Scarred (Demons of Hell MC Book 1) Read online

  Scarred

  A Demons of Hell Novel

  Book #1

  Available Now From

  Elizabeth Knox

  Series: Skulls Renegade

  Reign

  Redemption

  Revenge

  Relentless

  Reckoning

  Series: The Clans

  Promised

  The Trade

  Series: Steele Bros.

  Tough as Steele

  Stripping a Steele

  Series: Reapers MC

  Blackjack

  Series: Demons of Hell MC

  Scarred

  Coming Soon From

  Elizabeth Knox

  Here Kitty, Kitty

  (Demons of Hell MC #2/Reapers MC #2)

  Protecting a Steele

  (Steele Bros #3)

  Cherished

  (The Clans #3)

  Booger

  (Reapers MC #3)

  Reclaimed

  (Skulls Renegade #6)

  Deceit

  (The Clans #4)

  Forbidden Love

  (Mackenzies #1)

  God of Hotness

  (Purgatory #1)

  Scarred

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Scarred. Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Knox. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. For information contact E. Knox.

  https://www.facebook.com/eknoxbooks

  Cover design by CT Cover Creations

  Editing & formatting by Cordially Chris Author Services

  Proofreading by Brynn Burke, Knox Publishing

  Teasers by: Decadent Designs by Dee, Vivian Monir & Teased by Antonette

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  STAY UP TO DATE ON WHAT ELIZABETH IS WORKING ON

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  Acknowledgements

  Christine –Here we go again. I’ll never be able to thank you for pushing my limits and helping me branch out onto this crazy journey, but I’ll sure as hell try.

  My Author Tribe: Iris, GG, Jen, Auden, Michelle, Erin, Dee, Linny, JP & Brynn – I can’t thank you all enough over the past few weeks. Y’all know I’ve been struggling personally, trying to find balance with all of this. I think we all do, it’s just one of the many things we do as writers. I just want to thank all of you for the late-night messages, facetimes, or really however you helped me when I needed it. Y’all are the best of friends and I love you dearly. Thank you for supporting me, even when the clouds are hanging heavy over my head.

  My Amazing ARC Team – With every book I release I see the excitement and sometimes nervousness that pours from each of you, until it is in your hands and you’ve finished reading it. This time, I’m the nervous one. Scarred is like nothing else I’ve ever written. It’s dark, twisted, fucked up in ways that I never thought I was capable of writing. I think some of you may hate it, while others may love it, but regardless – thank you for staying for this crazy ride.

  my beta bitchaz: Laura, Tania, GG, Chas & Michaela – I know I made y’all want to throw your kindles with this one. I’m sorry (okay, I’m not sorry lol). Thank you all for your honesty, for the outpouring support with each book I write, no matter if it’s the deepest of the dark, or as sweet as pie. I appreciate everything you all say that helps me make these books better.

  My Bloggers: Jenna, Jen, Shannon, Chasidy, Angie, Heather, Lizzie, Jamie, Ana, Amanda, Deanna, Angela, Rebecca, Alicia, Jamie, Christiana, Christiann, Kristin, Valerie, Anna, Cia, Leanne, Linda, Emilie, Shasta, Nichole, Erika, Starr, Gwen, Nicole, Ashley, Keanna, Myn, Heather, Primrose, Jade, Dusty, Jen, Kristen, Lena, Caroline, Jes, Tracy, Ann, Meaghan, & Tina, Charlei, Nia, Marian, Becky, Vanessa, Philomena, Jamie-Lynne, Ashley, Linda, Kathleen, Ashley, Danielle, Laura, Keeana, Tai, Kathy, & Shirley – Thank you all again from the bottom of my dead, cold, black heart for supporting me in the way that you all do. Without all of your help, I wouldn’t have reached the magnitudes of readers that I have today. I appreciate every single one of you!

  Clarise, My Magical Unicorn – This is my favorite cover that we’ve worked on, hands down. Every single time we put our minds together we come up with something magnificent. Thank you so much girl!

  Chas, Katie, & Laura, My Fabulous Pa’s – What another wild ride it’s been, and this one isn’t even out yet! I’m sure the chaos will ensue shortly. Thank you all so much for everything you do. I mean it, I wouldn’t be able to do this without any of you.

  KBB, My Babes! – I hope y’all are ready for this one. I’m super excited and terrified out of my damn mind. Tell me what you all think, I love hearing from you!

  Dedicated to:

  The ones who have been broken, beaten and used. You are stronger than you know. For you are a phoenix and will rise from the ashes.

  Warning

  This content contains material that may be viewed as offensive to some readers, including graphic language, dangerous and sexual situations, non-consensual situations (including rape), physical abuse, multiple partners and extreme violence.

  Playlist

  I Could Use a Love Song | Maren Morris

  Save My Soul | Jojo

  Think Before I Talk | Astrid S

  I Don’t Know | Molly Kate Kestner

  Worth It | Danielle Bradberry

  Tell Me You Love Me | Demi Lovato

  Tequilawine | Olivia O’Brien

  Right Where You Want Me | Sarah Reeves

  Girls | Rita Ora, Bebe Rexha, Charli XCX & Cardi B

  In Case You Didn’t Know | Brett Young

  Table of 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

  What’s coming soon from Elizabeth?

  Here Kitty, Kitty

  Previews

  Chapter 1

  So much more was said in the unsaid.

  – Bridgett Devoue

  Roxy

  “I’m so jealous of you, Rox. You’ve got it all.”

  That one statement pulls me back to reality. I hadn’t been listening to jack shit coming out of her mouth. To be honest, I don’t even know who the fuck she is. She makes it a point to act like she is my longtime friend. They always do. I am the Prez’s wife; it is important to be friends with me.

  What a fucking joke that is.

  I scan the packed clubhouse, filled with our members, seeing if I could spot my husband. I take a deep, easy breath when I discover he is nowhere in sight.

  The Demons of Hell MC just infi
ltrated a shipment of coke from the Ramirez’s, who arguably runs the biggest drug cartel in Mexico, next to Frank Lopez and his crew of lowlifes. Now, it’s time to celebrate, considering the club has about fourteen kilos of coke to put back on the streets and the surrounding areas. I know Rage is thrilled by this. It’s the only reason he is leaving me alone right now, and I’d take any reason to not be near him.

  I may have been the wife of the Prez, but make no mistake, this life is not glorious. There is nothing glorious about my life. The blonde bimbo to my right has no idea. My life is completely fabricated, nothing but a giant lie.

  For one, Rage is not my honey; he is my fucking nightmare.

  I would laugh, but I refuse to pity myself for being with the monster I chose.

  In the beginning, I thought we were straight out of Beauty and the Beast. Rage was my Beast, and I was his Belle. I learned shortly after that I was so wrong. There was no taming his inner beast. There was only one thing: acceptance.

  And even after all these years, I couldn’t accept it.

  I am not a dumb girl. I know that one day he will get bored of me and order one of the men he calls brother, from our so called “family”, to kill me. Hell, maybe Rage would even do it himself. He has come close so many times. I was truly shocked that I was still alive. And I could only blame one person for being in the position that I am in.

  Myself.

  I’d thought of running many times, but Rage is friends with practically every MC across the states. There were maybe a select few that he didn’t have an in with, but I was also not desperate enough to go into the territory of the ones who he didn’t get along with – it was a death wish.

  I would always be looking for a way out, even if no one saw the fight I have in me.

  “He’s upstairs with Shelia, getting his cock sucked.” Roman, our club enforcer, is to me. He is a man of very few words. Whenever you envision a club enforcer, you’d picture Roman Raines. The man is a tank, bulked up like Hulk Hogan with jet black hair running past his shoulders. Roman is one of the few in the club that I couldn’t say anything bad about. Him, and his wife Quinn. “I’ll try to keep Rage drinking until he passes out. It’ll give you a break from him.”

  The bimbo next to me straightens up, peaking interest in our conversation. “Why would ya need a break from that man?” I take a long, slow look up and down her young body. She is probably only a few years younger than me. I remembered when I was that young, that naïve – the naivety that made me marry Rage.

  Roman looks to me for a split second, then back to her. I could have bet we were both thinking the same thing. “If you want to entertain him, darlin’ go on ahead. Tell him Roman sent him something fun to play with,” he tells her.

  Her expression changes from intrigue to excitement in just a moment’s notice. She didn’t know what we were sending her up to, though. I used to feel bad when Roman did this, when he would send others to get what I would be experiencing otherwise. I don’t anymore. I welcomed any break from a beating. Maybe that made me awful. Maybe it made me a cold-hearted bitch. Did it even matter? At the end of the day, these girls got out. They fucking left.

  I was stuck here.

  I was trapped.

  ***

  Blondie goes upstairs right after Roman gives her the option. I nod my approval to her; giving her my OK to go and fuck my husband. She didn’t realize what she was signing up for. Not many of the whores that came into our club did. You would think that after the past few years of seeing me being beaten to a pulp on a daily basis that they’d put the picture together and stay leery of Rage, and some of them are – the smart ones, but there are never many of those. A lot of them come to us because they couldn’t kick it at an actual job. So, we employ them.

  We have club whores, like lovely old Shelia. Then, we have street whores. The club whores belong to the club, which makes them club property. There is only one rule when it comes to the club whores. Only club members could fuck them.

  The street whores are different. We make money off of them. They charge a set rate of prices for blowjobs, handjobs, fucking, anal, slapping, BDSM shit… whatever you could think of, they offer. The club makes sixty percent off of those girls. It is one of the many business ventures that the club has. It is actually our most profitable, next to the drugs. “You think she regrets it by now?” Roman asks me, taking a sip from his bottle of beer.

  “Do any of them regret fucking the Prez?” I look him dead in the eyes, waiting for his reaction. He doesn’t say anything, which doesn’t surprise me. He knows I am right. The girls just want bragging rights; they want to run around to all the other whores and tell them, “I fucked the Prez!” Well, I let them Run around, bragging about how they fucked my husband.

  I bet you they wouldn’t be bragging about the black eye that he gives them or how he punches them so hard in the gut that they couldn’t breathe for a week.

  Over the course of the last few hours, the party has dwindled down to almost nothing. I glance around the room and see that there was about five brothers hanging around, and they were all too drunk to know what was going on around them. This is the part of the night that makes me cringe, the part where I know I need to leave soon.

  Like clockwork, I hear his laughter before he is even down the stairwell. Rage is awake, very drunk, and not sated whatsoever.

  “Roxxxxxxxxyyyyy.” I could hear by the tone of his voice that there is plenty of fight left in him, and call me selfish, but I don’t wanna experience any of that, especially tonight.

  Roman and I exchange a glance, his eyes silently warning me to leave, and somehow, I know not to. I should’ve when I had the chance a few minutes ago. When I had the gut feeling to leave – but I didn’t, and here I am, stuck with my reality. If I run, or even tried to leave, it would be so much worse the next time. I could let his need to beat me build up until it was overflowing, and I was in the hospital, or I could take small beatings with a few black eyes.

  The footsteps become louder and louder with each step that he takes down the stairs. I could hear the small creak in the wood as he moved. He was moving slower than usual, the liquor obviously impacting his motor function.

  “Leave, Rox. Fucking. Leave,” Roman hisses at me. When I don’t move from my stance, he wraps his arms around me, lifting me up into his grasp, and rushes me behind the stairs until I am at the back door. He shuffles quickly in the pocket of his jeans, yanking out the keys to his truck. “You fucking leave right now.”

  “If I leave, you know what’ll happen to me,” I argue, searching his eyes for some sort of understanding. Roman is the one who took me to the hospital two months ago after I was left in the clubhouse, halfway dead. He should have understood what would happen.

  “Yeah, and you know what’ll happen to that damn kid you have in there if you stay.” He spits out at me, words thick as lead. Shock overtakes my entire body. I try hard to not show my emotions, yet I fail. I only told one person about my pregnancy, and that was Quinn, Roman’s wife, and my only friend in the damn club. I should’ve known she’d share with her own husband.

  “Get out before you get that kid killed. I’ll cover for you, now go.”

  I don’t waste another moment. I head for the truck, opening the door, and sliding onto his new leather seats. I take one last glance back at the clubhouse and know I’d be safe for the night. I know Roman would keep his word; he’d cover for me.

  Roman’s job is to enforce the club – to protect us against all threats. I didn’t realize until today that meant protecting myself and my baby, but not just from Rage, from me as well.

  Chapter 2

  What if… everything you are going through is preparing you for what you asked for? - Anonymous

  Roxy

  One thing about the club is that we never miss out on any opportunity to party. We’d celebrate anything. From shooting down our number one competitor in the drug trade, to Bax breaking up with his bitch of a girlfriend, Cynthia, it was ho
w the club rolled. It was how we roll. It has always been a time when everyone could wind down and let out all of their pent-up frustrations.

  Me? Well, I didn’t come to every party. I come to the ones I am demanded to be at, the important ones. Tonight, wasn’t important by any means, but Rage wants me there, and who was I to deny him that? The entire ride out here on the back of his Harley, he acts like I am nothing to him.

  I know deep down that he views me as nothing. He is probably regretting marrying me. I didn’t blame him. I regret marrying him every damn day. It was odd, to hate the man you slept beside every night – the one you swore in front of God that you’d love until death do you part. I hate him more than I’ve hated anyone in my entire life, and yet, there is that small part of me that still had a shred of love for him too.

  I know that one day that sliver of love would turn into nothingness, and I expect that to come sooner rather than later.

  “You don’t look too bad today,” Quinn mentions as she slides onto the bar top next to me. Our clubhouse wasn’t massive, but we make due. It used to be pretty big until Rage kept expanding the club, patching over other MC’s until the Demons have a presence in almost every state. When push came to shove, we had to complete renovations, and that meant the living area was made smaller to accommodate more space for rooms. From where we sit, we could see most of the brothers, we had our eyes over the kingdom so to speak.

  I made sure that I was hiding my baby bump well, wearing a loose-fitting tank top with a heavy jacket. It was concealing, and unless you were my doctor, you would have had no idea I was even pregnant. I was barely beginning to show, even with being how far along I am.

  “I don’t feel too bad. The morning sickness is finally letting up. It was supposed to get better weeks ago. I’m just finally glad it’s over with,” I tell her, my hand resting right below my stomach. Ever since I found out I was pregnant all I had wanted to do was keep my hand there. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was some motherly reaction, either way, it was comforting to me and to the little man inside my womb.