Hellraiser (The Devil's Own #2)

Me: Because I think Travis here has a little stiffy for her. I want first dibs.

  Beast: Melissa. And good luck, the girl will probably shoot you before she fucks you. Both of you.

  I stare down at my phone, my eyebrows drawing together. “Melissa,” I mumble under my breath, my eyes going in and out of focus. Pulling out my wallet that’s lodged into my pocket, I flip it open when a smirk crawls onto my lips. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Melissa

  “Where’d you disappear off to last night?” Phoebe asks between shifting down gears. We’re on our way to Sinful Souls’ clubhouse. Zane, the president of Sinful Souls, has called a meeting. Usually when something is happening with the club, they call everyone in, and because Phoebe and I are best friends, I usually fall under that. Before I moved away to college, we used to hang out at the clubhouse a lot. I had a little crush on her brother Blake and their now-VP Ade Nixon. That was, until I came back from college fresh with my new Melissa mindset and got laid flat on my back by Ade Nixon only for him to toss me out the next day. He was worth it though; the man’s a good lay.

  “Hmmmm, I don’t even remember his name,” I mutter under my breath, and Phoebe laughs.

  “All class.” Phoebe shakes her head, pulling into the high-wired gates. “His name is Hella, if you’re referring to the man you eye-fucked last night. And I’m telling you right now, those boys don’t play. My brother and these psychos are nuts, but The Devil’s? They’re in a whole different ball park, Melissa. Be careful.”

  Shutting the car door, I round to her side before we begin walking towards the clubhouse. “I’m not proud of that, but I regret nothing.”

  “Which one?” she whispers in my ear. “Just to be sure I have it right, point him out when we get inside and I’ll tell you how fucked you really are,” Phoebe answers as we sneak inside the clubhouse bar. Everyone was sitting quietly listening to Zane talk about our current issues and why we’re being put on lockdown. Clutching my duffle bag, we both take a seat at the table veered toward the back. I look to Phoebe and her eyes widen. I widen mine back before I start scanning the room. When my eyes fall on the big, tall broad-back with the same cap flipped on backwards and the number “112” tattooed into the back of his neck with angel wings spread out on either side, I swallow down and nod my head toward him. Phoebe follows my line of sight, throwing her hand over her head to signal the one wearing a cap and I nod, dropping my duffle bag to the floor and sinking into my chair.

  She scoffs, shaking her head.

  I look toward her and mouth, “What?”

  Her eyebrows raise and she chuckles before leaning into my ear. “Let’s just hope he continues not remembering you—for your sake. Or better yet, I’d start praying that he doesn’t find you attractive.”

  “Who is he?” I whisper into her ear.

  She laughs again, shaking her head and leaning back into my ear. “That’s Hella, and honey? I’d stay away if I were you.”

  But she’s not me. Phoebe likes to walk a little on the wild side, but I paved the wild side.

  “Challenge accepted.”

  Her eyes widen in shock. She shakes her head. “I warned you.”

  After Zane wraps up the meeting, Beast and Meadow walk in with him giving her a kiss on the cheek, and I roll my eyes. Didn’t take her long. I love Meadow, and she’s sweet, but I hope she’s making the right decision when it comes to Beast.

  They both approach us at the table. I run my hands over my bare legs wishing I had put warmer clothes on instead of opting for short shorts and a loose off-the-shoulder long-sleeve top. “Hey,” Meadow says, taking a seat on the chair next to me.

  “We gotta go.” Beast leans down, kissing her head.

  I look to Meadow with a blank expression.

  “What?” She explores my expressions.

  I laugh, shaking my head just as another big man steps up beside Beast. I don’t have to look directly at him to know who it is. My thighs clench at the familiar smell of cologne, leather, and musk that’s now assaulting my senses. Reaching for my drink, I take a long pull of it until my eyes go up to meet the new bystander. When our eyes lock, my face instantly heats and my heartbeat pounds against my chest. A smirk pulls across his mouth and my eyes narrow in on him. “What?” I snap at him. Beast chuckles under his breath while Meadow looks between both Hella and I as we stare each other down. Phoebe mutters, “Here we go,” before picking up her drink. I drag my eyes away from his penetrating glare, fixing them on the wall in front of me. His body moves from my peripheral vision and my body relaxes briefly until that familiar smell comes in tenfold and warm lips run along the rim of the back of my ear. “Aww, what?” he coos teasingly into my ear. “You didn’t think I forgot how sweet that pussy was, did you?” His growl vibrates over my ear and travels deep into my core.

  My eyes close. I raise my drink to my lips and down the rest of it. “I was counting on it,” I mumble.

  He laughs, standing straight before tapping on Beast shoulders and looking back at me one last time. “See you later,” he says with a smirk before walking out the door.

  I let out the breath I had no idea I was holding and pick up my empty glass. Beast watches us and nods his head. “We’re going to meet with the Russians just to make sure everything is sweet, won’t be long.”

  I look to Phoebe, finding her laughing under her breath. “You. Are. Fucked.”

  “What?” I ask, taking her empty glass.

  “I know ‘owned’ when I see it, especially when it’s coming from a man wearing a cut.” She laughs again, running her fingers through her long, ash blonde hair.

  “Last time I checked, homegirl, you were dating a rock star.”

  Her eyes narrow. She smiles. “Yeah, whatever. Go get us drinks. No more orange juice! I need alcohol.”

  Yeah, I might need more than orange juice to get me through tonight too.

  Reaching the bar, I place the glasses down and smile at the young prospect who’s dishing out drinks. “Hey, could I get one orange juice and something strong for Phoebe?”

  He laughs, the smile lines around his soft cheeks showcasing his young age. “Yeah, no problem.” He nudges his head. “I’m Travis.”

  I smile, pushing my orange juice out of the way slightly so I can lean my elbows onto the bar. “Melissa. How old are you?” I tilt my head. He’s obviously young and isn’t as built as the rest of the guys here, but he’s cute.

  “Old enough.” He winks.

  “How about I tell you my age and you tell me yours?” I edge him to tell me his age.

  “What?” He smiles, placing ice into a glass. “Like, you show me yours and I’ll show you mine?”

  I laugh, throwing my head back. “Something like that, only less pedophile-ish.”

  “Hi!” One of the club whores, Lisha, pulls out a stool next to me.

  I swing my head toward her. “Hi…? Can I help you?” I initiate.

  She laughs, shaking her head, her long white hair falling over her shoulders. Images of the poor horse who’s running around without a tail thanks to her long locks comes flashing through my brain. “Nope, not unless you have a cock.”

  “Wow,” I mutter, looking back at Travis who watches her nervously. He walks toward the back of the bar. When the door opens, I see Ashley, one of the other barmaids, putting bottles into a crate. Swinging my eyes back to the girl next to me, I smile. “You really take the whole,” I flick my hands around the room, “club whore thing seriously.”

  She picks up my glass of orange juice and hands it to me. “Oh, you have no idea.” She returns to her table of whores.

  Rolling my eyes, I drink the entire glass of orange juice as my eyes scan the clubhouse. Not much has changed since we were in school. The bar still lines along the back wall opposite the sliding doors that lead onto the deck, which overlooks the entire front of the gated clubhouse. They hold church in the room that is to the right of the bar next to the runway and pole that sits at the end, and there are rooms up
stairs where some of the boys sleep when they need it. Outside, they have a huge garage sitting to the left of the clubhouse that holds all their toys and break-downs. The clubhouse is situated down an industrial area of Westbeach. Everyone in this town knows Sinful Souls own this town. For better or worse, these boys have made sure the people of Westbeach are taken care of, and always will.

  Pushing off my stool, I approach the stereo when my brain begins to fuzz. My vision distorts and I fly my hands out to the chair I was passing to stop me from falling to the ground. Raising my hand up to my head, I let out a sigh. “Whoa.” My eyes drift to where the table of skanks are sitting, whispering and laughing under their breath. I think nothing of it and continue to the stereo. Picking up the iPod, I smirk, pushing play on The Weekend “Wicked Games” before smiling and walking towards the pole. Sweat begins to trickle over my face and my heart rate picks up faster. Something deep inside me knows that something isn’t right, but my brain is in too much mush to comprehend it. Shuffling out of my loose jersey, I fling it to the group of prospects from both The Devil’s Own and Sinful Souls that were sitting around a table. Wolf whistles sound out around the table and I grin, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and fluffing it up. Climbing onto the catwalk stage, I grip the pole, swinging my body around it before climbing up it carefully. I do pole fitness for my weight training. Under other circumstances, I can probably give a stripper a run for her money, but not today. I think about doing the half-flag invert to brass monkey, but think better of it. I drop down in superman instead, dipping low when my feet hit the ground again and continue rubbing against the steel pole as the wolf whistles continue around the place. My head begins to spin, my eyes dropping closed every three seconds. I flip my hair over my shoulder and smile down at the crowd of bikers that have accumulated at the end of the stage. Meadow walks toward the stage and yells at me from down below, shoving through the mass of muscle. “Melissa!”

  “Come dance, Meadow!” I smile and come-hither my finger at her while body rolling.

  She shakes her head, reaching for my arm. “Get down, quick. How much did you have to drink?”

  I follow her, jumping down off the stage. My head flushes out and everything turns black for a few seconds before they come back into focus and I see her frown.

  Wrapping my hands around her neck, I slur, “I’m sorry. I don’t know… was I drinking?” I question.

  Her eyebrows draw together. “You’re obviously drunk, Melissa. Come on, we’ll get you a glass of water.” She begins to lead me by my arm toward the bar and my eyes flash out every three seconds as everything zones out softly. Meadow runs her hands up my arm and the feeling has my thighs clench together.

  “Meadow? Take your hand away from me, I might rape you.”

  “What?” she scoffs, dragging me with her. Shit, how can I be so horny when I feel like I’m a second away from passing out? Meadow pulls out a barstool and pushes me down onto it before ordering Ashley to get me a water.

  “Meadow…” I begin, tilting my head at her. “I don’t remember drinking anything but my juice.”

  “Are you sure?” Her eyes search mine, taking the jug of water and pouring some into a fresh glass. “Where’d you get your orange juice from?”

  I take the glass of water from her. “I… um…” I swing my head around the crowd to search for the club slut, but everything starts to spin faster and I close my eyes briefly to get my vision into check. When my vision clears on the club slut and her laughing hyenas, everything sets into focus and my body stills. Pushing off my barstool with thoughts of smashing her smug face into the ground, I get to my feet only for them to give way from underneath me and I drop to the ground in a hot mess.

  “Melissa!” Meadow yells, dropping to the ground next to me, removing her cardigan and placing it over my shoulders. “Are you cold? Are you okay? Shit! Where the hell is Phoebe?”

  Meadow places me back onto my barstool as Ashley rushes over toward us from behind the bar.

  “Is she okay? What’s happened?” Ashley asks, running her hands up and down my arms.

  “I don’t know. Melissa?” Meadow asks, searching my face.

  “Meadow, it was Lisha, the club whore, and god… why am I so horny?”

  “Lisa?” Meadow answers, ignoring my comment.

  Ashley shakes her head. “No, she means Lisha.” Ashley’s eyes scan the area until they narrow and her finger points towards the hyena sluts. “It was Lisha. She has a little thing for Hella since he’s been here.”

  I laugh under my breath, my eyes struggling to stay open. My mouth parts and I’m just about to ask what this has to do with the cunt who has a tongue angels would sing for until Meadow cuts in. “What the hell did she do to her?”

  Ashley shrugs. “I’ll find out, if you want. But if I’m reading her symptoms correctly, I’d say she slipped her a molly.”

  “A say-what-now?” I ask, looking at Ashley. Her soft brown hair falls around her shoulders like silk and I reach up to grab it.

  She taps my hand away. “Liquid X. Me and my ex used to drop some every now and then.”

  I lay my arms down on the bar, resting my head on top.

  Meadow shakes her head. “Watch her. I need to go and find Phoebe.”

  My eyes roll and I sit back up in my chair. “I’ll be fine, Ash. I’m a little…”

  “You’ve been drugged, Melissa. Sit down. Man, Alaina is going to lose it.”

  Alaina is Zane’s old lady. She’s got the face of an angel but will fuck you up before you have a second to blink. I can’t picture Zane with a better-suited woman, if I’m being honest.

  Sighing, I look towards Lisha where she and Meadow are having a heated argument. Before I can comprehend anything that’s passed between the two of them, Meadow is on top of her, landing punches on Lisha’s face. I go to stand, only for darkness to descend upon me. Voices begin to feel more distant. Ashley’s worried face is coming in and out. Just when I go to open my eyes, everything is drowned in blackness.

  Melissa

  My eyes drift in and out, voices yelling in the distance aiming to perk my attention. I attempt to pull my eyes open, only they’re stuck together like glue. The smell of dust and burnt wood engulfs me. My head shifts slightly. More yelling comes in when I recognize Phoebe and Meadow’s voices.

  “Melissa?” Meadow calls.

  “Meadow?” Phoebe answers beside me. “Meadow, follow my voice.”

  Why does she have to follow her voice? What the fuck has happened?

  “Keep talking. Where are you?” Meadow calls back.

  A deep throbbing starts to pound in my head. Feeling in my legs comes back slowly with the weight of them weighed down by something heavy. I’m about to open my mouth when the dark abyss pulls me in deeper and everything dies out again.

  “Fuck!” Muffled curse words sound out in the distance followed by other voices. Where the fuck am I? What happened? Why won’t my eyes open?

  “Hella, let one of the other guys carry her out. She’ll fuck your shit up if she wakes up in your arms,” Phoebe whispers harshly. My breathing shallows out.

  “Fuck off. No one’s carrying her but me.”

  “Care to explain why?” Phoebe taunts him.

  The warm roughness of leather covers me and his arms push underneath me before lifting my body off the ground and cradling me into his chest effortlessly. That familiar smell I’ve come to know is on dangerous high levels as he walks towards the door. I try to pull my eyes open again, only they’re still stuck, so I give up, relaxing into the arms of the one who should not be named.

  His body drops down to a seat, his grip around me tightening. “She’s breathing. It’s like she’s asleep. What the hell happened to her?” His voice from his chest vibrates against my cheek.

  “What? You didn’t know?” Meadow spits at him in disgust. Her hand wraps around mine before she continues. “It seems Lisha got a little jealous tonight. Before the explosion happened, she put something in Mel
issa’s drink, had her dancing on the pole and everything. Anyway, she and her friend were videoing it and laughing at Melissa from across the room. So, I… um…”

  Meadow pauses. Beast’s voice comes through. “You what?”

  My eyes peel open finally as I let out a cough, clearing my throat. “She whipped her ass, that’s what,” I answer with a proud smile. Beast looks at her with eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was proud too.

  “Melissa!” Meadow jumps out of her seat.

  “I’m fine, Meadow. What happened?” I ask, pointing towards the bar that has now got a huge gapping whole in the middle and smoke coming up from the pile of rubble. I push away from Hella, attempting to get space. He glares at me, his grip around my waist tightening.

  His blue eyes darken and a small snarl curves on his lip. “Not happening.”

  I roll my eyes and readjust my position on his lap, wrapping his cut around my body tightly. Meadow looks between Hella and me in confusion before continuing, “There was an explosion. When Alaina took me out back to clean up my nose, that’s when it happened.”

  I tilt my head. “I only remember bits. I remember dancing on the poll, sliding down in superman.” I smile through the memory. The grip around me tenses again. I continue, “I remember Lisha pulling you back by your hair, and I remember you jumping on top of her and pounding her face, but everything went blank after Phoebe arrived.” I look up to Hella, whose eyes are still peering into mine with a mixture of ice and fire stewing underneath.

  “Baby, you did what to Lisha’s face?” Beast laughs.

  “She deserved it.” Meadow lifts her chin. “She was out for Melissa… over you.” Meadow looks pointedly toward Hella.

  His jaw clenches and his body stills. “Where is she?”

  I watch him carefully, the tick that jolts over his jaw working overtime. The way his cheek bones sit prominent, the tattoos covering his neck in intricate colors, and the way his eyelashes fan out over his soft, flawless skin. I have the sudden urge to punch him square in the face. It’s not fair that someone who is such a fucking asshole is this good-looking. His eyes drop down to mine. I cringe inwardly that I’ve been caught staring. He grins one of his evil smirks and all thoughts of wanting to punch him come in tenfold. I pull my eyes away from him quickly, looking back to Meadow. My being on his lap doesn’t feel as awkward as it should. The man has had his tongue downstairs; I think we’ve bypassed the awkward stage.