Legion (The Saviors MC #3)

Prologue

LOVE…

LEGION

A ll I know of love is that once you succumb, you’re simply existing in an amaranthine state of fucking agony. Love is the death of disseverment, of all contentment and tranquility. Love is where peace of mind ceases to exist.

Not even bearing witness to her Pagan vows, spoken with such purity…such damnable conviction …had been enough to break the strangling chains which bind my black heart to her.

The metallic tinge of blood still lingers in my mouth.

While watching from the shadows, biting my tongue to prevent the darkness within me from spewing curses at the happy couple , I’d swallowed my resentful craving for vengeance against her.

She made me feel this pain…this wretched, pathetic longing.

I glare at myself in the mirror above the dresser in this seedy motel room. The vicious prick staring back is familiar—same angular jaw, same perpetual sneer twisting his lips, same dark hair, and pale grey eyes. Though there’s something more behind these eyes now.

Something that wasn’t there a year ago.

Fucking simp!

The bathroom door creaks open behind me, and I slide my gaze to study her appearance in the reflection.

The silhouette in the dark room could be hers .

That’s the only reason I procured this harlot tonight.

Her thick, curvaceous body bears a resemblance to that of the little witch, and I knew I’d need to find release tonight… Her wedding night.

I shouldn’t be this bothered. He’s fucked her countless times. Hell, I’ve even watched them. The fact that I am bothered stokes the hellfire within me. Agonizing thoughts torment my mind, but I can’t stop imagining her luscious body enveloping him in her pure love…

He doesn’t deserve her! Yet I know, I don’t deserve her either. I am, after all…the villain in their story.

“Is this alright?” the whore coos.

I turn to face her.

The wedding gown isn’t nearly as elegant as the one she wore tonight.

Resentment builds toward both trollops as I look her over.

I know Puppet would have made more of an effort to fulfill this fantasy.

Though beggars can’t be choosers, can they?

Puppet refused me. At least the garment hugs this whore’s curves, just so …

Lifting my chin to peer down my nose at her, I inhale the air, seeking the familiar aroma that might enhance this illusion . The only detectable stench in this shit motel room, however, is mildew and misery.

Scowling at her, I snap, “ You’re not wearing it .”

“You haven’t given me my down payment for this shit yet.”

With growing irritation, I turn back to the leather jacket I’ve got draped over the dresser, remove the little white packet from the inner pocket, and stalk toward the armchair in the corner.

After taking a seat, I turn on the dim lamp atop the table beside me.

Her dark eyes roam over my naked form, and I’m not sure if she’s studying my massive collection of demonic ink… or the scars beneath it.

I lift the packet of cocaine between two fingers. “ Come and get it .”

She watches while I stroke my cock, hardening and lengthening myself. Eyes half-lidded, I strive to imagine she’s someone else .

“ Crawl to me , whore. You can snort your down payment off my fucking cock.”

She sinks slowly to the carpet, bunching the skirt of her gown just above her knees, and makes her way to me as I tap the little baggy to lay down a white line along the length of my shaft.

The harlot clamps her hands on my knees when she reaches me, and I resist touching her until she’s had her fill. Her nose drags and snorts along my dick before she licks up the residue. Then she sits back and slides her tongue across her gums, sniffling and pinching her nose.

“This is some high-end shit.” Her already dilating eyes lift to meet mine.

“You’re gonna need it for what I have in store for you tonight. Now get up…and put that fucking lavender oil blend on. Dab it between your thighs.”

I want to imagine breathing in her witchy scent…not this whore’s. “Tonight, until I fucking come, your name is Vanna .”

She wipes her nose once more, standing to retrieve the oil blend I’ve provided. “And what should I call you?”

“Nothing. In fact, endeavor to keep your mouth shut unless I instruct you otherwise.”

The whore glares at me, resentfully snatching the bottle off the nightstand before listlessly moving toward me once more.

Then she turns it on… the way all women do.

Raking her bottom lip through her teeth, she hikes the wedding gown up her thighs with a rustling of fabric, then sits on the edge of the bed. Slowly spreading her legs wide, she grants me a clear view of the pale-blue satin panties and matching garter she’s wearing, as per my request.

After dabbing the bottle to her fingertips, she smears the oil along her inner thighs, rubbing the excess into the crotch of her underwear.

The familiar aroma invades my nostrils, flooding my brain with images of the little witch. Another surge of blood rushes to my cock, and I sink to my knees before her, breathing the witch’s name on a sigh.

She leans back on the bed as I push her legs open wider, pressing my face against that strip of pale-blue satin. Inhaling the intoxicating redolence of cunt and lavender, I dig my fingers into her thick thighs until she lets out a little whimper.

“ Oh, sweet one …things are going to get much rougher than this...”

Though I want to fully indulge in the fantasy of taking Vanna in every way on her wedding night, this cunt is still attached to a filthy whore.

Breathing in her lavender-laced pussy, I stroke my cock and only imagine feasting on my little witch…imagine what her moans and gasps might sound like beneath the onslaught of my tongue.

Frustration taints my desire…

I shove away from the whore to grab the stiletto switchblade from my jacket. The blade springs forth as I turn back to her, and she gasps.

“ What are you going to do with that?” Her eyes are wide with fear. “The job didn’t say anything about inflicting pain.”

“ Natalia , was it?” Though I’m certain it’s a street name .

She nods slowly.

“I believe my exact warning to you was that it would be in your best interest to only speak when spoken to!”

“You didn’t specify anything about knife play,” she nearly whimpers.

“ Vanna will always be safe with me. Embody her to the best of your ability, and you’ll have nothing to fear.”

She’s practically frozen, and I slip the knife between her thigh and the garter. With a slight upward jerk, the blade easily slices through the frilly elastic band, and it falls silently to the carpet.

“Turn over, sweet one…”

Though hesitant, she twists over onto her belly, giving me access to the ribbon-laced corset of her gown.

Beginning at the small of her back, I slip the blade beneath the center of her corset, slicing upward, inch by inch.

The laces come apart, and the garment falls open, exposing the smooth skin of her back.

The cold steel of my blade against her bare flesh makes her jump.

“ Shhhh… Careful…” I whisper, angling the knife in my hand to lightly drag the tip of the blade down the center of her spine.

Though partially destroyed, I still want to fuck her in the wedding dress. “On your knees, sweet one .”

She pulls herself up on all fours, and I slip the knife beneath the top of her long skirt, slicing downward over her ass.

Having given myself enough of a start, I toss the knife onto the dresser with a clatter and grip the fabric of her skirts in both fists.

She lets out another startled gasp as I continue to rip it away, until her satin-clad ass is fully exposed to me.

I imagine my little witch would gasp, too.

“Flip your hair back,” I demand, wanting to see the long black waves cascading over her shoulders.

She does as I instruct, then slowly lowers her face to the mattress, arms reaching toward the pillows like a stretching feline.

I can’t see her face, which works for me.

Perhaps she’s adept enough in her trade to realize this.

“ Good girl …” I stroke the pale-blue satin, slipping my fingers beneath the edge to grip her smooth ass.

I take a step backward, grabbing a condom off the dresser, before tearing it open with my teeth.

I spit the foil out and tell her to, “spread your legs a little more… Rub yourself over those panties.”

She shifts to get her hand between her legs, and I watch her fingers rub her cunt over the satin.

Rolling the condom down my cock, I stare at the darkening spot between her wet lips as she continues to ready herself.

The remnants of the wedding dress hang off the edge of the bed, a desecrated waterfall of white tulle.

“Now tell me you want me,” I growl. “ Whisper it .”

“ I want you…” she says on a feathery breath.

Squeezing the head of my cock, I try to morph her voice within my twisted imagination. “ More .”

“ Please… I want you… I need you inside of me… Now …”

Stepping closer, I slip my fingers into the elastic waistband of her panties and peel them down over her thick ass.

Her juicy little cunt glistens, waiting.

I line up with her entrance and shove myself inside her.

She groans against the invasion. Wrapping a fist in her black hair, I fuck her mercilessly, listening to her moans and whimpers.

“Who fucks you better?”

“You do!” she bites out.

“ Convince me!” I slam into her with brute force. The globes of her ass cheeks ripple each time my hips collide with her body.

“ You’re so much better…” She pants. “ Oh God … So much better… You fuck me so good , baby… Don’t stop… Don’t stop …” She swerves and swivels her hips, fucking back on me.

“You fucked up, didn’t you?”

“ Yes!” She lets out a clipped little shriek when I slap her ass.

“Tell me you regret it!”

“I do!”

“ You should be with me…”

“ Yes … Oh God, yes!”

“Come on this cock, Vanna… Make it yours .” Releasing her hair to reach around between her legs, I rub her swollen little clit before pinching it, and she cries out into the comforter, shuddering and clenching around me.

“ Oh God! Oh fuck!” she shrieks through her climax.

I pump her furiously, her body trembling akin to a bike with a bent sprocket riding a rumble strip.

“ Tell me you love me, Vanna ,” I growl, fucking her with the brutality of a man unhinged.

“ I love you! I love you…” she whimpers, fear mingled with desperation as her fists grip the bedding. “ I should be with you!”

It is my undoing.

Quickly withdrawing from her, I yank off the condom with a snap, pumping my cock in my fist as I erupt all over her naked ass and back.

Spent, I lean back against the dresser, grabbing for my smokes and the shitty Bic. While lighting up a cigarette, I catch my breath. The whore doesn’t seem to know quite what to do with herself in the aftermath of our fuck. I’ve still got shit to do tonight.

“You’ve got five minutes. Hose off. Change. Whatever.” I sigh, not even close to satisfied with this fraudulent encounter despite blowing my load. Puppet had always been so much more convincing . However, pussy is pussy. “Take the dress with you when you go. The cash is in the nightstand.”

She gathers the shredded dress around her body and stands, looking at me through watery eyes. I wonder if she’s offended by the location of her payment.

“What?” I scoff, cocking my chin at the nightstand. “Where else would I put it? I just fucked you in a wedding dress. I’m all about tradition , baby.”

As if this transaction was somehow beneath her now, she storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

I dress while I finish my cigarette. After she finishes up in the bathroom, I hear her yank open the drawer to snatch her cash. She scurries out of the hotel room without another word, and the door clicks shut behind her. Now that she’s gone, I glance at the digital clock on the night table.

Nearly midnight… Lucky number thirteen should be arriving shortly. His death will serve me on multiple levels.

A dark lure…

A wedding gift…

Another promise kept…

A Demon’s declaration of love, written in blood.