Copyright © 2014 Hearts Collective
All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental.
Also From The Depraved Club Series:
Death Layer (The Depraved Club) by Celia Loren & Colleen Masters
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Impossibly (Dante’s Nine MC) by Colleen Masters
Imperfectly (Dante’s Nine MC) by Colleen Masters
Impulsively (Dante’s Nine MC) by Colleen Masters
Faster Harder (Take Me... #1) by Colleen Masters
Faster Deeper (Take Me... #2) by Colleen Masters
Faster Longer (Take Me... #3) by Colleen Masters
Faster Hotter (Take Me...#4) by Colleen Masters
DEDICATION
I'd like to dedicate this book to the following readers for taking time out of their busy lives to beta read this novel!
PJ B.
Ila H.
Rae W.
Thank you so much!
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CIRCLE OF DEATH
The Depraved Club
by Colleen Masters
& Celia Loren
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
Chapter One
Off the coast of New England...
My slender fingers tighten around the cold metal railing as the yacht skips over a tall, surging wave. A spray of salt water dashes itself across my cheek as my long black hair whips wildly in the wind. I’m standing right at the bow of this luxurious vessel, scanning the horizon for a glimpse of dry land. The rocky coastline disappears from view in our wake after what feels like the blink of an eye. This whole insane undertaking is unfolding more quickly than I ever could have imagined. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll be able to keep my head above water and see my assignment through. But as I glance around at the open waters of the Atlantic Ocean, I know one thing for certain:
There’s no turning back now.
A loud burst of music washes over the topside deck, followed by a chorus of tipsy giggles. I glance over my shoulder as a trio of gorgeous young women stumble through a swinging door and out into the open air, scattering my solitude to the salty wind. Ah, well. If I wanted peace and quiet, I could have stayed back in Boston like the good girl I’ve always been. Up until now, that is.
“Logan! What’re you doing out here all alone?” asks one of the girls, a leggy blonde named Brie. “The party’s just getting started below deck.”
“I’m saving up my energy for the island,” I tell her, pretending not to mind when she sloshes a bit of piña colada onto my black miniskirt.
“That’s fair,” nods Ani, a slender brunette who’s also decided to give the wild side a try. “From what I’ve heard about The Club, you’re gonna need all the energy you can muster. The guys there are supposed to be pretty ruthless.”
“Here’s hoping!” crows the third girl, a petite redhead named Kari. “If I’m not completely spent in an oversexed haze by the time morning rolls around, I’m asking for my money back.”
“Kari, you’re so bad!” Brie squeals, her blue eyes going wide as saucers. “I still can’t believe you talked us into this.”
“Oh please, Brie,” Kari laughs, rolling her eyes, “You’ve been going on about this place for years, now.”
“Ever since we were lowly little freshmen,” Ani grins, taking a long swig of her cocktail. “Don’t tell me this isn’t the best graduation present of all time.”
“I know you’re right,” Brie sighs, leaning unsteadily against the railing, “I guess I’m just a little...nervous. It’s been nothing but preppy frat boys for me for the last four years. This is going to be...quite the change of pace.”
“Scared you won’t be able to handle a real man?” Ani teases.
“Maybe a little,” Brie admits.
“Don’t worry,” Kari says, looping an arm around her blonde friend’s waist, “We’ll all look out for each other. And when morning comes, we’ll be sailing back to the mainland, safe and sound. We won’t let any of the big, bad bikers bite. Not too hard, anyway.”
“I have to say,” Ani remarks, swinging her gaze my way, “I was a little surprised when you asked to come along tonight, Logan.”
“Yeah,” Kari agrees, cocking her head at me, “You never seemed like much of a party girl in school.”
“What can I say,” I shrug, smiling as gamely as I can, “People change, I guess.”
The girls accept my vague answer and fall to giddily speculating about what the night has in store for us. I hardly knew any of them while we were undergrads together in Boston. But the second I caught wind of their plans to visit The Club as a graduation treat, they became my most valuable of acquaintances. It’s not just any pretty young thing who can score a trip to The Club, after all. A joy ride on this yacht is damn near impossible to get, unless you know the right people. Lucky for me, these three happen to be the exact right people. Talk about alumni networking.
“Oh my god,” Brie breathes, nearly dropping her cocktail overboard, “There it is!”
I jerk my gaze back toward the horizon and feel my heart lodge firmly in my throat. There in the distance, a long strip of land rises up from the churning sea. In the gathering twilight, the island looks unremarkable. A jagged shoreline gives way to a thickly-forested rise. Just visible above the tree line is the imposing watchtower of an old military base. From my research, I know that this fort dates back to the days of the American Revolution. But this island is no place for a history buff’s field trip these days, that’s for sure.
As the yacht skims across the gray Atlantic waters toward the island, a low thudding sound makes my ears prick up. The rhythm pulses more deafeningly with every passing moment. I wonder, for a second, if we’re not experiencing engine trouble. But when the crashing cacophony of hard rock sweeps in to complete the soundscape, I realize that I’m hearing a heavy bass line raging from the shore of the island. We hear the party before we see it, and I know this is my last chance to bail—to let the other dozen girls go on ahead of me and scurry back to shore with my tail between my legs.
But then I think, for a second, about what I’d be running back to. A cramped two bedroom apartment, unpaid bills, a fruitless job hunt, an ever-dwindling bank account...I have to own up to the fact that I’ve got nothing to go back to. Nothing at all to lose. There was a time when that thought would have saddened me. But now, I realize that dwelling on my loneliness and fear won’t get me anywhere. I have to face them head on. Face this place head on. Take ac
tion for the first time in my life. And if I end up getting destroyed in the process...Well, at least I will have lived through something.
A long, shrill boat whistle cuts through the misty air as the yacht pulls up to a creaky dock that leads onto the island. I stand rooted firmly to the deck as the full, chaotic scene raging on the island comes into view, unfolding before my baffled eyes.
At the center of a large clearing in the woods, a massive bonfire roars, sending fierce flames leaping and licking into the darkening night sky. Dozens of shadowy figures writhe and swarm in the fire light, undulating to the heavy, pulsating music blaring out across the water. Glass bottles catch the glow of the bonfire as they’re raised to thirsty lips, and a score of smoldering cigarette tips light up in the darkness like a swarm of devilish fireflies.
Lengths of bare limbs and torsos glow and glisten in the red light of the fire. Men and women are laid out across every surface in sight, having at each other without any inhibitions. It’s a goddamn orgy—and we’re about to charge right into the middle of it.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Brie whispers in a panic as we make our way out onto the flimsy deck.
We join a handful of other young women, huddled together before the intimidating scene unfolding before us. Not a single one of us has cleared her early twenties. Hell, some of us are barely eighteen. But there’s one thing we all have in common: we’re here to spend a night among the toughest, most dangerous, sexiest men we’re likely to ever meet. Each of us made the decision to come here of her own free will. We all have different motives for seeking this place out—escape, adventure, curiosity. Me, I’m here in search of answers that have long eluded me. Answers about my past that might just end up shaping my future. And I’m not leaving until I’ve found them.
I feel the group of girls tighten around me as the yacht pulls away, leaving us to face the night on our own. As one, we turn our gaze toward the island, toward the place we’ve only ever heard about in whispers and rumors. The place simply called The Club. When I first heard of this one-of-a-kind spot, I wondered about its nondescript name. But what I’m quickly coming to understand is that The Club defies all other description. It has to be seen to be believed.
“Ladies!” calls a booming voice from just beyond my field of vision.
The yellow glow of a rusty lantern cuts through the darkness, illuminating the swaggering form of the large man making his way toward our little pack. His wide, wily grin is the first thing I notice. But it’s not just his teeth that are huge. Every bit of his body seems to be super-sized, from his bulging biceps to this bushy beard. He’s the closest thing to a giant I’ve ever seen up close. But something tells me he’s not likely to be a giant of the “gentle” variety.
The towering man looms over the group, a good foot taller than any of us, stilettos notwithstanding. He wears his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, a sleeveless leather vest over a white tank, and well-worn blue jeans. The steel toes of his boots gleam even in the darkness. He surveys each of our eager, upturned faces, nodding his approval.
“Good pickings tonight,” he grins, rubbing a hand through his sandy blonde beard, “The guys are going to be pretty fucking stoked about you lot.”
A nervous titter runs through the group, but I can already feel the bodies around me beginning to relax. Despite this man’s dangerous edge, there’s something strangely comforting about his demeanor.
“My name’s Titan,” he goes on, “I’m what you might call the welcoming committee. It’s my job to make sure things at The Club run smoothly. Make sure everyone’s having a good time. That’s what you girls are here for, isn’t it? A good time?”
“That’s right,” pipes Kari.
“Uh-huh,” adds Ani.
“Well, then you’ve certainly come to the right place,” Titan assures us, spreading his brawny arms wide, “I promise you, this will be a night you remember for the rest of your lives. Now, why don’t you follow me, and we’ll get this party started?”
We hurry to follow Titan as he strides away, leading us toward the pulsing, pounding heart of the party. As we make our way deeper into the thick woods, I see that the very shadows are alive with orgiastic abandon. My jaw nearly hits the rocky ground as I spot a naked woman pinned up against an ancient oak tree by her muscled mate, their hips bucking wildly as their cries of ecstasy are swept up by the rollicking music. I watch as Brie catches sight of the couple, all color draining at once from her face. One thing’s becoming clearer by the moment—The Club is no place for the faint of heart.
I feel the heat of the bonfire before we’ve even stepped into the clearing. The crackling flames sear through the summer air, sending a thick cloud of smoke rolling over the treetops. Titan turns to face the group of us as we fan out along the fire pit.
“Here you are girls,” he roars above the cacophony of raised voices and blasting music, “Grab a drink, grab a joint, grab a guy, and have at!”
A cheer goes up from the assembled pack of men and women all around us, all craning their necks for a view of the new goods.
“Christ, do I love me some fresh meat,” growls a tall, wolfish man from behind us. He slips his arms around Kari’s slender waist, tugging her tightly against his ripped body. “And you look tasty enough to devour, little girl.”
“Do your mommies and daddies know where you are tonight, little ones?” sneers a barrel chested man with a wild mane, tucking a lock of Brie’s hair behind her ear.
“Be nice now,” Titan cautions the circling men, “These girls are our guests tonight. Let’s make them feel nice and welcome.”
At his command, the swarm of bulky bikers and busty broads descends upon our group. I step out of the way as girls are snatched up, left and right. I’m not here to get down with just any biker boy, after all. I have my sights set much, much higher.
I scan the faces around the roaring blaze, seeking out my target. But I don’t have to look for very long. There, across the fire, stands the very man I’ve come so far to find.
He presides over the party like a god in his own right. His staggering body looms over the raging fire, as if lending the blaze its heat. With thickly corded arms crossed over his bare chest, he stands with feet firmly planted. Nothing on heaven or earth could move this man an inch—that much is clear. Dark, inky lines snake along his cut chest and shoulders, skirting down his arms in dizzying configurations. But the most prominent tattoo stands out in sharp relief, centered across his tanned pecs. In thick, scrawling letters, it reads: “Diabolus”.
The Devil.
It’s all I can do to drink in the sight of him, this towering man I’ve set my sights on. I’ve been researching him for weeks, tracking down mug shots and newspaper clippings, acquainting myself with every aspect of his public life. But no amount of research could have prepared me for the real thing.
His body looks like it was cut from the smoothest marble, his every muscle stands out in perfect definition. But you can tell, just from looking at him, that those muscles weren’t sculpted during long hours at the gym. His is a body that’s lived hard and tough for decades. For an entire lifetime. And oh, how it shows.
He raises a steel flask to his full, firm lips. I watch, transfixed, as he slugs back his liquor, his scruffy jaw sharp as a razor blade. His high cheekbones, straight nose, and thick black stubble would make most models weep with envy, but there’s no fussy vanity in this man’s face. He knows he’s gorgeous, powerful, intimidating, but he doesn’t have to try to be any of those things. He just is.
A gasp escapes my lips as his eyes flick up to meet mine. The rest of the wild party fades away at once as our gazes lock. His bottomless eyes see right through me, stripping me down until I’m utterly naked beneath his gaze. A slow smile spreads across his smooth lips as he watches me melt before him. But entranced as I am by his singular brutish beauty, I won’t let him get to me that easy. From deep down, I gather my restraint, my composure, my cool. Straightening my spine, I plant
a hand on my hip and smile right back at him.
Two can play at this game, I think to myself.
For the briefest of moments, I could swear that he’s taken aback. Clearly, this is not a man who’s accustomed to making the first move. My heart takes a running start and slams against my rib cage as he pockets his flask and takes a step toward me, circling the roaring bonfire. He approaches like a wild animal, circling his prey. I turn to face him as he steps up before me, craning my neck to take in his full, staggering form.
“You look like you could use a drink,” he growls, his voice rich and husky.
I swallow hard, steeling myself in the face of such an incredible, intimidating presence as his. With a miraculously steady hand, I reach into the pocket of his black leather cut, the sleeveless vests these guys wear like armor, and close my fingers around the cool steel flask. He raises a scarred eyebrow at me as I bring the flask to my scarlet lips—trying hard not to think about the fact that his mouth just rested where mine does now. I can tell that he’s intrigued, unused to being approached so brazenly. The smoky whiskey sears my throat as I gulp down a huge swig and hand the flask back to him with a mischievous grin.
“Thanks,” I say, flicking a tress of black hair over my bare shoulder.
“My pleasure,” he smirks, placing his firm hands on the points of my hips. “Now, what are you gonna give me in return?”
His pleasure is the first and only thing on his brain, I can tell that for certain. But I’ve made up my mind not to fold so easily. I step back from him, knocking his hands away.
“Sorry. I don’t think I happened to catch your name,” I say, fighting hard to keep the quiver from my voice.
“Huh,” he laughs, eyeing me up and down, “This isn’t usually a place where names are traded, babe.”
“Humor me,” I insist, all too aware of the fiery sensation his gaze leaves in its wake as it rakes along my body.
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