Stain (King's Harlots MC Book 2) (28 page)

My mind played tricks on me. Was I sleeping? Was I so far gone that the nightmare had finally taken over, swallowing me in a pit of hell.

“Asher.” Meeka’s sweet voice slid over me, brushing up and down my back like it had a touch of its own.

I tried calling out to her, but no words left my lips. They were dry, my throat parched as if I had swallowed broken glass.

My step-father’s face appeared out of nowhere, his cold lifeless eyes staring back at me with an undying hate.

“You,” I finally said.

But all he did was laugh. The sickening sound pierced my ears, forcing me to my knees. Gripping my head, I cried, trying to stop the madness from taking over.

“Asher!” Meeka’s scream snapped me from my thoughts.

The breath I had been holding knocked me in the chest. My back arched, a cold sweat coating my skin. “Meeka.”

“I’m here, baby.” She cupped my cheeks, placing soft kisses all over my face. “It was a bad dream. I’m here. I’m always here.”

“Meeka,” it was the only thing I could say. The sound of her voice was enough. It soothed and calmed me. My racing heart steadied to a slow rhythm but I couldn’t get the unnerving feeling that something was wrong. That I would see my step-father again. I had never worried about it. Never even fathomed that he would find me. Once I became big enough, I scared him so much that he had left town.

But he was back. Everything in me told me that he would show up again. I just didn’t know when.

It was funny how a man I had looked up to had taken advantage of my innocence. But he wasn’t stupid. He never touched me. He would use things to hurt me but never laid a hand on my small frail body. Not until I could fight back.

“He’s here,” I muttered, sitting up in bed.

“Who’s here?” Meeka wrapped her arms around my shoulders, nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck.

“My …” I swallowed hard. “My step-father.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s a feeling.” I couldn’t shake it, either.

“We’ll deal with it when the time comes,” was all she said.

Meeka didn’t tell me I was crazy. She never accused me of losing my mind. She accepted my reasoning. I realized then that everything I had done was for her. Every mistake I had made. Every fight I had been in. Every single fucking mission. It was all to lead me back to her. I had been so stupid. If I would have just confessed my feelings for her years ago, we could have been together. Life was sick and twisted at times but also had a way of bringing you closer to the one you loved. And I did love Meeka. I just prayed she felt the same way.

***

One morning I woke to Meeka sleeping peacefully beside me. My stomach rumbled and I got the idea to make her breakfast in bed. But since I had been a bachelor for years, all I had was beer and pizza. Although I knew she wouldn’t mind cold leftovers, she deserved eggs and bacon. Maybe even some pancakes. Look at me being all domestic and shit.

I kissed Meeka’s forehead, letting her know that I was going to grab some food for breakfast.

When she only stirred, I smiled to myself and quickly got dressed.

There was an extra bounce in my step that morning. Meeka and I were happy and I had every intention of telling her that day how I felt. My stomach somersaulted.

The only woman I had ever told that I loved her, was my mother. When she died, those words never left my lips again.

Thoughts of the last nightmare I had, travelled into my mind. A feeling of unease stabbed me in the gut. Shaking it off, I chuckled lightly to myself. “Get a grip, man.”

When I arrived at the store, a dark cloud appeared over me, blanketing me in the shadows of my past. My heart jumped, picking up speed as each minute passed. It was nothing. There was no reason for me to feel this way.

Stepping out of my car, my gaze landed on an older man doing the same. He paused, his back stiffening. Peering over his shoulder, his eyes locked with mine.

Him. My step-father. Elliott Masters.

He was hunched over, his skin tanned and withered. The memories of a hard sadistic life showcased in his dark eyes.

Elliott frowned, shutting the door to his vehicle. He raised an eyebrow, sizing me up.

My feet remained glued to the ground. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything. Seeing him took me back to years ago when I was just a boy. The acidic scent of death wafted around me, the sticky liquid of blood poured from my fingertips. I could still remember it. Every moment. Every woman. Every death.

I had promised him years ago that if he saw me again, it would be before he died but I lied. I was a scared little boy who only threatened with words.

Elliott’s mouth twitched at the corners. He knew. He fucking knew I wouldn’t hurt him. Not yet. But I would. If I had to die trying, Elliott Masters would beg me for his life. I would laugh, dancing on his entrails until there was nothing left.

No breath. No sound. No
soul
.

***

(Meeka)

Asher’s nightmares broke my heart. They had been coming on more frequently, and I didn’t know how to help him through them. So I just let them play out, and when he woke, I was there to hold him and try my best to make him feel better. It usually ended up with us having a bath. I would wash away the remnants of the dreams.

I had heard of sex helping the victim through the nightmares. They needed that close connection to the person they were comfortable with. With us, it took a couple of nightmares before Asher even considered touching me in a sexual way. I let him take the control, not wanting him to feel like I was using him.

Sex didn’t solve anything. It didn’t make the shit in this fucked up world any better, but it did make
us
feel better. Even if it was just for a hot sweaty couple of minutes. Or in Asher’s case, hours. It had been a couple of weeks since that night. The night he demanded for me to be spread-eagle on his carpet, ready and waiting for him. Something had happened in those minutes because he hadn’t left me alone since then. I wasn’t complaining, but I was concerned. It was almost as if he were saying goodbye. Like he expected me to end what we had.

We had become closer and after all of his nightmares, he had become my permanent shadow.

“You are the air I need.”

Asher had been so sweet and loving. Gentle through his touch. Powerful in his thrusts. I wasn’t sure what came over him, but I took it for what it was.

Things had been quiet with Charles and his band of bastards. I wasn’t sure why. Asher contacted him the day we were supposed to meet up but couldn’t get through to him. He told me not to worry about it, but the deep frown set on his handsome face grated at my nerves.

When Asher woke me up with a gentle kiss on the forehead, he mentioned something about running errands and grabbing me breakfast. My aching and tired body forced me back into a deep sleep, so I wasn’t sure if I had been dreaming or not.

A couple hours later, I woke to a jarring sound in my head. What the hell?

I groaned, rolling over on my stomach. Shoving the pillow over my head, I ignored the sound but it only became louder and louder. That was when I realized it was my phone ringing.

Snatching my cell off the night stand, I frowned at the unknown number. “Hello?”

“You and your fucking boyfriend need to get over here or I will send out my watch dogs for you. Trust me, little girl, you don’t want these men to find you.”

Charles. Fucking. Brian.

Great.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Either it was my sleep-induced state or the fact that I just had enough, but I was no longer scared of him.

“Get over here,” he bellowed, slamming the phone in my ear.

“Rude.” Grumbling to myself, I got out of bed and was surprised to see that it was early afternoon. Asher had done a good job the night before in wearing me out. My skin burned, a small smile spreading on my face. Charles wouldn’t ruin this.

Making my way down the stairs, I stopped suddenly when a loud crash vibrated from the back of the house. The sounds continued. It was like someone was trying to bring the walls to a crumbling halt.

“Asher?” I called out, my voice cracking. Clearing my throat, I yelled his name again, but no answer came. Peeking out the front window, I saw his truck in the driveway but no sign of him.

Another crash, followed by some mumbled curses. What the hell was going on?

Following the noise, I made my way to the door leading down into the basement. The sounds became louder with each step I took. I opened the door, peering down the dim stairway. “Asher?” Another crash. I jumped, instinctively reaching for my cell phone. Getting ready to call Angel even though I knew I probably should just call the police, my thumb hovered over his number. “Hey,” I called out. “Are you down there?” It was a typical scene out of a horror movie. Dumb girl wakes up from a sex-induced coma only to find herself dead after searching out a noise.

“
Fuck!
”

Asher
. My heart jumped. I ran down the stairs, coming to a halt when I saw him pounding his fists into the cement wall. He was cursing, yelling, mumbling. I couldn’t make out anything he was saying. The darkness had taken over, his nightmares controlling his actions, forcing him to hurt himself. He kept pounding his fists into the wall until the bricks were lined with red and pieces of his skin.

“
Asher
,” I screamed, taking a step toward him. “What are you doing?”

But he didn’t turn around. It was as if he didn’t even hear or see me. He didn’t stop. He didn’t say my name. He only continued to lose himself. That piece of him that had been strong for all of these years. I grabbed a hold of him but he wouldn’t let up. Punch after punch, his fists hit the wall. His knuckles bloody and bruised.

“Please stop,” I cried, reaching for his hands.

He spun on me, forcing me to take a step back.

I stared up at him with wide eyes, my heart shattering into a million tiny pieces.

He looked down at me with no emotion, no hint of the man I had known for most of my life. I barely recognized him. His eyes were dark, shadowed by a past that had finally won.

He stared back at me with hate in his eyes, but I knew, with everything in me, that hate wasn’t meant for me.

He didn’t say anything but turned around and started throwing boxes, tools, anything he could get his hands on. He was a crazed man, a victim, fighting for the lingering hope that he could be somewhat normal again. But for the moment, he was done. And that was when I realized he had officially lost his power.

WITH SHAKY
hands, I called Angel.

“Yeah.”

“Angel. Asher.” The words wouldn’t come out. My chest ached, tightening with anxiety. I didn’t know what was going on or what to do. I had never seen Asher break before. He had only come see me after the fact but he never explained, he never told me anything. If only he would have. I could have been prepared. I could have helped him in some way. He had told me he was protecting me but after all of this time, I still believed that it was to protect himself. He hid the broken darkness from me so there was no way I would judge him. But I wouldn’t. Never.

“Deep breaths, Meeka,” Angel said, gently. “What’s going on?”

“Something happened,” I paced back and forth, my nerves jumping every time a loud sound came from the basement. “He’s freaking out, and I don’t know what to do. He needs you.”

“No,” Angel corrected. “He needs
you
.”

“I tried. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’re on our way.”

The sound of Angel hanging up released some of the tension pushing on my shoulders. Asher’s brothers could get him to calm down. They knew him in the field. They knew him in a different way than I did. But I knew all of him. I knew every inch, every hard muscle. Every thought. I had to go back to him. I needed to try and dig past the wall that had been built since his step-father destroyed him years ago.

Heading back down stairs, I kept a safe distance away from Asher. But I didn’t want to. Every fiber of my being told me to go to him. To help him. To protect him. He had finally let the shadows of his past win.