Chapter Eleven
Iris turned over in bed, already fully awake and sure what time it was before she even opened her eyes: Zoe had brought her an alarm clock, but Iris knew that she wouldn’t need it. Her body had been quite violently conditioned to wake itself up at five every morning.
She lifted her lids and looked at the clock on the small nightstand next to her bed, and sure enough, it was a few minutes before five. She sighed, knowing that there would be no return to sleep for her. She was awake.
She swung her feet to the floor and got up. She didn’t have to be in the kitchen until ten to help Rebel prep everything for the lunch rush, so she had to find some way to pass the hours. Having down time was an odd thing for her now: on the one hand it was a complete luxury that Iris had nothing to do for hours on end, but on the other, she was at a loss at how to enjoy it.
She had no books –not that she’d ever been much of a reader, and her school grades attested to that – or even magazines. She had no hobbies that occupied her hands – at the Garden, she hadn’t been one of the woman-servants tasked with sewing and stitching and knitting, and thank Christ, because she was hopeless at all of that. There had been a time when she’d enjoyed dancing, but that was all before she’d succumbed to drug addiction, and anyway, the room was so small she’d probably knock herself out trying to spin around it.
Well… maybe a long shower then. Rack up the hot water bill .
The bathroom was tiny, the shower stall minuscule, but she slid inside with no difficulties. It baffled her which of the MC guys could actually fit in the cubicle, why the hell anyone had built a bathroom that literally none of the men would be able to use.
An image of Viking trying to force his huge, tall frame into the shower came to her now: she stood barely five foot one, and he had to be at least six foot five, probably more. Standing in front of him was intimidating, kneeling in front of him had been utterly terrifying.
Iris had spent much of her life on her knees, both literally and figuratively. Her addiction had kicked her to the lowest points she’d ever known, put her firmly face-down on the floor with no pride and no sense of self-worth. When Gideon had come into her life, she’d been down for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to stand.
He’d promised her the world back then, he’d been loving and attentive and sweet. He’d said all the right things, made her feel special and beautiful and loved. He’d invited her to the Garden, told her that she’d be part of something amazing and glorious, and like a fucking idiot she’d believed him and followed him there.
That was when she’d been driven to her knees a different way.
Despite the hot water streaming over her body, Iris shuddered. She’d lost count of how many times Gideon had called her to perform the Ritual – and how many times she’d been forced to the floor to take his cock in her mouth. He’d forced her to learn how to please him in every way, and when she’d failed, he’d tied her to the bed and made her do things again and again until she finally got them right.
Iris shut her eyes, fighting off the waves of nausea that washed over her now. She would never kneel for Gideon again: she would die before that happened.
But… she’d kneeled for Viking. She’d offered herself to him, exposed herself to him, handed herself over to him to do as he wanted. It was all she knew and all she was good for – God knows Gideon had slammed that into her head – and she’d done it all to please him.
But he’d refused her. He’d told her to cover herself, get to her feet.
Iris was still trying to get her head around the fact that a man would say no to a woman taking his cock in her mouth. She had never – not in her entire life – met a man who turned down a woman on her knees. But Viking had.
Why the hell are you thinking about Viking so much?
It was weird that of all the huge, scowling, scorching-hot men wandering around the MC, she felt something about Viking… a connection or a pull. Maybe it was because she’d listened to him sing for eight hours straight, or maybe because he’d been the one to unknowingly carry her into this new life. He was handsome, in a wild, savage kind of way, and strongly-built, which made Iris feel even smaller than usual.
Or maybe it was because his exterior belied his interior: he was a kind man, she knew, a caring man. A doctor. The outer packaging was all black leather and jeans, tattoos and muscles, and it was all such a strong contradiction to who he was , who he really was , that it took her breath away.
Argh. Stop thinking about him. Jesus .
She turned off the shower and clambered out, drying herself off roughly. She went over to the dresser and pulled open the drawers, stared at the few items of clothing that Zoe had managed to find for her. Zoe had promised to take her shopping after work that day, and Iris couldn’t wait to see what she could get for a couple of hundred dollars. She wouldn’t spend everything that she’d taken from Gideon – if there was one thing that she’d learned at the Garden, it was that having money meant having independence and freedom.
She was never going to be that helpless again.
Iris pulled on a pair of jeans that Zoe had gotten just about right, and a sweater in a deep red color that she really loved. Her choice of shoes was limited right now, since Zoe had brought her a cheap pair of canvas shoes that were two sizes too big, but after the fiasco of the men’s boots, Iris wasn’t fussy about her footwear.
Her black hair was hanging loose and wavy over her shoulders, so she towelled it dry as best she could, then brushed it straight. Working quickly, her fingers well-trained in haircare, she separated her hair into two ponytails, then braided them before circling them up and over her head. She fastened them together and in place with a few bobby pins, then stared at herself in the mirror. She wished that she had some lipstick, maybe some blush. She reminded herself to get some makeup when Zoe took her shopping that night.
So there she was, all showered and dressed and ready… and it was quarter to six.
“Huh,” she said to her reflection. “Maybe Cain will let you go get some coffee. You haven’t had any in a year, so maybe now’s the time to get back on the caffeine train.”
She opened the door slowly, not wanting to look like she was fleeing the premises, and glanced to her right. The man standing there was yet another glowering, scary giant who looked for all the world like he’d just successfully pulled off a jail break.
“Hey,” he said in a rough voice. “What the hell are you doing up so early? And where the hell are you going?”
“Ummmm. Hi,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“No, huh?” His green eyes were dark in his ruggedly-handsome face. “How come?”
Iris shrugged. “I’m just – this is the time that the women always get up in the Garden. I’m used to it, I guess. Usually, I’d be an hour into baking fresh bread for the Guardians and grinding the coffee beans for their breakfast at ten.”
Cain studied her, and it occurred to her that Wolf, Scars and Viking might well have told these guys quite a lot about her – where she’d come from, what she’d left, why she’d left – and she wondered what they thought about all of that. Surely they saw her as a stupid, easily-led woman who’d fallen smack into a cult and become a slut and a slave at Gideon’s command. If that was how Cain saw her, she wouldn’t blame him; it’s how she saw herself, after all.
So it was nothing but a shock when he smiled at her and said, “Yeah, OK, darlin’. Let’s go downstairs and put some coffee on. Now, Wolf didn’t say anything to me about you baking bread from scratch, but I guess you can, if you want. Do you want?”
“You mean…” She blinked. “Are you asking me if I want to do something?”
“Yeah, of course. Do you like baking bread?”
“Huh.” She thought about it: nobody had ever asked her that before. “Well, actually… yes. Yes, I love baking bread. Muffins too.”
“Well, then,” Cain said. “Let’s go, darlin’. The kitchen awaits.”
**
Almost four hours later, Viking walked into Satan’s Bar to quickly check on Iris before his shift at Blue Dragon Ink. He was sure that she’d be a nervous wreck, seeing as it was her first day at a brand-new job. He imagined that she’d be going through some serious culture shock, having been in a cult for a year, and now surrounded by new people in a new place. The fact that these people were members of an MC would surely only add to her sense of uncertainty.
What he saw stopped his dead in his tracks.
Iris was standing at the bar talking to Cain, Dux and Drake. She looked a bit shy and quiet, but she was smiling at them. His brothers were sitting there drinking coffee and eating what looked like cake. Satan’s didn’t serve cake, was the confusing thing – it opened for lunch at noon and although Rebel never had a problem with whipping up breakfast, baked goods weren’t part of his culinary repertoire.
Perplexed, Viking walked over and Iris glanced up at his approach. When she saw that it was him, her face lit up and something in his chest responded to that look: she was smiling an open, genuine smile, and those stunning eyes glowed bright purple in her gorgeous face. The fact that she was looking at him like this felt like a little gift.
“Hey, man,” Drake drawled. “Come and try Iris’ muffins.”
Viking looked sharply at him. The twins were notorious for their jokey double entendres , almost all of which had a sexual undertone. He didn’t usually mind – Dux and Drake were legitimately great guys, and they never intended any harm or offense – but he didn’t like the idea of them talking about sex around a woman who’d almost definitely just escaped a sexually abusive situation.
“What?” he said. “Iris, you bought muffins for everyone?”
“Nah, man,” Cain said. “She baked ‘em. The bread too.”
“You what?” Viking stared at the plate of a dozen muffins, at the three loaves of delicious-smelling bread sitting on the kitchen counter, wrapped in dish towels. “You made all of this? When?”
“This morning,” she said shyly. “I woke up at five and asked Cain if I could do some baking.”
“Iris,” Viking said, strangely chagrined; he felt like she didn’t understand the expectations of her in terms of her new job. “You know, just because you work here, you don’t have to get up at some ungodly hour and start work five hours early.”
“Oh, I didn’t. It was four hours early.”
The twins snorted and Cain smiled behind his coffee cup. Viking blinked.
“OK,” Viking said. “But still…you do know that you don’t have to do this. Right? You can sleep in and relax and hang out and drink coffee before your shift starts. You’re not –” He broke off, suddenly realizing that saying something like ‘you’re not a slave anymore’ or ‘you’re not in a sex cult anymore’ probably wasn’t the most tactful way to get his point across. Thankfully, she seemed to know what he meant and she didn’t take offense.
“I know that I don’t have to,” she told him. “But in the Garden, the women-servants are up at five and straight to work. My main assigned task was the kitchen, so I’d start every morning in there, preparing my sisters’ tea and porridge, and the Guardians’ fresh bread. Even when I hated Gideon and I hated the Garden, I always loved my time in the kitchen. I’ve always cooked and baked, and I’d like to get back to it now – because I want to do it, not because I have to. Does that make sense?”
“Yeah, baby,” Viking said quietly. “It does.”
“OK, so…” She picked up the plate and offered it to him. “Blueberry muffin? Coffee?”
“Hell, yeah to both, but the coffee to take to work. Thank you.” He took a bite of the muffin. “This is awesome, Iris. Really delicious.”
She poured him a coffee in a to-go cup. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure.”
“Why weren’t you sure?” Cain asked as he demolished half of his muffin in one bite. “Can’t you taste how great they are?”
“Oh. Oh, no. I don’t eat the muffins, or the bread. I’m not allowed.”
The men all stared at her and to a man, they were literally speechless. As expected, the twins recovered the power of speech first:
“Not allowed?” Dux repeated. “ Not allowed ?”
“Who the hell says so?” his brother demanded. “And where are they so I can kick their ass?”
“Everyone said so,” she replied. “We were always told to lose weight, so we got porridge for breakfast, salad for lunch, and cold soup broth for dinner. The food that I made was for Gideon and his men only.”
Another silence fell as they looked Iris up and down, each one wondering where, exactly, she might have been expected to have any weight to drop. She had a few curves, sure, and gently swelling breasts, but she was tiny. Now they all wondered if she was smaller than she might be because she’d been starved.
“Well,” Viking said, kicking down hard on his anger. “The food that you make now is for everyone , even you, baby. You want a muffin or bread or a burger or anything – you just have it.”
She tilted her head at him, her face framed by intricate black braids that resembled wreaths of flowers. With her bright purple eyes, pink cheeks, and red-rose lips, she looked pre-Raphaelite: delicate and yet vibrant.
“You know what,” Iris said. “You’re right. Time to break the habit of denial, huh?”
“You know it,” Dux said. “Starting with a muffin!”
She took the top muffin and looked at it for a few seconds, examining her work. Then she took a bite and looked surprised. “I don’t remember them being that sweet.”
“Your taste buds are off,” Cain told her. “They really aren’t sweet at all.”
“Yeah, well, I’m really not a sugar person. But having said that, these are pretty good.” She took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll make carrot. I remember liking those the best in my life before.”
Rebel emerged from the kitchen with a notebook and pencil. “OK, boys, place your lunch orders here. Me and Iris will get cooking and prepping for when the bar opens in two hours, and we’ll call when your meals are ready.”
“Feeling like a burger today,” Drake said and Dux nodded in agreement. “Bacon and cheese on top, onion rings on the side. Calories to be worked off this weekend with our girl Jessie.”
“Got it,” Rebel said writing busily, ignoring the reference to one of the twins’ many lady friends. “Viking?”
“Erm. I dunno. Why don’t you and Iris surprise me?”
“You don’t want a burger too?” she asked him. “I can cook meat really well.”
“I’m sure you can, Iris, but I don’t eat meat. Me and Zoe are vegetarians.”
She looked surprised, then thoughtful. “You know what’s weird is that I haven’t had meat in a year, and I don’t miss it. I mean, I cooked it every day for the men, but never ate it. I wonder if maybe –maybe I’m vegetarian too, now. I certainly don’t want to eat meat, even though I can .”
“OK, then,” Rebel told her. “Why don’t you make something for you, Viking and Zee?”
“Yes, that’s a good idea.” She beamed at Viking. “I think it’ll be fun. Maybe I’ll make us all a mushroom pasta.”
“Alright, sweetheart, back into the kitchen.” Rebel gave her a friendly grin. “Let’s prep some sauces and marinades.”
She nodded. “OK, Rebel. See you guys later.”
The men watched her go, then all looked at each other.
“She seems to be doing pretty well,” Viking said. “She’s settling in better than I thought she would.”
“Man, you got no idea how good this woman is in the kitchen,” Rebel said. “If she’s happy starting her shift a bit early and putting up some baked goods and baking all the bread fresh, I’ll talk to Wolf about extending her hours a bit. She did tell me that she’s looking to work extra shifts if I have anything for her.”
“But she’s doing all the cleaning down here too, isn’t she?” Viking objected. “The bar, the crash rooms, the bathrooms… she’ll be dead on her feet if she starts baking at six, cooks lunch and dinner, then cleans in between, especially in the evenings when the bar is packed. She won’t get to bed before midnight. We can’t kill the girl, Rebel.”
“It’s very inhospitable,” Cain agreed. “Especially after she made us such good muffins.”
Viking rolled his eyes. “ Jesus .”