Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
When we start to walk away from the table, she speaks, “I heard that Adam was the last one to see her.”
I come to a stop with my drink paused at my lips. I frown, shaking my head. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” My brother is a douche, and I hate him most days, but he doesn’t kidnap women. My father would kill him if that were the case. The Lords are too important for him to be fucking his chances. And a Lord involved with something like this would get the Lords’ attention.
A thought hits me, and I think back to the argument my father was having with my brother the other day at their house. And my pulse begins to race. Surely, he’s not involved. I don’t believe it. Adam would never…
I throw back my drink and gulp it down.
* * *
Hours later, Whitney pulls up to my house, and I stumble inside. I’m dying of thirst, so I make my way to the kitchen to grab a water.
Flipping on the light, I blink rapidly at the harshness. I come to a stumbling stop when I see Saint sitting at my kitchen table. He’s dressed in his black hoodie, dark jeans, and his mask. The rope he uses to tie me to my bed sits on top of the table in front of him.
As much as I want to do a training session, I’m too drunk for that tonight. “You…” I hiccup. “Can leave.” I reach down and remove my shirt, tossing it across the room. Then I stumble from foot to foot as I kick off my shoes. While I make my way to the fridge, I undo my jeans.
Opening it up, I lean over and grab what I want. I close the door to find him now standing beside it. “I mean it…”
He wraps his hand around my throat, squeezing and taking away my air. My hand drops the water, and I go limp. My eyes instantly grow heavy as my vision goes in and out while staring into his black eyes on the mask. I’ve drunk too much; my body can’t fight him, and it doesn’t want to.
My lips part, and I try to suck in a breath, but all it does is make my pussy throb when I get nothing. Hands grab my body, and my arms are pulled behind my back. Something is placed around them, and I can’t pull them apart.
He lets go of my neck, and I fall to my knees, unable to hold myself up. The room spins, and I suck in a breath that burns my throat. I begin to cough. A fist grabs my hair, and my head is yanked up. I see three blurry figures. Two stand in front of me, and one at my back holds my head up.
I blink, my eyes so heavy. “Not tonight, Saint,” I slur, my tongue heavy. “I…can’t.” I’m too tired; I drank too much. The thought of his fingers down my throat makes me want to gag. I’m going to get sick soon.
The hand in my hair lets go, and my head falls forward. Unable to stop myself because I no longer have use of my hands, I fall face-first to the floor and shiver at how cold the marble is. My eyes close as I’m lifted into the air.
TWELVE
SAINT
I pull my bike up to Carnage and put in the code, opening the wrought-iron gates. Then I’m driving down the curvy two-lane road before the trees open up, and it comes into view.
I’ve spent more time here in the last week than I’ve wanted to. But it is what it is. The Lords are very strict on what we can and can’t do. And right now, I can’t abandon my responsibilities no matter how much I want to. Especially for pussy.
We graduate with honors from Barrington University without even attending a single class. Because the Lords already know where we’re going to be placed out in the real world.
There are judges, doctors, attorneys, teachers, and those in law enforcement. You name it, we’ve got a Lord on the payroll. Some of us are just more successful than others. It all has to do with your bloodline and where you fall in the Lords world.
Getting off my bike, I run up the stairs and through the double doors that squeak, announcing my entrance.
I make my way over to the elevator and take it up to the seventh floor. I enter the Spade brothers’ office. “You wanted to see me,” I say to Mr. Price.
He looks up at me from his desk. He’s the only one here, thankfully. Otherwise, my father would want to know what I’m doing. I don’t even know what the fuck we’re doing. He had sent me a text this morning to meet him here first thing. Alone. I wasn’t about to turn him down when the chosen ceremony is so close.
“I need to show you something,” he says, straightening his suit jacket.
“Okay,” I say slowly.
“But first I need you to understand that you can’t act on this.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
“Saint,” he growls. “You have to promise.”
What could be so important that he’s making me promise? Surely, he doesn’t take that shit seriously? What’s next? Make us cross our pinkies like we’re little girls agreeing to keep a secret? “You have my word.” I lie. I’m not agreeing to shit when I don’t have all the facts.
Sighing, he picks up the remote and turns on the TV that hangs on the wall.
I step closer as a video begins to play. The sound of Ashtyn’s soft sobs fills the room as the video shows me with his daughter tied to her bed with my fingers down her throat while she comes all over the vibrator that I hold between her shaking legs.
“Did you really think I’d buy her a house without placing surveillance inside?” he questions.
I take a deep breath and turn to look him in the eyes. “I didn’t break any rules,” I say through gritted teeth. The fact that he watches his daughter in her room on a daily basis should be the sick part. But add the fact he’s also watched me get her off? But then again, a part of me isn’t all that surprised. He’ll be watching me fuck her soon in front of an audience anyway.
“I’m aware.” He nods. “But this one tells a different story.” He presses play once more, and this time, there is no audio.
But I can see it all play out in front of me like a scary movie. Only it’s not scripted. It’s real.
My breathing picks up as I clench my hands. “No,” I manage to say, shaking my head, not believing my own eyes. It ends, and the TV shuts off.
I realize I’m shaking when a hand lands on my shoulder, and I jump back.
“Son,” he says. “Remember the conversation we had at my home the other day?”
I nod. It’s all I’m capable of.
“You know what to do, then?”
Another nod.
“You keep my secret, and I’ll keep yours.”
ASHTYN
I’m sitting on my bed, an empty bottle of wine in my hand watching a documentary about a serial killer who murdered over fifty people in a ten-year span. My first thought is that he’s a Lord. To get away with that many murders in this day and time? They have to know who he is, where he’s been, and who his victims are.
That tells me they’re letting him get away with it. Or maybe the detectives on the case are the Lords and they’re told to stay one step behind. Either way, someone involved has the Lords crest branded on their chest.
I turn the channel, and it’s the news. I sit up when I see a brunette on it. Another missing girl. She’s nineteen and just started her freshman year at college. Her mother last saw her for lunch three days ago. Her mother called her that evening, and she never returned it. The girl’s car was also abandoned and empty, with the driver’s side door open.
It shows her mom and dad at a press conference. They’re holding up a picture of her. The mother is too distraught to speak while the father pleads for her to come home. If someone has her to just let her go. I hate it for them. For her. But a part of me wishes I had a family like that. One that would care if I went missing. Instead, my family will toss me to the side when I don’t do what my body is “required” to do.
My door opens, and I look over to see Saint enter my room. It’s been three days since I saw him. No call, no text, nothing. Which tells me one thing-he’s been at Carnage.
My father does the same to my mother. Goes off the grid. Then he comes home, and she yells at him until he leaves again. God, that has to be such a miserable life. Always so unhappy or having to fake it. No wonder she hates it so much.
“What do you want, Saint?” I ask, lifting the wine bottle to my lips, but I frown when I’m reminded it’s empty.
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Fuck, he looks delicious. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and combat boots with a black leather jacket, which tells me he rode his bike over here. He’s got a hat on backward that his dark hair peeks out from underneath. I hate that he’s seen me naked, yet I haven’t seen him.
“How drunk are you?” he asks flatly.
I frown, wondering if he’s mad at me, and that’s why he’s ignored me. What happened to our three weeks of training? I’ve been looking forward to being tied up and forced to come all over myself. “Not drunk enough.” I toss the bottle on the floor, and it rolls along my white carpet until he places his boot out to stop it. I mean, really what else is there to do?
His eyes drop to the empty bottle and then rise to meet mine. “Looks like you’ve had more than enough to me.”