Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Lettie
Halfway up the driveway to the clubhouse, I could hear the music pumping.
I finally understood how the sound carried all the way to my house two miles away.
The bass vibrated through my chest, rattling my ribs, making my teeth ache.
I was glad I’d left Cerberus at home. The noise would have driven him insane.
They’d been married for almost fifteen years and had three kids.
Then she met someone younger online who wanted to travel the world, and I guess she decided she didn’t want to be tied down anymore.
Didn’t want the life she’d built. Didn’t want the man who’d loved her enough to restore a truck with his own hands.
When I asked him why he wasn’t holding on to it for his oldest daughter, who’d be old enough to drive in a few years, he said he didn’t want the reminder of the bitch who left them. I was doing him a favor, really. At least that was how he framed it.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The air smelled like exhaust and leather and something darker. Something that made my stomach clench.
You can do this.
The key twisted in my hand and the soft purr dwindled down until the vibrations of the motor sputtered to a stop. My hands rested on the steering wheel as I tried to settle my nerves. My palms were sweating. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
It wasn’t working, because when my door wrenched open and a prospect stood there, the scream that tore from my throat was louder than the blaring music.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya,” he said with an easy smile, holding the door open. He was younger than most of the patched brothers I’d seen, closer to my age. Dark hair. Clean cut. He kept a respectful distance as he held my door open. “Hades said you’d be coming by. I’m Pegasus.”
I took a breath, my heart settling back into a normal rhythm. “Thanks for the greeting. I’m Lettie.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that too.” Pegasus stepped back, giving me space to climb out of the truck. “Come on, I’ll show you inside. The guys are all in the main room.”
I clasped my hand around my necklace and followed him toward the front door. The vial was warm against my palm. Familiar. Comforting. I’d still made my potion, which hung around my neck. If it was strong enough to bring Kraken down, it would bring down anyone in the club.
I never considered myself a naturally pessimistic person, but I’d grown up cynical that anyone really knew how to love. How to protect. My mother sure didn’t. Not that I’d ever experienced an assault of any kind. I just saw things others didn’t and refused to put myself in harm’s way.
Until Brock came along.
Now here I was, walking into an outlaw motorcycle clubhouse with nothing but a single vial of poison to protect me from twenty-plus men.
I blamed Brock. The way he kissed me had rewired my brain to accept his invitation without thought.
Without caution. Without the survival instincts that had kept me alive this long.
This wasn’t my first time in the clubhouse.
In fact, it was my third in a matter of weeks.
But this was the first time I’d seen it from the perspective of a guest. A woman invited by a man who’d claimed me.
Who’d made me come on my kitchen counter and against the side of my house.
Who’d called me his queen like it meant something.
The sun wouldn’t set in Texas for nearly two more hours, so it took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim light inside. The front door opened into a long hallway I was familiar with, and to the right was the main area.
The first thing I saw was the club girls.
Different clubs called them different names.
Some referred to them as sweet butts or bike bunnies, others club whores.
None of those were attractive possibilities.
Another term I’d learned was house mouse, but that was more for the women who cooked and cleaned the men’s individual houses.
Some men still slept with them, while others kept them around even after taking on an old lady and having kids, effectively turning them into housekeepers and nannies.
Why am I here?
The question echoed in my skull as I took in the scene.
Couches clustered in one corner. Three large televisions on different walls, each playing a different sport.
Two pool tables in the middle of the room and a dartboard on another wall.
The smell of beer and sweat and sex hung thick in the air. Stale. Cloying. Making my stomach turn.
On the far wall, a long bar extended the length of the room.
I spotted Zeus immediately as he sat on a stool facing the room with a club girl standing between his legs, kissing his neck while he spoke to the man beside him.
Her hands were all over him. Possessive.
Claiming. Like he belonged to her instead of the other way around.
A man with dark hair and wide shoulders, with a club girl hanging on his arm sat next to him.
She wasn’t kissing him, but unless I missed my guess, her hand was rubbing the front of him somewhere I couldn’t see since he was facing the bar.
Working him. Stroking him. Right there in front of everyone like it was nothing.
My stomach clenched. Bile rose in my throat. Hot and bitter and burning.
“You gonna walk over there or not?” Pegasus gestured toward the bar with a casual nod. “Hades is waiting for you.”
I looked back over the room, my eyes locking on Brock. No, here he went by Hades. King of the Underworld. King of fucking lies and broken promises and making me believe I was special when I was just another piece of ass.
And there she was.
Draped over him like she owned him. Like she had every right to touch him. To press her tits against his arm. To whisper in his ear with her mouth so close to his skin I could practically taste the intimacy of it.
My vision tunneled. Everything went red at the edges. My hands curled into fists so tight my nails bit into my palms. The pain was sharp. Grounding. Real.
Slowly, I made my way toward him. Each step felt like walking through water. Heavy. Thick. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it over the music. Could feel it in my throat. In my temples. In my fucking teeth.
The girl on his arm watched me approach, a smug grin spreading across her face.
Triumph in her eyes. Like she’d won something.
Like she’d beaten me at a game I didn’t even know I was playing.
She leaned over and pulled his hair away from his ear to whisper something to him.
Her fingers tangled in the dark strands.
Possessive. Familiar. Like she’d done it a thousand times before.
He sat up and spun around just as I stopped in front of him.
“Lettie,” he said with the same smile he used when he called me his queen. He reached for my hand, and I stepped back. Away from his touch. Away from the lie of it.
“Why did you ask me to come here?”
“I told you. I want you to meet my brothers.”
“Why don’t we start with the woman hanging all over you?
” I said, folding my arms across my chest. My body vibrated with anger.
With betrayal. With the sick realization that I’d been played.
Used. Discarded before I’d even been fully claimed.
My foot tapped against the floor on its own. A nervous tic I couldn’t control.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zeus studying me, waiting to see how his vice president handled this situation.
I couldn’t be sure, but it felt like the music had dropped, and I could feel eyes on my back.
Watching. Judging. Waiting to see if I’d make a scene or swallow my pride and accept this bullshit.
“Who, Echo?” he asked, glancing at the woman. She smiled back at him with dark brown eyes the color of shit and bottled red hair at least three weeks past her touch-up. Brassy. Cheap. She snuggled against his arm and, without thinking, I reached up and wrapped my fingers around my necklace.
The vial was warm. Ready. Waiting.
I clocked her size and began working through my plants.
Calculating dosages in my head. Jimsonweed would make her hallucinate.
See things that weren’t there. Scream and thrash and lose her goddamn mind.
Aconite would make her heart race before it stopped.
Hemlock would paralyze her slowly, let her feel every moment of her body shutting down.
I wouldn’t kill her. Not yet. But I could make her too sick to fuck anyone. Could make her wish she was dead. Could make her understand what it meant to touch what was mine.
Except he wasn’t mine, was he? He’d made that clear the moment he let her drape herself over him like a cheap coat.
The woman between Zeus’ legs spun around and looked at me.
She was beautiful with dark hair falling past her shoulders and full red painted lips.
But she wasn’t as pretty as Reggie. I looked her up and down and sneered.
Another whore playing dress-up. Another woman who thought spreading her legs gave her power.
“Lettie.” I turned back to the man I was here to see. He stood from his stool and stepped closer. His eyes were dark. Intense. Like he could see right through me. Like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I smiled back at him, and his shoulders relaxed.
Stupid bastard thought he’d won. Thought I’d roll over and accept this.
“Have fun tonight,” I said, spinning on my heel and walking back toward the front door with my head held high.
Spine straight. Hands steady even though everything inside me was screaming.
I knew coming here was a mistake. His kisses had turned me into mush, and the way he commanded my body without taking more had muddled my brain. Scrambled my thoughts. Made me believe in fairy tales and happy endings and men who kept their promises.