There was only one thing left for me to do—take this Satan-given poisonous beauty and make it ugly, disgustingly ugly, repulsively ugly… ugly enough to set me free of my curse.

With determination in my step and seeing an almost transcendent view of myself from above, I opened the door to the bathroom and stepped into the cool room. The bed was rumpled from where I’d been laid, watery blood on the linen from the sores on my back.

Moving to the sofa, I picked up the soiled discarded white tunic and slipped it over my head, not even feeling the scratchy material rubbing at my open flesh.

Swaying unsteadily and my long hair dripping on the floor, I managed to pick up my feet and headed for the door. As I passed the single stack of drawers, Ky’s gun laid on top. Swept in a daze and without thinking, I retrieved the weapon and placed it in the pocket of my garment. As I turned the doorknob to the hallway, loud music drifted toward me from the bar, calling me like a beacon.

I did not know where I was going, what my destination would be, so I looked down at the locked steel door down the hallway.

Following the heavy beat of drums, my feet stepped in unison to the trancelike rhythm, my vision losing focus with tiredness, with the gravity of my plight. With every step, my heartbeat thundered, taunting me, calling my sinful name…

Temptress—beat—whore—beat—harlot—beat—Delilah—beat—Delilah—beat—Delilah, Delilah, Delilah…

Bare toes hitting the tall steel door that led to the lounge room, I turned the knob, and a wave of cigarette smoke and music engulfed me.

Bodies were everywhere. Men in leather cuts were drinking, rowdy and loud. Loose women were hanging around their necks, bodies on show, hands doing sinful acts on the men’s flesh. And they were all laughing.

But what was there to be joyous of?

Walking through the heat of the bodies, I passed by Flame. His wide tattooed back faced me, but I saw a knife in his hand, the sharp blade slicing into his skin, marring his skin, ruining his skin, making it ugly…

Ugly…

Ugly…

Ugly…

Seeing a lineup of blades on the table to his left, my fingers drifted across the mass of cold metal, clutching the last and sharpest.

I kept on walking, blade down, nobody noticing me. I liked being ignored. For ugly was ignored… I no longer wanted to be the temptress.

Catching sight of a roaring fire, I was drawn to the flames. Fire… cleaned by fire… By boiling blood you shall purify the soul.

My feet led me to the fireplace and I noticed my reflection flickering in the mirror on the wall. I stared at the face for the very last time, that face, that perfect face… that sinful face.

Ugly…

Ugly…

Ugly…

Destroy the devil’s creation.

Inhaling a deep breath and gripping the blade tightly in my fist, I slowly lifted my hand, bunching my long blond hair in the other. With a hold on the sharp knife, as calm as the summer breeze, I smiled at my reflection and—

“BABY! NO!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Twenty minutes earlier…

Ky

I walked into the bar, my brothers all celebrating. Pussy was everywhere, club sluts making their play for the brothers, some already taken.

Taking a smoke from my cut’s pocket, I put it in my mouth, lit the end, took a long fucking drag.

Pushing brothers outta the way, I made my way to the bar, Vike pinning some fat frizzy-haired slut over a table, fuckin’ the mewling bitch up the ass.

Ignoring the fucking ugly scene, I hammered on the countertop, Prospect taking out a glass. I shook my head. The prospect frowned. “Just pass the fuckin’ bottle!” I snapped, feeling like a fucking alien in my own skin.

All I kept seeing was my bitch on that stake on fire. Seeing Smiler cleaning up those fucking lash marks taking up all of her back… and that crucifix forever burned into her skin.

But more than all that, it was Lilah’s numbness, her fucking indifference to everything, that was bothering me. Her dull blue eyes staring off into space at nothing, her pale skin, and fucking silence. It was killing me.

She’d been raped. My fucking woman had been raped. I couldn’t get that image out of my head. I wanted to take a damn blade and slice it from my brain.

A whistle cut through Black Sabbath’s “N.I.B.” and I saw Styx, Cowboy, Hush, Smiler, and AK sitting on a couch. Mae was on Styx’s lap, her face tucked into his neck as he took in a smoke, a full bottle of Beam in his hand.

My prez and best friend was staring at me. He and my brothers surrounding him cutting a fucking miserable picture, reflecting how I felt. I walked over to them, knocking back my Jack, then taking drags of my smoke.

Tank and Bull were off to the side of the room with Beauty and Letti, the lot of them staring at me as I passed.

None of them fucking knew what this was like… Not even Styx had his woman raped and tortured. None of them knew what this fucking hell was like.

Seeing some hang-around and his ugly slut sitting on the chair next to the couch, I dabbed my stub out on his head, gripped her hair, and tossed her rancid ass on the floor.

Turning to the wannabe biker that probably rode a red sports bike, I leaned down and said, “You have two seconds to get the fuck outta my seat before I slit your throat.” The guy didn’t waste no time and, ignoring the slut on the floor, hightailed it outta the club entirely.

Slumping down, I stared at the flames roaring in the fire across the room. I could feel my brothers’ stares, but I just kept draining my Jack, the bourbon taking away some of the damn ache in my chest.

“How’s Lilah, brother?”

Tearing my eyes away from the fire, I glanced to the couch to see the question came from Cowboy. Pulling out another smoke, I lit the stick and filled up my lungs.

Mae lifted her head from Styx’s shoulder, her eyes red from crying. Her fucking wolf eyes met mine, but I turned away and stared at the fire again.

No matter what I said to Li, she didn’t respond. The only bitch I’d ever loved and she wouldn’t respond. What the fuck did I do? Did she blame me? Did she fucking blame me for being taken?

Rage filled me again when I thought of how she nearly died. Those cult-fucks nearly took her from me. I couldn’t fucking bear it.

A whistle sounded again and I whipped my head to face Styx. His dark features were tight and, placing his Beam on the table before him, he signed, “She’ll get through it. We’ll get her through it.”