Royal Savage

Copyright © 2015 Victoria Ashley

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Cover Design by:

CT Creations

Model:

Josh Mario John

Photographer:

Lane Dorsey

Editing by:

Charisse Spiers

Interior Design and Formatting by:

Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

Royal Savage

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

About the Author

Books by Victoria Ashley

I CAN’T CLOSE MY EYES . . . I refuse to. Every time I do, all I see is blood, death, and pain. I can feel it—almost taste it.

It doesn't matter that I'm still breathing; I no longer need it, I no longer want it. I despise it along with everything else around me.

The only thing I long for is to fucking fade away and pretend as if I’m not standing here covered in blood; crimson fucking red from head to toe, with my heart pounding so viciously that my chest feels as if it’s going to burst the fuck open.

My lungs burn as I inhale another long drag from the cigarette I’ve been holding. The smoke fills my lungs, expanding them and sending a cooling sensation throughout my shaking body. I long for some kind of relief, but it fucking brings none. I take another drag anyways, waiting for what’s to come next. I know what’s coming, because I called them: red and blue flashing lights.

I stand frozen in the window, numbly watching as they grow near, the sounds of sirens getting louder with each passing second.

Taking one last drag, I toss the cigarette at the glass and turn away. I could care less if this motherfucker burns down. There’s nothing left here for me. Not anymore.

My body starts moving, mindlessly checked out and lost somewhere in this never ending nightmare of my world at its end. I feel the hatred start to build, the animosity of the night overwhelming me.

I bring my blood-covered hands up to rub my face as I growl out, releasing some of my pent up anger. I growl out until my throat feels raw, but just like the cigarette it does shit to relieve this pain that is slowly killing me.

I walk slowly and in a daze, passing three breathless bodies before I stop in front of . . . her. Blood covers her blonde hair and her once pink, plump lips are now ice fucking blue. I reach over to pull her into my arms, feeling my heart die a little more with each breath that she doesn’t take.

That’s when the door flies open and I hear them piling in. Heavy footsteps take over until that’s all I can hear, besides the erratic beating of my dead fucking heart.

A buzzing fills my ears, my heartbeat speeds up at an uncontrollable rate, and all I see is red as I’m yanked to my feet, two officers fighting to restrain me. I don’t care if they fucking take me away. I will rot in fucking hell for her, but I’m not done saying goodbye yet.

I feel the cuffs snap around my wrists, hard; too fucking hard. My hands may not be free, but that won’t stop me. Rotating my shoulders, I swing my head back as hard as I can, slamming it into a nose that I hear crack. That shit is broken. I know that for sure, and so does he by the way he curses and steps away to hold his bleeding nose.

Another set of hands attempt to grab me from behind as I make my way down to the ground, on my knees, burying my face into her lifeless neck. I kiss it gently for the last time, before my head is yanked backwards and I’m torn away from her. I’m pushed down to my face and a knee digs into my neck.

This is where my world ends. This is where I stop wanting to live. This is where I lose her . . .

Twenty months later . . .

I LOOK MYSELF OVER IN the full-length mirror one more time before turning to Madison and gesturing to my outfit. It’s a black form fitting skirt that stops just below my ass, paired off with a low cut silver blouse and black stiletto boots. It’s been sitting in my closest since I bought it over a year ago.

“There. You happy I squeezed my huge ass into this just for you?” She nods and rubs her hands together, showing her excitement. “Yeah, you better damn well be, Madi. My plan was to own this sexy getup but never ever wear it. You just ruined that for me and I have a feeling that if I bend in any way, my ass is going to rip right through this stupid, overpriced fabric.”

“Oh, shush it.” Madison bumps me out of the view of the mirror so she can get a look at herself. Her strawberry blonde curls are pulled up into a loose ponytail and her curvy body is wrapped in a little black dress, hugging her perfectly. She’s stunning in it. Apparently, every girl should own one. I don’t, but whatever.

“That’s what I’m here for, Ava; to ruin your plans, because frankly they all suck ass and involve boring shit lately. Oh, and by the way, your ass looks fantastic in that skirt. There’s nothing wrong with a voluptuous ass. If I were a dude, I’d be all over it, trying to bite it. Just saying.” She smacks her red lips together and grabs for her little, red handbag. “Let’s go. The cab is waiting.”