Tyrant (Kings of Carnage MC: Alabama #1)

Chapter 7

Blair

I set the multiple bags on the bed after I’ve taken them from the hotel attendant and closed the door. I made sure to double-check the lock once they’d left, feeling paranoid the woman saw my face. I never would’ve opened the door in the first place had she not been wearing a uniform, but she was, so I put my trust in fate that it was on my side in the moment and greeted the attendant. She claimed the bags were for the lady of the room and that the husband in 313 had called the order down a little while ago. I thought Tyrant said he ordered toiletries. Unless his plan was to buy out the local Walmart in toothpaste, I’d wager the shopper purchased a lot more stuff.

A few bags gape open so I can make out various contents and I find myself poking through them even though I have no right to. I can’t help myself once I notice a short-sleeved set of satin pink pajamas with decorative black piping in a size medium. They certainly won’t fit Tyrant, and it’s too much stuff to be for him in the first place. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. I’ve gotten the vibe from him that he’s a minimalist type of guy, enjoying the same things repeated in his wardrobe of jeans and T-shirts. He probably owns a leather jacket with a pair of leather gloves, and that’s the extent of his winter wardrobe.

The bathroom door opens with Tyrant strolling out, steam billowing around him. He’s absolutely sinful in his freshly showered state, and I shouldn’t be staring, but I can’t seem to look away from him. “I think we got someone else’s order. Want me to call down and let them know? I’m sure someone will be missing their pretty things.”

His gaze flashes from me to the bed laden with several bags. Without a word, he immediately moves for it, dumping the contents from the other bags into a pile out on the bed, then spreads each item out.

“See, someone has to be missing their belongings. They must’ve lost their luggage or something.” I remember when I used to fly out of town. It wasn’t a ton of times, but I got to go on the occasional class trip, or other fun adventure when I was younger. Back when my parents were still my parents and what I thought of as boringly normal. Now, I’d give almost anything to go back to them once more and hug the people who raised me rather than those robots they became under the divine guidance of Josef and his wretched father’s cult.

“Nah, I had the hotel pick it up for you. I asked you to let me know if you needed something,” he finally admits with a shrug, then plops down on the small couch, flipping the TV on. He makes the seat look tiny with his massive frame nonchalantly draped over it. All I can do is stare at everything while tears crest. As they build up, they eventually spill over, tumbling down my cheeks to fall from my jaw.

When was the last time I cried from someone’s thoughtfulness? Because I’m so grateful in the moment, I could burst from the sweetness Tyrant shows me without hesitation.

Picking up the pale pink pajama set, I lightly graze my fingertips over it. I haven’t had anything like this since before I went to the community . That was years ago. Sure, we had basic things such as electricity and running water; we weren’t living like the Amish, but to have clothing so soft and pointless was considered selfish and absolutely sinful in the eyes of The House of Worship. To possess unnecessary items as such would have thy neighbor coveting possessions and causing disarray amongst members . Items were instantly thrown out after that lesson, as was anything else Josef deemed nonessential. Creams and salves were made by hand from the older women, always with natural ingredients such as oils and various butters, and were left mostly unscented. We were meant to be unaltered, pure, and temptation-free at all times.

Things are just things, but when almost everything is stripped from you, you quickly realize how much a luxury it is to have something as simple as soft pajamas to sleep in. I understand greed is a sin, but is it truly greedy to have or want for anything when you’re forced to possess so little? It breaks me inside to think of all the little girls trapped in a life where they know nothing soft and pretty. They’ll grow up as everyone else my age in the commune did, living under Josef’s father’s rules he made up, believing whatever was preached in the House of Worship to be law.

My fingers trace over a brand new shiny blue brush with sparkles encased in the handle and a pack of no-pull hair ties. Necessities to most women, they were once to me as well, but now they’re only indulgences I haven’t had in far too long. What was I thinking? How could I have been so blind to everything? I took one step onto the compound and must’ve had ‘fool’ written on my forehead for them. I was stupid for staying, and more so for not finding a way to flee when I found out about her.

My hand falls to my stomach. Feeling so empty inside, I could cry at my loss. She should be here with me right now, away from them . The only thing bringing me any sort of comfort is knowing Josef is an evil man to everyone else, but he won’t ever hurt her. I was terrified, but he’s proven time and again he would never harm his innocent child, my daughter. He’ll only keep her from me. Forever, if I allow him to. That’s been the hardest part of escaping…finding a way back in to save her. He’ll never let her go, and he’ll kill me as soon as he finds me.

“You okay, Sugar?” Tyrant’s growly rasp comes from my side, his hand falls to my shoulder, squeezing. I can’t help but flinch, being caught off guard. He notices immediately, backing up a step with his hands raised.

I can’t hold back from going to him. Our bodies collide, my arms wrapping around him tightly. I’ve had no affection aside from my precious baby and Josef forcing himself on me too many times to count. Having Tyrant’s big body wrapped around me the past few nights made me feel incredibly warm and safe, so it’s only natural I seek him out for comfort now as well. “You’re such a good man, Tyrant,” I whisper as I silently cry against his chest, repeating the words to myself that’ve grown so important to me. Love doesn’t hurt.

“I’m not, babe, seriously.”

“I think you are. I see the truth in you, and that’s all that matters to me,” I admit, and he squeezes me tightly. I need it so badly that I burrow as close as I can possibly get to him. I have a cathartic, quiet cry, off and on for about an hour or so, until I doze off.

Eventually, I wake up, lying across Tyrant’s wide body. We’re on the bed, and he’s shoved all the stuff to the side. I’m snuggled into his chest as a child would be and it makes me miss my daughter even more. For being such a large guy, he sure is comfy to sleep on. I don’t remember him moving us onto the bed or anything. I also didn’t have any nightmares this time when I fell asleep. In fact, now that I think about it, I slept incredibly good for once.

“Mm,” I mumble, picking my head up until my gaze finds his. His moves away from the near-silent television screen to mine. His lips twist up into a smile full of acceptance and safety. If I weren’t so fucked up inside, he’d be exactly the kind of man I’d want to have in my life. Helpful, quiet, kind, caring, and lets me still be me, whoever that may be at this point.

Leaning up on my arms, I cover my mouth and yawn. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“I almost think you truly mean that.”

“I do. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

I actually believe him.

And then I’m leaning in, pressing my mouth to his. The first man I’ve willingly kissed since I married Josef and learned of the monster he’d been hiding inside.

One of Tyrant’s hands resting along my spine tightens, while the other finds the back of my head, threading through my hair. I’d had the long locks wrapped in a towel after my shower, but it must’ve fallen out when he put us to bed. His lips coax mine apart further, his tongue dipping inside to caress mine, causing my mind to spin.

How do I justify laying my lips upon this man’s when I have no right? After everything I’ve been through and have yet to go through. I left the community, needing to escape the wickedness and discover my own personal salvation. I fled to find help, a true savior for my daughter. I thought if I went to the police, told them my story, that they would storm the gates and take back my daughter for me.

Once again, I was proved to be a fool. They claimed I could file a statement. Move to request a restraining order, and then find a lawyer to help petition for full custody as well as a divorce. Their words were utterly useless—I knew it the moment I heard them.

Josef wouldn’t ever allow me to divorce him.

To claim our child? No.

To escape his wrath? Never again.

The police are blind in their belief that Josef is no threat, that I have no reason to be afraid of the cult full of monsters beyond the gates.

Only after going to the police, I had a newfound fear. That they’d eventually go after the followers and take my daughter away for good. Another thing tearing at my mind was that now Josef would for sure know where I was and come searching for me. So, I hid out. I started going to the shelters because I had nothing to my name but the clothes on my back. I had no way to find the help I needed, or anything for that matter, as I’d been essentially removed from society for years.

I had no friends any longer, my contacts all gone as they’d no doubt graduated college to move on to live their bigger and better lives they’d all talked about back when I knew them. They never cared that I was religious, as most of them were as well. However, when I moved back with my parents and Josef took control of my life, I had it in my mind they weren’t pure enough. That they’d never make decent future friends because I was moving past them spiritually in many more ways than they were ready for. I should’ve known then I was the one making the mistake by closing them all out.

What’s one thing you’re taught at a young age? To not allow anyone to seclude you, to always include others in tasks, including your life. When I began going to the library and researching, it helped open my eyes more than what they had already been. I learned one of the first moves of a legitimate cult is to alienate and seclude people from any outside support.

I wasn’t only reading romance novels and complaining about sucking dick while I was there. No, I was hiding out, doing homework on myself, as well as allowing my mind to slip away into another world where everything ended up in a happily ever after. I had to read those romance novels. It wasn’t a simple want; it was a need . I needed to feel hope again. I needed to read about others finding something so pure and wholesome, such as love in another person and not have their lives crushed in the process. They helped me heal. All of the books, not just one genre or the next, but all of them brought me something I required inside to work through my debilitating circumstances.

I also had to spend some time in healing solitude. I couldn’t handle being around other people, and I swore my trust had been broken in every person for the rest of my life. Yet, here I am, finding comfort in a man the size of a mountain.

Love doesn’t hurt.

The thought runs through my mind, mocking me. Tyrant hasn’t hurt me, but will he? Am I being blinded by his warmness, as I was with Josef’s charisma? I’ve learned time and again not to trust so easily.

With finality, I pull away. Instantly, I find myself missing the way Tyrant’s mouth feels against mine. There’s something about him that screams to me internally, even in the complete silence, but I can’t figure out exactly what it is, and it’s terrifying to consider.

His brows are raised as he parts his lids to meet my gaze. “That was…” he trails off, seemingly a bit dazed.

I don’t know what to say or do, except climb off the gorgeous hunk and straighten myself up a bit. I do so, as graciously as possible, my hand moving to my neck as I suddenly seem hot all over. I shouldn’t have kissed him, but it seemed like the right thing to do in the moment.

“You alright, Sugar?” he murmurs, adjusting to sit up while taking me in. I’m sure I’m blushing, red all over, yet I can’t find it in myself to cower away. If this were Josef, he’d amuse my boldness so long as I’d spread my legs for him; otherwise, I’d be shamed for it. I have a feeling Tyrant will do nothing of the sort, and I’m right as he grins when I nod. I’m lying, however, as I’m far from okay. It’s another sin to the congregation. I’m to be open and honest at all times, a clear vessel for HIM to do his work through me. I’m but a holy vessel, meant to be pure and truthful at all times.

My fingers move to my temples, rubbing as I try to pull myself from the obsessive thoughts. I think it’s because my routine has changed once more. I have too much free time on my hands to allow my mind to wander, which I’ve learned isn’t good for me. It’s another reason why I was reading all the time—to keep my mind full with happily ever after’s, hope, and that delightful feeling of serotonin pushing the negativity from my head.

“Thank you for earlier. You are truly kind. I will only use what I need so you can have them return the rest and get your money back.” It’s the least I can do to not feel as if I’m taking advantage of his kindness past what could be deemed acceptable in this particular situation.

He scoffs. “I want you to have it. Either it’s yours, or it goes in the trash.” He states with finality, and I don’t doubt him for a moment, although the wastefulness of it has me internally cringing after going all this time having next to none of it. “If you don’t have any jeans, you may want to wear the pair they picked out to the concert tonight. I didn’t know what exactly to say for sizes, just that you had to be small or medium in everything, and you are a pixie. So don’t be surprised if the stuff is too big or whatever.”

Tyrant’s description has me smiling. I don’t think anyone has ever called me a pixie; I’ve always been pretty average. At least, I was until my marriage. Josef only allowed meat and vegetables in the house, so I lost a lot of my curves. I’ve managed to get a few back from the poor, poisonous foods I’ve been eating on the outside, but my stomach is kinda sunken in from allowing myself to go hungry too many times to count. “It won’t matter, I’m happy with anything.”

He tilts his head, his arms crossing over his chest. My comment almost seems to bother him. “I’ve noticed, and I’ve also never met a chick like you before.”

I don’t say anything in response as the only truthful answer would give away information I’m not ready to share with him yet. His gaze skirts over me, but rather than making me self-conscious or creeping me out, I find it doing the opposite. My legs clench together tighter as I stare at him in return. His scruff shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is, but I find it to be one of my favorite things about his face. And then there are the neck and head tattoos. He’s covered in them, arms, fingers, and I can only imagine where else. He looks like a true heathen and would be shunned from the commune if he were to attempt to convert. Knowing they would turn him away only makes him more attractive in my eyes, because it also means he still holds on to his own mind. He wouldn’t be one during a ceremony or sermon, screaming for discipline and pointing out transgressions.

I have a feeling he’d have been the one to step forward for me. To say it’s wrong and demand they stop.

I bet he could crush Josef’s skull with his own two hands. The thought shouldn’t send my heart racing in the way it does; it should positively terrify me. It doesn’t. I want to witness Tyrant do it, and that is exactly how I know I need to spend some time in solitary, praying for forgiveness from HIM, the only one who can offer me the lightness my heart needs so badly to keep beating. It’s hard finding a balance as to what I should be doing and what was expected of me with Josef as our Profit. I’m trying so hard to revert back to what I believed and how I worshipped the way I did before ever stepping foot into the House of Worship.