“Does she have a name?” Country music superstar Caleb Travers asked even though he probably didn’t really give two shits. His fans would be horrified if they knew what a sick fuck their hero was behind closed doors. Travers licked his lips as he dragged his bloodshot eyes over the girl’s nude body. The reek of alcohol surrounded him as he circled her, hands raised to touch her.
“Her name is Number 422. That’s all you need to know. Look. Don’t touch.”
Scrubbed clean in a gas station bathroom, with her hair piled on top of her head to show off the delicate skin of her throat, she stood naked and still handcuffed in the hotel room. Her face was left free of makeup to emphasize her youth and softness. This was what the buyers wanted; a fragile flower.
She was behaving much better than Seth thought she would. She’d been furious when he’d pulled over and dragged her into the trees beside the highway. He smothered a growing smirk behind the back of his hand. Shit. She was still a virgin. He’d only made use of her mouth. She had no idea how lucky she was. After she finished him off, he’d even patted her on the head and said thank you. He was polite that way.
Seth snatched Travers’ wrist just as he pinched her left breast. “I said don’t touch! She’s not to be handled by anyone except her final buyer. No exceptions.” He tightened his grip until the man jerked his arm away with a tense frown.
He didn’t like the way Travers’ eyes narrowed shrewdly before cutting to his two bodyguards standing out of the way. Was he seriously considering having one of his bodyguards take her? Bring it, dumbass! He wouldn’t mind killing a few humans today. The trip was getting boring.
Pinning his gaze on the hulking man by the door, he warned, “Don’t be stupid unless you want to die bloody,” as he drew his favorite athame from the sheath that magically appeared at the small of his back.
With nearly identical expressions of surprise, the two guards paused with guns halfway drawn from their holsters. Caught in the crossfire, the girl’s head whipped around, her terrified eyes begging him to stop.
Travers held up his palms in a gesture of peace before plastering on the good ol’ boy grin he was famous for and drawling, “Take er easy, boys. It’s all good.” To Seth, he said, “I do apologize, Mr. King. No hard feelings?”
“Not as long as your assholes put their guns away. They’re scaring the merchandise.”
And just like that, the guns went bye-bye and the guards took a step back. Sidling closer to him as if he were the safer option, the girl sagged with relief. Trying to seem brave, she thrust her chin out, but her shaking hands gave her away.
Seth gave the humans one last going over before sliding his blade into its sheath and pointing his chin towards the door. “We’re done here. I’ll be in touch with the date of the final auction. Get out.”
After the three men left, he locked the door and turned around to find her glaring daggers at him. “What now?”
She swiped the back of her hand over her mouth and spit on the floor. “You are a pig! I want to brush my teeth.”
Oh, that. “Do you now? Tired of my taste already?” Laughing softly, he peeled away from the door, moving purposefully, drawing his shirt over his head as he approached her. Her hands came up to cover her chest. The slight clink of metal only accentuated her helplessness and stoked his interest. The spark of defiance in her eyes dimmed to uncertainty and finally faded to fear when he backed her into the nearest wall. With her hands pinned between them, he leaned closer to talk directly into her ear. “Be very careful, woman. I’m showing restraint.”
Pulling back to look into her eyes, he willed his human façade to fade until his eyes revealed his true demon origin. As the round pupils elongated to slits, the yellow irises burned with a dark red fire. Her sharp gasp of shock made his dick hard, but he only smiled coldly and rubbed it against her bare crotch until lovely tears flowed over the pale skin of her cheeks. “Don’t push me. Restraint isn’t in my nature.”
She stiffened against him, blinking away the tears. After a few seconds of getting herself under control, she finally cleared her throat, and stated defiantly, “My name is Irina. I am not a number.”
Well, she was cocky. He’d give her that. She might have been amusing if he had time for games. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t. He studied the stubborn tilt of her head, the determined set of her jaw, the pride burning in her eyes. She didn’t have much time left on this plane, and that pride would be a handicap where she was heading. The two of them were destined to spend the next few days together; days that would end in pain and pleasure for them both.
He didn’t give a shit about her suffering; his biggest concern was getting her to the last stop without strangling her himself. Clearly she needed to be reminded of her place. With that thought in mind, he backhanded her across the face, sending her crashing into the wall with a cry of pain. Before she could slide to the floor, he was on her. Grabbing her by the hair, he hauled her to her feet and slammed her into the wall again. Letting his scales show through the human skin until the intricate diamond pattern was clearly defined over his chest and shoulders, he ground out, “You are Number 422. That’s your name from now on.”
With a fierce scowl, she crossed herself awkwardly, still holding her head defiantly. “My name is Irina. Be gone, demon! You cannot possess me. I will not agree.”
The sign of the cross was the last straw; like waving a red flag at an already pissed off bull, really. The leash on his self-control snapped. Her eyes went huge with understanding as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them to the side. “I’m not interested in possessing you, my naive little snack.”
As he stepped away from the jeans, he allowed the rest of his demon self to show and watched her reaction as the truth sunk in. Standing rigid with terror, she tried to be brave, but her hands shook violently as she tried to cross herself again. The good little Christian thought that would help. He relaxed his mouth into a genuine smile as all of her bravado vanished.
Ah, there it is—there’s the fear, the doubt—intoxicating. “Oh, yes, sweetheart. It’s as big as the legends say.”
He gripped the base of his icy cock and caressed it lovingly until it swelled to its full inhuman size. “Did you think you were safe from this?” He moved closer, backing her against the bed. She opened her mouth to scream, but he cut off the sound with a simple thought. Panicked now, her primitive survival instincts took over. Her eyes darted over his shoulder, frantically searching for a way out. Her pulse pounded so loudly it rang in his ears. He could practically feel the blood rushing through her veins.
“It’s unfortunate that I can’t scar your beautiful skin.” He cupped her flat breast with his palm and released each of his claws one at a time; heightening her terror, pushing her panic to its limits, until her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her heart nearly exploded. “I would so enjoy drinking you dry.”
Her knee came up at the same moment she tried to duck below his arms and run. The knee missed his balls and he simply snatched her back by the braid. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as he launched them both to the bed. The moment they hit the mattress, she struggled as if her life depended on it. Kicking and trying to claw at him, her mouth moving in a constant stream of curses and useless prayers. Pathetic. Her god wasn’t listening. Did she really think begging for rescue was going to help?
“The more you fight, the more this will hurt.” She kept struggling until she managed to land her nails in the skin of his cheek. The sting of three bloody gouges was followed by warm blood flowing down his neck. “So you want to play rough?” He yanked her cuffed hands over her head and covered her with his body. “We can do that.”
Now he wanted more than a quick, hard fuck. He wanted to play with her. To relish her pain. To break that rebellious nature. He was one of Hell’s best torturers. Breaking people was what he did best. She would beg for a mercy that wasn’t in his nature. When the auction came, she’d be more than willing to die.
Oh
, God, please help me.
As the sun began to set, Irina carefully rolled to her stomach before folding her knees beneath her to pray as she’d been taught by her grandmother a lifetime ago. Kneel before God, granddaughter.
She was trying. It wasn’t easy to get into that position with her hands still cuffed in front of her and every muscle in her body screaming in pain. The lumpy mattress sank beneath her weight causing her to fall face first into the scratchy sheets. Turning her face to the side so she could breathe, she began to pray.
Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name...
By the time she’d finished The Lord’s Prayer, the beast was stirring in the chair next to the bed. Had he even been asleep at all? Did monsters need rest? He hadn’t needed to rest earlier when he’d used her body over and over again until she finally escaped into numb unconsciousness. Even now, warmth trickled down her thighs to soak the filthy sheets. Blood. And worse. Oh, God. What was happening to her? Why was she here?
Curling into a miserable ball, she buried her face to hide her feelings from him. He would mock tears as he had mocked her anger. He had taken her voice. Still unable to scream her frustration, she sobbed silently until he abruptly flipped her onto her back. She flinched as he reached down to grab her by the cuffs. The metal dug into the delicate bones of her wrists, surely leaving another bruise. He’d said she wasn’t to be damaged. This rule didn’t seem to apply to him. Was he her final master?
“Get up, Number 422. You’ve had enough time to grieve for your lost virginity. You’ll heal.”
He pushed her towards the cramped shower and shoved her inside. Cranking on the water, he aimed the spray at her face and used his hands to rub her clean. He wasn’t gentle. She cringed as he took extra time to clean her breasts and the raw space between her legs. Tears of shame joined the water as he touched the parts of her that no man had touched before.
At her grimace of pain, he brought his mouth to her ear, purring, “I went easy on you this time,” as his hands roamed over her butt. “Push me again and this little jewel will be next.”
Chapter 13: Missing Persons
THERE ARE 23 MILLION PEOPLE in the city of Shanghai. That’s a lot of humans. On the other hand, there are, or should be, only three Primani. Three Primani including Sean and Dec, the second they rematerialized on the roof of the Shanghai World Financial Center. With their psychic links and ultra-cool specialized cellphones, they shouldn’t have any problem finding another of their kind. Right?
The constant hum of all of these human souls washed over Dec like a tropical wave. The raw energy surged over his skin, tingling and tugging him towards it as surely as the tide is drawn to the shore. This just never gets old. Taking a minute to enjoy the sensation, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back to soak it in. The noise didn’t bother him. The millions of lights didn’t bother him. The air pollution was another story though. As he inhaled deeply, his lungs protested the dirty air and a coughing fit left him wheezing. And now he remembered why he’d stayed away for so long. Gross.
With one hand covering his nose and mouth, Sean shook his head and said, “I hate this city. There are literally thousands of friggin’ demons stinking up the place. It’s worse than New York. Of all the places in the world, why does Keil want to stay here?” He gestured at the endless sea of artificial lights below them. “I thought he was into surfing. Why isn’t he in Australia or New Zealand? Good waves and good beer. Beautiful weather, too.”
Good question. “Best I can figure is he’s got a girl—or three—here in the city. According to Uriel, their latest op is done and he’s taking some R&R. If he’s still here, he’s partying.”
“Let’s hope he’s sober. I doubt your girl will appreciate us dragging dear old dad back if he’s puking all over the place.” Sean studied the roofs that stretched as far as the eye could see. “Do you have a last known for him? It would help to narrow our search. We don’t have much time if we’re going to be back in time for your wedding. The clock is ticking, right? Pretty sure it’ll change from wedding to funeral if you don’t show up on time.”
Dec grimaced and consulted his cellphone. Uriel had kindly sent him the last known addy for Keil. Could they have called him? Sure—If the asshat would pick up his damn phone. So far, he’d been off grid, out of touch, and in the wind. No one had seen or heard from him in a month. He had no idea his only daughter was getting married in a couple of days. This was supposed to be a surprise for Rori. She didn’t have any blood family other than Keil, and even though he was pretty much only the supernatural sperm donor that hooked up with her mother, it would be cool if he came. Dec memorized the addy info and let his sight wander to pick up the coordinates. Within seconds, the location was mapped in the handy GPS system in his brain. “Got it! His ass better be there. Let’s go.”
After politely rematerializing just inside the entrance of Keil’s pitch-black apartment, Dec swung his eyes from one side of the living room to the other. Empty. Not a surprise. Even though it was past midnight, he wasn’t shocked to find no one here. Keil was a slut. Pure and simple. Probably he was out partying with his current harem of willing women.
“Why is nothing ever easy?” To his right, Sean dragged a hand through his hair and tsked with annoyance before moving to check the other rooms.
Dec’s night vision presented his brother as a heat signature with gleaming blue eyes, before sharpening focus until he was as visible in the darkness as he was in natural light. Calling over his shoulder, Sean mused, “He still lives like a monk. Look at this place. It’s spotless. Nothing ever changes with him.”
Yeah, right. “Don’t confuse austerity with laziness. He doesn’t own anything because he’s too lazy to shop.”
He moved towards the tiny square space that served as a bedroom. A flip of the light switch revealed two simple pieces of furniture: A massive bed that sat on a low platform so it was barely off the floor and a matching black-lacquered table with two narrow drawers. The wall behind the bed was completely covered by a floor-to-ceiling mirror. The mirror extended across the ceiling above the bed. The source of light was two chrome-plated pendulum lamps that hung from the ceiling on either side of the bed. They gave off just enough illumination to create atmosphere. A pristine chrome and white marble bathroom was visible off to the side. A quick search turned up no clues. Keil’s limited wardrobe hung from the back of the two doors or was rolled neatly inside a black nylon go-bag that was parked just inside the bathroom.
“Do you smell that?”
Dec gave the air a sniff. “Yeah. Smells like jasmine.”
The bedroom and bathroom were spotlessly clean and almost too neat. Where did the sweet perfume come from? The fragrance floated in the air, just barely noticeable, but there all the same. No plants. No candles. No incense burners sitting around. Turning back to the bathroom, he opened the shower door.
“Found it.” Holding up a travel-sized bottle of shampoo, he waved it at Sean. There were also a couple of long, black hairs lying on the shower floor. “He’s had recent company. There’s still water in the drain.”
Sean bounced his butt on the edge of the bed before squinting up at the ceiling mirror. “I’ll be damned. There’s a camera behind that glass.” Pushing himself off of the bed, he muttered just loudly enough for Dec to hear, “Kinky fucker.”
Pausing his snooping long enough to laugh, he said, “Somehow, I’m not surprised. He’s always played on the edge. I wonder where he’s stashed his knives? He’s got an interesting collection. He’s been picking them up from all over the world for ages.” He gave the room one last sweep of his eyes and said, “Let’s go. He’s gone. We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Damn him. Why does he always make everything so difficult?”
They’d need to lock onto his saol to track him down. His energy source would serve as a beacon. This was something they rarely did in the modern age of cellphones and email. Connecting to the saol was, um, personal. It was sort of like seei
ng the other person naked—without permission. They’d be able to pinpoint Keil’s exact location and teleport to him with a thought. They’d just have to hope he wasn’t in the middle of something, or someone.
Sean interrupted his musing. “I just tried to call him and there’s still no response.” He tapped his temple for emphasis and frowned. “Would he ignore me, do you think?”
“The Keil I know wouldn’t ignore you if he heard you calling. Even if he were banging some chick, he’d at least acknowledge you in case it was an emergency. This is getting weird.”
Twenty-four hours later, they were no closer to finding Keil. Dec peered into a cup of green tea before blowing on it with enough force to send it splashing over the rim and onto the flimsy metal tabletop. He was running on fumes and needed some caffeine before he fell over. “Shit. He’s in the wind. How are we missing him? It’s like we’re one friggin’ step behind him. We have one more day before I’m throwing in the towel.” Leaning forward, he rested his chin on his palm. “I’m out of ideas.”
The narrow Hong Kong street was packed with people despite the late hour. It was close to midnight and they were taking a break. They’d crisscrossed half of Asia tracking Keil and Dec was ready to choke the ever-loving shit out of his friend. Rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes in a desperate attempt to find some energy, he stared off into space, his mind a complete blank. He was friggin’ beat.
Sean yawned and echoed his thoughts. “I need some rack time before I fall over. Here’s an idea. Let’s grab a few hours back at Keil’s place. In the morning, we can try Uriel. He’s got more juice than us. Maybe he can pinpoint a location since Manilla and Shanghai haven’t turned up anything. If we can’t find him in a couple of hours, we say fuck it and get back to New York. Rori will kill us if we’re late.”
Saol Mates (Primani Book Six) Page 14