Chapter One
VOID
It was only meant to be a job.
A simple transfer of packages from a shipping container to the buyers. But Nycto, my president, had to go and change the fucking plan on us.
One of the packages caught his eye.
He wanted a taste.
Nycto threw everything in the air, sent our clubhouse into turmoil, while he made us fall in line with his new plan.
We never stray from the path.
We do our job.
We get paid.
That’s what Royal Fucking Bastards do.
But Nycto got a hard-on, and in the process, put us all in the firing line. What for? A hot piece of ass.
Problem is, the fiery Cuban goddess we transported had a sister, and she wasn’t going to go without a fight or without her fucking little sister.
Thing is, the little sister isn’t so little.
Her name is Ivy.
Instantly, I could tell she could be as poisonous to me as her namesake.
I don’t feel.
For anyone.
For anything.
They don’t call me Void for nothing, but Ivy sparked something in me—intrigue mostly. Curiosity at how someone like her could be such a pocket rocket and not have every man hanging off her arm.
The thing about Ivy—she’s smart.
Ivy’s super happy all the damn time.
The bitch wears you down.
I tried, tried like fucking hell, not to view her as a play toy. Not to think about all the ways in which I could ruin her. But every time she smiles at me with her damn pure innocence, it does something.
It wrecks me.
It burns me alive.
And I’m left reeling in her wake.
Ivy’s nothing but naïve, virtuous in every way. I can’t thrust myself into her life, tarnishing the good in her with the depravity in me.
With all the shit that’s gone down the past couple of months since the sisters arrived at the club—
Eva finding out Ivy’s here, them reuniting, the seller figuring out Nycto took them, then coming for his vengeance—it’s been one hell of a shitshow.
Though through it all, Nycto and Eva have found their happiness together.
My president made an Ol’ Lady out of Eva. She’s now wearing his property patch, while I struggle to deal with my damn emotions regarding Ivy.
She’s brought me out of my shell.
Made me think that maybe I could be the type of man for her. The type of man I could only hope to be.
But, no, I can’t think that way.
Ivy—she’s special.
She was taken by the seller because of her blood. It’s some kind of rarity that makes her and Eva genetically different. But Ivy is a little extra special. She’s a virgin, and with my past, that’s too much for a bastard like me.
She deserves a man who will treat her right, not some asshole who was raised the way I was. My past continually haunts me. My family made me into the man I am.
A void.
An empty shell.
I’m not sure I know how to be anything else.
With the women settling into club life, Ivy’s made herself at home. The thought of her being here constantly excites and damn well irritates me at the same time. Knowing she’s right there for me to take, but also the fact I can’t just take her whenever I want is debilitating. She’s the kindest, most intoxicating woman I have ever met.
Feisty, smart, brave—that’s Ivy.
She’s so attuned to everything around her that I know she could be dangerous, but it might also make her an asset to our club. Ivy’s already shown that side of her skill set by working in the Bricking Room with the prospect, Dash, on cultivating and maintaining our ‘crops’ for our club girl, Trixie’s, gourmet munchie line.
Have to say, who the fuck would have thought a gourmet munchie line would be so damn popular. But there you go, the shit sells like fucking French fries at McDonald’s.
Then there’s the jackass prospect, Dash, who’s spending much more time with Ivy than I’d like. They work together getting the ‘crop’ just right. Dash doesn’t think I see him making the moves on Ivy, but I sure as shit do.
Ivy and I were close until I realized just how fucking much she was getting under my skin. Just how much I wanted to see her fall to her knees in front of me, watch as her big doe eyes peer up at me from under those lashes as she submits to me willingly.
I want to fuck her.
Make her scream out in agony until she can’t breathe.
But I can’t because she’s a fucking virgin.
So, I stepped back.
Sure, I get this probably confused her a little.
I was down in the lower bunker with Ivy all the time, spending hours with her. Fuck, I was even laughing with her at one point. Don’t ask me how, but I was even opening up to her, letting my guard down, showing her the real me. The problem is, if I let my guard down too fucking much, I’m concerned about what I could do to her.
And now. Well, now she’s off with that fucking pussy, Dash, while I spend my time drinking and trying not to have her enter my mind every three point five seconds. It doesn’t work for a majority of the time, especially when her sister, Eva, is up here. They look alike, but not so similar it’s jarring, but certainly enough for my chest to clench.
I’m drowning in a sea of Cuban goddesses, and nothing is helping to ease the goddamn pain.
So, this is where I’m at.
Ivy’s downstairs with Dash caring for the ‘crop.’
Nycto and Eva are madly in love, prepping for the Labor Day festivities at the beginning of next week.
And me, well, I’m wandering around aimlessly trying to find something to curb my appetite. Because all I can think about right now is Ivy, and how much I want to go down those stairs to be with her. Sure, sex is forefront in my mind, but hanging out with her was fucking awesome too. She brought something out in me, something I didn’t know was even there. Now with shit strained between us—which is all my doing—I’m not even sure how to approach Ivy.
As I stroll through the clubhouse, I spy Nycto and Eva getting a little too fucking hands-on for my liking. Nycto nibbles on Eva’s earlobe with his teeth while they’re practically dry humping in the middle of the room for everyone to witness. Nycto whispers something in her ear making me curl up my lip. “Get a fucking room,” I call out, walking past them and into the kitchen.
I need to get away, their PDA is only increasing my desire to go to Ivy more fucking intense.
But Ivy’s with Dash.
Their relationship right now is developing into something I don’t even want to fucking comprehend. The thought of him being with her makes my muscles tense so damn tight, it’s like I’m being electrocuted.
Pulling open the refrigerator, I stare aimlessly inside.
I don’t even know what I’m searching for.
A cure for my sins.
An answer to life’s problems.
Fuck! I’d happily take a punch to the head to knock me the fuck out right about now to ease my mind.
“Void… you wanna tell me what’s so fucking interesting in the fridge?” Nycto calls out from behind me.
He startles me so much, I turn quickly, slamming the refrigerator closed so hard it rocks with the force. I’m angry, but it’s not directed at him. I fold my arms over my chest, scowling in contempt at myself more than anything else. Then I can’t help the word vomit that erupts from my mouth. “Why the fuck is Dash helping Ivy downstairs? I thought he was learning to be a mechanic, not a fucking magical weed horticulturist.”