Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
B ELLE
When I wake, up I’m on a bed somewhere, with a girl sitting next to me, looking down at me.
She has a blonde pixie cut and is wearing big gold hoops in her ears.
“Um… hi?” I say with a wince, struggling to sit up.
The girl leaps into action. “Here, let me help you.” She leans past me to rearrange my pillows, and I’m hit with the tantalizing scent of Patchouli and Ylang-Ylang. She punches the pillows then guides me down so I can settle against them. “You got a nasty bump on your head when you collapsed, so you’ll need to take it easy for a while.”
She’s not lying. My head is pounding.
I bring my hand to my forehead. That’s when I realize I’m chained to the bed. My wrist is bound by an iron shackle and a heavy chain bolted to the floor. “What the fuck?”
“Oh, that’s there for your own good.”
“My own good?”
“On account of your concussion. If you went wandering, you could get hurt. This place is big and there are lots of places you could disappear into. If you hurt yourself, it could take a while to find you.”
“Surely a lock on the door would suffice?”
“Beast said this was the best way. And we always do what Beast says.” Dimples press into her cheeks when she smiles. “Here, let me take care of those for you.”
She produces an intricate iron key from the tiny pair of shorts she’s wearing and unlocks the shackle. It clicks and pops open.
“Thanks,” I say, rubbing my wrist.
She tucks the key back into her shorts and settles on the edge of the bed. “My name is Mya.”
“Belle.”
“I know. You’re the talk of the club since Beast brought you in.”
“I’m in the clubhouse?”
Everyone in St. Boniface knows about the old ruins perched on the hill overlooking the town. Its where the Knights of St. Boniface motorcycle club live and run the town and surrounding counties. At night, you can look out your window from anywhere in town and see the glowing lights in the looming ruins. The castle is as old as the town. Built by a filthy rich founder back in the seventeenth century, it was abandoned and left to ruin when the Spanish flu swept through the town in the early 1900s and claimed the lives of almost everyone who resided there.
Left to rot and ruin in the rain and sun, the Knights purchased it in a mysterious deal when the club emerged out of the shadows of WWI.
“What happened?” I ask, rubbing my aching jaw. It feels like I was hit in the face by a sledgehammer.
“Beast didn’t say much when he brought you here. But that’s typical of our prez. He doesn’t say a lot.”
I frown, trying to peel back the layers of memory. The last thing I remember is Gaston and his men breaking into my house.
I sit up with a rush.
“Uncle Maurice!” My eyes dart to Mya. “Where is my uncle?”
She looks concerned and fear snowballs in my chest.
“I’m sorry, Belle. You’ll have to speak to Beast about that. He didn’t tell me.”
“Then take me to Beast,” I say, trying to climb off the bed. But a wave of nausea hits me and I have to steady myself against the dizziness that crashes into me.
Mya grabs a glass of water from the bedside table. “Here, drink this.”
I gulp down a mouthful before I realize it isn’t normal water. It tastes of citrus and berries, with a hint of something earthy. It’s delicious.
“What is this?”
“It’s phantasia water. Sophia, one of the other club girls makes it with fruit and herbs from the garden.”
“Club girl?”
“We look after the Knights. We keep it real around here, Belle. The Knights like to fuck, and we are here to fuck them.” She smiles sweetly. “But it’s more than that. We’re a family.”
I remember talk in town when I was growing up. About the women who reside with the Knights, catering to their every need. Beautiful women who live in perpetual bliss as they are looked after and fucked by the legendary motorcycle men. They rarely come to town which only fuels the rumors about them more.
“I need to find my uncle,” I say, desperate for news of him.
“You will need to wait until Beast comes back.”
“Where is here?”
“He is taking care of some business in town. But when he returns, he’ll explain everything to you. Until then you need to eat.” Mya hands me a plate from the nightstand. On it is a delicious looking sandwich. “Roast beef, Swiss cheese and mustard relish.”
I want to make some kind of stand and refuse the food and demand to be released.
But I know Mya isn’t going to let me go no matter how hard I demand it. Also, I’m starving, and that sandwich is begging to be eaten.
I try not to give in.
But then my stomach growls, and I know I’ve lost the battle.
I grab the sandwich and bite into it, and my eyes roll to the back of my head when the explosion of mustard relish and Swiss cheese hits my tongue.
“Oh my God…” I moan around the mouthful of food.
Mya giggles, and it’s light and playful and makes me think of childhood summer days and swimming at the beach. A time when the only thing I had to worry about was sunburn and sand rash.
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” she says as she stands. “Now, is there anything else I can get for you?”
“I suppose a way out of the clubhouse is out of the question?” I ask, finishing the first half of the sandwich.
Mya smiles softly, empathizing with my situation.
“Please don’t fret, you’re safe. Nothing will happen to you here.”
“I’ve been kidnapped by some giant man who had me shackled me to a bed. Sorry to disappoint you, but every cell in my body is telling me to fret right now. I can’t just accept this without question.”
Mya’s smile fades.
“You must do as he says,” she warns.
I scoff, reaching for the glass of phantasia water and take another mouthful. Seriously, it’s the most incredible thing I’ve had in my mouth in a long time. Even better than the sandwich. “Do as he says?” I shake my head and take another mouthful of water. “Not a chance.”
“Then things could get very complicated for you.” She chooses her words carefully and they send a shudder through me, but they’re not spoken with warning, more regret than anything.
She gives me a small, remorseful smile and then turns to leave.
When she reaches the door, I call out to her. “Who is he anyway? Your prez?”
She turns back to look at me and mischief tugs at her lips. “Why…he’s the Beast, of course.”
When she closes the door, I hear the latch slide and know I am locked in.
My nerves rattle.
I’ve never done well with confined spaces, and knowing the door is locked and I have no way out brings on a surge of anxiety.
Once upon a time, I asked my uncle why I feel trapped by locked doors. Was there something in my past? Was I traumatized by anything? But he just shook his head and told me that sometimes people develop these kinds of quirks. I guess he's right. My childhood was normal. Apart from the loss of my parents.
I let out a huff of breath.
I suppose I could start banging on the door and demand to be set free.
But I have a feeling that would be a waste of energy.
And I need to play this smart.
I need to pick my battles to win the war.
For now, I will wait.
So I reach for the second half of the sandwich and take a bite.