Evil’s Price: Devil’s Outlaws MC: Book One

by Dark, Raven

  Such misogynistic thinking is not new to me. Women in the Colony had to bow and scrape to the men. But the men there never put it quite so overtly, and they usually gave it their usual “God’s will” spin. I say nothing, working my arms and rubbing the welts on my wrists left behind by the ropes while he unties my ankles.

  Back at the side of the bed again, he takes my elbow and helps me sit up, then pulls me to my feet. He lifts my wrist, running his thumb over the red rope burns there. I hold back a wince.

  Forcing myself to meet his eyes, I search their icy depths for any hint of compassion. There’s nothing there but cold indifference now. Even the lust I saw in them earlier is gone. I look away, feeling bereft and empty.

  “Come with me.” He keeps a grip on my elbow while he walks to the bathroom. Once I’m inside, instead of shutting the door, he leans on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest once more.

  “What are you waiting for?” He nods to the toilet.

  I stare at him. “You’re going to watch me?”

  “You’re expecting me to let you give me the slip again? Privacy is not a right for you. It’s a privilege. Until you earn my trust, I want eyes on you at all times.”

  I press my lips together. That’s exactly the sort of thing the guards and pastors said to congregants after they violated the rules set out by the church. No one forced us to pee in front of them, but there were windows in all the doors that allowed them to look in on us at any time. I’ve gotten out of one prison only to end up in another.

  And the upward curve of his lips as he watches me doesn’t go unnoticed. He might be keeping an eye on me, but he’s also enjoying himself.

  Sighing, I do my business, as he put it, trying to pretend he isn’t there. It’s impossible to ignore him. His eyes are on me all the time, burning into my back when I flush, raking over me when I face him.

  Shame and indignation worm their way into me. “Can I at least have some clothes?”

  “No.”

  ‘Why?”

  “You won’t need them.”

  Oh, that’s not good. He isn’t going to force me to walk around this place naked the entire time I’m here, is he?

  Back in the bedroom, he goes toward the dresser, motioning for me to follow him. “Come here.”

  Anxiety stops me at the foot of the bed. “Spider, what are you going to do to me?”

  Without answering, he takes the collar I was wearing last night from the dresser where I’d left it, along with a long silver chain from the drawer. My heart freezes in my chest. The chain has a hook on one end and a loop on the other.

  It’s a leash.

  When he makes his way toward me, I step back in reflex.

  Spider seizes my wrist and yanks me to him. He fists my hair, pulling my head back, leaving me no route of escape. Those perfect blue eyes trap mine. “What did I tell you last night before we left the strip club?”

  My brain rushes to catch up, but I’m not sure what he’s referring to.

  “Obedience keeps you alive,” he reminds me. “Don’t give me a reason to kill you.”

  And just like that, it’s as if he’s flipped a switch inside me. That reasonless fear I felt earlier today seeps in, and the fight goes out of me. My gaze shoots to the floor and my arms drop.

  I’m incapable of going against him, paralyzed with a fear of something that has no face, no form. Envisioning hellfire and pain that that makes no sense.

  But that’s the thing—Spider is as far from a Colony soldier or pastor as they come, but make no mistake, he can hurt me. The clubhouse might not have an isolation chamber, but Spider has made it clear, he can bring his own brand of hell down on me if he chooses. Suddenly, I’m the Colony robot again, an obedient servant bound for hell if I resist.

  A half a second later, I manage to shake the stupor off, meet his gaze, and nod. This is the wrong time to fight. He has far too much advantage here.

  Spider slips the collar around my neck and clips the hook at the end of the chain to the loop at the front of the collar. Then he tugs me over to the bed. “Sit. I’ll get you something to eat.”

  As soon as I sit, he slips the loop at the other end of the chain over the bed knob.

  “Are you going to punish me?” I ask his feet.

  He cups my chin with his fingers. “Yes.”

  The pleasure in his tone sends a spear through my heart and compels my eyes to meet his. There’s a world of experience in his gaze, and a promise of pain. And of carnal things I’ve been raised my whole life to believe no woman should know before marriage.

  Desperate for some way to prepare myself for the hell ahead, I look away and force myself to ask. “What… What will you do?”

  He sweeps my curls behind my shoulders. There’s no warmth in that touch. It’s gentle, but the way a man would be gentle when taking care of his favorite toy. “I’m going to fuck you.”

  Again, my eyes dart to his. He said that with such shameless matter-of-factness that it leaves me breathless. After last night, he knows I’ve never been with a man. He has to know I’m terrified, and he doesn’t care.

  Turning my face up to his, he traces my mouth with his thumb. “Sit tight.”

  He’s gone before I can respond.

  My hands shake. Dear God, it would have been better if he’d just had his way with me first instead of bothering with feeding me. Now I have to sit here waiting for him with my mind spinning over what he’ll do to me. I wrap my arms around myself, wishing I could just disappear. Wishing I’d tried harder to get away.

  The chain dangling from my neck clinks softly, and I stare at the length of it that reaches up to the bedpost, shocked that he has anything like that.

  Then I remember. I’ve heard about those things before.

  The leader of His Holy Peace, David Gild, once told the congregation that there were men in the outside world who took women as slaves. That they held them prisoner with leashes just like this one. I’d be terrified that Spider owns a slave chain, but I’m not a slave, and I know he doesn’t see me as one.

  If he did, I’d be beaten and kept chained to a wall or in a cell. Spider wouldn’t have let me escape, and he’d have killed me the minute I tried. I wouldn’t have the kinds of freedom I’ve been given.

  Still. Is that sort of containment measure standard for bikers when they don’t trust a woman not to bolt? It’s unnerving to see yet another truth in the stories the pastors warned us about. This MC is starting to feel alarmingly like the hellish world they were referring to. How much more of what they said is true?

  When Spider returns, he’s carrying a tray with two bowls of chili, a couple of rolls, a bottle of water, and a beer. Condensation covers the sides of the bottles. The water looks wonderfully cold.

  “Ten minutes. Eat up.” He gives me the tray, sits on the bed beside me, takes a bowl and the beer, and sets the bottle on the floor.

  I devour the meal but taste none of it. Anxiety tightens my chest as the minutes tick by, knowing it’s only a matter of time before he does whatever twisted things he’s been waiting to do to me.

  Spider says nothing while he eats and hardly takes his eyes off of me. He downs half his beer and offers me a drink. I shake my head jerkily.

  “Suit yourself.” He takes another pull.

  My nipples tighten under that searing stare. He looks at me as if he owns me.

  Seth used to stare at me, but unlike when Spider does it, he never made me feel as if my blood was on fire. Every time Seth’s eyes were on me, it made my skin crawl.

  When we’ve both finished eating, my captor sets the dishes on the nightstand and rises to his feet. “All right, time to get you cleaned up. Get up.”

  My mind races. It takes a Herculean effort to rise to my feet. There’s zero hope of stopping him. Resistance would only postpone the inevitable.

  Standing before him, I marvel at how huge he looks, how bone-crushingly strong. His eyes rake over my body, drinking everything in as if it’s his right.


  I’m so not ready for this.

  “Spider—“

  He puts his fingers to my lips. It’s written all over his face, my fate is sealed. Helplessness sets in, my throat tightening.

  Spider takes the chain off of me, leaving it hanging from the bedpost, then removes the collar from my neck and tosses it on the bed.

  He thumbs one of my nipples until it bunches in response. “So perfect. Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you?” His voice is a carnal growl.

  Humiliation scalds my cheeks and I look away.

  “You really do hate me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You know that turns me on, right? The harder you fight, the harder you make me.”

  I immediately go still, and he smirks. He pats my ass and releases me, gesturing for me follow him to the bathroom.

  Running for the door would only make things worse, so I roll my head back and follow him. He flicks on the shower, and while the water warms up, he has me brush my teeth. He does the same, standing at the sink beside me. When we’re done, he tests the water. Steam rises from the stall. He nods for me to get in and strips himself down.

  Much as I hate the idea of having to shower with him, the water feels amazing. The hot spray soaks my skin and hair, washing away the sweat of the day, rejuvenating me. Until Spider steps in after me.

  The man is beautiful, every inch of him layered with muscle, his chest and arms covered in inked works of art. But his huge frame also makes the average sized tub feel small and cramped. His erection juts up from between his legs, proud and hard and as monstrous as it felt in my mouth last night.

  My sex tightens, but so does my stomach. He fists his shaft and slides his hand up and down, the corners of his mouth twitching when he sees me staring. I press myself to the wall before I consider my actions.

  Spider seizes my wrist, yanking me to him, his expression hard and merciless. I look away, and he jerks my face to his.

  “Look at me. No hiding from me.”

  I cock my head at him mockingly. He just smirks.

  We wash, and he doesn’t say a word. Spider soaps himself up, working the lather over his muscles, which flex powerfully with the movements. My mouth waters, and I hate myself for it.

  I turn my back to him, letting the spray wash away the soap from my skin. I can’t fight him, but I don’t have to watch him.

  A low growl of warning sounds in my ear as he presses into me from behind, and immediately I realize my mistake.

  The head of his shaft jabs into my butt cheeks while his big palms slide over my soap-slicked skin. Then one fist seizes my hair and he yanks my head back. I gasp, and he pins me against him with his other arm around my waist.

  “What did I just say?”

  I wince at the sting on my scalp, my breathing ragged. “No hiding from you,” I pant.

  “You don’t turn your back on me.” He pushes me up against the wall so that my breasts are flattened to the tiles. He grinds himself into me.

  This makes no sense. The man scares the life out of me and I hate him, but my sex is on fire, every inch of my blood superheated.

  Keeping his grip on my hair, he wraps his other hand around my jaw, forcing it up.

  Panic bolts through me, and I squirm helplessly against him. “Spider…” His name comes out a high, shaky plea. “Please…”

  “Maybe you want to be fucked this way, hmm? If you can’t see who’s behind you, you aren’t safer this way. I could bring anyone in here. Let my brothers fuck you while I watch.”

  Terror rips through me. What he does to me is bad enough, but sharing me with other men? I’d die. And yet, I can feel my sex slicking even more at the thought of him watching me taking anyone he chooses. I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out except a whimper.

  “No? You wouldn’t like that?” He runs his palm over my stomach, then down between my legs, fingers teasing my aching clit. Sliding through the slickness there. “You’re so fucking wet. I’ll bet your pussy got wetter when I said I’d watch you with my boys. Didn’t it?”

  Please, please, Lord, no. I try to step on his foot, try to yank myself out of his grip.

  His hardness jumps in response, bouncing against my butt. He rumbles in greedy approval, breathing me in. Heart racing, I squeeze my eyes shut. Unable to fight, I wait for the inevitable.

  He pushes my ankles apart with his feet, spreading my legs. His fingers strum my clit, and that same tide of need I felt last night swells in me, mounting with each stroke. I sob in shame.

  “Fuck. You’re ready to pop, aren’t you? Come on, Wildcat. Fuck my fingers.”

  Oh, no. No, no, no, he can’t. But his fingers continue their torment, and that wave threatens to explode inside me, to rip me apart. My hips rock as if his words have taken over my body, rubbing my traitorous sex against his touch.

  My own sin sinks its claws in, tearing at my soul.

  He hums in satisfaction. “Good girl.” His tongue flicks my ear. “Come on. You wanna come, don’t you? Just let yourself go.”

  This animal can’t possibly understand how much he’s hurting me by forcing this on me.

  “I’m not… I can’t.” A broken sob escapes me. I try to stop the tide from rising, try to pull away, but he pins me to the wall and keeps stroking me. I’ve never felt anything like this. My body gyrates, my sex grinding hard against his fingers. “Please, I can’t. It’s not allowed. It’s forbidden…”

  “Is it now?”

  I can hear the calculation under the hunger in his voice. He nips my shoulder and the pain makes me hotter. He licks away the sting, his fingers changing pace and pressure, intensifying my need.

  I make a high keening sound. Just when I’m about to come apart, his fingers slide away. I let out a mournful cry as it hits home what I’ve done. Spider’s chest rises and falls fast against my back, his breath hot on my neck. The tide recedes, unspent.

  The weight of my own sin makes my chest tight. He played me. He did it just long enough to prove I wanted him and then didn’t even let me finish.

  Again.

  I pant and close my eyes, hot tears falling.

  Spider spins me around. He presses against me, pinning me between the wall and his frame.

  “I hate you,” I tell him.

  “Shut the fuck up.” His head swoops in, and his lips devour mine.

  Oh, Lord help me. This is the first time Spider has ever kissed me, and while he might be the devil, it feels like heaven. His mouth is strong and wide and hot, heightening the need his fingers just called up in me.

  I make an angry noise against his mouth. Spider rumbles as if he loves the sound. He fists my hair, angling my head the way he likes while his tongue plungers my mouth. His beard scrapes my chin, and I hate how good it feels. I try to twist my face away, so his other hand traps my jaw. His tongue bullies mine, searing with every lick.

  The man isn’t kissing me. He’s marauding my mouth, a conqueror’s kiss.

  My core aches until it hurts, my body growing so hot that if I wasn’t meshed between him and the wall, I’d drop to the bathtub floor in a heap.

  Spider kisses me so hard his teeth scrape mine. A useless growl of rage escapes me and he lifts his head, his lips twisted into a wicked smile. He steps away, and my gaze goes involuntarily to his junk. He’s lividly hard.

  “Told you it turns me on when you resist.” He steps out of the shower.

  I can’t stop this crazy train, but I can at least make it clear where I stand.

  “You disgust me,” I tell him, remaining where I am.

  “Liar. Get out here.”

  I step out, and when we’re both dry, he grips my nape and strides into the bedroom. He stops at the foot of the bed and his chest heats my back, his hands gliding across my stomach.

  “I’ve been going crazy thinking about you all day.” A low, dark rasp in my ear, his voice is so filled with need that it sounds almost demonic. “I’m gonna show you what your body
is made for.”

  It takes everything in me not to whip around and punch him. My body trembles, my skin pricking with mounting dread even while my nipples harden to pinprick points.

  I lift my chin and say nothing.

  Spider draws a deep breath. “You smell so fucking good.” His fingers pinch my nipples, twisting them. The pleasure-pain laps at my clit.

  “Do you know why I haven’t killed you?” The tip of his tongue runs along the side of my neck, up to my ear.

  The sound of my own panting fills my ears along with the hammer of my heart. I wait with bated breath.

  He tongues my earlobe into his mouth and sucks it before he answers. “Because I’d rather fuck you.”

  The words shouldn’t shock me. On some level, I knew I was nothing more than a plaything to him, just like Tequila implied. Still, hearing him reduce me to nothing but a toy kept alive for his pleasure…

  Humiliation eats at me while anger burns my blood. I try to twist around and shove at him. He must have figured it was coming, because his arm is suddenly around my throat.

  Trapping me against him, he walks me forward until I’m pressed against the footboard.

  “Behave yourself, or I’ll tan your ass before I shove my cock down your throat.”

  After last night, the last thing I want is to choke on him again, and the idea of him slapping my backside until it’s on fire stops me cold. I go slack in his grip.

  “Good girl.” He releases me. “Get on the bed.”

  Closing my eyes and praying he dies a slow and painful death, I crawl over the footboard and onto his bed. I knee walk to the middle of the mattress.

  Before I can lie down, the end of the bed dips with Spider’s weight, and he pushes me onto my back. He crawls between my legs, grabs my knees, and yanks me toward him.

  The urge to fight wells up, but I tamp it down. His fist pumps his shaft.

  “I should make you suck me off, but if I do that, I won’t last.”

  Suck him off? Everything about that phrase is crude and wrong, but I love the sound of it, as much as I love the guttural sound of his voice when he’s aroused.

  Saying nothing, I lie across his bed and stare hard at the ceiling, putting up the only resistance I can—not responding. Shutting down and retreating inside myself to a place where he can’t reach.