Mykel: King's Descendants MC #3 Page 5

  I act nervous, but honestly, it isn’t hard, because I am nervous.

  “It’s okay,” he says, stroking a thumb over my cheek before dropping his hand. “I know you’ve had a hard time. But understand something, Waverly. I won’t hurt you. I will not harm you in any way.”

  You filthy liar.

  I swallow and give him a weak smile, and then in a soft voice declare that I need to get out because it’s cold.

  But really, what I need to do is get away from this situation and the mind fuck that it’s currently giving me.

  I need space.

  Stat.

  6

  WAVERLY

  “Here. I got you another drink.”

  I glance over, my head a little light from the alcohol I’ve been consuming to make this situation easier to handle.

  Bobbie is standing, glass in her hand, looking down at me. She’s still and not smiling. The poor girl has had a hard life—it’s clear in her face. What has she got to smile about?

  My heart twists because I don’t want to sit here and talk to her. I don’t want to hear her story. I don’t want to hear that she’s found some sort of escape in Dax. That she’s going to get a better life. I don’t want to hear it because what if I can’t help her? The odds are against us. What if I can’t do anything to stop the horror that’s going to unfold in her life the moment she is sold?

  The chances of the club destroying Dax and his business before these two girls are sold is slim to none.

  I feel like I’m watching someone walk to a cliff and step over the edge, only my hands are tied, I’m gagged, and I can do nothing but watch as they plunge to their death.

  “Thank you,” I say softly, because I really just want her to go.

  Yet I want her to stay.

  I feel a little unwell right now.

  “How are you enjoying the lake?” she asks me, sitting down.

  “It’s nice. I haven’t been away like this since I was a child. I’m enjoying the peace.”

  It’s a lie.

  I’m not enjoying it.

  I want to scream.

  “Me too,” she tells me softly. “I’m glad not to be sleeping on the streets, or at a random stranger’s house. It’s horrible when you don’t have a home.”

  God.

  She doesn’t have a home.

  I take a long sip of the vodka she gave me, not even pausing to taste it.

  It’s sweet—that’s enough for me.

  “I’m sorry things were that bad for you,” I say, staring at her.

  “You haven’t slept on a street?”

  “Not yet,” I say quickly. “But I have a cruel ex, and no family, and I’m so glad to be here.” I want to vomit.

  “I’m sorry. Cruel boyfriends are the worst. I just got away from one myself. He . . . he gave me a lot of drugs. I’m struggling, to be honest. It’s all I can think about. Have you ever had that feeling?”

  Please stop.

  Sweet girl, please stop.

  “Yes,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

  “I’m so glad Dax appeared when he did. He . . . he has given me life again. I’ve met some wonderful people, I have a nice bed to sleep in, and he has given me more food than I could imagine . . .”

  Oh.

  Don’t.

  Just don’t.

  “I also like Yates. He seems super nice and wants to take me on a date next week. I haven’t been on a date in . . . well never.”

  I don’t know what to do. My body feels stiff and my heart is racing. I turn to her and am about to open my mouth and say something stupid like ‘Yates asked me out, too’ or anything to make her reconsider seeing him.

  But Dax appears, and looks at the two of us, smiling. “Are you ladies enjoying your evening?”

  “Yes,” Bobbie says, her voice soft. “Thank you.”

  “Bobbie, I think Yates is wondering where you are.”

  “Oh.” She finally smiles, and it breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. “I better go and find him.”

  She stands and leaves, and I can’t stop it. I can’t help the lone tear that rolls down my cheek. I feel like I’m going to explode into a bucket of emotions. I can barely keep the stress from bubbling out. I’m strong, probably the stronger than most, and yet this is breaking me. It’s ripping me apart from the inside out. I feel like I’m here, doing something to stop the trafficking, and yet I’m not doing enough to stop it.

  I’m hanging on the end of a rope right now—one slip and I’m done.

  “Hey,” Dax says, sitting beside me.

  He takes my face in his hands, and my head spins a little. It’s almost like one sip of that drink has pushed me over the edge from being tipsy to drunk. That’s weird.

  I stare at his face, and the tears burst forth. I can’t stop them. No matter what I do, I can’t stop them. Dax actually has the nerve to look sad, to look like he’s worried about me, to look like he cares.

  When was the last time someone looked at me like that?

  It only makes me cry harder.

  I’m lonely, I’m scared, and now I’ve been drinking.

  “It’s okay, hey. Shhhh.”

  Dammit.

  Why must he comfort me?

  Why must he confuse my drunken mind?

  “Why are you crying, beautiful girl?”

  No.

  Please.

  “I’m just . . . I don’t know . . .” I say, and then turn my face away.

  If I look at him, if he says any more nice things, I may not be able to help myself from caving to his kindness. It’ll make it worse, and I can’t handle worse right now.

  I can’t handle it.

  “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky and damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” I say, keeping my face turned away.

  “Try me.”

  I look to him. I need to push my act. I need to bring it further to the surface. If I let it slip now, it’ll all go to hell.

  “Do you know what it’s like to live a horrible life, Dax?” I ask, because even though I don’t know the answer to that, it’s a question that would make sense for me to ask right now.

  “Yes,” he tells me, his voice low.

  I’m stunned. For a second, I stare at him in confusion. I didn’t actually expect him to say that.

  “My mother died giving birth to me and I was raised by a cruel man. So cruel, I was taken when I was five because he locked me in a basement for two weeks, and I got so sick I nearly died. I was then placed into a foster home, where my foster father assaulted me in ways you couldn’t imagine. That’s when I met . . . Peter.”

  Oh. God.

  No.

  No.

  Please, no.

  “I was only eighteen when I met him, but he took me under his wing, and he helped me out of the hardest parts of my life. I owe him, I suppose. When you’ve lived in hell your entire life, you have to wonder what fuckin’ heaven feels like eventually. I took what I could get, even if at times it made me question who I am.”

  God, stop.

  Stop.

  I stare at him, and I swallow the thick lump in my throat.

  His hand goes out and cups the side of my face.

  I can’t breathe.

  “There’s something about you, Waverly. Something different. Something that makes me feel . . . things I haven’t felt before.”

  Oh no.

  He leans in, and every part of me is screaming—I just don’t know what for. My head is spinning, my mind is a mess, and when his lips touch mine, I shut down. For a moment, I shut down. I don’t know how to think or how to breathe or how to act. I just know that I can’t function right now. I can’t do anything but sit here, stunned.

  Then he’s kissing me a little deeper, and it feels nice.

  God, it feels so nice.

  My lips move, and I feel woozy, and I don’t know what’s happening.

  I don’t know what is wrong.


  My mind is chaos, my body is in turmoil, and I’m kissing a monster.

  I pull back and gasp as my head spins and I topple off the chair.

  I don’t feel right.

  I don’t feel well.

  I need to get out of here.

  I just kissed the man responsible for so much torture, so much pain.

  He’s a monster.

  A cruel monster.

  Oh, god.

  “Waverly are you okay?” he asks, standing and helping me to my feet.

  “I’m sorry. I’m just feeling a little off. I need to use the bathroom.”

  “Let me help you.”

  He supports me as we head inside and to the bathroom, where I immediately slip in and shut the door.

  I’m panting, lightheaded, and for some reason, I can’t think straight. My body is definitely betraying me. No matter what I do right now, I can’t gain control. I stare around frantically for an escape. I just need to get the hell out of here. Out of this monstrous place. Out of this hellish ordeal. I need to find Alarick. I need to go. Now.

  I notice a window, and walk over to it, frantically curling my fingers around the frame and pushing it up. I breathe a sigh of utter relief when I see no screen on it. Using the bathroom counter, I push my way up and out through the small gap in the window. It takes a lot of effort, and with every passing second, my mind feels a little hazier. It seems . . . strange. Like I’m drunk, but I’m not. I know I’m not.

  Did Bobbie drug me?

  Oh, god.

  I start to panic. Shit. Fuck. What’s going to happen to me?

  Then I’m falling.

  The ground seems a long way away. I slip to the grass with a thud that knocks the wind out of me. For a moment, I lay there gasping, wondering if my lungs will just stop working. I take a few moments, my body in complete fright, and then I manage to push to my feet.

  I run. It’s dark. I don’t have my phone. I don’t know where I am. I just run and run, smashing into trees, tripping over things, but I need to find Alarick’s cabin.

  With every step, my mind becomes more and more chaotic.

  I begin to tremble, and I feel like I could run miles and yet at the same time I want to lie down and just stop.

  Just. Stop.

  I do stop, only for a moment. Just to try and take in my surroundings. I can see the lights of a cabin up a small dirt road, and maybe that’s where Alarick is staying.

  I make my way up towards the cabin, stumbling, my eyes frantically darting around as I near it. When I reach the dimly lit structure, I can hear voices coming from inside. I should go around the back, just in case someone is following me. If Dax sees me going in, it’s definitely over for me. I take off in a sprint, and I must be running a whole lot faster than I realize because suddenly I slam into a hard form just as I round the cabin.

  A grunt is followed by a shocked, “Whoa.”

  Mykel.

  I’d know his voice anywhere.

  “Mykel?” I cry out, frantically. “Mykel?”

  “Waverly?” he asks, his voice hard to make out. It’s like it’s echoing in my mind.

  I shake my head, and I can feel his hands on my shoulders, I can hear words coming out of his mouth, but my whole world is spinning. I’m rambling something, but I don’t know what I’m saying.

  I need help.

  “I think they drugged me,” I cry, trying to keep on my feet, but it feels like the world is sinking beneath me.

  Suddenly I’m being lifted into the air. It makes me feel nauseous, but I don’t have it in me to fight. Mykel carries me—where, I don’t know. Before I know it, light burns my eyes and I’m surrounded by a group of people. Familiar people, but there are still too many of them. I rub my eyes and shake my head from side to side, needing them to move away a little.

  “You’re so close. Get away!” I cry, slapping my hands out but nobody is there.

  When I open my eyes again, they’re not as close as they were before. Was I imagining it? God, my mind is spinning, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

  I keep thinking about Dax.

  The kiss.

  I kissed him.

  Oh god, I’m a terrible person.

  “Waverly?”

  Suddenly, someone is holding my shoulders and shaking me. I blink to see Alarick kneeling in front of me. Somehow, I’ve backed myself against the front door. When did I move? What’s happening?

  “Waverly, I need you to look at me. Focus.”

  I look at him, but when I focus too hard, it feels like I’m going to be sick. “Alarick?” I sob, and then I start to cry.

  I cry and I cry.

  “It’s okay. You’re safe here. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

  “Hey, Waverly, have a sip of this.”

  Briella?

  I see Briella kneeling down in front of me too, her face gentle. I’m here. I’m safe. These people would never hurt me.

  “What happened to you?” Alarick asks.

  “I don’t know,” I wail. “I don’t know. I think they drugged me. I climbed out the window and . . .”

  “Someone is out there wavin’ around a flashlight!” Kendric hisses, suddenly appearing in front of me too. Was he here before? I don’t know.

  “Fuck,” Alarick growls. “They’re lookin’ for her. Waverly, you need to tell us what happened.”

  “I climbed out the window. They’re going to come for me . . .”

  “We have to send her back out,” Alarick says, standing. “If we don’t, they’ll tear this goddamned place up lookin’ for her and our cover will be blown.”

  “You can’t send her out there, Alarick. Look at her; she’s going to be tortured. They could do anything to her. She’s not going back.”

  “If we don’t send her back, he’s goin’ to fuckin’ come after her.”

  “No,” I cry, standing. “No, please don’t send me back out there, Alarick. Please don’t. Please.” Panic grips my chest.

  He can’t send me back.

  “Dax ain’t goin’ to hurt you, Waverly,” Alarick says, his voice calm. “He’s not, and you know it. Go out there, he’ll take you to your room and you can sleep it off.”

  “No,” I screech.

  “They’re comin’ up the driveway, Alarick,” Kendric calls.

  “Fuck, she’s gotta go back out or everythin’ we’ve been doing will blow out of the water and Dax will get the fuck away . . .”

  “No,” Briella cries.

  “No please,” I lament.

  “Fuck this.” Mykel growls. “Turn the fuckin’ lights off, lock the door, and don’t make a goddamned sound. Now.”

  Suddenly, he’s grabbing me. I’m crying hysterically, so he plants a hand over my mouth and drags me down the hallway. I kick and scream and squirm, but he hangs onto me so tightly I can’t move. He takes me into a room, and before I know it, my back is on a bed and his big body is looming over mine, his hand firmly over my mouth, his body stopping my frantic thrashing. “It’s okay,” he says, his voice so calm. So. Calm. “It’s okay. You need to stop screaming. I’m not lettin’ you go back out there. Not yet. It’s okay, but I need you to be quiet. Can you be quiet, Waverly?”

  Be quiet.

  Be quiet.

  I can be quiet.

  I nod, and tears roll down my cheeks. Mykel’s finger brushes over one. I don’t know how he knows it’s there because it’s so dark, but I do know that it makes me feel so much better. He keeps his hand on my mouth and I fall silent, even though my heavy panting fills the dark room. Just outside the window, occasional flashes of light can be seen. Someone bangs on the front door, but the house is quiet.

  They’re all hiding.

  They did as he asked.

  They didn’t send me out there.

  I close my eyes, not wanting to see the light. I hold my breath, just waiting for this to blow up. Mykel’s hard body is covering mine, and even though he’s heavy, he makes me feel safe. I feel like nothing can hurt me right now
, and I need that.

  Mykel slowly releases the hold on my mouth, and when his hand slips away, I make a soft, sobbing sound. “It’s okay,” he tells me, his voice the kindest he’s ever used with me. “It’s okay.”

  “I’m afraid,” I whisper. “I’m afraid.”

  “It’s goin’ to be okay.”

  A few minutes tick by, and finally, the door opens and the light flicks on. Mykel lifts his body off mine. Alarick and Briella standing at the door. “They’re gone, but she’s gotta go back. If she doesn’t, they’ll return. I know you don’t want to, honey, but you have to.”

  I nod, swallowing my tears.

  I made a vow to do something. I will follow through with it.

  “I’ll make you something to eat and get some water into you to help you feel better before you go back,” Briella says. “Okay?”

  I nod again and look to Alarick. My mind is still spinning. My body feels weird, and everything feels crazy. “He kissed me.”

  Everyone goes silent. Mykel tense behind me. His body is still close to mine.

  “Dax?” Alarick clarifies.

  I nod. “He kissed me, and he said I make him feel different. He told me about his life. I think he has feelings for me.”

  “I fuckin’ told you.” Mykel growls. “You gotta pull her out of this, Alarick. It’s fuckin’ dangerous.”

  “We’ll discuss that tomorrow when she’s sober. For now, we need to get her back so suspicion is not raised.”

  Mykel helps me to my feet and I glance up at him. I don’t realize that I’m staring at him for so long until he clears his throat and I shake my head, awkwardly. “I’m sorry,” I say softly. “I . . . thank you.”

  He nods, and then leaves the room.

  He doesn’t like me, yet he just risked a lot for me.

  He helped me when I needed it.

  My heart aches as I watch him go.

  I look to Alarick. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

  Briella sighs and walks forward, placing her hands on my shoulders. “Let’s get you some food, yeah?”