Bloody royals, p.1
Bloody Royals, page 1
Bloody Royals
An MC Romance Novel
Bloody Black Skulls MC
Book 1
T.O. Smith
First Edition: Copyright ©April 2017 by T.O. Smith
Second Edition: Copyright ©July 2022 by T.O. Smith
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Designer: Tiff Writes Romance
Interior Designer: Tiff Writes Romance
Editing: Tiff Writes Romance
Proofreading: Kimberly Peterson
Created with Vellum
For Riley, my reason for everything that I do.
* * *
For every reader who encouraged me and asked me to bring back this trilogy after I unpublished it.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by T.O. Smith
1
Darkness.
It was the first thing I noticed when I ripped my eyes open, leaving me to wonder for a moment if my eyes had ever really been closed in the first place.
I sat stock-still, taking in what I could through my other senses. My legs and arms were tied to a chair—a hard one at that, considering my ass was sore. I tried wiggling a little, taking note that whoever had tied me to this chair had done a damn good job. I had zero wiggle room.
There was a gag in my mouth, which didn’t surprise me. I didn’t know how I ended up here, so chances were, I’d done my classic Katie thing and ran my mouth.
Drawing in a deep breath through my nose, I closed my eyes, trying to think of the last thing I could remember. Zachary Taylor.
That name alone sent chills down my spine as well as made me feel sick to my stomach.
I blocked that shit from my mind, deciding not to focus on that. If that was the last thing I remembered, then I had either been kidnapped not too long after that incident, or I’d been hit so hard I lost some of my memory.
But my head didn’t hurt, which kind of ruled out the last option.
My stomach grumbled, and I rolled my eyes. Of course, I was fucking hungry. It seemed no matter how shitty of a situation I got myself in, I could always seem to be hungry.
It was a curse, really.
The creaking of a door reached my ears before I heard it click shut a moment later. I held my breath for a moment, trying to make out some other sound. No other sound came.
But a fucking light flickered on overhead.
My curse was muffled by my gag as I squinted, trying to give my eyes time to adjust. I quickly took in what I could. The walls were concrete and bare. There were some pipes running along the wall, and there was a set of stairs off to my right.
The basement seemed to be neglected—never used—apart from me now being in it.
Voices flooded into the room at the same time that feet pounded down the stairs, bringing the once oppressing room to life. Three guys came around the wall, all of them built, their faces expressionless, all of them staring at me.
Fear sliced through my veins. I locked it away, channeling it as I had been raised to do since I was a small child. It was a survival mechanism that had been ingrained into me from the moment I was old enough to understand the kind of life I had been born into.
It wasn’t for the weak of heart or the weak of mind.
I quickly took in the three men in front of me, drilling their features into my head with a vivid picture. One of the guys was olive-skinned, his hair cut into a buzz cut, tattoos swirling over his scalp. He was muscular—beefy—like he worked out a lot in his spare time. His eyes were a deep, dark chocolate color, but they were cold, void of any real emotion.
One of the other guys had longer, brown hair that slightly hung into his blue eyes. He wasn’t as muscular as the olive-skinned guy, but the look he gave everything around him sent chills down my spine. He was dangerous; that much was clear.
The other guy really caught my attention, and I hated that I found him extremely attractive.
Dirty blonde hair and dark eyes sucked me in, holding me captive in his gaze. His jawline was strong—sharp lines that made him look absolutely perfect. His cheekbones were high on his face, giving him a very slim appearance that matched the rest of his body.
He was tall with a lankier build, but when he moved, his muscles flexed, letting me know that just because he was smaller than the other two, he held his own power, which was even more dangerous.
The man I had been admiring stepped up so that he was right in front of me. I quickly looked down, showing submission. I had to play this smart. I knew I could handle my own, but not while I was tied to a chair. Right now, I was at a disadvantage.
Right then, submission would get me a hell of a lot further than bravery ever would.
“Look at me,” he finally commanded. His voice was rough and slightly gravelly, extremely deep, which I hadn’t been expecting from him.
That voice held no room for argument or non-compliance. I surprised myself when I obediently snapped my head up to look at him. My breath caught in my throat. Up close, this man was absolutely breathtaking, a beauty that was deadly and cruel.
He suddenly cursed, making me flinch back from him, and spun around to face the other two guys. His jaw was ticking furiously, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Who the fuck is this?!” he roared, slinging his arm back towards me, almost hitting me in the face, but somehow stopping his hand just short of doing so.
“This is the girl you asked for,” the olive-skinned guy responded, frowning at the man in front of me.
“You two are fucking idiots,” he snarled. “Shut it!” he yelled when the brunette guy opened his mouth to speak. “This isn’t the fucking girl I asked for. I gave you two idiots a fucking picture, and you still couldn’t do the goddamn job correctly.” He breathed out heavily and unclenched his fists, then clenched them again. I swallowed thickly, watching as the veins in his arms stood out against his skin. He roughly pointed to the door.
“Get the fuck out of my sight,” he snarled.
They walked out of the room, leaving me alone with the monster in charge of this entire thing. He turned to me and glared, a sneer twisting his lips. “You’ll just stay down here until I can figure out what the fuck to do with you,” he spat, turning on his heel without another word, leaving me gagged and tied to the chair.
He stormed up the stairs, his boots pounding against the steps. The light eventually turned off, and I heard the door slam closed right after. I clenched my jaw, fisting my hands behind me.
When I got out of this place and back home, these mother fuckers would pay for crossing me.
I’d make damn sure of it.
The light turned on in the room again before the door even completely opened up. I strained my ears, listening to a set of boots pounding down the stairs, my heart beginning to race. These steps were drunk and sloppy, a sound I was extremely familiar with. I’d fought off so many drunken assholes that I’d lost count, but now, I was bound and gagged.
I had no way to fight off this man’s advances.
The man came into the room, stopping in front of me. He was shorter than the three men that had been in here earlier, but he was well built—more so than the olive-skinned guy. And looking into his eyes, they confirmed what I already knew; he was drunk. They weren’t focusing all that well, his eyes way too dilated, and they were beyond bloodshot.
My heart raced in my chest, and I felt sick to my stomach. I’d been around enough drunk men to know what could happen to me if I didn’t somehow get loose. This man could very well do whatever he wanted to me, and no one would hear me screaming.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” he slurred, his words almost incoherent. I tilted my chin up in bravery despite me feeling anything but brave at that moment. Channel your fear, Katie. “Heard you got mixed up in this bullshit.” He laughed. “Travis said you ain’t good for much else besides some pussy if we keep you around.” He leaned in close to me. I gagged at the smell of his breath—a horrible mix of beer, weed, pussy, and seafood. “Thought I’d come down and get myself a little taste, sweetheart,” he leered, running his eyes over my body.
I was still in the clothes from my date, my top showing a lot of cleavage, my jeans so tight it was a shock they didn’t cut my circulation off. My black combat boots were on my feet, but sometime while I’d been unconscious, my leather jacket had gone missing.
I hated that he was able to see every part of me so easily, even with clothes on.
I glared at him, biting back tears as he grabbed the neckline of my tank top, ripping it off me so roughly, my chair toppled to the floor. I bit back a yelp of pain as I la
My bra was the next thing to go, and he tossed it somewhere across the room. After righting my chair back up, his grubby hands reached out, and he roughly cupped my breasts, pinching and rolling my nipples to the point pain raced through my chest.
“Fucking amazing tits,” he drunkenly slurred, leaning forward, biting at my skin. I tightened my hands, wishing I were free so I could bash his fucking skull into my knee before I slit his throat with something.
A rough cry of pain ripped from my throat, muffled by the gag, as he roughly bit my nipple. “You like that, don’t you? Dirty bitches like you always enjoy pain,” he rambled.
I glared at him, my chest heaving. I had to get loose.
My hands were itching to break his fucking neck.
He pulled a knife out of his pocket. A plan quickly formed in my mind. If I could get somewhat loose, I could gain the upper hand.
Using the knife, he cut my leg restraints, which was his first mistake. As soon as my legs were loose, I kicked him in the face, sending my chair flying backward with the force I put behind it. He sprawled backward across the floor, roaring out in pain, blood spurting from his nose. I crashed roughly down on my arm again.
He yanked me off the chair and threw me onto the floor, my arms still bound behind my back. My head roughly slammed against the cement floor beneath me, and black spots danced in my vision. I rapidly blinked, trying to fight past the darkness threatening to swarm my vision.
He climbed on top of me, and before I could kick him again, he sat on top of my legs, pinning me down as he turned his body to yank my boots off my feet. I bucked my hips under him, trying to get him off me, but he was too heavy. The only thing moving beneath him seemed to do was make him harder.
Disgust crawled through my veins.
He yanked my jeans apart with sheer, drunken strength, and ripped my underwear off. I fought harder, but I was fucked—royally fucked. I wasn’t getting out of this situation. There was no fucking hope for me. Even when he slid off my legs, he just held them down with his hands so I couldn’t move them.
I glared up at the ceiling, gritting my teeth, so much rage pulsing through me that it made it hard to fucking think—to breathe.
I was going to be raped.
Right as he was about to push into me, someone yanked him off of me. I heard a fist hit skin, but I didn’t turn to look. I curled into a ball, trying to hide the most important parts of my body.
The olive-skinned guy from earlier dragged a now dead, bloody man towards the other side of the room. The ringleader knelt in front of me a moment later, his dark eyes intent on my face. I tilted my chin up at him, refusing to be worn down.
A small smile tilted his lips.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly. I wanted to scoff. I was kidnapped, and he wanted me to trust him when he said he wasn’t going to hurt me? “You’re safe with me.” He slowly extended his hand out to me. I just gritted my teeth, staring between him and his hand. When he saw I wasn’t going to freak out, he reached forward with his other hand to untie the gag.
I worked my jaw around, loving the freedom I had to move it now. Soreness rang through my jaw, but I pushed it down. Pain was weakness, and I would not be weak in this situation.
I went back to watching him. I didn’t trust this man at all. I saw how he had acted earlier, and I didn’t need him lashing out at me unexpectedly. Right now, I still knew that submission was going to be more useful than my bravery.
“My name is Travis,” he told me. “What’s yours?”
I continued watching him for another moment before I answered, “Katie.”
He nodded, acknowledging my name. “I’m going to untie your wrists and take you upstairs. You can get a shower, and I’ll have Grace make you something to eat.”
I didn’t say anything—just nodded my head at him. He untied my wrists, then proceeded to take his shirt off. I barely kept myself from licking my lips at the sight of all those muscles and tattoos on display. Sure, he had a lanky build, but there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. His upper body flexed with every move he made to pull his shirt over his head.
And he a damn V that was sure to drive me fucking wild.
He handed me his shirt with a smirk when he caught me running my eyes over him. I just evenly met his gaze as I took his shirt from him and slipped it over my head, almost moaning at the smell of it. It smelled like a very expensive cologne mixed with the smell of pure man.
It was almost orgasm-inducing.
He held his hand out to me when I got ready to push myself off the floor, but I ignored it, standing up on my own. His shirt was enough help. Everything came with a price. Even small shit that a normal person wouldn’t think twice about, there was always some kind of price tag involved in it.
Where I came from, you didn’t take help unless you absolutely needed it. Because when it came time to pay back your debt, you had better be fucking ready.
He eyed me for a moment, like he was trying to figure something out. When I arched a single eyebrow at him, he just turned on his heel and started walking towards the stairs. I followed him out of the basement into a hallway. Exquisite paintings hung on the walls, and a soft, burgundy carpet covered the floor.
Whoever Travis was, he was obviously wealthy.
And money made men like him even deadlier . . . because with money came power.
We walked up a spiral staircase and down another hall until he led me into a bedroom that smelled exactly like his shirt.
I quickly took in my surroundings, committing it all to memory—my survival mechanism.
The bedsheets on the bed were black, along with the comforter. It was a huge California King bed that looked extremely comfortable. The bed frame was brown along with the rest of his furniture. He definitely knew how to color code, which strangely pleased me. Things not matching really fucked with me, even if it wasn’t my own space to have any say-so.
“There should be some clothes in the bottom drawer of the dresser,” Travis suddenly spoke up, pointing at one of the dressers near the closet, “that I think will fit you. Lock the bathroom and bedroom door so no one else will try any stupid shit. But because this is my room and my bathroom, I have a key to get in and out,” he warned me.
I nodded in reply. He walked out of the room without another word or glance, shutting the door behind him. I did as he said and locked the bedroom door behind him. Then, I went into the bathroom and shut and locked the door behind me so I could hopefully take a shower in peace.
I sighed in contentment when I took in the bathroom. It was spacious with a marble sink and a huge tub. His shower had shower heads that came from practically all directions. I was already in love with his shower.
The man knew how to live in style.
Though I wanted to enjoy the shower, I knew I was in enemy territory, so I hurriedly did what I needed, keeping my ears peeled for any kind of noise that would signal someone else in the bedroom or the bathroom.
When I stepped out, I wrapped a towel around me. Turning around, I was surprised to find Travis leaning against the doorjamb of the bathroom, a small smirk tilting his lips, his dark eyes running sensually over my body.
How the fuck had I not heard him?
I picked up the nearest thing to me, but he arched an eyebrow at me, standing up straighter and taking a step into the bathroom. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned me. “I’m being a decent guy by taking you out of the basement and letting you shower, put on clean clothes, and eat. But test me, Katie, and I’ll lock you back down there.”
I gritted my teeth, glaring at him as I slowly set down the hairbrush I’d been holding. His smirk widened. “You’re hot as fuck, Katie,” he told me softly, his words twisting around my body like a caress.
