OWNED_Satan’s Kin MC

by April Lust

  The others are sitting in the main room smoking cigarettes and drinking glasses of whiskey. I told them they could help themselves to my stash whenever they decide to come over, which is essentially all the time. They’re lucky I have so much money or else I’d be furious about them drinking all my booze.

  I find Doc sitting on the left wall, his legs propped up on the couch. He’s wearing steel-toed boots and a leather jacket with our symbol on the back—an enormous silver dagger covered in dripping blood with a cobra curling round the handle.

  “Get your feet off the couch, idiot,” I say, smacking him on the arm.

  “Christ, man, I was just taking a nap and having the most beautiful dream. And then your ugly mug went and woke me up!”

  “Yeah whatever, Doc,” I say, motioning for the others to come in closer. “We’ve got a new development in the Pestov case.”

  “Yeah? And what is that?” sneers one of my goons.

  “I kidnapped his long-lost daughter, the dancer, Natalia Pestova.”

  “What’s with their last names?” asks Doc.

  “You idiot.” I roll my eyes. “In Russian, the women get ‘a’ on the end of their last names, because they’re feminine. And what do you care? All that matters is that we’ve got her safe and sound in our clutches and this way we can lure Abram into our midst and kill him.”

  Doc snorts. I can tell he doesn’t believe me. Typical: he was always a real idiot.

  “Hey, boss, we should kill him in front of her!” Another man speaks up. This time it was Storm, an older guy born and raised in the slums of Los Angeles. “Imagine how sweet that would be? A father-daughter reunion, and she only gets to see him for a few minutes. And she’s all, ‘Daddy, I missed you so much.’ And then we slice his head off in one clean swoop.”

  “Good idea,” I say and roll my eyes. “But I don’t think any of you are strong enough to kill someone like that. Which is exactly why we need guns. Now Rocks, I thought you were supposed to be getting a shipment in this morning?”

  “I did. Check ‘em out. They’re vintage,” he says, handing me a heavy silver gun. It’s not loaded, and thank God for that. I don’t trust any of them with weaponry, including Rocks. Last year he and I were having a few drinks at a dive bar in downtown Brooklyn, and he took someone’s ear off with a steak knife. Of course, we got out of there before either of us could get arrested, but it was an unfortunate situation to say the least. Rocks is one of my best men, but he’s got to be kept on a very short leash. They all need to be.

  “Has anyone actually heard word about where Abram has been staying?” I put my hands on my hips and stare at the men. “Now would be good,” I add tersely. “We’ve got the package. Now all we need is the man behind the curtains.”

  Doc launches into an explanation about how he was last seen at a bar on West 23 rd Street. As I listen, I lean back in the leather armchair, placing my head on my hands. The warehouse smells strangely humid, as if an ancient God has been blowing warm air on us for the past hour. I think back to Natalia and how scared she looked when I first approached her. Her eyes were large and wild. And her hair was so thick and curled. My God, she’s beautiful.

  The sound of light footsteps behind me makes me freeze. Turning around, I see Natalia standing in the hallway. The lighting is dim, and all I can make out is that perfect figure and a frizzy halo of curls over her head.

  “Hello?” Natalia takes another uncertain step forward.

  At the sound of her voice, the other guys turn around. Storm lets out a wolf-whistle, and I see Natalia smile.

  I stand up and stretch, then approach her. I can’t help but feel oddly protective of her, even though she’s supposed to be my victim. As the space between us closes, I think about what it would be like grab her face and kiss her. The others would laugh and whoop at me, but I wouldn’t care. All that matters in this moment is Natalia.

  “Can I have something to sleep in?” She reaches up and rubs at the paint on her face, then yawns. I realize she probably hasn’t noticed the small bathroom in the corner of her room.

  I roll my eyes. “Fucking princess,” I mutter under my breath. “Everything’s gotta be just so with you, huh?”

  Storm, Doc, and Rocks burst out laughing.

  Gritting my teeth, I turn towards them. “Would you schmucks cut it out?”

  Natalia crosses her arms and stares at me. “Come on,” she says. “I’m really tired, and I’ve already been kidnapped. Can we get going?”

  “After you, Your Highness,” I say sarcastically, dipping into a bow.

  Natalia turns on her heel and stalks out of the room.

  After a moment, I follow her. “Come on,” I snap. “This way.”

  Natalia gazes up at me in surprise. “What? Why?”

  “Because I’ll give you something I have,” I say sharply. “Maybe that’ll shut you up for a while.”

  Unlocking the door, I push it open and flick on the light. It isn’t anything like the room I’d prepared for Natalia. I hardly ever spend time in the hideout anymore, and it isn’t like this is a great place or anything.

  Natalia pushes past me without saying anything and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. I hear the water start to run and figured she is probably taking a chance to wash that demon makeup off her face.

  I open my drawers and pull out a pair of black sweatpants and a black shirt. She’d fit right in with the Renegade Reapers. Dressed all in black, like a little demon that’s come into my life to haunt me.

  The door creaks open and I see her small hand sneaking out, the palm opening and closing expectantly. I place the clothes into her hand and watch as the door clothes again. Seconds later she reappears wearing my clothes, carrying her tutu in her hand. Her face has been stripped clean of makeup, and she looks so fresh-faced.

  “What?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at me. She can tell I’m looking at her in a way quite unlike a kidnapper would.

  “I’m just surprised the demon paint came off.” I roll my eyes. “Thought that was more than just skin deep, y’know.”

  “Ha.” Natalia moves around the room, picking up various items of mine and placing them back down.

  I felt a current of annoyance wash over me. “Hey,” I snap. “This isn’t time for messing around. Come on. I gotta get back to the guys.”

  “I’m just looking,” Natalia says innocently. She sits down on my bed and pick up my favorite knife – a butterfly knife with a serrated blade and a chrome handle. I watch as she flips it around, tossing it expertly in her hands. Something about Natalia tells me she’s a little dangerous after all.

  “Well, get moving,” I snap. I reach forward and plucked the knife from her grasp, tossing it over my shoulder.

  “I’m just thinking…” Natalia trails off, glancing up and meeting my eyes with her own. Her face was like nothing I’d ever seen before – a perfect scrimshaw mask of delicate ivory. “This guy you’re chasing must be bad.” She bites her pink lip. “If you’re going to use me as a bait, he must be Russian.”

  I stare in response. I don’t want her knowing about Abram. Not yet. After all, I have no way of knowing how much she actually knows about her own backstory.

  “Yeah, well, he’s gonna be threatened when he sees me,” I say warily. “Come on,” I add. “I gotta go. You gotta come back to your room like a good little ballerina.”

  “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “No.” I pause, letting my eyes flick over her perfect body. God, there are so many things I’d like to do to her! But now ain’t the time.

  “Well good. Then I’ll head back when I see fit.” Natalia leans against the cement wall. Her gaze is unnervingly intense, and for a moment I stare at her without blinking.

  Then, I realize she just tried to manipulate me like I’m nothing. Rolling my eyes, I storm over to her and put my rough hands down on her shoulders. Despite her petite built, she is incredibly muscular. For a brief moment, she looks up at me like I’m goin
g to kiss her. “Come on,” I repeat. Hoisting Natalia into the air, I throw her over my shoulder and make for the door. She’s surprisingly heavy, and when she starts kicking and screaming, I have to really hold on tight.

  “You bastard!” Natalia screams. “You fucking asshole! Put me down! Put me down!”

  “Shut up,” I snarl. Carrying her down the hall, I set her back on her feet when we are outside of the room I’d prepared for her. “And stay here.”

  Natalia gracefully leaps into the room and slams the door in my face.

  I roll my eyes. What a Goddamned brat.

  Chapter 5 Natalia

  Beast’s gone. And I can’t stop thinking about the touch of his hands on mine.

  As soon as I hear him and the other guys leave, I spring into action. I want to explore. After all, if I’m being held here against my will, I ought to be able to see everything that’s going on.

  The rest of the warehouse is chillier than my room, and I wonder why this is. Probably because the building used to be an abandoned warehouse and has not been properly insulated. I’m curious as to what the warehouse used to sell, though I’m too afraid to ask Beast. There’s something about his nature that makes him seem so brooding and devious, but I don’t think he’d hurt me. Still, this definitely extinguishes any room for us to have a heart-to-heart. He’d probably shoot himself in the foot before ever telling me his darkest personal secrets or anything about his home life.

  I’ve met guys like him before. The brooding, sexy kind who have mountains of secrets they’ll never share. Occasionally a few slip to the surface, like bits of driftwood from a shipwreck. I desperately cling to these instances, hoping it changes the situation. It never does. They always pull away and in the end wind up leaving me all alone.

  However, my last relationship ended because of my career choices. I was dating a man named Peter for almost a year before things got even more serious with Patty and my dancing. I hadn’t been promoted yet, but there definitely seemed to be a promotion in my near future. Peter and I had met on a rooftop party through a friend of a friend. This was back when I was playing the lead parrot in an incredibly dark production of The Jungle Book . I think that’s Patty’s style—she likes to take kids’ stories and traditional ballets and turn them on their heads.

  The revised production featured Mowgli as an adult, and a poacher came for the animals in the jungle. At the end, the lead—a flamboyant boy named Jeremy—took home the carcasses of several of his animal friends. Rosie and I were leaping about the stage before collapsing gracefully on the stage. The audience roared with applause, and it was the first time I realized my career might take a serious turn for the better. I told Peter this afterwards, at a party we were heading to.

  Peter had dirty blonde hair and green eyes. He enjoyed drinking white wine and spoon-feeding me chilled oysters. He said I looked sexy when I was swallowing for him. Of course, I allowed him to do all these ridiculous things because I thought I loved him. And maybe I did, for a short period of time, but he most certainly didn’t love me. Later that night I saw him leaving, his arm wrapped snugly around one of the dancers.

  “What the hell?” I asked breathlessly after having run to catch up with him.

  He whispered something to the girl before turning to me and saying, “It’s not working out for me anymore.”

  “You could have told me that before I came here with you as my date,” I said. “Or before we screwed earlier this afternoon.”

  “I didn’t want to upset you before your big show. It’s clear to me that you put a lot of emotion in your dancing, and I didn’t want to take away from the genuine nature of it all.”

  “What the hell does that even mean?” I shrieked at him. “That doesn’t even make any sense!”

  He’d leaned in close to kiss me on the cheek, but I wound my arm back and slapped him in the face. He walked away with a red cheek and a smirk playing on his lips.

  It still haunts me to this day—his reaction. I know I’ve only just met Beast, and technically he’s my kidnapper, but I’m terrified to get close to him in any way, shape, or form. I fear if I do it will kill me.

  The garage door opens and I panic, freezing on the spot where I stand. As I hold my breath, I watch Beast and three other tough-looking guys walk in, their heads tilted back in laughter. When Beast sees me, he narrows his blue eyes in anger. Damn! There’s something sexy about him, even when I can tell that he’s furious with me!

  “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “I was just exploring,” I say. I can’t help noticing his shirt is stained with blood. “And what happened to you?”

  “That is none of your business,” says one of the other guys – bulky, with a bald head and an angry sneer. The patch on his vest reads ‘Doc.’ “Beast! Your girl got loose!” he yells.

  “Fuck you, Doc,” I say sweetly. “I was speaking with Beast. Not you.”

  “Fuckin’ hell,” Beast mutters. “Why are you out here? Natalia, what the hell were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking I wanted to explore,” I say as nastily as I can. The words flew from my mouth like daggers. “What happened to you? You’re all bloody!” I wince as my eyes traveled over Beast’s figure. His shirt is drenched in sweat – a pure, animalistic musk I could smell from halfway across the room.

  “Bar fight with a couple of goons.” Beast throws his hands up in the air. “What the hell are you, my mother?”

  “Are you going to be okay?”

  He rolls his eyes, brushing past me on his way to the bathroom. Doc and the others take a staircase tucked away in the wall, their footsteps echoing.

  There’s a decision to be made: to be a coward or a hero. I decide the latter and walk into the bathroom after Beast. “I’m going to help you out,” I say. I curse internally. What the hell am I doing around this man? He’s obviously dangerous. I can’t stay around him, or I know something bad will happen.

  “What the hell?” Beast spins around. There’s a brown bottle of hydrogen peroxide in his hand, and I can’t help but giggle. It’s funny somehow, thinking of a tough man like Beast needing to be patched up over something as inconsequential as a bar fight.

  “What, are you just going to pour that on your wounds? Don’t you need cotton balls?” I ask innocently, pointing towards the bottle in his hand.

  “I don’t need those. I’ve got this covered. You don’t need to stick around and help me out.”

  I snort, “Give me that.”

  I can tell he’s hesitant. Finally, Beast sighs and hands me the bottle. Reaching down, I rip some toilet paper off and flip the bottle upside down. He turns away as I dab the cuts on his arm and his nose.

  “Any more?” I ask.

  As he lifts his shirt up, I try not to gasp. He’s beautiful and I want to kiss his body. There’s a bright red slash across his stomach.

  “This is going to hurt,” I whisper softly.

  “I think I can handle it.” Beast rolls his eyes. “I’m a little tougher than a ballerina,” he adds.

  I dab his wound, happy it doesn’t fizzle white from infection at the contact with peroxide. It’s soft, his skin, and I feel hungry. I want to bite his flesh, kiss his wounds, curl up in his lap and allow him to rip my clothes off. Part of me wants to raise hell, to prove to Beast I’m not just some elusive animal in captivity. Then again, he probably knows that. My little performance in his room earlier was likely enough to make sure he doesn’t take his eyes off me again for a long time.

  I suppose this could be a jungle of sorts—a concrete jungle full of hidden passageways and rooms I’ll never see or understand. I’ve not been told anything about the warehouse in which I now reside, only that it’s a warehouse and that I’m not allowed upstairs. Beast could be hiding dead and rotting bodies up there for all I know. I try to turn my mind to happier things so I don’t trigger my gag reflex and throw up on Beast’s shoes.

  “Do you have any gauze?” Dabbing at the wound, I glance up to Be
ast’s icy blue eyes.

  He doesn’t answer. With a sigh, I toss the wadded toilet paper into the trash and begin digging around in the medicine cabinet. There’s no gauze, but there’s a tube of antibacterial ointment. Grabbing it, I twist the cap off and throw it to the side.

  “Here, let me just dab a bit of this on you.” The bridge of his nose is bumpy, and I put some of the ointment on it so it doesn’t get infected. Next is his stomach. Slowly, I run my fingertips up and down his body. He sucks in a breath, and I feel the hard muscles of his abs tighten as I rub the cool ointment on his wound. I can feel his breath on my exposed neck, and I notice he’s staring at me. Even though I’m trying like hell to hold my poker face, I can’t help blushing. With every flick of my wrist, touch of my hands, tongue wetting my lips, I feel this infinite pull towards Beast. We’re heavy magnets trying our best to stay away from one another but it’s not working.