Taz (Tarnished Souls MC Book 2) Read online

  “GET OFF HIM...!” I hear a familiar voice screech out. One of the men grunt, landing beside me on the ground, his knees hitting the concrete. Serenity is on his back, clinging to him like a spider monkey, fists flying in every direction. “GET OFF HIM...!” She screams again, filling the basement with echoes of her possessed voice.

  “ENOUGH!” Slasher screams, ripping her off his guard by the long strands of hair still draping across her bare skin. When she lets out a whimper, I move to stand up, only to be stopped with a boot to my already injured side. Slasher stands just a few feet away from me, controlling Serenity with the grip he has on her hair. A look of excitement is making his eyes glow. Why the fuck didn’t she run? Now they will probably kill us both, but not before making her suffer.

  “Give me your knife,” Slasher orders, talking to one of his soldiers. “Drag him over to the chair, make sure he keeps his eyes open.” Grabbing me by my arms, the men begin to drag my bloodied beaten, body to the chair that was tossed across the room during our struggle.

  “You realize I didn’t want to have to do this, Princess,” Slasher says, taunting Serenity. “You made a good decision by not running, but then you attacked a member of my club. If I allow you to get by with that, without a punishment, I’ll look weak. You don’t want me to look weak, do you?”

  When Serenity looks in my direction, hurting herself by straining against his hold, I try once again to bait him. Taking a stab in the dark, hoping I’m right about my earlier assumption, I say the one thing I know will piss him off. Forcing out a laugh first, I get his attention. “You find me amusing?” He questions. A look of curiosity and annoyance flickering across his face.

  “I was just remembering the last piece of pussy I had. I believe you might know her.”

  “Is that right?” He asks, obviously intrigued by what he doesn’t know. I focus only on him, not having the stomach to look at Serenity when I say what I have to. I might not be able to go through with the lie if I see the hurt on her face.

  “Red hair, green eyes, a pussy that tastes of strawberries,” I declare, watching his controlled face contort with anger. That’s right, you have a weakness, and I’ve found it. “What I wouldn’t give to have Scarlett’s lips wrapped around my cock one last time.”

  “You hear that, Princess,” he states, surprising me when he breaks our eye contact to look at Serenity. “He’s just confessed to taking something that belongs to me,” Slasher says, walking her backwards, until her back hits the wall.

  No. What is he doing? This was not how I pictured this playing out. I can no longer see Serenity, his larger frame covering her smaller one. I can see him firmly grasp the knife in his hand, before holding it in a way that suggests it’s resting on her throat. The room has grown so quiet, the sound of him undoing her zipper can easily be heard. With a roar that comes from deep in my soul, I spring to my feet. Just a few yards until I reach my target, then I can rip his fucking head off, shove it up his ass, and get us both out of here.

  It’s not the hit from the fist to the side of my face, or the blow to my back, that sends me to my knees. The black dots in front of my eyes, causing me to lose focus on Slasher, is brought on by the chair that was just smashed over my head. Reaching my hand out, like the pussy I am, I fight the sleep that is threatening to take over. A real man would have saved her. I just fed her to the wolves, the very ones that have been using her as a chew toy. I’m a worthless bastard. I can hear her muffled cries, begging them to leave me alone, right before another blow to the head sends me into complete darkness. The vision of Slasher ripping her pants open is the last thing I see.

  What the hell just happened? Shaking my head, a sharp pain shoots through my temples. My eyes are groggy, and I feel as if I’ve been asleep for years. When the aches and pains start throbbing throughout my body, my brain slowly begins to piece together the puzzle that is laid before it. Serenity and I were taken by Slasher and his band of dumbasses. We’ve been in this basement for days, possibly weeks, who really knows. Noticing my vision starting to clear, as long as I don’t move too fast, I slowly trail my eyes over the room. Where is Serenity? She’s usually right beside me. My movement is sluggish, at best, but I still manage to scan the entire area. I start to panic when I see the broken pieces of a chair in the center of the floor, and a busted radio thrown to my left. Like a whirlwind, memories come flooding back into my head. Scrambling to my feet, I stagger from side to side, but determination to find Serenity keeps me upright. I slide my feet forward because I can’t pick them up, but the sound of someone crying stops me.

  Following the noise to the darkest corner in the room, by the stairs, I catch a glimpse of Serenity huddled in on herself. Her jean clad legs are tucked into her chest, long blonde hair cascading down, her face hidden in her knees. Taking off my shirt that’s covered in blood and other fluids, I gradually make my way to her. She doesn’t bother to look up, just continues to break right in front of me. Rage, as pure as it comes, runs cold through my veins just thinking of what she was going through while I was knocked out. I did this. Not directly, but I’m the one that set the events into motion. Instead of playing him like I wanted, he called my bluff.

  Falling to my knees beside her, despite my muscles screaming at me in agony, I place her in my lap. Stretching my legs out, she is now cradled on my chest, still tucked into herself. I softly drape my shirt over her bare shoulders, wanting her to feel somewhat secured. Resting my head against the wall, I keep myself calm thinking of the many ways I will kill anyone that touched her. Absent mindedly I wrap my arms around her, rocking us from side to side. It’s something my mother used to do for me when I was a boy. Anytime I was upset, or having a bad day, she would take me in her arms and rock me. It always soothed me, and right now Serenity needs something to lessen her pain.

  When her moans of agony eventually turn to sobs, before becoming nothing more than whimpers, I force her to look at me. There are so many things I want to say, but only one I need to. Blue eyes, puffy and red, stare into mine. Her face is streaked with dirt, the tears leaving a trail of clean skin behind, her straight-edged nose red from rubbing it.

  “I’ll make them pay, Angel. I’ll make them wish they never touched you.”

  She can hear the sincerity in my voice, and the knowledge that I’ll keep that promise brings us both some relief. Resting her head on my chest, instead of disappearing into herself again, she takes a deep breath. Her shoulders only shaking slightly, proving to me just how strong she is.

  “He didn’t rape me, Taz,” she mummers, “he said they wanted you awake for that.” The pain in her voice indicating he still did something. Hearing those words, no matter how selfish it is, honestly takes a weight off my soul. I’m aware she stilled payed a price for my stupidity, but any other wound can be easier healed.

  “Tell me.” I harshly whisper out, instantly apologizing for my tone. “Sorry, Angel. I’m not mad at you, but I want to know what happened,” I state, lying to her. I don’t want to know; I need to know. I have a burning need to hear everything, not only because I’ll make sure to do the same to them, it’s more than that. Serenity is… how do I put this? She’s become more than just another woman to me. There’s been many times I’ve wanted to take her, make her mine, but she is Buck’s daughter. Which makes her one hundred percent off limits.

  Serenity slowly starts to rise, bringing me back to the present, my shirt falling on the floor behind her. Now that she is on her feet, because of the height difference between us, my eyes are level with her lower stomach. Her zipper is still open from earlier, showing off her white panties. With a closer inspection, I can see a pattern of crimson on them. Hooking her thumbs in the waist band of both her jeans and underwear, Serenity slides them down.

  I close my eyes, praying that when I open them again this will all just have been a nightmare. The red that stained her white lace is from the fresh cuts he gave her. Forcing me eyes open, I come face to face with the name of the man that wil
l suffer. Slasher has carved his name into Serenity, just above her hair line, from hip bone to hip bone.

  “Taz.” I hear her say, my name coming out shaky. Most likely frightened by the look on my face. I try to shake away the feelings of wrath I have flowing through my muscles because right now I need to focus on only one thing. Taking care of her, which I’ve failed to do so far, and getting us out of here. Dying is no longer an option for me. Before I go to Hell, I need to make sure these bastards are there waiting for me. To torture them some more.

  Serenity

  I jerk awake, short of breath with sweat coating my dirty skin, to the sounds of the rat we share this basement with. He’s gnawing at an uneaten piece of sandwich left to mildew in the corner. Taz’s body is pressed against mine. His strong legs are surrounding me, with his arm thrown over my waist in a protective hold. I remember a time not too long ago when I would’ve done anything to have this. The hard floor beneath me, the harsh smell surrounding us, and the pain in my lower abdomen has me second guessing the anything part. While I draw strength from him being here, I realize this is not how I wanted our first time in each other’s arms to happen. I thought I would walk into the club one night, and Taz would be there, waiting on me, to confess his undying love. I know what you’re thinking. Serenity, you sound like a girl with her head in the clouds. Well I would rather be that girl, than the one I feel myself changing into. How long have we been down here? Why hasn’t my dad found me yet? Rational or not, I can’t help the feelings of anger and hurt when I think about these questions. There are a lot of things I can no longer control. When I eat, what I eat, I haven’t showered since the night they took us, and the bathroom situation is so disturbing it’s not worth going into detail. I can, however, control my emotions. Which I find Slasher hates, and I’m starting to lose faith in my dad and his club.

  Slowly rolling over onto my other side, I try not to wake Taz as I adjust my body. The slow rise and fall of his chest helps to reassure me he’s alive. This is something I’ve come to do a lot. While his body is shutting down, sleeping in hopes to heal from its many wounds, I lie awake. It’s too hot to sleep, and when I close my eyes to try, I see Slasher’s golden brown ones staring back at me, making it impossible. I’m not sure what game he is playing anymore. If I were any other woman, would he have raped me by now? This may not come as a shock to most of you, but I am a virgin. My dad’s overprotectiveness has helped keep my innocence intact, despite my many attempts to change it.

  Taz’s fingers start to twitch, drawing me from my thoughts. I’ve noticed he only does this when he’s in a deep sleep, maybe dreaming of all the women he’s had. I remember a time when the slightest nod of his head would have several of the whores running. I know this to be a fact, because there were several times I had to force myself to stay put, not that he would have selected me to be the lucky one for the night. Trailing my finger across his lips, I try to imagine what it would feel like to have them on mine. Would he be a slow, sensual kisser, or a rough, take what’s mine, kind? I’ve seen the way he takes other women, but would I be different? Sometimes I think I see him looking at me, like he’s having to restrain himself. Then it’s gone, just as quick as it occurs, and I begin to think I just imagined it.

  “Serenity…” Taz says, triggering my response to act nonchalant. I pull my hand back just as he is opening his eyes. Green irises, barely visible, question my fast movement. In a move only I have mastered, I force my eyes to look at anything and everything that isn’t him, pretending to be lost in thought. Growing up this is what I would do when I wasn’t sure whether I was caught or not. My dad always assumed I was innocent, so now this is my go-to move. I’ve been told it makes me look as if I’m hurting or sick. Recently someone mentioned it made me look constipated, not my finest moment, but some habits are hard to break.

  “What are you thinking about?” Taz asks, allowing me to relax knowing my fingers got away with their shameful wondering. Deciding it’s safe to give him my attention, I peer into his eyes. I sometimes joke that Taz has a superpower. When he looks at you, it’s like his soul is beckoning yours, but everyone always argues that it’s just me.

  “I’m having a hard time remembering,” I answer. I couldn’t come up with a good lie, so playing dumb will have to work. There is no way I’m going to admit to thinking about his luscious lips slamming down on mine, taking my mouth by force until I beg him to do the same with my body. Nope. Not going to say that. Not here, not now, not ever.

  “Hmmm…” He mumbles. “I’m not sure I believe that.” He finishes, moving his body in a way that causes him pain. His jaw clamps down, and his lips tighten as he attempts to keep from being vocal. It amazes me that he still tries to be strong despite all his injuries. I’m shocked he can still move at this point, really, I am. The bruises and cuts covering his face, arms, and neck would have any other person fighting back tears.

  “Are you alright?” I ask, having nothing better to say. I know he will lie, and I will continue to let him think I believe him. When he doesn’t answer, just nods his head, my mind is screaming at me to get verbal confirmation. His face hasn’t changed its expression, other than to turn ashen. My gut is telling me there is something seriously wrong, but I’m naturally paranoid. It’s hard to decipher whether it’s a real emergency or not. To me all health issues are emergencies. My debate comes to an end when he sits up, coughing uncontrollably.

  “Taz… Are you alright?... You’re scaring me,” I say, sitting up beside him, and rub his back. He doesn’t acknowledge my touch, just continues to hack up a lung. After he has managed to calm down, he removes his hand from his mouth. With a feeling of dread so strong it leaves me motionless, I stare at the red stains left on his hand. Blood is coating his palm and fingers, proving to me that something is very wrong.

  “Oh my god, Taz,” I say, my voice breaking. By this time, he would wrap me in his arms, while whispering reassurances in my ear. Instead, his body falls back to the floor, landing like a ton of bricks. I rush forward to catch his head just before it hits the floor. Adjusting my legs, I’m able to get them underneath him, allowing Taz to use me as a pillow.

  “He’s going to be okay,” I say out loud. “He’s not going to die, because you won’t let him.” At this point I’m sure I look like a crazy person, but I can’t find the strength to care. Keeping one of my hands on his chest so I can feel his heartbeat, while the other runs it’s fingers through his hair, I continue with my chant. “He’s going to be okay. He’s not going to die because you won’t let him.” Time ceases to exist. I manage to keep my panic at bay by talking to myself. The slow steady rhythm of his heart helps. Like a zombie with no emotions to be felt, I hold Taz as his breathing starts to change.

  “He doesn’t look too good, Princess.” I hear Slasher say. I recognize his voice from all the others because it plays in my head, on repeat, as I try to fall asleep. I hadn’t heard him come down the stairs, so his statement startles me. My body doesn’t jolt from the surprise, knowing it could hurt Taz, so Slasher has no way of knowing he’s scared me.

  “He needs a doctor,” I whisper, instinctively allowing my body to position over his in a protective position. Slasher watches my movement, and his eyes light up with joy. He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and that worries me. He is unpredictable, unstable, and pure evil.

  “I agree. He looks like he could use some medical treatment,” Slasher states, kneeling close enough for me to smell his cologne. The sweet, spicy smell will forever be etched in my brain as something disgusting, for however long I have left to live. “I wish there was something I could do to help,” he mocks, “but you have not been a very good girl. I usually find myself pleased with your obedience, but you allowed him to hurt my men, Princess, that’s not something I can easily forgive.”

  Staring into his golden eyes, knowing he is without a doubt leading me into another one of his games, I know I have no choice but to play along. Slasher is trying to convince me I should’ve
controlled Taz, but I know he doesn’t believe that. All bikers are the same in that aspect, they don’t let women control them.

  “I’m sorry, Slasher,” I say, hoping he can’t detect the hatred in my voice when I apologize. There is no telling what he will do if he thinks I’m not being sincere.

  “No, you’re not, Princess,” he declares, “but you will be if you don’t give me what I want.” My mind instantly fills with disturbing images.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and sadly that is not what I was talking about. While I would love to be your first, there are more pressing matters I need to worry about. If I were to do that, I have a feeling you wouldn’t give me the information I want,” he laughs out. I’m not sure whether he is laughing at the look of confusion on my face, or his own statement.

  “I bet you’re wondering how I knew you were a virgin?” He questions, trying to reach his hand out to run his fingers across my cheek. I jerk my head out of reach, causing the smile on his face to grow. “You see, I’ve never been too turned on by unexperienced women. I prefer someone that knows how to suck a dick just as good as she knows how to ride one. You looked more frightened the first time you sucked me off than you did waking up in this shit hole.”

  “Maybe because I was forced,” I spit out, interrupting his useless speech.

  “You weren’t forced, Princess. You were given a choice, it’s not my fault you whored yourself out for someone doing a lousy job of protecting you.”

  “He’s only one man, trying to take on you and your puppets!” I shout, getting irritated by the mere mention of, Taz, not being good enough.

  His eyes narrow, obviously not liking my tone, “are you suggesting I can’t defend myself?” He asks. I don’t bother replying, nothing I say at this point will help the situation.