What I witnessed had made me simper with fear. I remember the air was hazy with a thick earthy-scented smoke. Large bottles with pipe contraptions littered the large space. White cushions and bed mattresses covered the floor; all were occupied. The brothers—the disciples—were all without clothing, behind sisters of all ages, young and old, doing something to them. The sisters were bare too. They were bent over with their heads to the floor, hands clasped behind their backs. The Prophet David sat on a raised stage with three older sisters. He had touched their naked bodies. Then he had touched himself… there, as he watched the many couples positioned around the room.
Sister Eve felt me resist as I scanned the room. She then bent down and whispered, “If you refuse, you will only make this harder on yourself. Believe me, girl, the punishment for your lack of cooperation will be much, much worse.”
I remember nodding slowly in trepidation. I knew I could face the lash no more.
Terror gripped me as I followed Sister Eve to one side of the room and Brother Gabriel had watched me pass. He had smiled at me even as he rocked back and forth behind a dark-haired sister on the floor. I did not understand what he was doing to her at that point. The sister stayed silent as he grunted and groaned loudly and his hands had pawed at every inch of her bare skin.
I remember watching in horror. Sister Eve then whipped off my gown and pushed me to the floor, positioning my body—head down, hands gripped behind my back… mirroring every sister in the room. In panic, I struggled to stand, but Sister Eve’s heavier weight pinned me down. This made me struggle even more.
Sister Eve sighed in exasperation. Suddenly, I was freed of her downward pressure and I slowly sat up. But I remember all too well blanching when I realized what the sister was about to do.
Sister Eve quickly walked back to me, holding a device. It looked like a bear trap: two metal hand-like claws held together by hinges, each claw had large, spiky teeth. I remember I stopped breathing as she knelt beside me.
“I will place this between your legs. Move and the claws will cut into your skin. We use it to encourage the sisters to keep still. A word of advice, think of a good place and take yourself there. Learn to block out the pain.”
Pain? I thought. What did she mean by that?
Sister Eve then turned me back to face the floor. She repositioned me. As my legs widened, she then thrust the device between my thighs. The sharp metal teeth dug into my flesh as soon as I struggled to free myself. I recall crying out in great pain as the metal teeth sank into my flesh, then delved deeper into my thigh muscles as I struggled for the last time.
After a while, I knew resisting was proving hopeless. I could not move. I had been trapped in the position that would very soon become all too familiar.
Breathing heavily, I remember I tried with all my might to stay calm. My eyes darted around the room. Then the girl next to me turned her head and caught my eye.
It was Bella. My sister.
At the same time, she realized it was me beside her. Tears dropped from her eyes and she mouthed, “Will be okay. I love you.”
Another wave of panic swept through me when I felt large, rough hands grip my hips. Bella’s eyes widened in empathy. I screamed and squirmed, trying to escape. Of their own volition, my hands clawed an inch forward, but the trap ripped at my thighs. And after a few short seconds of struggle, as Sister Eve foretold, it simply became too painful to move.
And that is when it happened…
My innocence had been lost forever and my duty as a sister had begun. Not once did I break eye contact with Bella. Both of us had been united through our blood bond. We supported each other, helped each other find Sister Eve’s recommendation: a good place to block out the pain. Bella told me she loved me over and over again, through every moment of the horrific act.
Then when it was over, I ran from the smoky room. I remember glancing back only to see Brother Gabriel sully Bella once again. I jumped over brothers taking their rest. And I will never forget how the sisters looked; so numb and unfeeling.
We all looked like ghosts.
After that, I ran into the forest. I did not let myself stop until I reached the perimeter fence. Five minutes later, I heard a rustling sound and a boy appeared on the other side of the high wire mesh. I remember thinking he could not have been much older than me, maybe only a few years. He was dark and tall with the most lovely hazel-colored eyes I had ever seen. He had been beautiful.
Spotting me lying on the forest floor, he walked over, moving his hands but he said nothing. He made me feel safe. He distracted me from the pain. He had been a light in my moment of darkness… He had given me a kind, soft kiss. Then he left, never to be seen again, until fifteen years later… when he gave me a fragile precious gift once more… renewed hope.
I could not help but reminisce as I sat still on the soft mattress in Styx’s quiet room. The mattress that smelled like him. I had been so young when I was forced to join with men and I hated every minute. What Styx had just given me was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was a fire, a burning fire at the bottom of my spine. It was a pressure, a pressure too intense for words. Then it spiraled into a frenzy, way out of my control.
I had gripped the headboard, pulling to escape the emotion yet at the same time pushing to bring the delicious feeling even closer. And then he touched me… there… and I exploded. I shattered into tiny fragments, my soul bursting with light—too much yet not enough. I was instantly addicted.
Greedy, needing more, I pressed harder against Styx’s hand. Prophet David had been so wrong—nothing this good could ever be a sin. Women should feel pleasure too.
Then it had been over. Styx regretted touching me. He recoiled in horror the instant he saw my scars—the inescapable and permanent link to my past. How swiftly he had left me, alone and naked in his large cold bed.
He had left me.
Left me here, confused, hot, yearning… wanting him.
I refused to let loose the tears threatening to break free. His rejection would not destroy me. I could not, would not, let another man break my spirit. Even if Styx might be the only man able to do so… irreparably.
Gathering my composure, I shifted off the bed, wincing as my feet hit the cold wooden floor. I walked into the washroom, switched on the shower to its hottest temperature and let the flow of hard water pound my skin.
Since my arrival, Styx had viewed me as weak, someone who needed constant protection. He had no idea of the life I had lived, of the tenacity of my spirit or the multiple horrors I had to endure on a daily basis. I am a survivor. The scars he found so repulsive were a testament to my strength. I cannot, will not, be ashamed of actions thrust on me by others.
As God is my witness, I was a child!
What troubled me most was that I knew Styx’s concern for me came from a good place. I knew his cold reaction and his abrupt departure was fed by his anger. His speech, his lifelong disability that prevented the words he so desperately wanted to say to me, was his burden. No doubt he would be in the bar, drowning his sorrows with the amber liquid I had seen him drink so much. I resolved to go to him, to demonstrate to him all was well, and to say that I loved what we had done together… and still wanted more, if he did too.
I dried off and ran Styx’s comb through my long hair, brushing out the knots tangled on the back of my scalp. Earlier, Styx had brought in the luggage bag from Rider’s room and I opened the zipper, pulling out a pair of black pants and a tank adorned with the Hangmen motif in the center.
Once dressed, I took Styx’s leather vest—no, cut—and inhaled the familiar scent—tobacco and leather, all Styx. My skin tingled and my scalp pricked. This unfamiliar sensation both frightened me and exhilarated me and I felt an increasingly familiar need building between my legs. Sighing, I slipped the large, warm leather cut on my shoulders and walked to the door, then out into the hallway.
As soon as I left the room, a high-pitched moan and a low growl grabbed my attention. The
sound came from the darkened end of the long hallway. The sounds signaled exactly what was happening, exactly what I had been doing not too long ago.
Not wanting to intrude, I turned toward the exit door at the opposite end of the long corridor, then stopped dead in my tracks as I heard…
“Styx!”
Ice-cold shivers ran down my spine as the very recognizable sounds of intense sexual pleasure drifted toward me. Styx was with another woman? He had switched straight from me to someone else? After everything that had happened between us…
My feet were leaden I as shuffled to the secluded corner, the sounds of heavy breathing and whimpering moans increased with every step. Gathering my courage, fearing the worst, I forced a quick peek round the wall and instantly wished I had turned away and left him to it.
My heart missed a beat when I saw he was with a peculiar-looking pink-haired woman. It was clear what she was doing, on her knees, braced at his most private parts as he leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, his face scrunched up.
I could not stop it. No matter how hard I tried, a cry forced its way up my throat. My hand covered my mouth, but I could not contain the sob. I felt utterly devastated at what he was doing here, right in front of me. I felt like screaming in disappointment and rage. Here was the evidence I had not wanted to believe of Styx: all men are the same. They take what they want, when they want it… from whomever they want.
Styx had shunned me and turned straight to her to “fix” his problem, less than hour after leaving his room. In his mind, he must see me as damaged, lost in this world, the fact of which I was well aware. In his mind, I must not be worthy of the task of giving him pleasure.
Styx abruptly stopped, held her wrists in his hands, and swung his stunned gaze in my direction. His beautifully rough face contorted in panic and there was a whooshing in my ears. I was unable to hear anything but white noise. I was unable to do anything except stand and stare—stare into his hazel eyes, those eyes that always entranced me, stare at the betrayal unfolding before me. I truly believed that Styx was different… I was sick and tired of being wrong.
Feeling like I stood there for an eternity, I jumped as an arm lay across my shoulder. The action forced me out of my stupor. Beauty was hugging me close, glaring at Styx and that woman, who was still on her knees. The woman kneeling on the floor smiled wickedly. She said something to me, but I could not hear what, not in my state of shock. Letti, who was stood behind Beauty, had heard though. As my pretty blond protector pulled me away, the large heavy woman walked menacingly toward the pink-haired girl.
Quickening our pace, Beauty and I walked down some corridors and up a flight of stairs, but not before she fisted Styx’s cut and, in disgust, threw it to the floor.
“Where are we going?” I eventually asked. Only here, when we were out of earshot, did my senses and clarity of thought make their unwelcome return. They brought a crushing hurt.
“I need to check on Rider. Tank’s still on the road. He sent me a text asking me to check Rider was okay. I ain’t fixin’ to take you back to Styx’s apartment. He can stew a little on what he did back there. Might force him to come to his damn senses. Stupid drunken ass!”
Tensing up, I swallow hard, expecting the worst; I slowly and deliberately asked, “Did he… join… with her?”
Beauty’s blond eyebrows arched. “Join?”
“Yes. Did Styx and that woman have sexual intercourse?”
Her sapphire-blue eyes widened, then relaxed. “Nah, honey. Doubt he even touched her. She was getting off all on her lonesome. Putting on that fuckin’ porn show she just has to do.”
I felt my shoulders relax as pent-up tension drained away. I expelled a sigh of relief. Beauty jerked on my arm. “Hey, still doesn’t get the dick off the hook. He was fixin’ to do something with the slut. Christ knows why, when he has you! He’s drunk off his ass, pissed at today, grieving for Lois. I can tell, ’neath it all, he’s real worried ’bout the state of the club. Still doesn’t excuse that fucked up shit though,” she said as she stabbed a thumb in the direction of their tryst.
I knew why he had been in that hallway. The very sight of my scars repelled him, diminished his affection for me. Was he scared that how he had reacted was a fundamental wrong, somehow a grievous slight against me? But… but… but to go directly to that woman was something I would find difficult to set aside lightly.
Beauty planted her hands on my shoulders. “Leave him be a while. Wait it out. He’ll be back. Then it’s up to you, girl. But just between us, the guy is nuts about you. He just don’t know what the fuck to do with his feelings yet. He’s never ever been with anyone like he is with you. He talks to you. We all see it. He watches you, protects you. Ain’t normally his way. Kinda sweet, really, in his own fucked-up way.”
Her hands rubbed at my arms soothingly. She reminded me of Lilah—her kindness, light coloring, her protective spirit. For the first time since I escaped The Order, I actually missed home. I missed my best friend. Missed my quiet little sister, Maddie. I missed feeling like I belonged.
“You okay?”
I nodded at Beauty’s concerned face. She turned to knock on that familiar dark wooden door behind us.
“Yeah?” a distant voice called out.
“Rider, it’s Beauty and Mae. Can we come in?”
There were a few moments of stretched-out silence before a quiet, “Yeah, sure.”
Beauty cracked open the door. Lying in the center of his large metal bed at the back of the room was Rider, shirtless, only wearing jeans. A tight cream bandage covered his injured shoulder.
“How are you feeling, honey?” Beauty asked softly and walked over to Rider’s bedside.
“Numb in places, sore in others, but I’m alive,” he replied, trying to be strong, but his voice sounded strained.
It hurt me to see him so broken, the bandage on his arm, the pain he was obviously in. Tears welled up, filling my eyes. The sacrifice Rider had willingly made to save my life struck me hard. He had always been perfect to me.
Tears slipped down my cheeks at his show of strength and I stood as if waiting for a summons, nervously toying with my hands.
Rider rasped, “Mae, get over here.” Raising my head slightly, I did as he asked and moved toward his prone body. I stood awkwardly beside Beauty.
“Hey, you okay? You don’t look so good,” he gently enquired and frown lines crossed his forehead. Rider seemed genuinely concerned—concerned for me. He had been shot, near mortally wounded, yet here he was, protecting me still.
Beauty groaned and shook her head. “Fuckin’ just caught Styx with Dyson.”
Rider raised his brown eyebrows and looked at me with sympathy in his gaze. “What she doing back?”
“Fixin’ to suck Styx’s stupid cock by the look of it!” Beauty disapproved. I flinched, feeling nauseous and stupid; no, naïve.
“Beauty!” Rider reprimanded harshly. She turned to me, a grimace on her face. “Sorry, Mae. He’s just got me spittin’! Sometimes bikers in this club can be real fuckin’ pricks!”
“Hey!” Rider complained.
Beauty grimaced again. “Fuck! Can’t say anything right, can I?”
“It is okay,” I whispered with a small laugh.
Rider fixed all of his attention on me, shedding his humor. “He’s a fuckin’ fool to choose that bitch over you.”
I tipped my head in contemplation. My head always hurt when trying to figure out Rider. This time a sense of peace gently settled on me, like snowflakes, when I heard his words and drank in his friendly demeanor. Without meaning to, I beamed a smile at Rider. His lips parted with an audible gasp, then he smiled right back at me.
My heart fluttered. He was such a good man.
Beauty coughed, her wide blue eyes darting between us both, her tanned face getting paler by the second. Thankfully, a very loud knock on the door broke the obvious tension in the room.
“Rider? Beauty and Mae in there with you?” Letti bellowed t
hrough the barrier of the closed door.
Rider shifted position, wincing with the effort. He held his shoulder with his good hand as he shuffled up the bed. I noticed his torso ripple and I could not help but admire how he looked.
“Yeah. Come on in!” He shook his head, muttering to himself, “The more the fuckin’ merrier.”
Letti walked in, shutting the door, and gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “The slut is long gone, Mae. She won’t be back if she values her life.”
“And Styx?” Beauty asked.
“Fuck if I know. Left the stupid asshole on his own.” She affectionately pulled on a lock of my hair. “He was signing at me like he was in a damn rave. The drunken douche said he didn’t do anything with the slut, couldn’t go through with it. For what it’s worth, I think he’s telling the truth. Prez don’t normally lie.”
I nodded appreciatively at her words and the final remnant of coiled tension in my stomach unraveled. Everyone was watching me and my reaction. I rubbed at my arms, feeling a sudden chill in that dark, windowless room.
“You cold?” Rider asked.
I nodded.
“Beauty, go in my closet and get her a sweater.”
Beauty frowned at Rider but turned to the closet and did as she was told. Finding a hooded black sweater, a picture of a Chopper on the front, Beauty handed it to me.
As soon as I slipped it on, Rider said, “Looks good.”
“Thanks,” I replied, feeling my cheeks blush.
I caught Beauty and Letti bouncing worried looks at each other. I chose to ignore them. Today had been traumatic enough without me trying to figure out what concerned them too.
“You need anything before we go, Rider?” Beauty asked, squeezing his hand.
“Nah, I’m all good.”
Beauty turned back to me. “You wanna go to the bar, get a drink? I stocked up on coolers.” I firmly shook my head. I did not want to see Styx yet. I could not deal with it all.