Torch (Tarnished Souls MC Book 1)

by Dusty Lassetter

  “Breakfast is getting cold, I made your favorite. Chocolate muffins.” I can hear the hope in her voice that this might be the morning I finally eat breakfast with her and Uncle Troy.

  “I’ll be down in just a few, just need to get dressed.” Is my only reply.

  It takes me less than fifteen minutes to get ready. I just throw on my skinny jeans and favorite batman hoodie I got for Christmas from my caseworker last year. I keep my long strawberry blonde hair down, to help shield my face. You do not grow up in a house with Christopher Price and not learn a few tricks to stay invisible. Next, I throw on my old black converse sneakers while sitting on the twin size bed with a deep purple comforter. My aunt let me decorate my room. I suppose she thought I would go over board because of the whole “Girls are meant to be spoiled” motto she has going on. To her complete shock, I only wanted one tiny black dresser that sits in the far corner of my room and this twin size bed that is the focal point of my twelve by twelve living space. She added the dark purple curtains with black floral pattern and cushions to the window seat across from my bed. I prefer to stay simple. Being meek and surviving is all I know.

  “I talked to Mr. Duncan last week, he has agreed to keep a watchful eye over Candice.” I can hear Aunt Stacy say, through the swinging doors of the kitchen.

  “She will be fine, Dear. Let’s try not to overwhelm her on the first day at a new school.” Uncle Troy replies, kissing my aunt softly on the lips.

  Their PDA is a strange thing to witness because I never encountered loving embraces growing up. The only time Christopher got close to mom was to knock her around.

  Nudging the corner of the door, I take one last deep breath before stepping into the kitchen. My aunt is standing behind the island that splits the kitchen in half. Yellow cream-colored walls are accented with mocha brown crown moldings. There are several signs and pictures on the wall of coffee and different characters drinking it. I have come to notice people in Florida do love their coffee and my aunt is no exception. The walnut stained wooden floors and sandy marble counter tops really complete the look. Walking to the refrigerator, I notice my aunt staring at me out of the corner of my eye. She does not comment about me wearing a hoodie in the summer anymore, and I am thankful. She seems to realize my need to hide is something I can’t change.

  As far as the family resemblance goes, there really is none. She has long honey brown hair, dark brown eyes, and a soft round face. My eyes are blue and my cheekbones are more pronounced. She is a few inches taller than my five- two frame. My nose has a light dusting of freckles while her skin is flawless. I can understand why my Uncle Troy adores her. She has natural beauty that these plastic surgery zombies around here do not have. She is also very kind, and can even be protective at times. Personality wise she reminds me a lot of my mother.

  “So Candice your aunt and I have decided I will drive you to school today, on my way to the office.” Uncle Troy explains as he takes a sip of his coffee.

  My Uncle Troy is at least five-eleven and weighs one hundred and ninety pounds. He has kind blue eyes and black hair with the slightest bit of grey on the sides. He is a divorce lawyer for a firm here in Tampa. He seems to make good money and takes good care of my aunt.

  “Are you ready? “He asks as he puts a muffin in my hand and urges me out of the kitchen, Aunt Stacy trailing right behind us.

  “Candice you have a great first day, if you need me call me, I programmed my number on your new iPhone!”

  With a lump in my throat, all I can manage is a head nod to Aunt Stacy.

  Walking to the car, I take in the neighborhood that has become my permanent address, at least until my birthday in two months. The irony that my birthday just so happens to be on Halloween, Christopher was the devil after all.

  I continue to make my way down the path, It’s your typical Florida suburban neighborhood. Palm trees lining the asphalt road. Houses sit twenty feet apart that all look alike. The same red brick pattern and the same height. All the beige mailboxes sitting at the end of the driveways, some of their red flags raised waiting on the postal worker to pass by.

  Getting into the back seat of Troy’s black BMW I take another deep breath to calm my nerves. Therapy really helped me with my anxieties, but today is going to test me. I’m going to a new school, and will not be able to completely control my environment. Staring out the window, looking at the palm trees blur by, I tell myself for the hundredth time, “Candice you can do this.”

  Everywhere I look kids are running, walking, or skating around. I barely remember Troy-saying bye as he drove off. My anxiety is so high my chest is tightening. Rushing water is the only noise I hear around me and my breathing is shallow. If I do not find a remote place to calm down, everyone is going to figure out what a true freak I am.

  I start to walk toward a clearing I see in the distance between two large buildings that I know to be the school and gym. Written in bold red lettering on the building to the left is Gatesville High School. I shield my face with my hair and put my hood up over my head. No one seems to care about the pathetic new girl so I easily make it to my destination. I survey the area to make sure no one followed me, and then lean my head against the gym wall. Taking several deep breaths while counting to ten in my head, I notice my heart rate start too slow down. That is until I hear the rustle of clothing.

  My head whips up so fast my hood flies off, and I nearly lose my balance. I peer up at this huge figure standing over me. The top of my head barely reaches his shoulders. I notice dirty blonde hair, cut short on the sides but longer on the top allowing some to hang down in his face, a strong jawline and a nose that tilts to the left side just a fraction. The bit of hair hanging down his face highlights the most amazing hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. He is wearing a green shirt that stretches over his huge arms and frame, making the green specks in his eyes shine brighter. His hands are twice the size of mine, easily capable of breaking me. There is a scratch on his cheek, making him look all that more threatening. I know I should run, but I’m not.

  Why am I not running?

  Chapter 2

  Taz

  I’m fucked up, and I’m not referring to my beaten body. I’m completely fucked up in the head. I’m a sick, depraved, monster. Serenity, my club’s president’s, innocent daughter, is straddling my thighs, grinding her jean clad pussy on my lap, and all I can think about is how good it would feel to be deep inside her. That’s not what makes me a monster, although that is pretty shitty. Nope, the most disturbing part of this scenario is the, sick bastard, holding a camera, recording her every movement. Slasher is using me against, Serenity, despite my many attempts to have him end my life. Why she continues to do the things they force her is lost on me. I’m nothing more than a school crush that has lasted because, Buck, has separation issues. Had he allowed her to experience somewhat of a normal life she wouldn’t be so inclined to save mine. I realize I sound like an ungrateful bastard, and you probably hate me. I really only have one thing to say to that. Get in line. No one hates me as much as I do myself right now. Saying this brings me back to my present situation. My body aches, I probably look like ran over dog shit, and smell like it as well, but none of this matters. Not as long as she is on my lap, her tiny body fitting against my larger in a way I’ve never experienced. Serenity is perfect. That’s why no matter how hard I try the blood, that should be pouring out of my open wounds, is rerouting itself to the one place it shouldn’t. I’ve kept my arms at my sides, despite the many times they’ve wanted to reach out and caress her skin. Her blonde hair is hanging loose. Falling down her bare breast, now that she’s taken off her shirt. I’ve always been an ass man, but my eyes can’t help staying glued to the sides of her tits, slightly swaying from her movement. Every once in a while, giving me a small glimpse of pink nipples. My depraved brain begging me to take one into my mouth.

  “Stand up.” Slasher commands, once again bringing me back to reality, and the reality is that she’s being forced to do this.
I should keep my eyes closed, like she has done, but like I previously stated. I’m a fucked up, vile, son of a bitch, that’s already punched his ticket into hell.

  “Remove the rest of your clothes.”

  The growl that leaves my chest can’t be helped. I’ve let this go on long enough. Only over my dead body will he get her to remove the rest of her clothes. As long as there is still breath in my lungs, blood in my veins, Serenity will not be coerced to do anything else. Without my being here she will be better off. Slasher will no longer have any leverage, making her boring to him. I’ve listened carefully to the things, Slasher, and his men have said. I’m no idiot. They are trying to trade her for another, with red hair, and I’d bet my left nut that the girl he wants is, Scarlett. Without this game to keep him occupied he will grow more impatient, demanding a trade sooner than later. Buck may have a soft spot for Mia and her sisters, we all do really, but the choice between Serenity and Scarlett would be a no brainer.

  Standing up, using the last of my strength to do so, I shove Serenity behind me. She lets out a scream of surprise, before openly begging me to sit back down. I can understand why she is scared. Had I not seen, or experienced, worse in my lifetime I might be frightened too.

  “Let’s go, Mother Fucker, just you and me.” I say to him. Surprised by the lack of shock or fear on his face. It’s not every day I come across someone that isn’t intimidated by my size. I’m the tallest member in our club, and tower over most people I meet.

  “I was wondering how long it would take for your knight to protect you, Princess.” He states, talking to, Serenity. “It took longer than I thought. I guess he isn’t as possessive as most bikers.” I don’t bother responding. Moving forward, bringing my knee up into his stomach, I wait for him to lean over in pain before landing a clean shot right to the side of his temple. He proves to be one tough bastard when he doesn’t go down. Most men would have been knocked out with that hit, not him.

  “You’re going to regret that.” He breathes, shaking his head loose from any cob webs that may have formed. I charge forward, barreling into him hard enough to send us both falling to the ground, landing hard on my shoulder. I hear the popping of bones, before I manage to maneuver myself on top of him. Pulling my arm back, the throbbing in my shoulder stops me from hitting as hard as I can, yet I still manage to land a decent shot.

  “Taz.” I hear, Serenity, cry out. Just before two men appear at my side, fists already flying. The hit to my left rib cage nearly has me blacking out. I’m certain they’ve cracked a rib, but I force the fog back, unwilling to give into the pain this time.

  “GO… SERENTIY..RUN..” I shout out, hoping she listens. I’m not sure how much longer I can fight off three men. If there was ever a time for her to get away it would be now. Several hits land on the side of my head, knocking me off, Slasher. Giving them the upper hand. There is really nothing else for me to do other than kick blindly and hope my death is quick.

  “GET OFF OF HIM..” I hear a familiar voice screech out. One of the men grunt, landing beside me on the ground, his knees hitting the concrete. Serenity is on his back, clinging to him like a spider monkey, fists flying in every direction. “GET OFF OF HIM..” She screams again, filling the basement with echoes of her possessed voice.

  “ENOUGH.” Slasher screams, ripping her off his guard by the long strands of hair still draping across her bare skin. When she lets out a whimper, I move to stand up, only to be stopped with a boot to my already injured side. Slasher stands just a few feet away from me, controlling Serenity with the grip he has on her hair. A look of excitement making his eyes glow. Why the fuck didn’t she run? Now they will probably kill us both, but not before making her suffer.

  “Give me your knife.” Slasher orders, talking to one of his soldiers. “Drag him over to the chair, make sure he keeps his eyes open.” Grabbing me by my arms, the men begin to drag my bloodied, beaten, body to the chair that was tossed across the room during our struggle.

  “You realize I didn’t want to have to do this, Princess.” Slasher says, taunting Serenity. “You made a good decision by not running, but then you attacked a member of my club. If I allow you to get by with that, without a punishment, I’ll look weak. You don’t want me to look weak, do you?”

  When, Serenity, looks in my direction, hurting herself by straining against his hold, I try once again to bait him. Taking a stab in the dark, hoping I’m right about my earlier assumption, I say the one thing I know will piss him off. Forcing out a laugh first, I get his attention, “you find me amusing?” He questions. A look of curiosity and annoyance flickering across his face.

  “I was just remembering the last piece of pussy I had. I believe you might know her.”

  “Is that right?” He asks, obviously intrigued by what he doesn’t know. I focus only on him, not having the stomach to look at Serenity when I say what I have to. I might not be able to go through with the lie if I see the hurt on her face.

  “Red hair, green eyes, a pussy that taste of strawberries.” I declare, watching his controlled face contort with anger. That’s right, you have a weakness, and I’ve found it. “What I wouldn’t give to have, Scarlett’s, lips wrapped around my cock one last time.”

  “You hear that, Princess.” He states, surprising me when he breaks our eye contact to look at Serenity. “He’s just confessed to taking something that belongs to me.” Slasher says, walking her backwards, until her back hits the wall.

  No. What is he doing? This was not how I pictured this playing out. I can no longer see, Serenity. His larger frame covering her smaller one. I can see him firmly grasp the knife in his hand, before holding it in a way that suggest it’s resting on her throat. The room has grown so quiet, the sound of him undoing her zipper can easily be heard. With a roar, that comes from deep in my soul, I spring to my feet. Just a few yards until I reach my target, then I can rip his fucking head off, shove it up his ass, and get us both out of here.

  It’s not the hit from the fist, to the side of my face, or the blow to my back that sends me to my knees. The black dots in front of my eyes, causing me to lose focus on Slasher is brought on by the chair that was just smashed over my head. Reaching my hand out, like the pussy I am, I fight the sleep that is threatening to take over. A real man would have saved her. I just fed her to the wolves, the very ones that have been using her as a chew toy. I’m a worthless bastard. I can hear her muffled cries, begging them to leave me alone, right before another blow to the head sends me into complete darkness. The vision of Slasher, ripping her pants open, is the last thing I see.

  ##########

  What the hell just happened? Shaking my head, a sharp pain shoots through my temples. My eyes are groggy, and I feel as if I’ve been asleep for years. When the aches and pains start throbbing throughout my body, my brain slowly begins to piece together the puzzle that is laid before it. Serenity and I were taken by, Slasher, and his band of dumbasses. We’ve been in this basement for days, possibly weeks, who really knows. Noticing my vision starting to clear, as long as I don’t move too fast, I slowly trail my eyes over the room. Where is Serenity? She’s usually right beside me. My movement is sluggish, at best, but I still manage to scan the entire area. I start to panic when I see the broken pieces of chair in the center of the floor, and a busted radio thrown to my left. Like a whirlwind, memories come flooding back into my head. Scrambling to my feet, I stagger side to side, but determination to find her keeps me up right. Sliding my feet forward, because I can’t pick them up, the sound of someone crying stops me.

  Following the noise to the darkest corner in the room, by the stairs, I catch a glimpse of Serenity huddled in on herself. Her jean clad legs are tucked into her chest, long blond hair cascading down, her face hidden in her knees. Taking off my shirt, that’s covered in blood and other fluids, I gradually make my way to her. She doesn’t bother to look up, just continues to break right in front of me. Rage, as pure as it comes, runs cold through my veins just thinking of
what she was going through while I was knocked out. I did this, not directly, but I’m the one that set the events into motion. Instead of playing him, like I wanted, he called my bluff.

  Falling to my knees beside her, despite my muscles screaming at me in agony, I place her in my lap. Stretching my legs out, she is now cradled on my chest, still tucked into herself. I softly drape my shirt over her bare shoulders. Wanting her to feel somewhat secured. Resting my head against the wall, I keep myself calm thinking of the many ways I will kill anyone that touched her. Absent mindedly I wrap my arms around her, rocking us from side to side. It’s something my mother used to do for me when I was a boy. Anytime I was upset, or having a bad day, she would take me in her arms and rock me. It always soothed me, and right now Serenity needs something to lessen her pain.

  When her moans of agony eventually turn to sobs, before becoming nothing more than whimpers, I force her to look at me. There’s so many things I want to say, but only one I need to. Blue eyes, puffy and red, stare into mine. Her face is streaked with dirt, the tears leaving a trail of clean skin behind, her straight-edged nose red from rubbing it.

  “I’ll make them pay, Angel. I’ll make them wish they never touched you.”

  She can hear the sincerity in my voice, and the knowledge that I’ll keep that promise brings us both some relief. Resting her head on my chest, instead of disappearing into herself again, she takes a deep breath. Her shoulders only shaking slightly, proving to me just how strong she is.

  “He didn’t rape me, Taz.” She mummers, “he said they wanted you awake for that.” The pain in her voice indicating he still did something. Hearing those words, no matter how selfish it is, honestly takes a weight off my soul. I’m aware she stilled payed a price for my stupidity, but any other wound can be easier healed.