The Fallen (A Sons of Wrath Prequel) (19 page)

CHAPTER 19

The steady thump of Xander’s heart beat against Karinna’s ear, as she stared at the moon through the bedroom window. Every muscle in her body held the cool burn of exhaustion. A monk could’ve probably gotten off to the overwhelming heady scent of sex mixed with undertones of Xander’s delicious, masculine sandalwood. A thin layer of sweat coated her body, and the light breeze dancing through the room cooled her overworked muscles. Like a metronome, the percussion of his heart lulled her into a trance, and for one brief moment, her thoughts drifted to a very dangerous place—what if she simply stayed there, with him? What if she gave up everything and let Lita go?

Like an answer, Xander shifted beneath her and a sleepy, growl-like rumble in his chest brought a smile to her face, before the ache of her reality settled over her once more.

Can’t.

To stop would mean the bastards getting away with it. Lolita’s pain would go unpunished.

No, she had the perfect opportunity.

Karinna glanced up at the cuffs still attached to the bedpost—ones she’d worn earlier in the night when Xander had fucked with her head. He scared the shit out of her a few times, making her believe the pain he inflicted had been real. Until, always, his gentle hands tempered the fierceness afterward. Odd that just a few days prior she was certain he’d planned to kill her.

Her gaze fell back to Xander. So peaceful. Seemingly content. All thanks to the monstrous dose of Shine she’d slipped him just before he dozed off. It seemed Ian’s escort back at the club had wanted some playtime with her in the dungeons. Karinna’s plans had almost gone to hell when Xander demanded she dress slowly in front of him. Subtle hand play assured he didn’t find the pills stashed in her corset.

Goddamn, the stuff kept him hard most of the night. She’d had to indulge his many fantasies until the dose began to wear off and he finally passed out.

Karinna clicked his wrists into the cuffs with little resistance other than the deadweight of his muscled arm. She climbed over his body, straddling his stomach, and brushed her lips across his cheek.

“In a fairytale, you’d have been my dark prince,” she whispered. “Our story would’ve been sinful and wicked, a Grimm’s tale.” She smiled. “But I know I’d have been happy with you.” With a final kiss to his lips, she pulled away. “This ending makes more sense.”

The cold hardwood floors met her feet as she slid over the side of the bed, dressed quickly, and padded across the room. From Xander’s pile of clothes, she rifled for a weapon small enough to conceal in her jacket. She slipped the medium-sized dagger from a holster, then checked his coat pockets, frowning as stiff paper met her fingertips. She withdrew a picture. The photograph from Lita’s apartment—the one from which she’d been torn. She stuffed it into her corset and tossed his jacket over the leathers and holster.

Just outside of the door, Karinna stopped and glanced back, catching sight of the bible atop of the books. She hustled back toward the bed, opened the nightstand, rifling through until she found a pen.

Xander groaned from the bed, crystallizing her muscles as she crouched and watched for movement. Deep, steady breaths signaled he hadn’t wakened. After tearing out the dog-eared page from the bible, she left the room before he could rouse.

***

Karinna parked the bike next to a red BMW at
Hard Limits
and did a quick weapons check of her dagger tucked into her leather jacket. Slipping the black and white volto mask over her head, she hopped off the bike and strode up to the entrance.

The door opened before she so much as knocked against the wood. The tall blonde from earlier in the night—Ian’s escort—met her just inside, standing next to the bouncer she’d seen on the way in the first time.

Without a word, he let her pass, and the blonde led her inside the club.

Hard Limits
remained packed but the atmosphere had changed from earlier. Music still railed through the speakers, but whereas the crowd had seemed livelier and only out for a good time, Karinna suddenly felt hunted as white masks turned slowly in her direction. The place wreaked of sweat, bodies—not even the most potent air freshener could cover up the distinct stench of sex clinging to every oxygen molecule up in the place.

Probably fueled the club goers into more sex.

She should’ve been nervous—a normal female would’ve, with the sort of game-plan Karinna had locked inside her head.

Yet, she felt nothing. Maybe fate was being kind, for once, leading her along a path that would end in one swift death.

Down the hallway, Karinna followed the girl until they arrived at an office door, where she turned and both women lifted their masks.  The marks on the woman’s face, so subtle, they could’ve gone unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know where to look, but it took Karinna only a second to recognize that she’d been tortured at some point.

Her earlobe had been split, healing, but hard to look at. The slight bump of her lip showed where she’d been punched. A long white scar, hardly noticeable against the dim lights and makeup she wore, crossed over her cheekbone.

Her eyes, dark with a hint of red, showed she hadn’t slept much, and the prominence her facial bones silently spoke of starvation.

Slave.

Not just any kind of slave. The worst kind. The kind who had to be cordial and nice, social in the presence of others. Pretend like she loved her station and adored her master.

This is why you have to kill him.

“He’ll want you to audition first,” the woman said, her upturned eyebrows giving her a sad expression. The thick accent that laced her words must’ve been Slavic, at a guess. “They’ll decide if they can use you.”

“I understand.” Karinna peeked inside the office as the woman opened the door.

A grip of her arm forced Karinna to halt in her footsteps. “Boh je na tvojej strane
.”

Karinna didn’t understand the language, but the tightening of the woman’s lips and glimmer of hope in her eyes said enough.

The woman nodded and, releasing Karinna’s arm, allowed passage.

Inside the dark room, two men sat on chairs, both of whom she recognized—Ian and Jimmy. Behind her, the pounding bass of trance died down with the closing of the door.

“Ah, Katka told us you’d be arriving soon,” Ian said with a smile. “You may have already met my brother, Jimmy, and this is a very distinguished member of our club, Remy.”

He pointed past Karinna, and she spun to see dark shadows behind her—a third body in the room.

The man lay half-sprawled across the leather couch, legs too long for comfort on there, elbow propping him up. Thickness poking through his shirt suggested large muscles. Tattoo sleeves covered both arms, and both piercings and scars covered his face. The odd curve of his nose emphasized where it’d been broken at one point, and the split of his lip, where he’d likely been sliced with something, lifted the corner of his mouth into a sort of half-cocked, devious grin.

“He has very discriminating taste, so we thought you might audition with him, and then we’ll take you down to the dungeons for a bit of fun.” Ian’s voice carried a smile.

Her gaze anchored on Remy. Scars. Torn lip. The man was used to women fighting him. Voluntary knife play wouldn’t likely entice this one—he’d probably welcome resistance. Probably loved dominance and control, too, all primitive and ape-like. Would’ve made a fine caveman back in the day. He got off on fear—that much she could discern from his predatory eyes.

Okay, let’s play.

Twisting back to face Ian, Karinna fidgeted, biting her lip, and swallowed a gulp. “I … I changed my mind.” She forced a shaky quality into her voice and took a step back toward the door. “Thank you, anyway. Sirs.” Assholes hadn’t even patted her down for weapons, which, strangely enough, struck her sort of like not getting carded for alcohol.

“I’m sorry to hear that, love.” Ian tipped his head and his eyes flitted past her, like a silent signal.

Karinna swung her gaze back to Remy and took another step back.

The beastly male stood from his chair, a good six feet of raw muscle. His lip kicked up higher as his eyes seemed to light with excitement, and he moved toward the door, blocking her escape. “I smelled you the moment you walked into the room.” His nostrils flared with a deep inhale—something an animal might do. “Whores always carry a stench.”

“Remy, why don’t you show her what we’re looking for in these videos.” Ian waved his hand in the air. “Some direction, if you will.”

She braced herself, letting out a yelp as her body slammed into the wall and rattled her skull. A cold, hard grip tightened against her throat. Karinna opened her mouth for a breath while the room shriveled to blackness and stars floating in front of her eyes.

Fight it.

Tearing at his arm did nothing to release his iron grip.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Struggle. Makes the pain so much sweeter.”

She sank against the door, allowing the room to dissolve before her eyes. Tightness at her throat loosened but didn’t disappear, and she sucked in a gasp, her gradually closing circle of vision widening once again.

“What say you, Remy?” Ian asked.

“Yeah,” the brute said, his eyes locked on her, “she’ll break nicely.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart. You got the part.” Ian rose from his desk. “I’m afraid my brother and I have some business to attend to. Perhaps you might make yourselves cozy in the dungeons until the film crew is ready to roll.”

A grin stretched Remy’s ruined lip. “Perhaps.”

Yanking the hair at the back of her head with one hand, he wrapped his other arm around her body, hefting her against him, and dragged her out of Ian’s office, past the crowd of white masks to the dark hallway that led to the dungeons. Down the staircase, he awkwardly traipsed, as if his new toy might break.

Karinna pretended to struggle, squirming in his grasp along the way.

“Last room on the left.” He spoke close to her ear over the pounding base of music. “No one can hear you scream.”

Adrenaline cooled her muscles. She took heaving breaths.

With one swift kick, he knocked the door open, startling the gang bang with a woman dangling in the swing as a half dozen men stood around her, holding their dicks. The room carried a sticky, humid feel with the thick musk of sex.

“Get the fuck out.” Remy hardly had to raise his voice, and all seven bodies scrambled inside the room, grabbing clothes and sex paraphernalia scattered about the floor.

Within seconds, the room had cleared, and Karinna was shoved face first onto the bed with her ass up in the air. Pointed pressure, like his knee, drove into her back, right at the base of her neck.

Karinna cried out and snarled into the dirty, cum-stained sheets of the bed. Pain zipped up her thigh and the warmth of bare skin grazed her exposed flesh. He’d sliced away her leathers. That left only her tiny panties. When wetness trickled down her inner leg, Karinna realized just how deep he’d cut her.

A tickle between her legs made her jerk forward.

He moaned, as what could only be his tongue lapped up her blood, turning her stomach inside out. Seizing the opportunity, she reached beneath her body, into the jacket he hadn’t yet removed.

Assholes. No one ever checks for weapons anymore.

Hand poised on the hilt, she waited, stomach tight, for his snake-like tongue to finish its assault.

He finally lifted away from her thighs and the pressure at her neck intensified. “I wanted to cut you first. All over.” His breath wafted across her cheek—it  smelled like rot and kept her on the verge of retching. “But it’s been so long. My last toy broke before I got what I needed out of her. She was a whore, just like you. A stripper.”

At another slice across her hip, Karinna flinched as her panties drifted down to her ankles.

He climbed off her. His hand pressed at her neck and he wound her hair in his fist, wrenching her head back and positioning himself behind her.

She writhed beneath his grip, and his fingers clamped tighter around her nape.

“That’s it. Fight me, cunt.”

You got it.
Karinna slid the dagger across her underside and thrust the blade between her thighs.

The howl of pain let her know she’d hit the mark, and as she dislodged the blade, the grip of her neck disappeared.

Karinna rolled onto her back, slicing the blade across his abdomen and forearms he held stiff against his body as he cupped his mutilated nut sack.

With another bellow, he fell forward, catching himself on the bed beside her.

“Fucking bitch!” He bared his teeth and lunged to the side.

Karinna slipped over the edge of the bed onto the floor, just dodging him, and stabbed the blade into his calf.

He buckled but remained standing, growling as he twisted for the blade.

She stood and drilled an upper cut to the bottom of his chin, followed by a hook across his cheek. A tug of the blade from his calf popped it loose, and Karinna lurched for the fatal stab.

A blow to her chest knocked her backward.  The cement floor caught her back, kicking wind from her lungs. As she grappled for air, the blade fell with a clang.

Limping toward her, Remy’s eyes radiated fury. Crazed. No doubt, ready to kill and fuck her corpse.

Gasping for breath, she kicked herself backward across the floor and punted his ankle. He let out a grunt before his body crumpled beneath him. On hands and knees, he scrambled up her body. In spite of the knuckle-breaking jab to his jaw, he punched her in the face, knocking her head to the side. Spasms of pain radiated across her cheekbone and spots drifted in front of her eyes. Another punch followed, and her jaw felt as if it’d come unhinged.

Karinna shook off the dizziness, stretched her jaw, reached between them and grabbed hold of his bloodied nuts. She clenched her fingers so hard her tendons ached.

Remy bawled and fell into a tangent of flailing smacks, before his palm vised around her throat. Squeezing. Squeezing. Blackness filtered in. She closed her eyes and oddly enough, a moment of peace blanketed her body.

Finish him
. Lita’s voice echoed somewhere inside the blackness.
For me.

Karinna’s eyes flipped open. Her hand patted across the floor until the thick hilt met her fingertips. Muscles weakened, she willed her fingers to flip the dagger. With the blade resting along the length of her wrist, she curled her lip and jabbed the knife into Remy’s throat.