Altered: A Beyond the Brothel Walls Novel

by Ryans, Rae Z.

  “I was serious on the train,” I started, rubbing my hair from my face.

  A strange sound released from his lips, not quite a sigh. “Oh.”

  “Would you, Cain Morning Star, do me the favor of becoming my…” Wife sounded odd, but husband did too. My brows scrunched. I sought the word, any word. But true love cannot be expressed in words. From sonnets to prose, no words would ever define our spark, and any who would seek one had never felt the true draw of a loving heart.

  He whispered, “Partner, lover…”

  My hand slid down his side.

  Cain’s lips shot into a goofy half-grin. “Didn’t I say yes already?”

  I kissed his nose and my heart pounded. He’d said yes before, but something drove me to ask again. “Yeah, babe, my partner for life. Marry me?”

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  Cain

  My nose tingled where he’d kissed me, but my mouth dropped. A marriage proposal I hadn’t expected, not again. After spending countless hours preparing the barn, I had meant to give him the keys, head to the Summit, perform the spell, and say adios. We wouldn’t work. Bonds born in lust weren’t enough, and I didn’t believe love would’ve been any stronger. Our lives were too different. The risk of us being together was too high—if we broke up, the world would end, and I certainly wasn’t worth it.

  Dorian’s warm fingers caressed my cheek, and he awaited my answer. Lights hummed and flooded the ratty barn in romantic radiance; his words stemmed from his heart and soul. But I couldn’t bring myself to say yes again. The pounding in my chest settled.

  “It’s okay to say no.” Dorian rolled onto his back and closed his eyes. It wasn’t okay, not to him.

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just…” Just what? A pussy. I raked my hand through my hair. Marriage and commitment didn’t scare me. I was torn.

  “What changed?” he whispered, the hurt evident in his tone.

  I sighed. Hell, I’d only learned his full name a few days ago, yet we’d already memorized every inch of each other’s bodies. I wanted Dorian, and I loved Dorian. More than the idea of him, too. But he didn’t know my middle name or my favorite color. I didn’t know his, either. How can we love one another and know nothing? My shoulders slumped forward and legs crossed. How had I loved a monster, who beat, starved, and raped me? Wasn’t that proof enough? My judgment was as altered as my mind.

  I sucked in a deep breath and held the air in my lungs. None of “us” was in my original plan. My fingers drummed over the dirty wood. Save my sisters and then die. That had always been my plan. Dorian never factored into the equation. Somewhere along the line, I lost control and sight of it. Burning eyes closed. Another secret smoldered in my dry mouth.

  Wood boards groaned; he shifted. A lifeline: his hand grasped mine.

  “C’mere.” Dorian tugged and dragged my body against the gritty floor. “As long as you love me nothing else matters.” He squeezed me. “You still love me, right?”

  My hands held his face. Dorian was not a liar, not like Boric or me. “Yes.”

  I stared into his green eyes as a low hum vibrated the barn. Chop, chop, chop… a sound all too familiar assaulted my ears. Shivers ran through me, paralyzing me, and the sound steadied into a constant, roaring decibel.

  Dorian’s brows pinched, and he yanked my arm. His mouth dropped, words spewing, but the airships drowned out his voice.

  Korrigan and Veric sounded in my head together, and they screamed, “Run.”

  Their warning arrived too late. The barn door rattled, squeaked. Voices filtered into the barn, along with diesel and cold air. “Oh yeah, the source is inside.”

  “Don’t move,” Dorian thought.

  Piecing it all together, my eyes widened. If they found us by sensing the magic, one of them had to be a witch or warlock. They could read our minds. I had no weapon and doubted Dorian had his guns. The men from before were simple demons. I tapped my head and ran a finger across my throat. He nodded. A chuckle choked inside my throat, and he shot me a quizzed look.

  Dorian would finally get to play the alpha. Appearing from thin air, his jeweled scythe flew into his hand. Dorian and I jumped to our feet.

  Someone asked, “You hear that?”

  “The loft, you go check.”

  Dorian pointed to the hay bales and pressed his hand down. We scurried behind the obstruction. The ladder creaked, and I held my breath. My heart pounded, but I didn’t dare utter as much as a prayer. Voices continued whispering downstairs, but their minds remained shut. I searched for my sister and Veric. Finding them seemed pointless, since I couldn’t communicate with them, but at least I would know they were safe.

  Wings beat. Air buffeted my face. Engines roared, sputtering, and fumes puttered through the cramped space. Rotten hatred and burning loathing crept along my nostrils. Had to be Boric.

  Diesel clung to my throat. The ground and structure groaned. Broken windows rattled. My gaze darted, never staying on one noise for too long, and sweat dribbled, trailing a drop over the bridge of my nose. Tickling my skin, it clung to the edge.

  “Oi, must’ve been the wind.”

  “Since when does wind create light? Are you daft?”

  Skin smacked skin. “Oi, wha’ you do that for?”

  I shut down the whole of my body and mind, but the tremble within refused departure. My teeth chattered. Tears cascaded over hot cheeks and my hands clutched the hay bales for support.

  Stars dabbled and dotted my vision. Blood rushed from my head to my toes and the room spiraled around me. My foot slipped, and I landed on a wooden beam, cracking and splintering the dry-rotted board. Stench-filled ice whipped around my face, and my heart leaped into my throat. Stale, moldy hay entered my mouth and fluttered to the ground. Aches splintered through my body as it had done little to ease my fall.

  “Ha, knew it wasn’t the wind.”

  Blinking, I stared upward at the ragged hole in the floor. Sharp teeth and red eyes blocked my view, his amused face looming over my body. His black tail slithered around my neck and tightened. Gasps sounded from my chest while the whip-like tail constricted my airwaves. Massive black wings jutted from his back, and the power rolled from him in waves, crashing against my burning skin. Two Arch demons, Elioud, and a lone Nephilim surrounded me. I knew them all, hating each one equally.

  Armoni Cross sneered and said, “Now, now fellows looksie what I found. We caught us a rat. Master will be pleased.” Boric’s personal guard strode over the threshold and halted.

  I grunted, still unable to shake the fall.

  He knelt and drew his weapon. A thud sounded behind me. Cold metal pressed into my temple as Cross glanced over my twisted body and smiled. “Think you can hit me, before I pull the trigger, Dorian Fox? Or do you prefer Death?”

  “Wanker,” Dorian cursed. “Let him go, Armoni.”

  I should’ve been surprised they knew one another by name. How many times had their paths crossed?

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Cross’s feet shuffled.

  Pairs of boots blinked into view. They had us surrounded, but their minds raced and waited for Death to make his move. The men wanted me alive, needed me alive. With Cross here, Boric had to be behind it. Ugly puke green uniforms solidified the fact.

  For years, I’d outmaneuvered Boric Garland. For years, I alone had hid the keys. No. This is personal. “Sweets, you have to let them take me.” My stomach lurched at the thought.

  Dorian’s mind tore into two. “It’s like my worst nightmare coming true,” his mind replied.

  My eyes burned, and heavy gulps kept the tears at bay. I held faith; Dorian would find me again. Metal clanked and clasped about my wrists. Cross hefted me up and shoved me toward another demon. Gravity spun a web of blurring objects. A gun found its way back to my temple.

  “I love you.” Our minds spoke in unison.

  Green eyes glowed, Dorian’s gaze ping-ponged from demon to demon. Another demon cocked his gun, and t
hen another until all barrels touched my head. Would they pull the trigger?

  Stars littered my vision and an odd whooshing sound, like a dull engine roar, filled my ears. But a voice blended, soft and feminine, and heightened over the noise. “Brother,” Korrigan said. “Stay strong. I’m safe.”

  Stay strong, I repeated in my mind. For Dorian and for her, I would endure anything, even if it meant losing myself again.

  A bag obscured my vision, but Dorian relayed his thoughts and observances: Cross and his posse dragged me backward. For every step they took, Dorian advanced, but his twitching fingers and cold stare didn’t affect the men.

  Powerless—all of us knew it. My dry, shaking lips parted, but what else could I say?

  “How sweet,” Cross whispered. “Drop the harnesses,” he yelled, his tone rattling in my ear.

  Dorian’s mind relayed our surroundings, the airship, and Garland emblems, still forced to do nothing, but I understood there was nothing he could do short of ending the world. They would take me or kill me, even though they probably would execute me anyway. Eventually.

  Seconds dragged on like hours. A harness hooked around my waist. Wind cut through me.

  Demons connected themselves to me. One thrust a rope into my trembling hands and my thoughts ceased. Repeating the truth of my shitty situation wouldn’t change it. Wind whipped the rope from my hands.

  “Hold it or die,” Cross snapped, and shoved the rough material at me. “You’re pathetic and not worth the resources. Do us all a favor and fight back.”

  I wouldn’t, though; his offer was tempting. Dorian deserved better than to watch me die.

  Ground disappeared beneath my feet, my stomach tingling and grip tightening its hold. We swayed, but their guns didn’t falter. Garland had caught up with me at last. And for what? A bitter smile pulled at my hidden lips.

  One time, Boric had shown me the plans, a giant ship made for the sea, but its blades chopped the air, not the surf. The same type I had seen in the skies weeks ago.

  Engines and propellers roared louder, drowning the voices, but Dorian’s mind shouted, “I love you, babe. I won’t be far behind.”

  I chuckled and shook my head. My existence meant nothing in the grand plan, but my life meant something to Dorian. The future I wanted was Dorian but I’d kept telling myself I hadn’t deserved him.

  Tighter my fingers curled around the rope. Diesel fumes intensified and swirled their exhaust into my face. I coughed. Vomit burned in my throat.

  “You hurl, and I’ll shoot you.” Cross lifted me onto a hard surface replacing the air beneath my feet. His hands shoved me.

  Laughter, sinister and conniving by its squealed tone, reached my ears.

  “Ello, what we ‘ave here then? You know, mate.”

  I blinked at the voice embedded into my mind. The voice held more madness and evil than the history of the Morning Star himself.

  “They say if you want a job right, you ‘ave to do it yourself.” He yanked the scratchy hood from my face and tossed it on the deck.

  I stared into menacing eyes I’d never wanted to see again. “Boric,” I whispered. His calloused fingers wrapped around my neck, and I spat in his face.

  “Where are my bloody keys, you cackpipe cosmonaut?” he snarled, and wiped the spittle from his mouth. Boric’s cold, lifeless blue eyes narrowed as we came nose-to-nose.

  His hand fell to my ass and squeezed. My skin crawled. Once upon a time, I’d craved his attention, his touch. Bile scorched my throat and churned holes into my stomach. So blind before…

  “Cat catch your tongue? No worries, we’ll loosen you right up.” He addressed Cross, “Toss the crafty butcher in the brig.” Boric stepped left and turned his back to me. “If he gives you any trouble, toss ‘em around a bit, yeah. Cain loves it rough.”

  The deck beneath my feet swayed. His airship propelled through the star-littered, cloudless sky, its engines puttering and releasing thick plumes of exhaust. Blood rushed from my face. From behind, strange, rough hands steadied me. I stumbled, despite their attempts, dry heaving from the strange vertigo.

  Boric spun around, stroking his chin. “On second thought, lads, put him in my quarters.”

  Blood dashed through my veins, leaving a sheen along my skin, and my mouth slackened. Smart move for him, seeing as anyone attempting a rescue would expect me downstairs. But Dorian wasn’t anyone—we had a connection stronger than any bond I had once shared with Boric.

  Cross and his men shoved and pulled me upright. My heart raced faster with every stumbled step. I shook my head, but they forced me through the slender, dark doorway. My feet dragged against the wooden floor, and my nails dug into my captors arms.

  “Shackle ‘em to the bed,” Boric said, and motioned to a double bed. A desk sat in the corner by the window with a single lantern on top illuminating the cramped quarters.

  Please God, no. Cross pressed his knee into my back and his men extended my arms, one at a time, followed by my legs. The thick chains rattled. Cross attached each one to the hooks in the wall and the other two to the foot of the bed.

  “Arse up.” Boric stepped into my view, winked, and blew me a kiss. Tooth by tooth, he slid down his zipper.

  Vomit rose into my mouth, coating my tongue in bitterness. I gagged at the room spinning around me. Cross snickered. As the edges of Boric’s lips spread into a sinister smile, I prayed.

  Pain served as an enduring reminder of days passing in the air, marked solely by comings and goings. Boric, the menacing twin of Veric, proved himself as disastrous as acid. My eyes closed and I willed my empty stomach to calm. However, the jostle of the ship and sharp odor of exhaust didn’t cause the lurching sensation within my body.

  Lashes marred my skin. Each miniscule movement burned. His venom invaded me, scorching scars engraved into my bones. My lip ached from biting it. Cries and tears brought harsher punishment, and my silent prayers wrought on a wrath more ominous than my namesake’s legacy.

  With a shiver, I shook the imagery away.

  Dorian hadn’t come for me; Korrigan hadn’t arrived with Veric and a sea of agents. I still loved them, but each visit from Boric and his men wore my spirit down and ground me into nothingness. Soon, they’d tire of my body, but death, no; he wouldn’t grant me death.

  Not until I gave up the keys.

  The door swung open, smacking against the wall, and heavy boots stomped into the Captain’s Quarters. A slight stagger meant the visitor drank—At least I hoped. My exposed body meant nothing to him. I held my breath and crawled into myself, thinking maybe, if I were small enough, than he wouldn’t see me.

  He stumbled and rummaged through drawers. “Sodden wanker, where’s the bleedin’ uniforms?”

  Uniforms? Why was anyone looking for a uniform? Shuddering, I craned my neck, but still couldn’t see who my mysterious visitor was.

  Where the Soul Never Dies played through my mind. Smiling, green eyes haunted me for the millionth time. But instead of warmth, realization smacked me in the face. Dorian had accepted my broken body once before, but could he do it again? The thought paralyzed me and my chest ached.

  The visitor slammed the door, and I breathed, thanking God for the reprieve.

  Measuring time was difficult. While my scenery had altered from Boric’s personal quarters to a storage room, his visits continued unabated. Salty sweat and excrement coated my skin. Funny, but I’d give anything to spend another week or so on the road with Dorian, sans the bathing.

  Cross stuffed a bag over my head, obscuring my vision, but the exhaust and loud engines told me we were still flying. Overnight, the air had seemingly warmed, too, the heat penetrating the hood. Years had passed since I last saw the summery, dry lands of Garland, Texas.

  Chains shifted, rattling. My screaming muscles gave out, and I fell onto the mattress. Stars littered behind my clenched eyelids.

  “Get up,” Cross commanded.

  My limbs wouldn’t obey, but a groan slipped free from my par
ched lips. Opening and closing my mouth, words refused to release. His rough hands grasped my shoulders and lifted me halfway before another set of hands, their owner unknown, grabbed my legs.

  “Set him upright. No special treatment.” Softness touched Cross’s tone.

  Unlike many of the others, he never visited me. It didn’t mean he hadn’t beaten me, humiliated me, or tried to stop his master, but he’d never defiled me. I should’ve been thankful for the small miracle, yet I wasn’t.

  “C’mon,” Cross said, kicking my leg.

  Chains rattling, I stumbled down a staircase, and the scent changed from stuffy, dusty room to sweaty men to moist air tainted with exhaust and perfume. Soft, feminine whispers halted midsentence.

  We stopped. Guards—I assumed—stripped and tore the ratted clothing from my body. They ripped the hood from my head, and strong arms lifted me. Boric grinned, his eyes raking over my filthy form. Cross grabbed my hands and raised them into the air before he fastened the chains, hanging me by my wrists from the rafters.

  My gaze wandered, blinking in the strange luminance of the large space. Black iron bars lined and cordoned off cells. Women, children, and men filled them, but they didn’t speak. I wondered if they were the lost souls Dorian had spoken about.

  Shackles cut into my tender skin. Ulcers had erupted from the forced position on the bed and burned into my knees, elbows, and thighs. But I gulped and trained my attention on small, hexagon windows lining the space. Blue sky and white clouds surrounded us, yet freedom wasn’t mine. “Hold on,” Korrigan had said. But each day another piece of me died. Would there be any part of me left for Dorian to love?

  “I’m tired of your games,” Boric grumbled in my ear, his hand stroking me in front of the crowd.

  My face heated, but my body rejected his touch.

  “You’ll end up like your sister if you don’t tell me where the bloody keys are,” he thought, directing it to me.

  Cross grasped my feet and tugged while my shoulders stretched upward. A cry rippled through my gritted teeth.