Ink & Bone

  Barren

  My perception is off. Firm, concrete walls wobble like jelly, threatening to fold in on me. My own voice rings through my head, varying in volume.

  Loud.

  Barely a whisper.

  A murmur.

  A roar.

  I’m being dragged through a dank corridor somewhere in Skull’s compound, naked and wet. The smell of gunpowder, blood, and smoke fills the air, making the ball in my throat feel thicker than it already does.

  The tops of my feet drag against the ground as two of Skull’s men pull my weak body along, my arms over their shoulders and wrapped tightly around their necks. They smell like sweat and cigarettes infused with piss and blood. Groaning, I lift my head and wince as a sharp pain shoots down my spine. There’s a window, it’s small and barred, but I look at it anyway. It’s morning, I think. Late morning. How long have I been here? I don’t know. I’ve been chained to a wooden chair and blasted with water every hour on the hour for what feels like weeks. Could be more. Could be significantly less.

  A sob bubbles up my throat, and I drop my head again. I close my eyes so I don’t have to look at their stupid boots.

  I hate Jordan Hustel.

  “He’s going to kill you,” I croak, my throat dry and sore.

  The men slow their steps, and one of them laughs, I think. Cringing, I turn my head to the left and peer up at the man. His green eyes thin into slits and his dark, bushy eyebrows smooth out as he opens his mouth.

  “Who is?” he asks, his irises glistening in delight.

  “Jai.” I suck in a sharp inhale as an air bubble becomes trapped underneath my ribs. “He’s going tear you in half.”

  He tosses his head back and laughs loudly.

  “I’m glad one of us is having fun,” I deadpan, lowering my head.

  “D’ya hear that, Colin?” he asks the man on my right.

  “What’d she say?”

  “She said he’s going to kill us.”

  Colin lets out a deep chuckle. “Who is?”

  “Stone and his band of merry men.”

  They laugh together, cackling away like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. In the midst of their laughter, Colin snatches my sore, swollen nipple between his thumb and index finger, making me hiss through clenched teeth.

  “You’re not his brother. You’re not family. He’s not coming back for you.”

  That’s where he’s wrong. I am very much a part of Jai’s family. I am the Queen to his King, the heart to his diamond, and the fucking club to his spade. I am the damn marshmallows in his hot chocolate! Jai showed me love, and he taught me love. He would drag himself through hell and high-water for me, and when that day comes, when he is taking down walls and blowing the roof off of this shit hole, they will see just how precious I am to Jai Stone.

  Colin releases the grip he has on my nipple, and I slump, allowing them to take all of my weight again.

  “We’ll see who’s laughing when he rips out your throat,” I mutter, closing my eyes.

  I squeak as I’m tossed to the side, and my eyes shoot open. I bounce off the thug on my left and make a desperate―and surprisingly successful―grab for his shirt. I hold myself upright, my legs shaking under my weight. When was the last time I ate something? I lift my head to look at Colin for the first time and he’s absolutely terrifying. It takes everything I have not to cower away from his scary, tattooed face. The teardrops and cobwebs, skulls and dying roses…how could he bring himself to do such a thing?

  Colin leans forward, his black shirt tightening around his chest, and points a long, thick finger in my face.

  “No one is coming for you. You’re not worth it. Not a nasty whore like you.”

  A nasty whore? Me? I smirk, despite myself. “So is your mother.”

  His left eye twitches. Uh-oh. I guess no one is allowed to talk bad about Mommy dearest. I smile in delight as he stares at me. Frozen. Obviously, he’s contemplating whether or not he wants to punch me in the face.

  “Did you hear me?” I tease, wobbling forward. “I said so is your moth—”

  He cocks his arm back and slaps me in the mouth. I grunt as fire tosses my head to the side, and I crash to the floor. His buddy shoots forward, pressing his hands to Colin’s broad chest.

  “Colin, relax. Skull told us not to—”

  “—lay a finger on the girl unless I say so.” My blood runs cold. There he is. The man of the hour. I glance up at him as he saunters toward us, draping a thin, metal chain around the back of his neck. Skull. “It’s not a hard rule to follow now, is it?”

  He looks…clean…in his black two-piece suit, the white sleeves of his button up shirt rolled to his elbows, exposing an endless amount of tattoos. I focus on his tattooed hands as he lowers them to his side and clenches them on and off.

  Colin gulps loudly. Fucker. “No, sir.”

  The humor drains from Skull’s face, and my stomach twists. “Then please explain to me why my prisoner—the one I specifically told you not to touch—is bleeding from the mouth?”

  Colin points at me, and I lick my lip. “She disrespected my mother.”

  “Oh, she disrespected your mother?” Skull feigns shock, stepping closer to Colin. I shuffle back as he closes the distance, not wanting to be anywhere near him. “How are your feelings? Are they okay?”

  The man who held up the left side of my body steps on my fingers, and I hiss, pulling them out from underneath his boot. I scowl up at him and meet his glare. A snarl rips down the corridor and snatches my attention. My fingers no longer hurt. The sight before me won’t let them. In the short second my attention wasn’t on Skull, he got Colin on his knees. I gasp, pressing my fingers to my lips. My stare meets Skull’s, and he smiles at me, the corners of his lips pulling up slowly.

  “How you holding up, Kitty-Cat?” he asks casually, as he holds Colin’s jaw in his hands. “Enjoying your stay? How’s the food?”

  I clench my teeth. “Fuck you.”

  Skull tips his head on an angle, his eyes flaring with amusement. “Fuck me, huh?”

  “And your mother.”

  Skull laughs, exposing beautiful white teeth. “I don’t have a mother. Just like you.”

  Clenching the muscles in his arms, he forces his thumbs into Colin’s eye sockets. Colin screams and grabs at Skull’s forearms. I tremble and purse my lips as my jaw shudders, making my teeth click. My stomach turns, but I can’t bring myself to look away from Skull. No. I stare at him until he glances down to see the damage. Blood squirts in different directions, painting Skull’s white sleeves red. Eventually, Colin stops screaming…

  And ceases to squirm…

  “If anyone is going to hit her,” he states, his lips quirking, “it’ll be me. Understood?”

  The man next to me answers without hesitation. “Yes, sir.”

  Grunting, Skull frees his thumbs from Colin’s eye sockets, and Colin’s lifeless body crashes to the floor. I look away. I look anywhere but at the eyeless face that stares at me.

  I think I’m going to be sick…

  “Clean it up, Lev. I’ll take her.”

  The man beside me, Lev, mutters his agreement and steps away. As they cross paths, Skull presses his hand to Lev’s stomach.

  “Shirt.”

  Without complaint, Lev grips the hem of his shirt and tugs it off over his head. He hands it to Skull, who takes it without thanks. He closes the distance between us, wiping the blood off his hands. I back up until my bare back presses against the cold, concrete wall. I tuck my knees against my chest. Tossing the shirt over his shoulder, he stops inches before me and crouches low. I stare at his black leather shoes. They were shiny when he walked in, and now they’re covered in blood.

  “Hungry?”

  I flick my gaze to his. I was hungry…until he shoved his thumbs into someone’s eye sockets. I turn my head away from him, away from the terrifying skull inked onto his face.

  He doesn’t like it.

  I hiss as
he snaps forward and clenches my hair in his fists, forcing me to look at him. “When I ask you a question, you best answer it.”

  “No,” I swallow. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Well,” he sighs, releasing me. “It’s brunch time and we’ve got people to entertain, so…”

  He pulls the thin chain that drapes around his neck and it untangles itself, clinking against the concrete floor. I drop my gaze to it as he grabs the end of it, wrapping his fingers around a fucking collar. I know exactly what he’s going to do with it and there’s no way he’s getting that around my neck.

  I thrust my legs forward, slamming my feet into Skull’s knees. Cursing, he falls backward, and I twist my body, scrambling onto my hands and knees. I crawl, desperately trying to get away from him. To get out. I force myself upright, and my muscles carry my weight, despite my exhaustion. I run, and my bare feet slap the concrete. I make it all the way to the end, and I grab the handle. Relief floods me when the door opens a crack…only to slam shut as Skull throws his heavy body at me and I crash into the door.

  I lost my chance. I wasn’t quick enough.

  I growl, frustrated.

  “Now, now, Kitty-Cat.” Skull chuckles, pressing his large, hard body against mine. He licks my blood off my mouth, and I grimace. “It’s not playtime. That comes later.”

  I spit. “Fuck you.”

  “You keep saying that.” He laughs, wrapping the flimsy piece of leather around my neck. “And it’s the last time I’m going to let it slide.”

  “If you think I’m afraid of you, you’re delusional.”

  A lie, of course. He scares the hell out of me.

  I wince as he tightens the collar around my throat, purposely making it tighter than it should be. When it’s in place, he pushes off of me and tugs on the collar, forcing me to turn around.

  “How does that feel?” he asks, grinning wickedly.

  Rage boils under the surface of my skin. If I had a knife…if I had a gun…I would take his life.

  “Humiliating,” I mutter, my voice thick.

  He tugs me roughly, and I’m forced forward, my poor, naked body crashing into his.

  “Good.”

  ***

  Two brutish men pull open large, oak double doors. I dig my heels in and pull back, only to be tugged forward by Skull’s degrading leash.

  A second set of dark, oak doors are opened, and I gasp, wrapping my arm around my breasts, as I’m exposed to the twenty-foot-long wooden dining table filled with guests, all of them middle-aged men wearing the finest suits I’ve ever seen. I slip my free hand between my legs, covering myself as best I can. This is outrageous. He isn’t going to clothe me first? My heart races in my chest as a nervous heat blooms over my body. This can’t be happening.

  The room is dead quiet, not even a murmur. The men at the table watch us cautiously as we approach. Skull puts them on edge. Of course he does. He’s an erratic, ill-tempered psychopath with a skull for a face.

  “This is Kitten,” Skull announces, pointing at me. “She’s our guest tonight.”

  Digging my heels in, I grimace, and Skull tugs me forward, making me stumble. He strides forward, pulling me right up to a vacant wooden seat. Instead of sitting, he turns to me. It takes every muscle in my body to keep from flinching at the terrifying sight of his skull tattoo. What did he look like before he covered his face with something so horrifying? Is he handsome? Does he have a boyish face, or is he just as sinister underneath all of that black ink?

  I swallow hard, tilting my chin up to show him I’m not afraid even though I’m cowering on the inside.

  “Sit,” Skull orders, his voice calm and collected.

  Despite my high chin and squared shoulders, tears well in my eyes. Where’s Jai?

  “You’re fucking crazy,” I say, my voice slightly louder than a whisper.

  “Crazy?” He leans in, so close our noses touch. “You don’t know the half of it.” He lowers his voice. “I said sit.”

  I don’t move, and he simpers, his lips curving. It lasts a brief moment—barely a split of a second—before his eyes darken and he snatches me by the throat. “You’re going to embarrass me in front of my associates?”

  Grunting, I clench my teeth as he digs his fingers underneath my jaw.

  “If you won’t sit on the chair, you can sit on the floor.” He releases me, and I stumble backward. “Sit.”

  I swallow hard. “I am not a dog.”

  Skull’s upper lip twitches in disgust…and then he snaps. Baring his teeth, he yanks the leash so hard my neck cracks and I’m thrown forward. I squeak as he kicks my ankle out from underneath me, dropping me to the cold tiles.

  “Kitty-Cat here has an obedience problem,” he announces, dropping into his seat. “But don’t worry. She’ll be house broken soon enough.”

  Pleased with himself, he wraps the leash around the arm of his chair and pulls it tight, so tight my throat constricts. I’m pulled closer, against my will, until the arm rest bites into my cheek.

  “Stay.” Skull chuckles, patting my head. “Good girl.” Shifting in his seat, he leans back and grins at the men before him. “As you were saying before we were interrupted…”

  The man in the blue suit, three chairs down, on the left side of the table, clears his throat uncomfortably. “As I was saying, we’re not sure we feel comfortable doing business with you when your…personal life is on the rocks.”

  “My personal life is none of your concern.”

  “None of our concern?” another speaks out. “We lost hundreds and thousands of dollars when you flushed the tunnels, and just last night your compound was under attack by rogue cops, Joel Stone, and a high profile biker gang. We could have been exposed. I’d say that concerns us.” Somewhere in the room, a chair creaks. “We want to be reimbursed.”

  Skull laughs, and I flinch at its amused undertone. “Reimbursed? You want me to pay you the money you owed me in the first place?”

  “The money we owed you has gone back into the business.”

  He sits forward, his terrifying scare zeroing in on someone down the end. “Between all of you, you owed me twenty-six million, four hundred and thirty-three thousand, nine hundred and seventy-four dollars and ninety-three cents. When I flushed those tunnels, all seven of you took a four hundred and ninety thousand dollar loss. Now, I’m no math genius, but I’d say you still owe me.” Skull smirks. “And don’t forget who put your beautiful, beautiful daughter through college, Wyatt.”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Wolfe, it’s unethical to expect—”

  “You want out? Each of you need to sell an x amount of my newest product. You do that, I’ll find new investors.”

  Silence falls, and I’m still reeling over the use of Skull’s surname. Wolfe?

  “We haven’t seen your new product. How do we know it’s sellable?”

  Skull grins down at me, locking his stare with mine. “I’ll show you.”

  ***

  I struggle against him, against the leash. Twelve suited men walk behind me, their shoes tapping against the sterile, gray concrete under their feet. The room Skull escorts us through is dark, the edges of the space lit up by faint blue LEDs. At the back of the lab-like room is a podium, a podium that Skull leads me to long after the men stop following. My heart pounds in my throat; my muscles ache under my sensitive skin. Whatever is happening—whatever is about to happen—it’s not good.

  “What are you doing, Damien?” someone asks.

  I flinch. Wolfe. Damien. Damien Wolfe. His name is so…human.

  “Damien?” I mumble, and he turns his black glare on me.

  I swallow hard and purse my lips as his volcanic eyes burn into me. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  Skull drags me up onto the podium and, when we reach the top, he kicks me to the ground. Grunting, my bare, bruised knees slam into the concrete.

  “My latest narcotic not only numbs pain and enhances the senses, but test subjects have also recorded that it has al
lowed them to see sounds as bursts of color.” I squint as the lights in the room are turned on. They’re bright, so bright my eyes burn. “It also temporarily cures depression, anxiety, and dyslexia. It offers the user periods of intense focus—perfect for overworked college students with deadlines to meet.” Skull chains my wrists and stretches my arms to their limits, locking them in place. “On the fun side, it creates a frenzy of sexual arousal in the user, particularly females.”

  Ding. A light bulb goes off, and I glare over my shoulder at Skull, who grabs another two chains for my ankles. “If you lay a finger on me, I’ll—”

  “Relax, Kitty-Cat. I’m not going to touch you.” He chains my ankles and points to the man at the front of the crowd. “He is.”

  The man is as shocked as I am, his boyish face smoothing into surprise. “Me? N-no. N-n-o. Not me.”

  “Yes you, Peter.” Skull’s voice is distant, lost somewhere behind me as he fiddles with metal and glass. He whistles a gentle, merry tune as he touches whatever is on the counter. I tug against my chains, keeping my stare on the concrete floor.

  Skull’s shoes click around me as he saunters closer. There’s smugness to him, an arrogant air that sends dread spiraling through my stomach.

  “Open wide,” he orders, sliding two fingers under my chin.

  I pull away from his touch, pressing my chin to my shoulder. He chuckles under his breath before snatching my face in his large, warm hand.

  I whimper as a sob is trapped in my throat. “Please,” I squeeze out. “I didn’t do anything to you.”

  His black lips pull into a smirk, and he crouches low, his knees clicking as he goes. “It’s all relative, baby. Cause and effect.”

  He stabs his fingers into my cheeks, prying my jaw open. I shake my head but can’t break free. Pinching a small blue rock between his index and thumb, he stuffs his hand into my mouth. His index finger brushes the back of my throat, and I gag.

  “You’re going to love this.” He deposits the drug at the very back of my tongue before withdrawing his hand and clamping it over my mouth.

  Breathing through my nose, I struggle against him, squeezing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to prevent the drug from falling down my throat.