Author: Drew Elyse
Series: The Disciples' Daughters #3
Published by Self-Published
Release Date October 27, 2016
Genres: Dark Romance, Erotic Romance, MC Romance
More Info: Goodreads
Purchase From: iTunes
Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.
They came for her in the night.
When she wakes, she’s in a cell.
She has no idea if it will help, but it is the only option she has:
She tells them she belongs to the Savage Disciples MC.
A Disciple will fight like a savage when it counts.
Years ago, he lost everything.
Now, the club is the only thing Jager allows himself to care about.
Nothing matters but his Savage Disciple brothers.
At least, until she arrives and he has a decision to make.
This biker has no idea what choosing to engage could mean to a Disciple's daughter.
Series: The Disciples’ Daughters
Genre: Dark Erotic MC Romance
Cover Design: By Hang Le
Author: Drew Elyse
Release Date: October 27, 2016
The sound wasn’t what woke me. I had no idea why I’d stirred in the middle of the night. Usually, I was a sound sleeper.
No, the sound came after I’d already started to wake. I lost the seconds I had trying to place it. It came from the hallway, a mix of solid knocking and rattling.
A picture frame, the answer came to me.
It was only that knowledge that had me moving. There was no reason for any of the frames I had hanging in the hall to make that sound. Not unless…
The door to my room flew open. There were men there, three of them. I didn’t waste time staring. Instead, I scrambled to the side of the bed. I just had to get to the nightstand. There was a gun in the drawer—the gun Dad had taught me to shoot and insisted I have.
I got the drawer open, but never reached my only saving grace. One of the men was on me, grabbing me around the chest and hauling me backward. I fought. I kicked and hit at him, my training lost and raw instinct to fight or die kicking in. Another man came close, and I screamed with all I had.
I tried to fight him back, both legs kicking out, but his partner turned me. I felt the sharp prick at my arm. It didn’t take long. Even as I continued to scream, to try to break away, darkness took over the edges of my vision, closing in until there was nothing left.
When I woke, I was facing a wall covered in its own layer of dirt, broken up only by a rust-colored track of water from a leak above.
Where was I?
I tried to remember, tried to fight the fog to grasp onto anything that would tell me how I ended up in such a place.
I was home, in my room. I’d gone to bed…
The picture frame.
Like a dam breaking, it came back. The men, fighting them off, losing consciousness.
My head swam, my vision hazy. I had to figure out where I was, how to get out of here. I moved, feeling an ache like I had never known through every muscle. Then, a stinging pain in my arm. I looked there, seeing the IV. I followed the cord from my arm to a bag hanging on the wall above my head.
It was only then I noticed I wasn’t alone.
I shot to sitting, jerking back to the wall. But what I saw wasn’t a threat. What I saw was three women, all of them frail, malnourished, and dirty. To my left were iron bars. We were in a cell, me and those women. Soon, I would look like they did.
“Where are we?” I found the voice to ask. My throat was dry. So much so, it hurt to speak. That was when I noted how my skin felt like I hadn’t showered in days.
Had it been days?
“We don’t know,” one—she looked to be the oldest—answered. Her voice sounded as rough as mine. When was the last time they’d been given water?
“How…how did we—”
She shook her head sadly. Beneath the grime, I realized she was, in fact, the oldest—maybe five years older than me, no more. Her dark hair was long, matted, her skin pale, her eyes flat.
“Sometimes, they take us, sometimes…” she trailed off, looking to her side. I followed her gaze to the woman next to her. She was blonde like me, and looked to be about my age from what I could see of her face as she peered over her knees. “Sometimes, we are sold to them.”
My eyes moved past the blonde, terrified someone had given her over to this fate. What I saw hit me harder than anything I had experienced since I’d woken up.
The last woman was no woman at all. She was just a girl. She had light brown hair that needed washing weeks ago. Her cheeks were sunken in. She had been down here a while.
“How old are you?” I couldn’t help but ask.
She didn’t talk, just hid her face behind her hands, the woman who had spoken to me already answered for her.
Fifteen. She was still a child. What were they doing with a child?
What were they doing with any of us?
It was hours before the man came down the hall, appearing in front of our cell. I’d long since dealt with the IV. I didn’t have the finesse to pull the needle free without it tugging and scratching beneath the surface, but the discomfort was worth it when I watched a small flood of whatever they were injecting me with escape. Tricia, the woman who had been talking to me since I woke, told me it was a sedative mix. If I left the IV alone, I’d go back under. I’d already been there for three days. How long I’d arrived after they’d taken me was anyone’s guess. The last thing I wanted was to lose any more time in this place.
Tricia also told me the names of the others. Katia, the blonde, and Sarah, the young girl.
“I’ve been here about two months, I think,” she explained. “Sometimes it can get hard to track how long it’s been. They come once a day with food and water. That’s the only real way to tell time down here.” There was something in her expression when she mentioned the provisions they were given, something disgustingly similar to longing.
“But why are we here?” I asked, not even sure if I expected her to have an answer.
She didn’t respond, but I could see in her face that she did know.
I met her eyes and repeated, “Why are we here?”
Her gaze turned sympathetic, as if she weren’t down here as well, as if she hadn’t been here far longer than I had. She felt bad for me because whatever she was going to share was going to make this whole nightmare worse.
“They intend to sell us.”
Sell us. I wouldn’t even let my mind wander to what that might mean. I forced myself to seal off thoughts of who would want to buy us. I had to keep myself together.
Letting my mind go there was not the way to do it.
After that, there wasn’t much to say.
Then, the man came to the cell. He was brutish, large, and outright intimidating. He didn’t say a thing as he approached the metal bars holding us captive. He simply
inspected the nearly empty IV bag, seeing I’d freed myself from the line attached to it.
I had no idea if what I was about to do was stupid—whether it would get me punished, hurt, or worse. I just knew where I was was about as bad as it could get. I had to try something.
“There’s a motorcycle club, in Hoffman, Oregon. They’ll buy me. They’ll pay whatever you ask,” I practically shouted at him.
He stared at me, not responding.
“The Savage Disciples. They’ll buy me.”
He walked away without a word.
Once a Disciple,
forever a Disciple.
Cami was born into the Savage Disciples MC, but she ventured out to build a life of her own away from the club. She’s engaged now, living a new life despite missing the bikers that raised her. Overall, she’s… fine.
Sure, fine. She’s fine with the fiancé who is more interested in position and image than the woman in his life. She’s fine with the fake people around and the suffocating passive aggression. She’s fine with the fact that she is turning to drugs to self-medicate.
A Disciple will fight like a savage for what he wants.
When Gauge tags along to visit his club brother’s daughter, he can’t believe the two women he meets: the fiery daughter of a biker and the puppet with the blank affect. And yet, they’re both Cami.
He sees the fire beneath surface, and he wants to watch it burn. He wants to rip away the man smothering her like a wet blanket. He wants to see the flames consume that cookie-cutter future-wife facade to the ground and dance with her in the flames.
When this biker clutches onto a Disciple’s daughter, there is no letting go.
Once a Disciple, forever a Disciple.
After the death of her father, Ash learned an important lesson: being a Disciple is dangerous. The club her father loved, the club that had been their family, took him from her. She couldn’t stay and wait for the day it would take the man she loved from her, too. So, she left.
Now, she’s the one in danger, and the Disciples are the only ones that can keep her safe. She has no choice but to return to the club and the man she left behind.
A Disciple will fight like a savage for what is his.
Sketch has what he needs: his tattooing, the club, and his bike. Anything else would require a heart, and his was ripped out of his chest a long time ago. It wasn’t coming back.
At least, not until she did.
His heart isn’t the only thing Ash brings with her, though. She has a daughter. A daughter old enough to be his. A daughter Ash claims might not be. But in his heart, Sketch knows the truth. That little girl is his… just like her mom.
This biker knows one thing:
a Disciple’s daughter’s return is about to make his whole world shift.