Pretty Faces (The Fallen Gods Book 6)

by K. A Knight

  Pretty Faces (The Fallen Gods Book Six).

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to places, events or real people are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 K.A. Knight, all rights reserved.

  Written by K.A. Knight: Edited By Jess from Elemental Editing and Proofreading.

  Formatted by Kaila Duff.

  Cover design by Temptation Creations.

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also By K.A Knight

  “The face is the soul of the body. “

  Ludwig Wittgenstein

  KHALID

  “Tell me,” I snarl, leaning into his face, his shirt bunched in my fist.

  “I don’t know!” he cries, his squat red face panicked. His bloodshot eyes, red from the alcohol, dart around the empty alley, searching for help. I can still hear the music of the club behind us where I dragged him from.

  “You do, you know where he is, so tell me,” I demand.

  “Why? Why do you want to know?” he cries like a pussy.

  “Don’t you know yet? I’m the Face Changer, the Hunter…and Sinclair killed four innocent humans,” I whisper, and his eyes widen at my monikers as he stops struggling, knowing he will die here. “It’s bad for our races, for our people. I should know, I’ve been hunting monsters like him for years.”

  Ever since…well, ever since. The council is growing weaker and losing respect as they sit in their mansions, hoarding power and money. I was tired of watching the havoc wreaked on this world by our people, so I started doing the one thing I promised I wouldn’t do ever again—killing. My soul is already black, there is no saving me, so what’s a few more deaths on my conscience?

  They die and innocents survive, and no one is any wiser that a god walks amongst them, changing his face to fit in, to blend on his hunts, to rid this world of evil. Evil like me.

  “I heard you were looking for me,” comes a distinct Scottish accent from the alley. Turning my head, I see the man from the video, the one who drained four humans dry after torturing and raping them. Then he left their bodies to rot.

  “Sinclair. How nice of you to join us,” I mutter, and without a pause, I snap the neck of his lackey and drop him to the cement like the rat food he is. “Shall we?”

  “I have to ask, are you from the council? The person they sent to kill me?” He cocks his head to the side, his dark hair falling over one of his red eyes. Behind him are two other men, both vamps. I can smell them from here and almost see the stolen blood racing through their veins. I don’t have anything against vamps, fuck, my brother is one, but his children…shit, they have grown weak.

  Without morals.

  Bottom feeders.

  But so have a lot of monsters. They have spent too long hiding in the dark, and no one implements rules anymore. It leaves a power vacuum among the lower classes, and killers and users like Sinclair are all too happy to pick up the slack and name themselves king.

  Well, tonight, this king will fall.

  “No,” I reply, stepping closer.

  “Shame, I heard their hunter was something to look at.” He grins. “Fine, so you’re some vigilante wanting to save the world.” He rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t matter, you will still die here. This is my city, after all.”

  “You’re wrong.” I grin, the stolen face I’m currently wearing bunching with it. “This is my city, it’s my fucking world, and you parasites are feeding on that. No longer. You die tonight, and your blood will run across the streets you ruined.”

  Done talking, I move. They expected me to be slower, weaker, because they don’t know what I really am. Nobody does. They simply refer to me as the Hunter, the one who moves in the dark, never to be seen again. His face is always different, masks, they think—if only they knew the truth.

  I will do this until the day someone finally kills me. I will make this world a better place than the one I was born into. Not for me or even my long-lost family. But for her. My mate. The one I saw all those years ago…the one I walked away from.

  To save her from me.

  Now, I spill blood in her name. Every one of the monsters I kill is one less for her to have to deal with. One less that could hurt her. One day, I will earn my penance for my past, but I will never earn her.

  I’m behind them before they even see me coming. I rip out the hearts of the two men with him at the same time and toss them to the ground, ready to be burnt. Then I turn to Sinclair as he snarls, his fangs flashing as he tries to charge me. He rushed right onto my blade, which pierces his heart. Dragging him closer, I grind it in as he gasps and cries out.

  My mouth near his ear.

  “I’ll see you in hell,” I mutter as I yank my blade out and watch him fall. With a disgusted sneer on my lips, I grab my bag of goodies, dousing them in petrol before setting them alight, the only way to be sure they’re truly dead.

  A groan escapes my lips as I feel my face slipping. I’ve been in this one for too long. I need another, any will do. I don’t care what I look like, no one will ever see my true one, and I have no need to be attractive to anyone—those needs fled the first time I locked eyes with the one bright blue and one black eyes of my mate all those years ago.

  As the fire burns, I hoist up my bag and whistle as I wander from the alley. I grab the closest man who passes by and drag him inside. I just need to have my hand on his bare skin. I drain him just enough, never killing, and then put him to sleep and leave him on the ground. He will wake up with a headache but no memory. Me? I fall back with a grunt. Each time is the same, though it’s gotten easier over the years.

  In a blink, I am someone else, his skin crawling across mine. My hair is changing, growing, and shifting to his. My face is widening, paling, and becoming an exact replica.

  Just another pretty face in a long line of them.

  REMI

  Tugging down the suit jacket, I roll my eyes at the bouncer of the high-end club where I’m waiting to be let in. Fuck wearing a dress, you can’t fight in them, but you have to be chic enough to be let in here, so a suit it is. I have no shirt on underneath the tailored jacket, which cinches in my tiny waist, accentuating my curves. My long legs look even longer in the matching pinstripe trousers, and the heeled boots I’m wearing finish the outfit—not to mention, the points of the heels can be used as blades.

  Everything I wear is functional, like the weapons sewn into the pockets or hidden in the spikes in my ears. My long, wavy, dark brown hair is held back with black and red chopsticks—making my blonde highlights stand out—which can be used as daggers. Overall, I’m covered in weapons…and no one is the wiser. Idiots.

  My tits look amazing, and I use them now when it’s my turn to step up to be checked. The bouncer’s eyes lock on my cleavage. My breasts are nearly completely out, except my nipples, and he’s entranced. Flicking my light brown and orange flecked eye and my black eye behind him, I search for my mark.

  “You’re not on the list,” he murmurs, his voice gruff.

  I lean farther in, dragging my pointed nail down his chest and cupping h
is cock through his slacks. “Aren’t I?” I inquire sweetly.

  He groans, his cock hardening in my hand. “Shit, I mean go in,” he rasps, and I squeeze before releasing. On my way past, I stroke my hand across his arm and shoulder. I feel his eyes locked on me as I move into the lavish, upscale bar.

  It’s hidden in an old museum, only the super rich know of it…and there’s a supernatural here, a supe the council wants killed for his crimes. I didn’t even ask what he did, I don’t even care anymore. It’s just another death, another tally to add to my black soul. The money is good though, and no one fucks with a council hunter.

  No one.

  I walk under a gold arch that surrounds a pair of glass and gold double doors, which open into a luxurious space. There is a band playing up on stage, the song slow and sensual. Waitresses, women in tiny bras and thongs with bunny, cat, and other animal face masks on, work the room. Men sit around in business suits, while women pose in their finest clothes—some of the patrons are even fucking the waitresses on the gaudy tables.

  The stage is on the right, and tables surround it, while booths run along the back black wall next to it. To the left is the circular bar with two men in three-piece suits and slicked back hair manning it, and all of the stools are occupied before it. At the back is the VIP area, cordoned off with a rope and two bouncers.

  The carpet crunches under my boots, the giant chandeliers almost scraping along my head as I walk through the bar. Everything here screams money—more money than sense. They blow through it as easily as they blow their loads here. Just another fucking human bar, another fucking night.

  Another fucking hunt.

  Boredom sets in as I wind my way through the patrons. Eyes automatically go to me, women and men alike. Some call out, trying to get my attention, but I ignore them. I’m used to it. I know what I look like. To humans, I’m utter perfection, beautiful. Hell, even among supes I am, but all that beauty hides a deadly, black soul searching for its next kill. The next blood, the next rush.

  It hides the rejected creature I am. Not even my beauty could outweigh my heritage.

  Even fucking doesn’t bring me as much joy as killing does any longer. It’s the only time I feel that sweet release of adrenaline, when I feel challenged, tested, providing a minor interruption in this monotone life, but I want fucking technicolour.

  I approach the bouncers and lean around them, smirking when I see my mark—a wolf, if my nose is correct. They smell like wet dogs no matter what. His bushy beard is unkempt, and his chest hair is on display in his open shirt. His pants are unbuckled as the waitress pushes her hand inside them, clearly jerking him off, even though she has a bored expression on her face. The one to his left is stroking his chest, exchanging looks with the other girl. Neither want him, but they are paid to pretend like they do.

  I don’t blame them, since the wolf is an ugly fucker. He has dark, small squinty eyes, which he shuts before leaning his head back. Wolves should be slim, athletic, it’s just how their bodies are built, yet this one is fat. He has a beer belly, a double chin, and a pimpled face, even at his age. His long hair is matted slovenly, his fingernails long and yellow. I can almost taste the disgust of the girls touching him.

  Works for me.

  “I’m the new girl, the boss wants me to pay special attention to our best customer.” I grin, glancing back at the bouncers. They exchange a look. They are both big bastards, huge compared to me, but I could easily take them. They are only human. Most bouncers tend to be supes of some kind, though humans don’t know that. They aren’t too bright, but they provide good muscle, however these ones are just plain old humans.

  “Come on, boys, it’s my first night, don’t get me in trouble,” I beg, pouting my bottom lip.

  The one on the left swallows and runs his eyes down my body before he steps to the side and unclips the rope. “Sure thing,” he rumbles, his voice thick with a Russian accent. Hired thug no doubt.

  “Appreciate it,” I purr as I stroll past him.

  Rolling my eyes at the wolf who’s now grunting, I jerk my head at the girls. “He’s mine,” I tell them.

  They share a look but jump to their feet as fast as they can, happy to let me deal with him as they rush past. He opens his eyes in anger, his arms spread on the back of the booth behind him.

  “What the fuck? Did I—” He stops, his eyes locking on me.

  I grin teasingly as I run my finger down my cleavage, and he tracks the movement. “Boss thought you might want something…special,” I coo as I flick open my button. The jacket gapes, exposing my breasts, and he gulps.

  “Fuck yes, this is VIP service,” he growls. “Get your sexy ass over here.”

  I sway my hips as I saunter forward. Stopping before him, I climb onto his lap, bracing a knee on each side of his meaty thighs, and avoid his hard cock, which is half hanging out of his pants. His big, brawny hands automatically grasp my breasts, squeezing hard and playing. His gaze remains focused on them, his tongue caught between his teeth. Rolling my eyes at how easy this is, I lean into his touch with a fake moan. Didn’t his momma ever teach him not to touch what isn’t his? Not to worry, I will.

  “Yes, like that,” I purr, hiding my disgust at having his slimy hands all over me. I’ll have to replace the feeling later with something better. I slide my hand up to my hair and yank out the chopsticks, letting my silky locks tumble around my face as I grin at him.

  He groans, thrusting up as his hands stroke down and struggle with the fastening of my pants with a curse. I watch him for a minute, genuinely wondering if he will manage to open them before I get bored, and press the sharp edge of the chopstick to his fat neck. “Hey, big boy,” I coo, and his eyes flicker up and lock on mine. “The council says hi,” I whisper, leaning in.

  His eyes widen for a split second before I stab the chopstick into his neck. His lips open on a silent scream, and his body jerks with the shock and force. With a grin, I pull the chopstick out, moaning when his blood spurts all over my chest, the ruby red river flowing across my tits and down my stomach. Each hot drop has my pussy becoming increasingly more wet, clamping around nothing.

  Fuck, that’s beautiful.

  I watch his hands come up and try to stop the flow as he groans. Grabbing his wrists, I overpower him easily and lean into his chest as I press his hands to the seat, letting him feel my strength—another one of the abnormalities that got me expelled from my life in the pack and tossed into the council’s path. Blood pumps steadily from the wound, making me lick my lips. It smells like fear and submission, and has my animals roaring in hunger.

  His eyes roll around desperately, but the bouncers won’t interrupt. From their angle, it looks like I’m fucking him as I wiggle a little, turned on by all that blood and the light slowly leaving his eyes.

  Some girls fear death… Me? I crave it. The blood, the power…fuck, it makes me wet as hell.

  His body shudders, fighting even now, and then it’s over. He’s dead. The blood still pumps from his neck, but I know he’s gone. I feel it. His cock is still hard, will be for a while at least. Pulling the chopstick close, I lick the silver edge, groaning as the taste of his blood explodes there—tangy, coppery, and sweet, and it tastes like terror.

  I push back my animals’ demands and pull away slightly, ignoring the scent of fresh meat. Twisting my hair, I stick the chopsticks through as I pull my phone and send a snap to my contact. I wait, watching for it to be received, still perched on the dead man’s lap with blood covering me. Someone passes by to go to the toilet, and their scream cuts through the air.

  Fucking humans and their delicate sensibilities.

  I turn my head just in time to see the woman faint, pussy. Pocketing my phone, I stand and blow a kiss at the dead man. The bouncers are gaping, their gazes darting from me to him, their meaty mouths flapping open and closed. I crook my finger at them, and the one on the left charges. I duck his punch, and with my shifter speed, I slam my fist into his chest, stopping his h
eart in one strike. He drops to the ground, dead before he hits the floor.

  The one on the right hesitates. Maybe he’s smarter than the other… Oh wait, nope. He comes at me too, trying to pull his gun. I slap it from his hand, turn it, and press it to his head. “Say goodbye,” I taunt.

  “Goodbye,” he repeats automatically, freezing as I pull the trigger. The shot is overly loud to my sensitive ears, so I shake my head to get rid of the ringing. I fucking hate guns. Dropping the weapon, I step over his body and button my jacket. The humans are clambering to escape, screaming and running as they tumble over tables. They push and scramble over each other as I stroll through their panicked masses, cross through the double doors, and then step outside.

  When I’m on the pavement, the moon shining down, I pull out my phone and see the text—contract complete. I look back at the club with a grin. Thank fuck, it was worth it though, and no human authorities will ever know I was here. The cameras will be wiped, fingerprints taken, and the whole scene will be cleaned before they ever get here. Another perk of working for the council.

  The moon calls to me, my skin shivering with the need to change, to run, to become an animal, but I resist it as I always do. It’s too risky to run alone, and it’s not like I have a pack…not anymore.

  I hear approaching sirens and saunter to my bike, flinging my leg over and revving the engine as I stare at my phone, waiting.

  Well done. Next contract in twelve hours.

  Another hunt done, another scumbag dead. I watch the money flow into my account and laugh.