Sage (Club Nymph Book 3) Read online

  SAGE

  Abby Gale

  SAGE

  Club Nymph, 3

  ABBY GALE

  Copyright ©2018 by Abby Gale

  | All Rights Reserved |

  Cover illustration by PopKitty Design

  Book Interior Design by PopKitty Design

  Edited by Jenny Dillon at Rather Be Reading

  Proofed by Liv Moore at Liv’s Shoppe

  Book Formatted by Abby Gale

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except the brief quotations for reviews. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places, incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any similarities were surely not intentional.

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Warning

  Dedication

  Playlist

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Epilogue

  Liked Sage?

  Acknowledgement

  About Author

  Warning

  Stop.

  Stop right here.

  This will be the first and last warning for you before you start reading.

  This book you have in your hands has lots of triggers. It’s offending for some readers.

  I’ll give you a quick test to see if this book is for you.

  1) Are you offended by anti-religious talk?

  >>> YES? I think you shouldn't read this book.

  >>> NO? Answer the next question until you make your mind.

  2) Is abuse in books a trigger for you?

  >>> YES? Don't read this book.

  >>> NO? Answer the next question.

  3) Is sexual abuse in books a trigger for you?

  >>> YES? Stay away from this book.

  >>> NO? Read the note.

  NOTE: If you reach this point, I congratulate you for your courage and thank you for your belief in me. BUT, I have to warn you. This book isn't pretty. This book is raw and dark. Even if you answered the questions above with a definite NO, I know you'll cringe at times. I know your heart will break so many times. I'm sorry for doing this to you, but since VIOLET I knew Sage's story won't be pretty. It's melancholic, painful, and strong.

  But in the end, I believe and hope that I managed to deliver a story that will stay with you. I know you wonder if this is a HEA or a non-HEA. I won't reveal that, but I want you to trust me.

  Now, if you’re sure… hope you’ll enjoy this read.

  Dedication

  To everyone

  who carries a suitcase with monsters inside,

  who wears their pain like an armor around themselves,

  This book is for you.

  To everyone

  Who fights a battle against their demons,

  You’ll win the fight.

  Maybe not now or not tomorrow, but one day you’ll win the fight.

  Playlist

  SAGE

  Sorry that I love you by Anthony Neely

  River by Bishop Bridges

  Perfect by Ed Sheeran

  Weaker Girl by Banks

  I won’t let you go (Piano Version) by Adam Tyler

  Hate Me by Eurielle

  Losing my Religion by R.E.M

  Thousand Needles by Leah Michelle

  Hurricane by Thirty Seconds to Mars

  I do it all for you by SoMo

  Every Breath You Take by The Police

  Dark Side by Bishop Bridges

  Hold me down by Halsey

  Wild Horse by Halsey

  Prologue

  “What about you, Sage? What’s your story?” Violet asked me that day when we were all in her house for girls’ night.

  How could I have told her everything then? It was ugly, it was complicated and more than that, it still hurt. “It’s too complicated for girls’ night.” I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant.

  She smiled with a teasing gleam in her eyes. “C’mon, we’re pretty smart girls here.” She had no idea what she was pushing.

  I laughed without humor. “It’s a long story.”

  “We have time.” She winked at me. I knew she wanted to learn about it. I could see the curiosity and interest in her grey eyes, but my story wasn’t a fairytale.

  “Not enough for this.” I exhaled deeply, and she fell silent. No one talked, but I could feel the questions behind their eyes. Memories of my past were a burden that was hard to carry. I locked them all in a suitcase and carried them with me wherever I went, putting them under my bed or inside the closet where monsters lived. I was afraid of unzipping the suitcase to take a peek. But their innocent curiosity was a temptation for me, and I couldn’t resist.

  “I found love when I never expected it. Then, I got pregnant with someone I shouldn’t have. I killed someone and went to jail. Then I lost my love. And now… I’m here, dancing in the club,” I said after a few minutes of silence.

  “How?” her voice was just a breath.

  I smiled at her, shaking my head. I caught a glimpse of my monsters; they were still alive. My fears and the pain of my heartache was waiting for a second of weakness to get free of the suitcase, and I wasn’t ready to face them yet, not when they were still hurting me, but mostly not when I saw his smiling face every night.

  How silly hearts worked? Even though you’d been through hell, the small heaven you found was hurting you more than hell itself. “That’s a story for another time,” I said, finally.

  Violet’s eyes were full of questions and maybe even some fear after my confession. I wondered which question she’d choose. Because what people ask would show their real personality.

  “Wh-What happened to the baby?” she whispered. My air sucked out of my lungs. I wasn’t expecting this question, most people would have asked who I killed, how or why I did it, but Violet was a good soul, and like every good thing and every good people she hurt me the most with her innocent, compassionate question.

  “Miscarriage.” My answer was short, but that was all I could muster with the lump in my throat. I turned my head aside to hide my tears, and the conversation ended there.

  ***

  I haven’t been able to tell a soul what happened to me for years. When I did, it was used against me. My past became my weakness, and people chose to hit me there, where it hurt the most. I didn’t trust people, and when I did, they left me alone, taking the small hope they gave back along with parts of my soul.

  I’ve been a pathetic soul, a loner for so long, a woman who has tried to find her place in this cruel world. I thought my past made me weak, but later I realized it was hope and trust that made me vulnerable. So, I take the suitcase from the closet and open it to face my monsters. I put my past on me like armor and created high, impenetrable wa
lls around me with my pain and heartache.

  When Violet asked me my story it wasn’t the right time, I didn’t close some cases in my mind. I was still hiding behind my stage name –Sage. I buried Veronica with my innocence.

  But now, I’m ready.

  I’m ready to face my monsters and play with them. There was no more fear or heartache.

  I’m Veronica Sage, and this is my story.

  Chapter 1

  Past

  Age 4

  “Mommy, I’m full,” I say. I don’t like the taste of this thing. It’s not sweet like one of the mothers in the park gave me yesterday. She called it chocolate, and I want chocolate, but we don’t have it. Mommy never buys me chocolate, we always have this nasty thing. But I don’t say any of these things to my mommy. She doesn’t know I went to the park across the street. She would be mad at me if she knew. But kids were playing games, I wanted to play too.

  “Eat your porridge, Veronica.”

  “But Mommy,” I say, and jump when she hits her hand on the table. I lean back, trying to get away from her, so she doesn’t hit me. She’s so angry. Her face gets funny like she ate something sour when she’s mad at me. I don’t like her when she’s like that. She hurts me and yells at me.

  I fill my spoon again so mommy won’t be angry with me any longer. The porridge tastes bad, it’s sticky in my mouth. I don’t want to eat it. I try to chew it, but it makes me sick. I gag, can’t hold it in any longer as my tummy doesn’t want it. I spit it into the bowl.

  “You’re an ungrateful child, Veronica. You’re a bad girl.” She yanks me by my arm, and my chair falls down with force. Her hand wraps around my hair as she pushes me to the closet.

  “No, Mommy. Don’t put me there. Mommy, I’ll be good. I promise,” I sob, but she doesn’t listen to me. My arm hurts, my hair hurts, and I’m crying. Mommy hates when I cry.

  She pushes my bowl of porridge to my face. “Look what you’ve done. You deserve to be hungry. You don’t deserve food. There are lots of children who would devour this. You’re selfish, disobedient,” she keeps yelling at me, but my eyes are focused on the closet door she opens.

  The closet is dark, cold, and small. I don’t want to go in there, but my mom pushes me inside and locks the door before I can run.

  “You’ll stay there. You won’t eat anything until God forgives you. Pray for your sin, Veronica. You’re a bad girl and should pray to be good so God can love you,” she says and locks the door.

  I cry and apologize, but my mommy is so angry. She leaves me there.

  It’s so dark.

  I sit with my arms wrapped around my knees and lean against the wooden wall.

  I see shadows. There are monsters in the closet. They’re waiting for me to fall asleep so they can kill me.

  I close my eyes tightly, so I can’t see them and pray to someone whose name is God. I have never seen him, but mommy says I should please him. I should be a good girl for him. So, I pray.

  “Please, God. I’m not bad. I’ll be good. I promise.”

  And pray.

  “Please, God, love me. Let my mommy love me, too.”

  And pray.

  “I’ll always eat my porridge, God. Please don’t let the monsters eat me.”

  Chapter 2

  Present

  Maybe you can reward me with your time tonight, Mistress. -Luke

  I roll my eyes and attach the note back to the huge bouquet of roses. It never ceases to amaze me how many people want to give up their control to a total stranger willingly. But it works well for me, it makes it easy to find company whenever I want to, whenever I feel the need to hurt someone like I’ve been hurt.

  Resting my palms on the vanity table, I let my head hang low as I think if I want to have company tonight. Finally, I straighten my back and say fuck it as I dial the number Luke put on his note. He’s a classy dude, he’s been chasing me for weeks now to dominate him again. If he’s that willing to get his ass kicked, who am I to refuse his plea?

  “You have fifteen minutes to be in front of the club,” I say as soon as the line is answered.

  He chuckles softly. “I’m already waiting for you, Mistress Sage.”

  A smile appears on my face. Luke has everything a man can have; charm, good looks, money, and confidence; but they’re all outside the bedroom. When he enters the bedroom, he wants to let all the control go away, and it was fun the first time, definitely deserves a repeat.

  “Good boy,” I murmur in my Domme voice and I can almost see him get into the role of a submissive.

  After changing my clothes into some femdom outfit from the closet, I walk to the bar for a drink. He needs to wait; the best part of the domination is creating anticipation. Tonight, Channing – or Paxton as everyone calls him, everyone but Violet – is taking care of the bar. He comes once a week to take care of the bar like he used to do, and he even serves the drinks.

  Pax and I go way back, he is the reason I got the job as a dancer in Club Nymph, and he’s the artist of my tattoo. He was right when he told me a tattoo can heal a soul. Since I got the tattoo, I’ve been wearing my pain proudly. I’ve been stronger and wiser. The best part? Pax has never talked about the day we met or how much of a mess I was.

  “How is it going?” he says, lifting his chin up as a greeting.

  “Same. How is your tattoo parlor?”

  He puts a shot of whiskey in front of me, knowing damn well I like my drink strong. “It’s a dream came true. I wanted to open up my own shop since I worked in a tattoo parlor years ago,” he says, not giving away that I know the mentioned tattoo parlor. “And now, I own my own shop, do what I love, and people love my work.”

  “I’ve never doubted that you’d make it. You’re too talented not to be successful.”

  He smiles at me with a boyish smile and mutters thanks. After downing my buzz, I jump off from the stool. “Thanks for the drink. I better go and take care of the poor guy who’s been waiting for me for almost half an hour now.”

  He laughs. “He’ll get the time of his life I’m sure, it worth the wait.”

  Shaking my head, I walk toward the exit. No matter how it sounds, Pax and I were never a thing. He’s just a bright light whose weakness is to help broken women, and he’s just a friend, he’s always been.

  With a light heart, I step outside and spot the black as night Bentley. Luke gets out of the car as soon as he sees me. He looks as gorgeous as the last time; too bad he gives me nothing but a short-lived pleasure and some satisfaction to my sadistic tendencies.

  Since my soul has no chance at redemption, I gladly take and never refuse any kind of pleasure the ugly world can give me.

  Chapter 3

  Past

  Age 6

  There is a girl outside my window. She’s playing with her pink dress as her mommy ties her shoelaces. I don’t like shoelaces, they always become knot when I tie them. But the girl is lucky, she doesn’t have to tie them herself like I have to. Her mommy does it for her, mine doesn’t.

  Her mommy smiles at her, caressing her hair as the girl pouts. I try to open the heavy curtains more. I hold my breath in fear, my mommy doesn’t like it when I pout. Will the girl be closed in the closet like me?

  Please don’t, I whispered again and again. The girl looks like she is younger than me, I’m taller than her. I’ll save her if her mommy hits her.

  I wait… nothing happens. The mommy kisses the girl and smooths her blonde hair. I wish I had blonde hair, too. She looks like the doll I’ve found next to a trash can in front of our house. But the girl’s hair is shiny and clean, not like the doll I found. It was dirty, and it didn’t have one arm, but that’s fine. That doll is the only toy I have. Mommy doesn’t know it, though. If she finds it, she would hit me and lock me in the closet again so I can ask for forgiveness. Because that doll wasn’t mine. I made a mistake then, and God doesn’t like kids who make mistakes.

  I watch as the girl walks down the road in her pretty dress and even pret
tier shoes. I’ve never worn dresses like that. My mommy doesn’t like it when I try to be pretty. She says when you look beautiful outside it would make you ugly inside. I don’t know what she means, I don’t understand it. But, I know I don’t want to be ugly. As I look at the girl, I don’t find anything ugly on her, though. If she can dress up and be like a doll why can’t I?

  I look at the bathroom door, mommy is in there. Slowly, I walk to her bedroom and look into her clothes. She doesn’t wear anything pretty, either. Her clothes aren’t like the girl’s pretty dress or her mother’s, but I still grab a t-shirt. It’s blue but looks white. I put on the t-shirt, it’s touching my knees just like the girl’s dress. I bring a piece of a mirror I found in our garden. It’s so small and dirty, but I can still see my face. Smiling, I take my crayons and start to paint my face. My lips become red, and my eyes are surrounded by green; it’s the same shade of green with my eyes. I like it. My hair doesn’t look good, though. I brush my hair, trying to make it like the girl’s pigtails but I can’t make it like that. It’s hard, and even if I could make it, my hair isn’t blonde like hers; it’s black. Still, after brushing it, that looks better now.

  I swirl around myself, smiling at the small mirror. I look pretty, and that makes me happy. Just as I swirl, again I hear my mom’s scream. “Veronica! What are you wearing? What did you do to your face?” She grabs my hair, pulls it till I stand in front of her. It hurts and my eyes water because of the pain.

  “I… I’m pretty, mommy,” I say, trying to show her that I’m not doing anything bad. I don’t want to be ugly.

  “You’re disgusting. Look at yourself. You look like a horrible clown,” she yells at me. Making a cross on her chest over and over again like I’m evil. “Save her soul, my Lord. Save her sinful, selfish, disgusting soul,” she prays. I feel like an insect. Am I that bad?