Taz (Tarnished Souls MC Book 2)

by Dusty Lassetter

  I could walk out of this room and allow her sobs of sorrow to be private, but I’m not the type of man to do that. Her weakness brings me strength. The blood pulsing through my veins is begging me to make her bleed, make her hurt, and my will is not strong enough to ignore it. It’s been a week since I enjoyed the screams of a woman. Tonight, I’m going to find out if I can make her shriek louder than Maria. This night was supposed to be about breaking down her final walls with pleasure, not pain, but maybe she could use one more memory to make sure she does what is asked of her.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you, pretty girl,” I whisper against her skin before licking the tears from her cheeks. “But you make it impossible not to.”

  “No,” she begins saying, “NO! No, please just put me down. I’ll do whatever you ask, I’ll do anything you want.” The tears tumbling down her cheeks grow in size. It’s like the sorrow in her soul has capsized and is now pouring out her voice and eyes.

  “I’m in a giving mood, so I’ll allow you to choose what tool I use on you tonight,” I begin explaining while keeping her head tilted in my direction so she has nowhere to look except at me. Knowing I’ve come prepared, because I hate to be anything but, I mentally picture the object I placed in my pocket after tying her up.

  “Option A, B, or C?” I question loving the look of confusion that stretches across her face. “You didn’t honestly think I would give you the details, did you?”

  “B,” Ashley whispers.

  I don’t bother telling her that her choice means nothing to me because the reality is I was never going to allow her to pick my instrument. I recently purchased a leather sewing roulette because the wheel of twenty sharpened metal teeth on it intrigued me. Removing the tiny tool from my denim-pocket, I grip the wooden handle firmly in my grasp before running it up my index finger. The tiny teeth that are millimeters apart feel like needles pricking my skin, threatening to break through the layers if I apply too much pressure.

  “This might hurt,” I warn Ashley before walking a circle around her suspended body. I’m trying to figure out the best place to start, knowing it will come to me quicker if I let my eyes explore all the skin I have to work on.

  The only spot that captures my attention is the side of her rib cage. Most people are sensitive in this area, and a big part of me is curious to find out whether the slightest touch from my new device will have her squirming.

  The first invisible line I draw across her skin is done with a feather-light touch. I want to coax her mind into a false sense of security before proving what a grave mistake that is. The twitching of her muscles is proof that the sensation is uncomfortable, but her pain tolerance has grown since being with me, so I wasn’t expecting her to immediately cry out.

  It isn’t until I apply more pressure to the tool, watching the metal teeth dig into her skin, that her voice finally breaks on a whimper. I begin to become mesmerized with the red pattern that is left behind in the wheel’s wake. I keep the same pressure on the device as I start to make her body a work of art with the tool, her cries of pain becoming louder as I travel over her inner thighs. The soft sound makes my heart beat race with eagerness to hear her really scream. Applying more pressure, feeling the moment her skin gives under my strength, I embark on my mission to leave a trail of bloody dots in my wake.

  Ashley’s screams for help, and pleas for me to stop, do nothing but feed the monster inside me. He enjoys seeing the crimson liquid roll down her sides before dripping to the floor. He thrives on the pain of others, especially women. Inhaling deep, the scent of blood travels through my nose, making my mouth water with the need to taste her sweet offering.

  I stop my pursuit long enough to bend down and lick away the fresh beads of blood gathering on the crease of her asscheeks. The delicious metallic taste of her blood hits my tongue, and I close my eyes to savor the taste. I hadn’t planned on this night being such a treat, but I’m thankful for the turn of events. Once again focusing my attention on Ashley, I decide this is definitely something I want to try with Scarlett. Only with her, I’m not sure I will be able to stop at just one taste.

  After taking a long shower to rid my body of Ashley’s blood, I am now clean enough to carry out the second part of my plan. I had meant for Ashley to be able to walk to the Tarnished Souls compound after dropping her off at a safe distance away, but my earlier actions have made that impossible. The impromptu change doesn’t bother me because I had always known there was a possibility I wouldn’t be able to keep from hurting her. So, I had an alternative plan already formed. Instead of taking her to the compound, Ashley will now be dropped off at the rehabilitation center Saint calls home. Visiting hours will end in exactly one hour and fifteen-minutes, so I must hurry before Teller leaves and there is no one around to find her.

  Tate’s truck proves to be the uncomfortable ride I had feared it would be. I hate small places, not having the freedom to stretch out all my limbs makes my muscles twitch with annoyance. I remind myself to take a deep breath and try to ignore the fact that the oxygen I’m breathing feels warm in my lungs because of the tiny oven we are in.

  Ashley is riding in the middle of the bench seat with her eyes staring out of the front windshield. I remember the first time I stared into her eyes, the cloudy blue irises that captured every man’s attention around us, yet she was oblivious to their gazes. Innocence, that’s what stood out the most. Now, the vibrant green lenses she’s forced to wear aren’t even bright enough to hide the broken spirit that hides within.

  My eyes travel away from her blank-stare to memorize the rest of her body before it’s time to do what must be done. I had Tate clean her up while I was in the shower, but some of her injuries were too deep to stop the bleeding with bandages. The sewing roulette I used has left her looking like a patched-up doll without the thread. The pattern of holes left in her skin is some of my finest work, and I’m finding it hard to just hand over my masterpiece to men that can’t appreciate it. None of them will be appreciative in the hard work that went into creating such beauty, the screams that echoed off the walls, or the blood that once stained my hands.

  “We’re here,” Tate announces prying me out of my trance. Ripping my gaze from Ashley, I look up to see Teller’s Harley parked in the distance. There are no other bikes around his because there are still ten minutes left until visiting hours are over. Once Teller leaves for the night, two prospects will arrive to keep guard over the club’s enforcer, but none is needed while his brother sits with him.

  Grabbing Ashley’s arm, I pull her out of the truck. Her body immediately slumps against mine when I try to force her into a standing position. Her mind and body completely shutting down was not something I had planned for, and this new turn of events is threatening to ruin my entire plan. She was supposed to walk to Teller’s bike and wait on him to find her. I didn’t bring any back up, other than Tate, and the two of us will be no match for Teller in his current murderous state.

  “Grab her,” I order Tate.

  “We should just leave her here. Someone will find her,” Tate argues. He’s obviously aware of the possible danger that comes with my new plan.

  “It has to be a member that finds her. Grab her and I’ll follow behind you,” my tone leaves no room for argument and Tate doesn’t try to. He walks forward and takes Ashley into his arms. When her body doesn’t so much as twitch from his unwanted touch, I begin to get an idea of the damage this night has done to her, and the knowledge brings a smile to my face.

  The walk to Teller’s bike doesn’t take long, yet there is an unease that settles into my stomach. Tate gently places Ashley beside the Harley’s front wheel. Kneeling on one knee, I force her gaze toward mine, hoping the warning I speak will filter through the nightmare she’s reliving.

  “Remember, pretty girl if I don’t get back what I lost they will send you in its place.”

  The threat of her recapture punctures through the fog she’s lost in, and a simple nod of her head lets me know she
’s received my warning. Just as my left foot hits the pavement from me standing back to my full height, a sense of being watched comes over me. Looking around the parking lot that is lit up by low rate street lamps, and Tate’s headlights, I start to think it’s my paranoia. Then, like a moth to a flame, my eyes land on the only person to ever take my breath away with her beauty.

  Scarlett is standing fifty yards away directly under a light, unmoving, as her head continues to face in our direction. Her red hair is piled on top of her head, in a careless way, the baggy clothes she’s wearing hides her figure, but she is still the most amazing creature to walk this earth.

  “We need to go,” Tate says just as I take a step towards Scarlett. All logic is gone, and I can think of nothing other than recapturing what is rightfully mine.

  My forward motion isn’t slowed until I see the scared freak that takes place at my woman’s side. He forces her gaze from mine, with the tip of his finger, only to move his head in a gesture that orders her to get behind him. A shaky nod is Scarlett’s only response before she obeys his command. Red, it’s the only color I see as I watch my queen take orders from a mute. The blood flowing though my veins is bubbling with anger, forcing me into action without thought.

  I can’t yet see into Teller’s eyes, but I’m sure they hold the same regard as most my enemies do. He wants me dead. He wants the pleasure of my blood staining his hands, and the feeling is mutual. I’m going to cut every limb from his body that has touched my Scarlett’s skin. The closer I get to his figure, the clearer his smirk becomes. He’s taunting me. Teller knows she’s mine, and he is standing between us with a stupid fucking grin on his face.

  “We need to go,” Tate says, running up beside me holding his two revolvers, one in each hand. The searing hot rage running through my body has me acting like a rabid animal.

  “SHE’S MINE!” I roar. The venom in my words causes Scarlett’s hands to latch onto the side of Teller’s cut. She’s grasping at the vest of a Tarnished Souls member in fear of me. What have those assholes lead her to believe? How many lies have they told her about me?

  “He’ll kill you,” Tate warns while reaching out to stop me. No one, and I do mean no one, touches me without my permission. His actions have their desired effect when my feet come to a stop as I shrug his unwanted touch from my shoulder.

  Forcing my glare to move from my frightened V.P. to the man that is staring at me with a challenge in his eyes, I begin to listen to reason. I hold no threat to Teller other than to shoot him, but the bullets could rip right through his body into Scarlett’s. Patience is the only thing in my favor when going against an enemy such as him, so one backward step at a time, I start walking toward Tate’s truck. Teller watches us leave, disappointment lining his face, because he knows Tate’s bullets would stop him before he could reach us, and revenge is too precious to ruin.

  The only thing that keeps me from erupting with revulsion from my retreat is the promise I make to myself. The next time I lay eyes on Teller I will make him regret touching what is mine.