“Oh, that lying bastard,” the young girl groaned, rolling her eyes. “He said he’d told you.”
Curious, I sat up. “Who told me what?”
“Morpheus, duh!” The young girl sighed dramatically. “I should have known he didn’t. It doesn’t matter. Anyway, since my brother isn’t back yet, would you like to get out of here and go to lunch?”
