Page 13 of Duchess (Royal Harlots MC: National New York Chapter #1)

Duchess

I woke with a gasp and the taste of tobacco clinging to the back of my throat.

My body was drenched in sweat and sticking to the leather on the couch.

I wasn't in my bed and definitely not in my room.

My heart kicked hard in my chest as I sat up slowly, my head swimming and my mouth dry, as if I'd been through a long night of binge drinking. Everything looked different, and for a second, I forgot where I was. If it wasn't for the cluttered vanity full of colorful makeup and glass perfume bottles that I could see through the bathroom door located adjacent to the living room, I wouldn’t have recognized that I was at Roulette’s.

The apartment sat high above Downtown L.A.

, tucked inside one of those luxury high-rises with polished marble floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glitter and grime of the city below.

The space pretty much said, I'm single and I don't give a fuck.

It was decorated with white leather furniture, gilded mirrors, and the faint scent of roses clung to the air.

A massive vintage pin-up poster of Roulette herself, mid-pose in a red corset and thigh-high stockings, hung on the far wall, her smirk said she was up for anything.

I threw back the blanket she had given me the night before and I slowly attempted to move.

Every inch of my body groaned in protest as I swung my legs off the couch.

Pain echoed in my joints, and in the pull of every tendon, there was a raw burn threading deep through my muscles.

The soreness wasn’t just the kind that came from strain, it felt as if I had been run over by a fright train.

I rose slowly, blinking through the thick fog that settled behind my eyes, as I staggered toward the bathroom.

My bare feet dragged across the cool tile floors.

I pressed a palm to the bathroom door for balance.

It took me a second to steady myself, my breaths coming out shallow and uneven.

The second I flipped the light switch, the brightness pierced through my haze, forcing me to squint.

My fingers found the edge of the vanity, and my nails dug into the wood as I raised my eyes to the mirror.

I looked at myself, blinking away the blur that was impairing my vision.

I pressed my palms to my eyes and once again looked.

There I was. Looking pale as a ghost. My lips were nearly purple and chapped, and my hair was tangled from sweat, the pillow marks on my cheek told me I had slept deeply.

But that wasn’t what made my gut twist. There, just above the curve of my shoulder, was a puncture wound.

It was faint but precise. A purple bruise encircled it and I gently reached up and touched it.

I squinted from the sharp pain. “What the fuck…”

The room tilted again. I grabbed the counter, knuckles white, and then as I stared at the floor, the memories crashed in and for a moment, I didn’t know if I was remembering a dream or if it had been reality.

A man's hands were on me. They were rough and commanding.

A very familiar mouth devoured mine, teeth catching my bottom lip and pulling moans from my throat that I'd never willingly emote. His breath was hot against my neck as he burnt his kisses on me, branding me. My wrists were bound in leather…no, chains. I slowly fell to my knees, pressing a hand to my head. I remembered my body arching back while I pleaded silently for something I couldn’t understand.

The sound of his voice whispered filth into my ear, claiming every inch of me as if I owed him something.

Then there was the sharp sting of the needle.

My limbs went limp as his weight bore down on me, and my mind spiraled into something hot, and helpless.

I hadn’t just been taken. The son of a bitch had drugged me!

He had done whatever the fuck he wanted to with me and made sure I'd remember it the next day.

And worse of all? My body had betrayed me.

It had actually responded to him. It gave in to him, trembling as he forced a wave of pleasure through me.

And now here I was, shaking in front of a mirror, too furious to cry.

My grip on the vanity cracked with a loud snap as the old wood gave slightly beneath my fingers. My reflection wasn’t mine anymore, it was a stranger’s face, full of fury and venom and something fragile beneath it all.

Caleb Killic had broken into me and left his scent clinging to my skin. And then he had me sent back, like damaged goods. His last move in a twisted game I hadn’t realized I was playing until now.

The scream tore from me before I could stop it.

It came from deep in my chest and clawed its way up from the pit of my stomach.

The sound echoed off the tile walls, loud and full of rage, leaving my throat raw as I gasped for breath.

I pressed my fists to the counter, trembling, not from weakness, but from the surge of violence that lit up my spine.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. I was too far gone for tears.

That's when I heard the door slam open.

"Stephanie!" Roulette’s voice rang through the apartment, sharp and commanding. Her heels clicked across the hardwood and then into the bathroom. She stopped in the doorway, her expression shifting from concern to alarm as she took me in. "Jesus, what the hell happened?"

I didn’t turn to her. I couldn’t. The reflection in the mirror already showed her everything she needed to see.

"I’m going to kill him," I said, voice low, trembling. "I’m going to slit his fucking throat while he sleeps."

Roulette stepped forward, her hand landing softly but firmly on my back. "Breathe, baby. You gotta breathe. This isn't how we play this. You know better."

I turned to her, eyes blazing. "He drugged me. He used me. He…” I could barely make the words out. “The fucker made sure I’d remember it. Every goddamn second of it."

She inhaled sharply, but her face remained composed. "What did he do to you?"

I winced as I tried to get up off the floor. "He touched me."

"Aaaand..."

"And I fucking gave into him, Rhea! I basically said, do whatever the fuck you want to me!"

"You were drugged!"

I shook my head. "No. I wasn't. Well, yes I was but afterward.” I looked up at her, grabbing her hand. “And that's exactly what he wanted me to know. He wanted to fuck with my head. To make me the one to blame."

"So, who the fuck said he won. You feel that anger," she slammed her palm against my chest nearly making me fall back. Grabbing me she steadied me. "You use that. You take that rage, and you make it count. But not now. Not like this."

I shook my head, backing away. "I shouldn't have ever trusted that he wouldn't come for me. I thought I had control. I thought I could handle Caleb fucking Killic."

"He’s playing a game, Steph. You think he’s not expecting this reaction? You walk into his trap now, he wins. We stick to the plan."

I turned toward her, seething. "What plan? I can’t breathe in this skin knowing he had me. I can’t exist in this body when I know he..."

Roulette pulled me into a tight hug, forcing me to stiffen against the touch until the tension broke. "We disappear. Killian’s already setting things in motion. Obsidian’s got the laptop. We wait for her call. And when the time’s right, we end him. On our terms. Not his."

My breathing slowed. I hated it. Hated the logic in her voice. Hated that she was right. But most of all, I hated that I still felt Caleb on my skin.

“I don’t think I can let this go, Rhea.” I clung to her.

“Fuck. Me,” she whispered, holding me tight, knowing damn well that we weren’t going anywhere until he paid for what he did to me.