by Dark, Raven
My mother’s chest rose heavily. She met my gaze, her eyes much too shiny. “Setora, I’m so sorry. I wish there was a better way for you to find out about this.”
My heart plummeted. “No. He—he’s dead, isn’t he?”
My mother nodded sadly. “Mayhem hunted the men who had your brother and me down for days before he found them. They’d taken us to a different location than the house where Dax and I found you.”
A different house than the one where Cherry and I had been held, I realized, starting to put the pieces together.
“We must have been there a week or more,” my mother added.
“It’s not uncommon for slave traders and poachers to have a network of places to hide, dozens of secret locations, making it harder for anyone to find them,” Mayhem said gently.
My mother nodded in agreement. “One of the men there started beating Dax, and he tried to escape. He killed his attacker. After that, I tried to get us out, but they caught us.”
I didn’t want to know what happened after, but I made myself ask. “And then?”
Her eyes were dark with guilt. “By the time Mayhem and his men found me, they’d already killed Dax. One of the men holding us told me several days before I was rescued. They promised that if I tried to escape, they’d do the same to me.”
“And you’re sure he was telling the truth?” I hated that I was clinging to a desperate, futile hope.
“Yes. They brought his…” She swallowed hard and closed her eyes. “They brought his head back in a sack and…” Her face turned green.
“Fuck.” Sheriff’s voice was a rumble of rage.
I buried my face in my hands, biting back tears. Sheriff grabbed my hand, and I squeezed his in a death grip. Steel, on my other side, smoothed my hair in long strokes. Hawk had his head down in silence. Pretty Boy scrubbed his face with his hands and shook his head, his jaw tight.
Mayhem took my mother’s hand again, squeezing hard. His face was a dark scowl. “If I could have stopped it,” he told us in a low rasp, “I would have. If only we’d reached them a couple days sooner, I would’ve killed them all before they murdered your brother, Setora. Dax would have been brought here.”
“Excuse me,” I said softly, pulling my hand out of Sheriff’s. “I need a minute. General, sir…where is your water closet?”
I didn’t hear what he said as Pretty Boy stood up and pulled me to my feet. “I’ll take her.” His voice echoed as if down a long tunnel. I heard my mother’s soothing voice, also distant.
The next thing I knew, we were outside the clubhouse doors and I was vomiting on the stone tiles while Pretty Boy held my hair back. I heaved breaths, knees so weak I collapsed against his frame. If he hadn’t been holding me up, I’d have dropped to the floor.
I wiped my mouth with shaking hands. “I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry. I just…” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to clear my mind of the dark image of Dax being killed in such a violent way.
My brother. Gone.
“It’s all right, Princess. Come here.” Pretty Boy pulled me against him, closing me in his warmth. Rocking me.
“I’m sorry about the floor, Master. Mayhem—”
“Fuck, don’t worry about that.” He smoothed my hair and kissed my ear. “You don’t have to go back in there now. We can finish later. I’ll have—”
“No.” I pulled back from him, wiping my eyes, horrified at the idea of making myself look even more like the delicate flower I already must have appeared to be. “Take me back, Master. I have to do this.”
Julian hadn’t tried to take me over since we’d left the Grotto, and while the horror of what had happened to Dax made it impossible to focus on the reason we’d come, discussing Julian would keep my mind off my brother. And while I longed to spend as much time with my mother as possible, I couldn’t help worrying that, at any moment, I’d be pushed aside inside myself, forced to do who knew what to those I cared for at Julian’s whim. Whatever my mother knew about Julian wasn’t likely to magically produce a solution to stop him, and yet it didn’t feel right putting off something so urgent for my own selfish needs.
A guard was already calling a slave to clean up the hall as Pretty Boy looked me over. “Are you sure? Setora, you don’t have to do this now.”
“Yes, I do. We need answers. I need answers.”
He said nothing as he walked me back inside. Everyone was still waiting on the sectional for us. My mother stood up and took my hands in hers as soon as I was in reach, her eyes concerned.
“I’m all right, mother.” I squeezed her hands, taking in the sadness and pain and loss in her eyes. “Are you okay?”
Pale-faced, she nodded and squeezed me close. “You need to rest, daughter. I handled that badly. I should have found a better way to tell you what happened to your brother.”
I shook my head, letting her know I didn’t blame her. There was no good way to tell someone something like that.
“Sheriff, we should do this later,” Pretty Boy said quietly before I could tell anyone otherwise.
“Master, I—” I started.
“Agreed,” Sheriff said overtop of me. “Mayhem, if it’s good with you, a talk with D can wait a bit. A few more minutes isn’t gonna kill us.” He squeezed my shoulder, his tone making it clear I wasn’t to argue.
Considering how much Sheriff despised delays, it was a measure of how protective he was of me that he was willing to remain here longer just to indulge my emotional frailty. Adoration and irritation for him welled up in equal measure.
“Absolutely. You’ve all had a hell of a day, and this is a lot to take in for any of you.” He rubbed my mother’s back, and she whispered something in his ear. He nodded. “That I’ll allow, but not for long. D would like to spend a few moments with Setora. Let’s give them some privacy.” When my masters agreed, he turned around to his Captain of the Guard.
“Eagle Eye, watch over the women in here. Have Stitch and Horse join you, just in case.”
Eagle Eye had been standing by the couch so silently, I’d forgotten he was there until Mayhem addressed him.
“Got it, General.” The darkly bearded man left the room.
Mayhem nodded to the Legion men. “We’ll meet back here for dinner after you fellas get some sleep. We’ll get back to business once we’ve eaten. D, I’ll be back for you in thirty minutes.” He squeezed the back of her nape tenderly. “No arguments,” he added when she opened her mouth as if to dispute him. “You need rest.”
My Four surrounded me in a flurry of hugs, kisses and condolences, Sheriff kissing my forehead last.
“You sure you don’t want to rest?” At my nod, he sighed. “All right, well, we won’t be far, sweetheart. I’ll send Doc and Blade in here to watch over you, too.”
Before I could offer a reply, the men followed Mayhem to the doors where a man with a shaved head and a nasty, puckered scar on his right cheek stood waiting. I recognized him as the man who’d escorted my mother into the room earlier. Next to him stood another man, one with a thick, dark mustache and a tattoo of a running stallion on his bicep.
Mayhem introduced the Legion to the two men; the scarred one as his doctor, Stitch, and the one with the mustache as one of Eagle Eye’s guards, Horse.
An instant later, Doc and Blade showed up, Blade with his fire-red hair, and Doc with that long, reed-thin tranquilizer gun I’d seen him with before we’d come here. Doc looked over at me and gave a reassuring wave. The Four clapped Doc and Blade on the shoulders before following Mayhem out of the room, already deep in conversation. Eagle Eye shut the doors behind them and took up position there while Blade, Stitch and Horse kept enough of a distance from my mother and I to give us privacy, yet still close enough to see us if anything went wrong.
“…with me, Setora. Setora?”
I’d been so busy staring at the tranquilizer gun in Doc’s hand, I didn’t realize that my mother had been speaking to me, nor that I hadn’t moved an inch. While Horse went to the bar and took a seat there,
one eye on us the whole time, Doc stood at the doors with Eagle Eye, holding the gun across his chest. He talked with the Angels’ Captain of the Guard casually, his posture relaxed, but something about him suggested an underlying readiness.
In case Julian decided to pop up, I knew. I wasn’t sure if I felt better or more alarmed, knowing Doc would fire whatever drug was in that thing straight at me or my mother the moment either of us started doing anything remotely strange.
I shook myself, followed my mother to the couch, and let her presence drive away all other thoughts.
“Come here. Come here and let me look at you, child.” Instead of sitting down, she held my arms out at my sides, looking me over as though she was trying to memorize every shape, every hair on my head.
“This is incredible. You’re gorgeous. And so big.” The pride in her eyes made my insides dance with joy.
Funny how she thought of me as big when I barely reached her nose. Honestly, it wasn’t fair that I’d ended up so much shorter than the rest of my family, at five feet three. My father had been a giant, well over six feet tall, and I knew Dax would have grown up to be the same. At fourteen, he’d already been taller than my mother, though unlike my father, he’d been stick-thin.
“The Maker must be playing a cruel joke on me.” I blinked back hot tears. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
My mother chuckled, a husky, maternal sound that made every cell of my being sing. She wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, he must be playing the same joke on both of us.”
My mother walked across the room to the bar and poured a glass of water from a pitcher there. Well, she’d walked, but floated was probably a better word, her movements graceful as a swan. She glanced back at me as she set the pitcher down. “Are you sure you’re all right, Setora?”
“I’m fine, Mother.” I sat on the couch, waiting for her. “Really.”
She didn’t look entirely convinced, but she nodded. I watched her with wonder as she glided back to the couch. She handed me the glass of water from between long, dainty fingers. “Here, drink this, honey.”
Honey. Maker’s mercy.
I drank half the glass down while she swept unseen dust off the couch, then lowered herself gracefully onto the leather cushion. Moving with long-practiced care, she sat sideways, facing me, one slender ankle tucked behind the other. I soaked up every move she made, reveling in how little she’d changed.
Even while she radiated excitement and looked like something a gappa had dragged in, she still appeared as prim as ever, seeming out of place in this rustic clubhouse with its wood paneling, long, liquor-stocked bar, and the Angels of Mayhem’s black and red flag on the back wall, emblazoned with its menacing skull and scythe.
To conceal my excitement, I took a sip of the water and set the glass down on the table. “Mother, you must tell me everything. I want to hear all about your life with the Angels, with Mayhem.”
Moments ago, I’d been determined to focus on the reason we’d come—to exchange information about Julian—but now that I was alone with her, I wanted to live in this moment a little while longer, without him interfering just yet. Mayhem had only given us half an hour, which didn’t leave much time.
“Mayhem seems to care for you. And I’m glad he treats you well,” I added.
“You first, daughter.” She glanced at the doors my men had used earlier. “I’ve never seen men behave so openly…warm with a slave. They dote over you. It’s wonderful. And fascinating to watch.”
My cheeks grew hot again. Unsure what to say, I just reveled in my mother’s presence, soaking up the feel of her closeness.
“Although, I’m not entirely surprised they’re so protective of you,” she added.
“What do you mean?”
“When you were a child, everyone who met you thought you were so sweet, always wanting to watch out for you. You drew people to you, even when, and sometimes because, you showed too much spirit. It’s nice to see that nothing has changed.”
I noted the amused light in her eyes that took most of the scolding out of her words.
“Yes, they’re very protective.”
She smiled at my irritation.
I grabbed her hand. “So tell me, Mother. Who are your other masters? And what are the other women here like? The other men?”
She leaned back, looking thoughtful. “Well. As to your first question, Mayhem is my only master.”
“Only him?” I made a face. “He doesn’t share you with anyone else?”
“I know, it’s unusual for a man to do that. He keeps only me for himself. He shares only the other women.”
“So he shares them, but not you.”
At my surprise, she lifted one shoulder. “Yuna and Wren belong to the club. They belong to all. Including him.”
I remained silent, as much to let her continue as to absorb what I was hearing. The other women were club whores. My mother was too proper to say so, but they were. Before my time in the Grotto, I’d have felt sad for them, but being friends with Diamond and Emmy and Tanya, I knew better than to think that being a club girl meant a terrible life. Diamond loved her position, and Tanya and Emmy seemed to all but relish it. Or Diamond had until her involvement with Doc had changed things. I wasn’t sure how she felt about it now, or if she even still had the same station. Even so, I was relieved to know Mayhem had kept my mother from that life, especially with the number of men here.
“As to the women, they’re wonderful. Yuna is a sweetheart. Wren is always getting herself in trouble, though sometimes I think she does it on purpose to get the men worked up. And the men, well, you’ll see. All of them are good men. Loyal to Mayhem, to each other. But hard. Life out here in the desert makes them that way.”
I caught onto the surprise in her voice. “I’m guessing you never expected to belong to men like these?”
“Maker, no.” She smiled. “Violets are usually supposed to serve the upper echelon. If I was going to belong to anyone, I wouldn’t have expected to end up with a Motorcycle Club. These men are brash and loud and rough. They seemed like savages, at first. Solving everything with their fists, drowning themselves in drink when things grow darkest. Trying to knock each other flat one minute and singing each other’s praises the next. And every second word a curse abrasive enough to curl your hair, I tell you.” She laughed.
I nodded in agreement, knowing exactly what she was referring to. Only minutes into any party in the Grotto, and I could see how she would have thought of them as savages. I had too, once.
“They’re pirates, violent and all jagged edges, like animals, sometimes,” she went on. “It took some getting used to. But after a year or so living with Mayhem and his crew… I don’t know. Something changed.” Fondness filled her eyes.
“You started to feel like one of them.”
She shifted on the couch, excited at my relating to her. “Absolutely. I mean, even now, I still feel a little out of place. When I’m at one of their parties and they start to brawl, or I see them sharing a woman in public the way one might share supper, I feel like a fish out of water. I remember what I am. But then one of the Angels will treat me like I’m their sister, or Mayhem will give me a look that says I’m his, and the divide between us just vanishes. Like I belong here. Like I was always here.”
“Yes.” Now it was my turn to be excited, hearing her describe the very things I’d felt over the last months. “The Legion’s men are so different from men like Damien, it’s like night and day. I’ve only been with them several months, but sometimes it’s hard to believe I was ever anywhere else.”
She raised a brow. “Damien?”
“Oh.” I shivered, wishing I hadn’t mentioned my former master. “Damien Vale. He’s the captain of Zone 4. Lives in—”
“Hell’s Burning.” Her face lost color. “Daughter, you ended up in Hell’s Burning with that wicked blackhound?”
If the conversation hadn’t turned so serious, I might have laughed. No one used the word black
hound anymore. Years ago, it was a word reserved for a man so vile there was no other word for him short of a curse. The description certainly fit Damien.
My mother squeezed my hand, her lips trembling. “After six years of trying to keep you away from anyone who might take you… Of all the people you could have ended up with, you wound up in Damien Vale’s hands?”
I sighed, my mind rolling over the memories as I told her everything, from the moment I was found outside the massive cement gates to Hell’s Burning, to the day Damien had betrayed me and put me on the auction block. I finished by telling her how Steel and Pretty Boy had stolen me for themselves and brought me back to the Grotto. How they had changed, how we all had, so that there was something so much more between us than a slave and her four masters.
“Maker, I’m so sorry you ended up in the clutches of someone like him.” She pulled me close. “Mayhem secretly looked for you when he could. We had to be so careful, though. I was so afraid that our searching would bring more attention to you wherever you were. Now it makes sense that we couldn’t locate you. I suppose I owe this Steel and Pretty Boy my thanks for saving you, even if their intentions were far from altruistic at the start.”
“They did save me, Mother.” I looked up at her. “It annoyed Sheriff to no end, but they did, and he came around in time.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Pretty Boy and Steel sound like Clutch and Horse. Two of Eagle Eye’s guards,” she added when I gave her a curious look. “They’re more like blood brothers than friends, following orders when it suits them, setting Mayhem in a dither every time they can, just for fun.”
I laughed. “Yes, that’s exactly like Pretty Boy and Steel.”
“But when Mayhem needs them, they’re there for him before anyone else. They’d give their lives for him, and they’d die before they’d betray him or his club.”
“That too.”
“So, you have two troublemakers and a hard-nosed General.” She drew back. “What of that Hawk?”
“Hawk is…interesting, Mother.”
“He’s a Yantu, isn’t he?”
I blinked at her. “How did you…?”
