Sicko(26)

No. No. I go to stand, but he rams me back down, his powerful arms rippling as they drop to either side of my body. “You will not fucking move, Duchess, and you will do as you’re told.”

“Or what?” I snap, tears building behind my eyes. I won’t show him the pain that lies beneath my resentment. He’ll only use that as a weapon.

His eyes search mine, a smirk flashing across his mouth. “Or I’ll hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t,” I say, swallowing past my nerves.

“Hmmm, there’s so much you don’t know about me now, Dutch.” He leans down closer, the curve on the corner of his lips deepening. “So. Fucking. Much.” He pushes up from the sofa. “You’ll be stayin’ with me tonight. Don’t fuckin’ fight me on this.” He disappears into the masses of people, making his way to the bar that’s at the back. My eyes find Sloane instantly.

“I’m so sorry,” I mouth, shaking my head.

She finally makes her way toward me, tearing herself out of the arms of whoever it is that has his hand around her arm. “We can run.” She drops down on the sofa, her leg pressing against mine.

I shake my head, defeat seeping into my bones. “It won’t matter. He will chase us. We’ll just wait it out until morning.” The bar to the back is made of wood, their Wolf Pack MC regalia hanging proudly on the wall. There’s a vest in the middle, spread out open eagle. I want to study everyone, see what they look like, but the heavy atmosphere has me going back and forth, not wanting to remain focused on one area for too long.

“Man,” Sloane murmurs, crossing her leg on top of the other while unscrewing her flask. “I thought he would still be all about his little pet, but I am wrong.”

I ignore her, thinking of ways that I can hopefully get us both out of this mess.

“Stay here.” I stand from the sofa and shove through the swarm of bodies. The age difference is diverse, ranging from my age to our parents’ age to older and younger. I head for the bar, because that’s where I saw Royce head to when I slam into a rock-hard back.

“Sorry,” I whisper, rubbing my head.

A man who looks to be in his late fifties is standing at the bar. He turns around to face me, and that’s when I get a full view of him. His jaw is a little too square and his eyes are partially slanted. I thought there was something familiar about him until I realized he looks like Chuck Bass, only older and instead of the suit, he’s wearing an MC cut.

“You must be Jade.” His voice is soft, from years of being doused in smoke.

“Yes,” I answer. “Sorry, I’m trying to find Royce.”

He ignores me. “Name’s Lion.”

“Lion?” I ask, though I shouldn’t. He’s scary and not likely open to answering questions.

“Jade!” Royce snaps from behind me, taking my hand in his and pulling me away. “Stop fucking wandering off.” Before I can argue, he’s dragging me through the sea of bodies and taking me up toward a set of stairs that lead to a second level.

I yank my hand out of his grip. “Who do you think you are, Royce? You can’t just force your way back into my life and hold me captive!” I reach inside my pocket, just as he slams the bedroom door closed behind us. “I’m calling Mom.”

“Yeah?” His tone is menacing, the smug half-grin on his face too cocky to be the Royce I knew. The Royce that cared for me. I have to force everything inside of me to not shiver in fear. “Do it.” He holds me to my spot with his glare. “See if she believes you.”

My shoulders sag in defeat. “What happened to you?” I ask, searching his face. The face I once looked at for reassurance and strength is now the one I feel I should fear. Some people only get one monster in their lifetime, apparently, I have two.

“To me?” Royce kicks off the door and after a couple of steps, his biker boots are hitting the tip of my Louboutins. “You is what happened, Duchess.” I can’t fight it, and even if I wanted to, I couldn’t force my eyes away from his. The depth of his blue is deep enough to drown me. “Get on the bed.”

“Why am I here, though?” I ask, falling back onto the mattress. His room is decked out in black, Harley posters and there’s even the shaft of a handlebar hanging above his bed. No porn posters—thank fuck he actually has taste—and no used condoms that I can see. Yet. Honestly, I wouldn’t be ruling it out.

Royce takes out a pack of smokes from his back pocket and flips open the case to take one out. “You are the one who walked in here. So willing to make new friends. Nellie was a test to see how easily persuaded you could be, and I gotta say, Duchess, you fucking failed.”

Leaning up, I snatch one out while scowling at him and put it into my mouth. He watches in fascination as I light the tip and inhale. “I’ve made a lot of friends since you’ve been gone, Roy.” I inhale the cigarette before allowing the smoke to exit between my scarlet red lips. “So many.”

He blazes the tip and sucks in deeply while remaining passive on me. I watch as the smoke curls around his nose, up past his eyes and over his head. “Hmmm.”

“Hmm?” I cock my eyebrow. “That’s it?” My fingers flex in the palms of my hands. “No, ‘who the fuck are you talking to Jade’…”