Chapter 2
MELODIE
“Not this one, either,” comes the shrill, disappointed voice of the Madame as she tugs the barely-there bra off of me.
“Vance will need better stock if this goddamn club is ever going to get off the ground,” she mutters to herself.
“Scars up and down, left and right, on this one. And still, I’m supposed to make her presentable. Impossible!”
She huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs another lingerie set, though she doesn't look hopeful about this one, either. I wrap my arms around my bare, vulnerable body, wishing I’d never picked up the call from my one-time foster brother, Heath.
Then, he wouldn’t have had the chance to drug me and sell me to the highest bidder in exchange for a place in that stupid motorcycle club he’s been talking about for as long as I’ve known him.
The door to the dressing room opens, and a tall, wiry old man slips inside. He’s in a charcoal gray pinstripe suit, and he slithers toward me like a snake. I’m frozen in fear, completely naked, while strangers insult and stare at me.
“This one,” the man says. He’s pointing to something that looks like a silky cage hanging in the closet, but his eyes never leave mine. “Squeeze her into this and give her to me. She’s not going on stage.” He turns on his heel and abruptly leaves the room.
Two women rush in to take his place, poking and prodding my hair and face while the Madame wraps the corset around my torso.
I gasp and then yelp in pain when she pulls the laces as tight as humanly possible.
The air leaves my lungs in a forceful breath, and I’m finding it hard to get oxygen back into my body.
“Come on, girlie. Looks like the boss has special plans for you tonight.”
“No,” I weakly protest. “No, please just let me go.”
The Madame gives me a dead-eyed smile and chuckles cruelly.
“There’s no escaping, little lamb,” she whispers close to my ear.
“You’ ve caught the eye of someone very special.
Vance usually doesn’t shop for himself at these things, but I guess you’re the exception.
” Her hand curls around my chin and she grips my flesh with her boney fingers.
“Now, shut up and do as you’re told. Vance doesn’t like to be kept waiting. ”
She shoves me forward and I stumble out into the hallway in my four-inch heels. The familiar old man with tiny, cold eyes and a silver cane catches me, his hand wrapping around my upper arm. Vance shoves me against the wall with more force than I’d expect from someone his age.
“Don’t fight,” he warns. “I have your life in my hands. No one gives a shit about you. No one is coming to save you. We can have a good time, just me and you. Or, if you’re going to be a brat, I might have to teach you a lesson. The choice is yours.”
“No,” I whisper. “No, I won’t go with you. Please, please, you don’t have to do this,” I beg. “No, no, no…”
“No!” I shout, my throat sore and clogged with tears. My mind is hazy, not quite sure what’s going on or where I am. One second I was begging for my life, and then I blink and I’m surrounded by darkness and cool, comforting sheets.
“You’re safe,” someone says, tugging at the corners of my nightmare. “I’m right here. I won’t let anyone find you,” the voice says.
Something rattles loose in my brain. After days on the run, stealing food when I could, and finding a new hiding spot every night, I collapsed into a heap on the side of an empty highway, ready to give up. That’s when my tall, tatted savior scooped me up and put me on the back of his bike.
I gasp as my eyes fly open.
“You’re safe,” he says again. I notice the man is kneeling on the bed next to me, a concerned look woven into his green eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know,” I choke out before tears flood my vision. “I-I remember.”
His hand is large, warm, and steady as he reaches out, hovering just an inch from my face.
He waits, giving me the choice to pull away, but I don't. I lean into his palm, the rough callouses of his skin feeling like a mountain of safety against my cheek. I’ve spent my whole life being handled, shoved, grabbed, and manipulated, but Rogue? Rogue holds me.
"I've got you, sweet girl," he rumbles, his voice a low vibration that settles the frantic beating of my heart. "Nightmare's over. You're in my house. My bed. Nothing is getting through that door to get to you. I promise you that on my life."
I believe him. It’s crazy, it’s reckless, and it goes against every survival instinct I’ve honed over my twenty-one years, but I believe him. He’s a giant of a man, smelling of leather and something deep and woodsy, and yet he’s looking at me like I’m made of glass.
"Can you..." I swallow hard, my throat still tight. "Can you stay? Just until I fall back asleep?"
He doesn't hesitate. He moves with a surprising grace for a man his size, shucking his boots and sliding onto the mattress next to me.
He doesn't try to get under the covers, staying on top of the duvet, but he opens his arm in a silent invitation.
I don't think; I just move. I crawl into his side, my head finding the perfect notch in his shoulder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, still hesitant to touch me.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” I murmur, hoping I’m not disappointing him.
“That’s okay, angel. We’ll take everything at your pace. It’s your story. You’re in control here.”
His words mean more than he could possibly know.
I’ve never been in control of anything, from ending up in foster care after my mother overdosed to aging out of the system and having zero employment opportunities.
My life has been a snowball effect of the terrible choices the adults in my life made.
I don’t quite believe what Rogue is telling me, but he makes me want to try.
Rogue senses my intense emotion and wraps his arm around me, heavy and protective, tucking me into the solid heat of his body.
For the first time since Heath lured me away with lies of a better life, the tension leaves my muscles.
I’m surrounded by Rogue, cocooned in his strength, and the darkness of the room no longer feels like a place where monsters hide. It feels like a sanctuary.
I wake up before the sun is fully up, the room bathed in the soft, gray light of dawn.
Rogue’s eyes are sealed shut and he has the barest hint of a smile on his soft-looking lips.
My heart squeezes up at the sight. Not out of fear, but more of a strange, fluttering hope I don't know what to do with.
I thought maybe I had made up Rogue’s sexy, god-like stature, but no, he’s still very much the Adonis with tattoos and unruly hair I remember. He looks so peaceful, I don’t want to disturb him just because I have the inability to sleep in.
I struggle out of bed, my body aching in places I’d forgotten about.
The soft gray sweatpants and black t-shirt he left outside the shower last night smell exactly like Rogue.
Surprisingly, they swallow my frame, which isn’t something I’m used to as a plus-sized girl.
I have to roll up the waistband of the pants three times just to keep them from tripping me.
I wander out of the bedroom, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floors.
Rogue’s house is like him: sturdy, functional, and a little rough around the edges.
There’s a stack of mail and some scrap paper on a desk in the corner of the living room.
Without thinking, my fingers reach for a piece of paper.
It’s an old habit, a way to keep my hands busy so my mind doesn't spiral.
I fold. Crease. Tuck.
I don't even have to look as a perfect paper lily takes shape. I set it on the coffee table. Then I make another. And another. I move through the house, leaving a trail of paper flowers on the kitchen counter, the windowsill, the mantle. It’s my way of saying thank you for the water, the shower, and the soul-deep safety.
I’m halfway through a complex rose when the bedroom door down the hall flies open with a bang.
"Melodie!"
Rogue storms out, his hair wild, his chest bare and covered in intricate tattoos. His eyes are wide, scanning the room like a predator looking for a lost cub. He looks like a beast of a man ready to tear the world apart.
I instinctively duck behind the kitchen island, my breath hitching.
He stops dead when he sees the top of my head peeking over the granite. The feral light in his eyes vanishes instantly, replaced by a crushing wave of remorse. He drops to his knees right there in the middle of the hallway, his head hanging.
"Fuck. Mel, I'm sorry," he says, his voice cracked and raw. "I woke up and the bed was cold. I thought... I thought you’d run away or were taken in the night. I thought I'd lost you before I even really had you."
He looks so defeated, his dirty blonde hair falling in his eyes to cover his shame.
My fear evaporates the longer I look at him.
I walk around the counter and slowly approach the giant of a man.
I reach out a hand, and he takes it like it’s a lifeline, pressing the barest hint of a kiss against my knuckles.
"I was just making flowers," I whisper, handing him the paper rose.
He looks at the delicate thing in his massive, scarred hand, and his expression softens into something so tender it makes my eyes sting. "It’s beautiful," he murmurs, looking at me instead of the flower. "Just like you."
His phone suddenly blares a loud, aggressive ringtone. I jump, my shoulders hitting my ears. Rogue growls at the device but stands up, keeping my hand tucked firmly in his.
"I have to go to the club," he says after checking the screen.
Panic flares in my chest. The club. I think of Heath and the motorcycle club he was trying to get into by offering me as a sacrifice. I think of the men who bought and sold lives like they were cattle. "The... the Sons of Destruction? The auction?"
Rogue stops, turning to face me fully. He takes my other hand, holding them both over the thumping rhythm of his heart.
"I don't know what you've heard or what you've been through, Melodie, but we aren't them. My club, Wicked Riders, has been working to destroy everyone involved in that horrible, disgusting operation.” My eyes dart between his, wanting desperately to believe him. “I had a suspicion last night that you were the missing woman we haven’t been able to locate. We’re the ones who stormed the auction house to free those women, including you. "
I freeze. "You were there?"
He nods. “I wish I would have found you that night,” he says softly, the regret in his eyes breaking my heart.
“Me, too,” I say with a little hint of a smile. Rogue brushes the corner of my lips with his thumb, like he appreciated seeing me happy.
“How did you escape?”
I chew on my bottom lip, sifting through the flashes of consciousness from that night. “I almost didn’t,” I start. “I was being threatened by one of the men there. He had me pressed against a wall, and…”
Rogue’s jaw tightens as he continues to listen.
“And before anything else could happen, someone jumped on stage and then all hell broke loose. The man who was so determined to make me his, grabbed me and hauled me into an office at the end of the hall. He was swearing under his breath while opening and closing drawers and cabinets. I think he was looking for some kind of ledger. He kept muttering something about transactions and contracts. Whatever it was, he found it and locked it in a safe under his desk, then locked me in the room with the safe.”
“Jesus,” Rogue curses, his hand coming up to tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear. “What happened next?”
“There was so much chaos and destruction happening outside the office, no one noticed when I used the massive swivel chair to break the window and crawl out.” I can’t help the tiny fraction of a satisfied smile curling up my lips. Rogue notices and smiles back.
“My brave girl,” he whispers. “Were you really hiding out in the woods these last few days?”
I nod. “I was able to grab a shirt to cover up with before leaving, but yeah… I pretty much ran until I couldn’t breathe or think or feel, then collapsed.
It’s all a blur. I remember coming across an empty campsite on day two, and I…
” I look away from my savoir, ashamed of my actions.
“I stole some bottled water and protein bars. I know I shouldn’t have–”
“Sweet girl,” he soothes. “You did what you had to do to survive. No one can blame you for that. I’m so fucking proud of you, Melodie.”
“No one has ever said that to me,” I murmur before I can stop myself.
Rogue rubs his nose against mine, then places a small kiss there. “I’ll remind you every single day how strong you are and how much you have to be proud of.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, not sure what to do with all of his attention. Rogue picks up on my discomfort and continues his part of the story.
"My brothers and I found all the women they were keeping at the auction, aside from you. Your friend, Mika, was taken to safety along with Athena. The others have been given temporary housing, groceries, and we’re working on finding legit jobs for those seeking employment.
" He steps closer, heat radiating off him. "I’m not leaving you alone while I’m gone.
I can call Mika and Athena. They can come here and stay with you while I’m at the clubhouse. Would you like that?"
Mika and Athena. I do remember them now that Rogue says their names. We were all in the padded room together. They were the only ones who had been kind to me. "They're okay?"
"They're more than okay," Rogue says with a soft smile.
"They're part of the family now. Just like you're going to be.
" He pulls me in, his forehead resting against mine.
“I know this is all really intense between you and me. If you want me to back off, I… I will.” It sounds like it pains him to say it.
“Don’t back off,” I whisper. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I melt into his embrace, trusting this stranger with my life, my secrets, and, though I’m too scared to admit it yet, my heart.