Page 49 of True Bastard
He saw my fear, my desperation, and he reveled in it.
“No,” he agreed, his voice a low drawl that sent a shiver down my spine. “I don’t suspect it was.”
“You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”
Morpheus slowly shook his head. “You are the first old lady of this club. Honestly, I have no idea what to do with you.”
I stiffened.
Old lady?
“I’m not anyone’s anything.”
“You sure about that? There is a brother in this club who might think differently.”
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “I saw what he thinks of me with my own eyes.”
His lips curled into a mocking smile. “Perception is a fickle thing. What you saw and what’s actually in his heart might not be the same.” He stepped closer, the air between us thickening.“But here’s the thing, Kitten: around here, what matters is what I decide. And I’ve decided you’re not going anywhere.”
Chapter Thirty
Firestride
The room, once filled with the cacophony of the club, suddenly felt eerily silent, the only sound being the frantic pounding of my own heart. The scent of something familiar, something heavenly, had me looking up, and my eyes locked with hers—my kitten. Her once erotic scent now wrapped around me like a heavy cloak, a reminder of my betrayal.
The guttural rasp of Kiki’s pleasure was usually a symphony to my ears, a testament to the power I wielded. But now, it was a sickening counterpoint to the silent accusation in my kitten’s wide, damning eyes. She stood framed in the doorway, a small, trembling silhouette against the harsh glare of the clubhouse lights. The sight of her, my kitten, the one creature I’d vowed to tame but failed, standing there, unmoving, as she witnessed my folly into hell.
My body, a machine built for the primal pursuit of dominance and release, felt suddenly sluggish, heavy. Kiki’s soft cries turned from a victory anthem to a grating accusation, each gasp a stab at the fragile dam I’d built around my humanity. The man I’d honed over years of malice and brutality—that was the truth, the real me I’d buried deep, or so I thought. But seeing the pure, virtuous disgust in her gaze curdling into shame and horror ripped through my carefully constructed façade.
She walked away.
She left me.
She failed to submit.
A thousand justifications screamed in my head, the well-worn arguments of a man who’d long ago shed his conscience, but the raw pain in her eyes, the quiet, devastating judgment, silenced them all. It was a choice I was being forced to make, a choice between the savage pleasure that had defined my existence and the burgeoning, terrifying flicker of something else, something that recognized the monstrousness of my current act.
I wanted to tear myself away, to shield her from my filth, to pretend this moment hadn’t happened. But the brute instinct, the ingrained habit of never showing weakness, of never backing down, held me captive as I continued to pump my dick into Kiki’s ass. To stop now, to pull away from Kiki, would be an admission of defeat, an unraveling of the persona I’d painstakingly crafted. And then, the worst of it: the dawning realization that no matter what I did, no matter how I tried to spin it, I had failed.
I had failed her, the one person I desperately wanted to be worthy of.
Regret was already a cold knot in my gut, a foretaste of the desolation that awaited me.
So, in the end, I did what I always did. I stayed true to my nature and when I was ready to nut, I pulled my dick from Kiki’s ass and shot streams of cum all over her back, never taking my eyes off the one woman who held the power to bring me to my knees.
My gaze remained locked on her, daring her to look away, to flee, to do anything but witness my degradation. But she stood there, a statue carved from ice. Her eyes, once pools of defiance, now held a chilling emptiness. The silence stretched, a gaping maw swallowing the remnants of my pride, and in that profound quiet, I knew I had lost.
I was a Bastard to the core, but she had chipped away at the granite, revealing a raw, untamed landscape beneath—a landscape I was now condemned to navigate alone. I had tried to break her, to tame her, but in the end, she had broken me.
“Who’s next?” I roared, reaching for my whiskey bottle as Pinky rushed over, dropping to her knees, wasting no time before swallowing my dick whole. I couldn’t move, refusing to take my eyes off my kitten as Cerberus greeted her, then ushered her out of the room and into Morpheus’ office. The second she was out of my sight, I pushed Pinky off me and roared, launching my whiskey bottle across the room. Picking up a chair, I threw it across the room while Carver walked over to me. Then, Morpheus’ door opened and out walked a grim-looking Wanderer.
“Carver, you’re with me. Let’s go.”
Not even seconds later, Inferno walked out, carrying his daughter, Karter, disappearing toward the back of the clubhouse.
“What the fuck is going on?” I seethed, glaring at my brother.
Wanderer shook his head as Carver quickly checked his guns before the two of them left the clubhouse. As I stood there, my eyes locked once more on Morpheus’ office door, the front doors to the clubhouse opened again and in walked a person who should not be here.
