The Fallen (A Sons of Wrath Prequel) (12 page)

Fight him.

She’d spent months learning the skills, and suddenly, as her life could very well hang in the balance, she couldn’t move a single muscle. Like the panic of getting caught had paralyzed her.

“This could’ve been so easy for you. One week with me.” He crowded her flat against the door and placed his arms either side of her. “I think you enjoy pissing me off, Pet.” His arms disappeared behind his back. “If I had to guess, you wanted the chase.”

Karinna kept her gaze fixed on him. In one insane act of defiance, she punched him square in the stomach. Aside from a brief muscle twitch and an ache in her knuckles, he seemed completely unaffected.

Shit. Shit.

She lurched to the side, stopped by a massive forearm. Like a lion, toying with his prey, he did nothing more than smile at her. His other hand disappeared beneath her chin, and the click sent a wave of horror through her muscles. Silver threaded through his fingertips as he lifted the chain attached to her collar with a full-blown grin skating across his face.

He licked his lips and raised a hand. Karinna winced before he swiped the hair from her shoulder and rubbed her nape, beneath the band of leather.

Instinct told her to fight him, anyway, even if he did have her by the throat.

He wound the chain in his hand and lifted his arm, forcing her chin up into the air. Not harsh or abruptly, but enough to exert his control. She gulped to swallow and forced an inhale against the pressure. His lips traced the taut skin of her throat, softly, until his teeth bit down.

She cried out, pressing a palm against his chest to push him away. He didn’t move. Didn’t budge at all. His hand pinned hers to the door, leaving only her left hand to fight him off.

Karinna stood, stunned in his capture.

The bite softened to sucking and licking, and his heavy breaths and quiet growling moan cast a ripple of pleasure straight to her thighs. “I want to punish you,” he whispered. “Not because you’ve been bad. But because I think you want me to.”

She couldn’t answer with the collar still tugging at her throat. Wouldn’t have, anyway.

He ground his hips into hers, his erection hard, stiff against her. “I can’t lie, I want it, too. Just thinking about you across my knee makes me hard.”

Fuck you
. The words sat at the back of her throat like a cannon waiting to fire.

With his face buried in her neck, he released her arm and his hand drifted downward.

No, please.

His face pulled away, and Karinna focused on the shadows of the wall. Anything to keep from thinking about what he intended to do next.

“Look at me.”

She mustered a short shake of her head and the collar tightened.

“I want you to look at me.”

Her eyes found his. Intense. Burning holes right into her mind.

As his finger rubbed up and down her cleft, he seemed to be studying her.

Karinna could hardly keep herself upright. She grasped at the collar with her only free hand. Knees turning to pudding, she slipped along the door, only to cringe at the tight yank of the chain.

The last thing she needed was Lita’s goading,
you promised me, Rin. You promised vengeance. Quit being a stubborn mule. Give in to him.

Her lids turned heavy, muscles tingling and quivering. She opened her mouth for more air.

At any cost
, she’d told herself months ago.

The collar loosened and both of his hands captured either side of her face as she gasped. His lips covered hers, and Karinna melted into him. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he said against her lips. “The need to hurt you and pleasure you. Don’t know which I want more.”

Kiss him
, Lolita tolled inside her head.
Don’t fail me.

Karinna kissed him back. A light zing of pain shot through her scalp as he threaded his fingers in her hair and pushed her face into his, his kiss both violent and possessive. She let out a yelp when he cupped her sex and squeezed.

“You try to leave again, and your punishment will consist of much more than strapping you to the bed. Is that clear?”

All she could muster was a frantic nod.

Xander stepped away, yanking the chain that tugged her forward.

Gritting her teeth, like a good Pet, she followed him back up the stairs.

***

Karinna gave little resistance as Xander led her back up to her room. In some ways, her acquiescence frustrated the hell out of him. He much preferred the wild, shameless little thing that spiked his blood.

The fact she’d given in to him meant that, more than even following her own instincts, she still wanted inside the club. Fuck.

He couldn’t allow her to leave. Not yet. Not when Jimmy and the others would be tearing the city apart, looking for her. She’d fall straight into their arms if they somehow figured out she was the elusive Lolita’s sister.

She’d welcome that.

Once inside the room, Xander spun and, still gripping the chain, backed toward the bed. He brought her to a stand in front of him.

With her face angled downward, she seemed hell-bent on avoiding looking him in the eyes. He lifted her chin and ran his thumb along her bottom lip, mesmerized when he pressed inside the small gap of her slightly opened mouth.

Blinking away the momentary enthrallment, Xander yanked the chain to her collar, forcing her onto the bed. “Arms up.”

She lay back against the pillows, and he couldn’t help grin when her top lip twisted in disgust. After clicking all four limbs into the cuffs, he sat beside her. Eyes still locked on her, Xander reached to the side and nabbed a slice of avocado from the dish he’d set on the nightstand before running off to catch her at the front door.

The tip of the avocado slipped between her soft, pouty lips, and he couldn’t help lick his own, riveted by her mouth. Her brows furrowed.

Yeah. He’d watched her eat the shit out of avocados for the last ten months. Her jaw flexed as she chewed in a slow, reluctant pace, before her neck bobbed with a swallow.

He set the plate in his lap, grabbed a small chunk of mozzarella cheese, and held it to her mouth.

“I can feed myself.”

“Not with your hands tied.” The small chunk of cheese slipped inside her mouth, and she stared up toward the ceiling as she chewed it, nostrils flaring—probably pissed off.

He grinned and continued feeding her the avocado and cheese, along with the tomato, basil and bread he’d prepared for her. All foods he’d seen her eat at one point or another, and yet, she never called him out on it. Never said a word about how
coincidental
it happened to be that he knew what she liked.

“Not exactly what I expected from the
Reaper
.” A hint of mocking spiked her tone.

“Would you prefer to starve?”

Her jaw shifted. “No.”

“What’s your real name?”

The narrowing of her eyes told him he was in for another round of stubborn tug-of-war. “What’s yours?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue.” He licked his lips and grinned. “And when you earn the right to scream my name, I’ll give it to you. For now, you can call me Master.”

“And you can call me the bitch who will
never
call you Master.”

“So be it.” He snatched up the blindfold from the bed and tied it over her eyes. “As long as you keep in mind you’re
my
bitch for the next week.” Xander leaned forward and her lips clamped the moment he placed his mouth to hers. He kissed her anyway, passionately, just to piss her off. “Mark my words, Pet, you’ll soon come to know why you shouldn’t fuck with me.” With a sharp tug of her shirt, he left her lying exposed, and took his seat at the foot of her bed.

CHAPTER 11

Xander lifted his chin, inhaling the sweet scent that permeated throughout the small apartment. After climbing in through the window, he studied the dark, open space. Only a bed, a dresser with attached mirror, and small retro-style nightstand filled the room. He strolled past Karinna’s bed, dragging a finger across the covers, and came to a stop in front of her closet.

A yank of the chain illuminated her wardrobe.

Her clothes spoke of a serious case of OCD in the way they hung, perfectly spaced, in color-coordinated sections. He touched the differing fabrics, rubbing the material between his fingers. Without destroying her system, Xander pulled shirts and pants, lingerie and leather, stuffing them inside a backpack he found at the foot of her closet. He didn’t bother with sleepwear.

She’d either wear one of his shirts, or nothing at all.

He tipped his head back, and rifled through the top shelf, peeking in boxes and bags. No camera.  Not that he’d expected to find it there.

A flash caught his eye. Xander reached up and dragged out the object that’d been pushed toward the back of the shelf.

What the fu—

White quills nearly filled the glass jar. Feathers
. His
feathers. She’d collected them.

After a moment, he slid the jar back onto the shelf and tugged the chain. With the bag hoisted over his shoulder, Xander strode across the room and climbed back through the window.

The campus remained pretty quiet, even though Karinna didn’t live in the thick of everything. She probably couldn’t, with the kind of job she worked. His bike waited for him at the curb, and Xander slipped both arms into the straps of the backpack, fired up the engine, and took off down Woodward Avenue.

Within minutes, he’d arrived at the gates of the old castle and made his way inside. Upstairs, he stalked inside Karinna’s bedroom, eyes rapt on her half naked form, lying in his shirt.

When he tossed the bag to the floor, she startled, but like a stubborn little thing, she didn’t bother to say anything, as if she knew it could be no one but him standing in the room.

“I brought you some clothes.”

“From where?”

“They’re your clothes.”

“My apartment?”

“Yeah. You’re not to wear them to bed.” He smiled at the crinkling of her brow that suggested a frown. “You wear nothing but my shirt to bed, is that clear?”

“I’m supposed to sleep strapped to a bed with virtually no clothes?”

“Exactly.”

“How did you … know where I lived?”

“The night in the back alley. I followed you home.” He spoke very matter-of-fact, unabashed by his confession.

The sound of her swallow carried across the room. “You followed me?”

“I know where you live. I know your name is Karinna Roy.” Xander gave her a second’s pause to process that. “The only thing I haven’t figured out, yet, is why you’re here. Why you want in so bad. Mark my words, though, I will find out.”

***

Grabbing a sconce from the wall, Xander descended into the blackness of the castle’s stone cellar, which opened up to a gothic-style office. Pushing against a stone on the wall made a hidden door slide to the side, and he descended deeper until the walls narrowed to a crypt. From a stone vault, he produced a black leather bag, and carried it back up the narrow staircase, into the office.

As he rummaged through the stack of folders inside, a golden band fell onto his desk. Xander reached out, hesitating before picking it up.

Celine
.

Female angels in the underground scene wore gold bands. It’d be the human equivalent of dog tags, except that the band acted like a tracker.

For nearly a decade, he’d worked alongside the feisty female angel—the golden band, all Xander managed to find of her once Ian had gotten his hands on her. She must have removed it just before Ian tortured and killed her. When the angels arrived to help, Xander had fought two powerful soldiers to escape with Ian—a split decision that could’ve landed him straight into a prison sentence, if not for Hasziel.

No way Celine would die in vain. Xander planned to take down the whole fucking ring in which Ian pulled the strings from the center.

He poured himself a drink.

In some ways, Karinna reminded him of Celine. Not in looks, but she carried the same glimmer of vengeance in her eyes. A thirst for blood—at any cost.

Visuals played inside Xander’s head. Leather marring the perfection of Karinna’s skin. Body writhing. Only that moment. All of her preoccupations gone, switched off, turned on to him.

His demands. Her compliance.

Xander buried his gaze in the drink. Why the fuck did he care so much about the camera? Hadn’t he spent the better part of the last decade either drinking himself into oblivion or threatening to thrust himself there with the swipe of a knife? Did it matter
who
held the knife?

Call it years of honing his kindred spirit with Ian, but Xander knew damned well why he had to find the camera. Ian would never stop looking for his traitor, which meant he’d never stop at finding Karinna. With the pressures of politicians riding him, he’d be sure that no human alive would know about what had taken place in that warehouse basement.

Xander lifted his gaze to the volto mask hanging from a hook on the wall.

Time to up my game
.

***

As Karinna lay in the bed, her body came alive. Electric. Waiting. Every sound in the house had her muscles tense.

Held blindfolded and captive by the Reaper. As much as that should’ve frightened the hell out of her, it somehow spurred heat across her skin.

Was he a good guy? Bad guy?

Like an unknown variable that had her mind scrambling for an answer, while her body seemed to be savoring the time in between. Everything about him said the guy was dangerous, quite possibly psychotic. But how many bad guys went out of their way to feed a victim her favorite food?

Uh, stalkers.

Those damn sketches, though. Why had Lita drawn them? Who was he to her? Not like she could come out and ask.
Hey, any chance you raped my sister a year ago?
She certainly wouldn’t do it while strapped to the bed, anyway. Her kill list went beyond him, and
getting
killed in the meantime wouldn’t help her reach that goal.

You like him
. Lolita spoke to her and the thrill quickly fizzled to shame.

No.
Karinna mentally argued her sister’s ghostly accusations.

You do. You love the anticipation. The command. His rough hands on your body.

No. I don’t.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Get out of my head, Lita.

Cuffs tight. Hands pushing against naked thighs. Kicking. Screaming
.
Laughter.

Karinna sucked in a sharp breath and buried as much of her face into the pillow as her bindings allowed, cringing at the visuals that flashed inside her head. Where did they come from? Against the cotton pillow, she shook her head back and forth, trying to erase the random images.

She didn’t want to explore them. Wanted to focus her thoughts on escaping.

The door clicked. Was he back? Boots tromped closer. Something crashed against the nightstand. Glass?

Her arms and legs trembled. Fear? Excitement? What the hell was wrong with her?

Did he watch her, spread out on his bed?

All five senses fired. Sandalwood reached her nose first and watered her mouth.

“Why did you come here with me?”

The questions again. Why did he persist? “I had no choice.”

Through the blackness, he chuckled. “You did. Had you said the word, I’d have let you go, back at the club.”

True. She hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t fought him much at all.

“You want in? You want to make that money? Get fucked by political royalty?”

She nodded.

“You’ll have to get past me first. You survive me, I’ll take you to Hard Limits.” He sounded closer with his next words. “Now’s your chance, Pet. Your one and only opportunity to be set free. Say the word, and I’ll take you back to your life. Your club. Whatever it was you were doing before tonight.”

No. No going back. Do not fail me.

“No. I want in.” Over and over the words repeated in her head like a mantra.
I want this. Whatever he does, it is my will.

“You’ve no idea what you’re getting yourself into, little girl. I’ll give you one more opportunity. You want to see what shit goes down?”

No. She wanted to go back to her old life. Graduate and pretend she’d never seen some of the horrific stuff she’d seen in the last few months. Lita’s death took her on the kind of detour she hadn’t calculated into her once-perfect existence. “Yes. Show me.”

“I will. And know your screams, your cries of pain, mean nothing. You want it? I’ll give it to you.” Warm breath hit her right cheek, and her jaw clenched as his hand drifted beneath to her nape, where he rubbed the base of her neck again.

So creepy.
Like a signature serial killer move that, laying spread out in the morgue, she could ponder in the afterlife.

Even so, that powerful charge in his hands thrummed below her skin—a current of lust that opened her up, awakened her sexual desire and craving for his touch. Her body came
alive
.

God, what had she become?

Doesn’t matter anymore
.

She’d made the decision to sacrifice her body to save Lita’s soul.
Find the camera. Kill the fuckers who hurt her
. That’s all that mattered. As long as she didn’t let the bastards break her mind … she’d will herself into the deepest darkest depths of her head and stay there until the shit was over.

Like a cage, the bars inside her skull slammed down around her thoughts, and she stepped back into the shadows where her secrets lay buried.

A place he’d never touch.

A click caught her attention. The sound of forced breath. Her mouth watered to the rich scent of nutmeg with a tangy wood undertone.

“I love a good cigar.”

Yes, that’s what she smelled. The sudden change in his mood and switch of topic had her traipsing along a thin wire of anticipation.  What did he plan to do with her?

“Some flavors seem to compliment the scent of burning flesh.”

Karinna forced a gulp.
Oh, shit.

“Tell me again how much you want to be inducted into the Sadismen. I’m curious, do you enjoy pain? Suffering?”

A knot formed in her stomach. “Yes.”

“You females … sometimes you astound me with your persistence.” Another forced breath. “Very well. Let’s begin.”

His hand palmed her calf and Karinna mentally kicked herself for flinching.

“You’re nervous.”

Yeah. The difference between self-inflicted practice at home and the real deal boiled down to one thing: limits. Not to mention she’d forgotten to buy a pack of smokes and research cigarette play. How far would he go? “You don’t scare me.”

“And yet, you flinch at my touch.”

In the quiet that followed, she closed her eyes behind the blindfold, slowly inhaling and exhaling.
Deep breaths
.

No doubt, he enjoyed the wait, the torment of leaving her in suspense. She imagined the cigar hovering over her skin.

“Where to begin,” he finally said. “Like blank canvas, your flesh. Ready for the first stroke of paint.”

A faint, radiant heat brushed against her skin, and her stomach tightened.

Laughter. Masks. Hands. Heat. Burn.

Scorching pain hit her flesh, and Karinna cried out, tugging against her binds. Another searing blast hit her thigh, then her ankle, the bottom of her feet. Over and over, she cried out and gripped the chains cuffing her to the bed.

Burns. Screaming. Laughter
.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” She frantically yanked at the chains, kicking her feet against the restraints. In a fit, she kicked until the bed shook with her movements.

Her arms and legs snapped free, and hands gripped her midsection, pressing into her as though trying to calm her. The blindfold tore away from her eyes and a glistening object waved back and forth in front of her. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Her eyes traced the movement. Her seizing heart calmed. Vision came into clear focus. The object stopped moving, and Karinna stared down at what he held in his palm. A cold sweat broke out across her skin as queasiness churned in her stomach.

The
pop
beside her jarred one last recoil and she glanced over at a glass filled with ice cubes.

Xander said nothing.

She furrowed her brow and smoothed her fingers over the top of her legs. Only the cool drip of water and unbroken skin met her fingertips where she’d been certain the burns had seared her.

What the fuck?

She took one long breath, and her body slowed its uncontrollable trembling.

“Lie down.” His command arrived cold, as if unaffected by her reaction. He secured her arms and wrists once again. “Perhaps you’re not as ready as you thought, Pet.”

The churning in her gut twisted to anger. “Don’t fuck with me.”

“Well, see, that’s exactly what I intend to do.” The blindfold re-covered her eyes, and Karinna bit back the frustration of having her senses removed once more. “You still haven’t learned.
Give
and take.”

Fabric of the shirt she wore fell to either side of her body. The coarse pads of his fingers trailed down her chest. “So soft,” he whispered. They drifted farther.

She inwardly whimpered. Wanted to tell him to keep his dirty, murdering hands off of her. Damn her involuntary moan that made her muscles twitch.

“No safe words.”

For all the weeks of learning how to control her body’s reactions, training her mind to be somewhere else as she mindlessly performed acts on men, nothing had prepared her for his touch.

Her panties slid to mid-thigh. A finger slipped inside of her and the delicious invasion had her yearning to curl into herself as she fought against it.

Something about the man defied all her training.

“So wet.” His words slurred. “Why?” An air of anger slid off his tongue. “Why?”

I don’t fucking know.
The question infuriated her. She hated her body for the way he commanded it.

In and out, his finger pumped. Not hard or rushed. Slow, as if he savored the feel, gliding in and out, stroking her G-spot as if he knew exactly where to touch. “I could bury my dick inside of you. Just like this. Slow. All night long.” His voice had changed, carried an air of wonderment, as if he’d become someone else.

She clamped her lips to stifle a moan.

“Your body likes it. You like my fingers fucking you.” His head pressed into her shoulder. “Why? Why do you insist on taunting me?”

She moaned again, imagining him standing astride the bed, staring down at her naked body as he drove his fingers up inside her.

Mounting. Tension. Higher. Higher. That current flowed up into her. Legs trembled. Heat singed her core.

Don’t. Don’t do it. Don’t orgasm. Not this way.

“Come for me. Now.”

No. No.

She couldn’t help it, though. Her mouth fell open and the scream reverberated off the walls.

The orgasm slammed into her.

His words. His touch. He controlled her in ways that frightened her.