To Awaken a Monster (In the Arms of Monsters Book 1)

by Sam Crescent

She pressed her lips together.

  Bishop had a bit of a temper, and it never normally bothered her. Why would it? They were the best of friends and deep down, she knew he wouldn’t dream of hurting her, but hearing his sudden snappish attitude, she didn’t like it. It wasn’t her fault he’d been naughty. She didn’t ask him to come and kidnap her from school. He liked to piss people off and to push them as far as he could to see who would be the bravest one to bite, but he’d then complain about how they didn’t respect him. He hated being compared to his father.

  One of the worst things anyone could say to him was “Preacher’s son.” She hated to break out the obvious, but he was indeed Preacher’s son, and no matter how much he tried to fight it, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was ever going to get away with it.

  “I can’t believe I’m fucking going back there. I’m not one of his members. I don’t come when he snaps his fingers and hollers for my attention. I’m an actual person. I’m not his fucking slave.”

  She was used to this. Bishop liked to talk the talk, but when it came to staring at his father and doing the whole face-to-face talk, he was useless.

  Running fingers through her hair, she looked across at him and tried not to scream as he swerved around a truck, only for there to be another one coming in the opposite direction and he had no choice but to put his foot down.

  He missed him by a finger width, she was sure of it.

  Her heart raced, and she felt her stomach turn.

  “Fucking asshole.”

  Bishop kept on calling his father all those wonderful names he wouldn’t dream of saying to his face. Deep down, she knew Bishop was a little jealous of his father.

  Preacher was a large man. Maybe six-four, or even a bit taller. He was one of the tallest, scariest people in town. Her father was next in line, but he wasn’t as dominating in his presence as Preacher.

  He also commanded respect, and he didn’t even need to do a whole lot. Most of the time, there was a look.

  That was all it took, a single look, and she’d witnessed people roll over for him. Being an MC kid, she’d seen a great deal, and nothing in life surprised her. Preacher was known for being a ladies’ man, and well, she’d seen exactly what the women would do just to vie for his affection, or even just a moment to call themselves Preacher’s. Most of the time she would do her homework at the library or at home. After an argument between her parents, Bear dropped Robin off at the clubhouse, and she got to see many of the club women in action. Some of the guys referred to the girls who didn’t have a man at the club as whores, free pussy, club whores, holes, sluts, and many other names that called them objects rather than women. When she realized what the women did at the club, she’d been shocked. She had wondered if they were in some way owned and had no choice in the matter, but then she’d started to see, that wasn’t the case, not even a little bit. The women were there for a couple of reasons. They loved the life, and, being club property, they were taken care of. Most of the club women didn’t have a job outside of taking care of the men. Some were after a brother to be able to call themselves an old lady, and a few just liked to be passed around. The more men they slept with, the happier they were. Again, she didn’t know why Preacher was such a high target. Preacher wasn’t nice. Yes, he was the club president, but again he wasn’t nice.

  He was as mean as they came.

  If he wasn’t in the mood to be around the women, he had no qualms about pushing or shoving them away, speaking to them harshly, or even walking into a room, grabbing one of the women, and marching her back to the office.

  Pushing those thoughts from her mind, Robin saw the main gate was up ahead. It was open, which meant they were expecting them.

  The moment Bishop slowed down and turned into the grounds, he stopped.

  Preacher and Bear stood together, both of them looking really pissed off.

  Great.

  She’d done nothing wrong, apart from going with her friend, which didn’t exactly help her.

  Hands shaking a little bit, she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. Bishop slammed his door closed, and she did hers gently. The last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to herself.

  Her father had never hit her.

  She sometimes wondered if he even knew her mother did hit her, the random slap around the face, or back of the head. Rebecca, her mother, didn’t ever need a reason to scold her daughter.

  “See, we’re back here in one piece,” Bishop said.

  Attitude dripped from his voice, and she winced. This wasn’t the best way to try to win over his father.

  Clearly, Preacher was pissed.

  “Who the fuck do you think you’re speaking to, kid?” Preacher stepped up close.

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “That’s right. I’m your fucking lord and master, and you think I’ve got time to deal with the useless pranks you pull. One of these days, junior, you’re going to realize I’m not going to help you. You’re going to push one step too far. Did you know your principal wanted to report you for kidnapping?” Preacher looked past him at her, and she stayed perfectly still.

  “Principal asshole doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s had it in for me from the start. You can’t trust him. He’s—”

  Preacher grabbed Bishop’s face and spun him around to look at her. “What am I fucking seeing?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Look closely.”

  She wanted to run.

  She looked over at her father, and Bear was clearly pissed as well.

  Preacher thrust his son away from him and stalked toward her, grabbing her arm but being sure not to do where there might be glass.

  “What is this?”

  “She got hurt. It’s no big deal, right, Robin?”

  “Get in my car, Robin, now!” Preacher growled each word out, and there was no way she was going to disobey him. She walked over to his car slowly, glancing back to see Preacher slap his son around the back of the head.

  “You’ve got to learn to think. You’re so fucking tough, but you can’t even help someone. She’s your friend. You disgust me. Get to your room, now. You even think of leaving and I’ll cut your dick off and shove it up your ass.”

  Preacher shoved Bishop away from him, and she watched her friend as he walked past her father, who proceeded to grab him by the ear and march him back into the clubhouse.

  Quickly climbing into Preacher’s passenger side, she stared at her arm. The pain was still there. It hadn’t been numbed or anything. She very much felt what was happening.

  Humming to herself, she waited, and the moment the car door opened, she shut up.

  He got behind the wheel, turning the ignition over, and pulled out of the parking lot, while dialing someone on his cell phone.

  “I need the doc back at my place. Twenty minutes tops.” He didn’t wait for any confirmation, simply hung up his cell phone and headed toward his home.

  She’d been to Preacher’s house many times.

  Growing up, she’d had a lot of sleepovers with Bishop. They’d been close friends in the crib, so there was no reason not to extend their friendship.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not what I asked. Answer my question.”

  “It does hurt. I’d give it a seven.”

  “It’s bleeding through your shirt. You should have told him to take you home.”

  “Bishop wouldn’t have listened to me. You know how he gets.”

  “When he thinks he’s right, yeah, I know, and he needs to learn he can’t have everything. This was irresponsible. There will come a time when my name won’t save him, you know that, right?”

  “I … I didn’t encourage him to take me, sir.”

  “Are you ever going to call me Preacher?” he asked. “It’s always ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Keats.’ I don’t go by the latter, ever. Bishop’s teachers all call me Preacher.”

  “Is that the name
you prefer?”

  “It’s the name I go by. The one I gave to myself.”

  She knew his real name but never used it. In fact, she was there the last time someone called him by his real name, and well, she didn’t even want to go down memory lane.

  “It just doesn’t seem right me using that name for you.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it just doesn’t. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, I promise.”

  “It’s okay. I get it.”

  “You do?” She had no idea what was wrong with her.

  Calling him Preacher, it felt … intimate to do so.

  Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she felt a little woozy.

  “I feel sick.”

  He quickly pulled up, and she opened the door. Rushing out of his truck, she bent over and threw up. Within seconds he was there, holding her hair back, keeping it out of her way as she vomited again.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  She put a hand to her stomach and after another vomit fest, she knew she’d be fine.

  “Are you good?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

  “Probably from the blood loss, or I scare you sick.”

  She wouldn’t admit to him that it was mostly the latter. She’d never been sick before just because he was present in her company.

  “Finished?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” He let go of her hair and handed her a tissue, which she took, grateful.

  Next, he helped her back into the truck, handing her a mint as he did so.

  She took it from him. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  When Preacher gave an instruction, you followed it, and this was very much an instruction.

  As she was sucking on the mint, they arrived at his home. It was down an old dirt road. It had once been nothing more than a trailer on a large piece of land, surrounded by woodland. Preacher had it built into a three-story house, with six bedrooms, and all the latest accessories. The house was a piece of luxury, a property most people would kill for, and he rarely spent any time in it.

  Since Bishop had gotten a license, she knew her friend rarely spent any time there either.

  He either stayed with her, or at the clubhouse.

  Of course, he was only allowed to stay with her when her father wasn’t around. Rebecca had no problem with boys staying at her place.

  Climbing out of the truck once again, she followed Preacher up to his home. He unlocked the door, and put in the code as the alarm started to blare to life.

  “There’s a spare toothbrush in the downstairs bathroom for you to use.”

  She went straight to it.

  It was really her own toothbrush, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

  Entering the bathroom, she took a quick note of how pale she looked. Blood loss would do that to a girl.

  Running her fingers through her hair, she tried to calm her rioting emotions. Bishop didn’t care enough to get her to the emergency room.

  Shaking those thoughts from her mind, she didn’t want to think of her best friend as lacking in any regard.

  She loved him as a best friend, and never wanted to lose him.

  He was her soul mate in many elements of their life. She couldn’t imagine life without him, not even for a second. There were times she didn’t like him though. Like now, he’d been so consumed and pissed at his father, he didn’t even consider her.

  She never told him about it though, or questioned him. Robin accepted his shortcomings all the time.

  Once her teeth were brushed and she’d splashed water on her face, she went toward the kitchen where Randall Scott, a fifty-year-old man, and the main doctor to the club when they didn’t want to go to the hospital, was waiting to tend to her.

  “Let’s get this handled, shall we?”

  Chapter Two

  After dropping Robin back at home, and having Rebecca flirt with him, Preacher was ready to take a shower. Just a few moments in Rebecca’s company and he felt sorry for Bear, but the stupid fuck didn’t have to marry her, but he chose to.

  Preacher shook his head, running a hand down his face. He was tired, which was a first for him.

  Bishop had been acting out a lot lately, and Preacher had been lenient with him, maybe too much with how he’d started to disrespect the teachers, the law, even him. The principal didn’t like him. It didn’t help that he and Arnold went way back, even before he’d become part of the Twisted Monsters MC. They’d never been friends, but Arnold had a thing for a woman. It had been that long ago and so not important, Preacher couldn’t even remember her name. She’d had big tits, nice ass, and a mouth with a reputation for sucking dicks.

  He’d bet Arnold that he’d have her giving up her ass before Arnold could.

  When he made that bet, Arnold hadn’t known about her reputation of being easy. What Preacher hadn’t known at the time was that Arnold didn’t know about her. He figured everyone knew, but of course, that wasn’t the case. Since then, Arnold had held a grudge against him. He would find any reason to be pissed at Bishop.

  Dragging Robin into it wouldn’t be good. Arnold, in the past twenty years, had developed a mean streak, and out of all of the girls and women Preacher knew, Robin was a good one.

  Which was a big fucking surprise considering she came from Rebecca, the spiteful cow that she was. She had no regard for anyone but herself, and it surprised him her daughter hadn’t picked up a few traits.

  Rebecca had been club pussy for a long time before Bear knocked her up. Like himself with Bishop, Bear had gotten the necessary tests to confirm Robin was his before he committed.

  Preacher had never committed. He’d never given himself to a woman, and never would.

  Arriving back at the clubhouse, he wasn’t surprised to see a fire burning with Bear and a couple of the guys sitting around it, beers in hands as well as smokes, shooting the shit, and feeling up a couple of the women.

  The moment he saw him, Bear got up, dropping the woman off his lap onto the floor, and walking over.

  “How is she?” Bear asked.

  “Fine. On the way over to my place she had a bit of vomiting, but other than that, okay. The cut isn’t too deep, but it depends on how it heals Doc said. There was some dirt in it, but Bishop had taken her up near the fields. You know where.”

  “Speaking of your kid, he’s brooding in his room.”

  “Isn’t that what teenagers do?”

  “Yeah, Milly went into see him. Hasn’t been out since.” Bear shook his head.

  Milly was a young twenty-something blonde. She’d been hanging around the club for a year. Popular with the guys because she was into anything, but Preacher had seen her real target. His son.

  “I’ll go and have a talk with him,” Preacher said. Maybe it wouldn’t involve a curfew or fists.

  “You have a word with him about bagging his shit. I know he thinks Milly is some kind of angel, but we all know that woman’s got a brain behind her ears, and she’s after one thing. Also, if he thinks he’s going to be playing with my girl with his infected dick, he’s got another think coming.”

  “You think they’re not fucking already?” Preacher asked.

  He hadn’t thought about Bishop and Robin actually having sex. Teenagers getting it on never entered his mind.

  He wasn’t a teenager, hadn’t been for a long time, and he didn’t think about his son fucking anyone. It was gross.

  “No, they’re not.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “I talked to Robin.”

  “Yeah, because kids tell you the truth.”

  Bear rubbed the back of his head. “I’m not going to lie to you. My girl doesn’t lie to me. I asked her to be honest, and she was. Said she hadn’t had sex yet, and wasn’t ready. Bishop wanted to, but he’d respected her decision not to. It’s the only reason I allow them to still hang out.”

  “You think she k
nows he’s banging everything at the club?”

  “Not my business to know.” Bear held his hands up.

  “I better go talk to him.” Preacher would rather take on a room full of rattlesnakes than have a talk with a highly hormonal kid.

  He remembered what it was like to be a kid filled with hormones, and he didn’t like it being there, and he sure as fuck didn’t want to have to talk about it now.

  Killing Bishop’s mother probably wasn’t the best idea, but she wouldn’t have been a help now, anyway. She’d hated his guts, and even though Bishop didn’t remember much, she’d not been a nice mother to him anyway.

  As far as she was concerned, he was the evil spawn of Satan, and well, he thought she was a two-faced, lying slut bitch.

  They all had issues.

  Heading into his clubhouse, he ignored the calls from his men. They knew when to back off. Some of the women didn’t get the memo and tried to paw at him. Again, he wasn’t happy and kept on moving, pushing them away.

  He went straight to Bishop’s room.

  The door was partially open, and Preacher paused outside of it.

  “Why the fuck do I have to do this?” He mouthed the words to himself, pushing the door open.

  He saw his naked son’s ass, pounding into a very willing, moaning Milly, who was spread wide open. She held her ass open, and Bishop had gone for the tight, puckered hole.

  Preacher walked into the room, turning off the radio.

  “Play time’s over.”

  “Dad, fuck, I’m nearly finished.”

  “You’re finished now.” He looked at Milly. “Get out.”

  She knew not to fight and quickly pulled away from Bishop, climbing off the bed and scrambling out of the room.

  “Dad, come on. She wanted me in her ass, begged for it after nearly sucking me dry.”

  “You think I sent you to your room to have a bunch of fun?” he asked, folding his arms.

  “I’m not a child.”

  “You’re acting like one. You think all this bad shit goes away without payment? Without some reason to have men and women turn the other way?”

  “Nothing bad happened. I had some fun with Robin. What’s the big deal? It’s not like she’s going to need the education anyway. She’ll be my wife and do as she’s told. I’ll take care of her.”