Berserker's Rage (10 page)

“I really should call Brax,” Hal said soberly.

“While you do that I’m going to take a shower.” It was a dismissal. She needed some time alone. To regroup.

With a little finesse, she was up and in the bathroom, still wearing Hal’s shirt. She could hear his deep baritone voice as he talked to his friend, or boss.

“What the heck am I going to do when he leaves?” She whispered as she shrugged out of the top and walked into the glass enclosure. Tilting her head up, the water cascaded down her body. A part of her wondered if Hal would join her, another hoped he’d give her space. Her body felt deliciously sore in every way as she scrubbed herself. She used her favorite body wash, then shampooed and conditioned her hair. By the time she was finished, Hal was no longer in her bedroom.

It took her a little longer to figure out what she was going to wear. God, when she’d dressed yesterday she hadn’t done it to please anyone but herself. Now, looking at all the things she’d bought, or her mother had purchased, she couldn’t help but think which ones Hal would like best. She still tasted him on her lips, still felt him deep inside her body, lighting up every nerve ending like he was actually touching her. Her nipples peaked with the memory of him thrusting into her. If she didn’t get her mind off of one very large blond man, she’d never get dressed.

Did she want to? Yes, she most definitely wanted to explore more than just his perfect body.

She grabbed the first dress that caught her attention. An emerald green wrap dress. The perfect type for all shapes. Its color matched her eyes, and the fabric felt heavenly against her skin. After putting on a matching bra and panty set, she let the dress fall over her head.

“Damn, how the heck am I supposed to keep my hands off you today?” Hal asked.

He stood in the middle of the doorway, both arms braced on each side. She was shocked for a moment, but then he stepped forward. She held her hand out. “Stay right there, young man. You will get me all wrinkly, and I’m starving. I’ve worked up an appetite.”

Hal groaned. “Oh, the things I imagine doing to you, but I guess I should feed you first. Do you know you have nothing in the fridge to make?”

“We can swing by your hotel and get you a change of clothes before grabbing brunch.” He looked gorgeous with the top unbuttoned, but her girl parts needed a few hours rest before taking him on again. Hal Aldridge was a big man all over.

“That sounds so civilized.” He stood close to her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Do you want to invite Brax?”

“He’s an early riser. Very strict in his routine is that one.” Hal murmured against her lips before giving her a quick peck. “Let’s go before I forget all my good intentions and hike that skirt up to see what you’re wearing underneath.”

The image of him doing just that made her squirm. “You are such a bad boy.”

“You have no idea, baby. Now, let’s go.” Hal pulled her behind him. She grabbed her purse and phone, making sure she locked her apartment up. They were silent in the elevator on the way down. As they exited, Hal put his body in front of hers. “Let me go first.”

“Hal, this is a secure parking garage.” She tried to laugh off his actions.

He held up his hand, like she was supposed to know what that meant.

“Trust me. Stay in the elevator until I make sure it’s all clear.”

What would she do when he wasn’t here to do things like make sure there were no bad guys lurking about? She’d been hurt, almost killed. She’d barely survived, only thanks to this man showing up when he had, what were the chances he’d be around next time? Felicity couldn’t rely on him, or she’d risk more than her life. Of course her heart was already his. Time ticked by while he scouted the area around her vehicle which was parked right next to the elevator.

“All’s clear. You can come out now.”

She hated that she was shaking, cowering in fear. She told Hal as much.

“I know, and I don’t think there’s a threat anymore, but I had a niggling feeling.” Hal swiveled his head back and forth.

“It’s called hunger.” She slid in the driver’s side door while Hal held it open for her.

* * * *

“Affirmative, sir. I have eyes on the girl. She’s with a man close to her age. I believe he’s her boy toy.”

“Don’t lose them, or it’ll be you losing your life, Hiram.” John snarled. He carefully hung up the phone, staring at the computer screen, unseeing anything other than the image of his prodigy. His child that was taken from him all those years ago. He’d thought for sure all his children were within his community, but the one who was his true treasure, the one born in the sacred temple,
Felicity,
was alive. Her traitorous mother had deceived him all those years ago. He’d replaced her as his wife because she’d not given him children after years of trying. He was a virile man. His many children and wives proved that it wasn’t him, but the women, if they didn’t get pregnant.

When Felicia failed to give him a child, he had to replace her with someone younger. As the prophet, he needed to have at least one child with each wife. Felicia had been wife number one and a loyal follower up to that point. He’d taken her one last time and then told her she was no longer his. John hadn’t been prepared for her tears. She’d always been the perfect wife number, even at forty she’d been gorgeous. She could have been his forever if she would have given him a son, but even if she’d told him about the girl she would have been part of his family. Instead she took off like a thief. He would make the whore pay, but he needed to get his progeny into the fold. It would take time to indoctrinate her into his world. The fact she looked just like her mother, when he’d first met her, had his dick hard. Yes, in his church it wouldn’t matter that she was his biological child. He was the prophet. What he said was law. He’d have to get rid of one of his wives to make room for his most precious, Felicity.

Picking up his inner office phone he dialed for wife number twelve. It was her turn to service him. She’d been trained properly, but had yet to give him a child. Poor Carol had just outlived her usefulness, but he’d give her a farewell, only this time she wouldn’t be leaving with his child in her belly. He looked at the image his tracker sent. The green dress hugged her slim form to perfection. Yes, he’d have no problem servicing number twelve one last time, nor would he have any problems replacing Felicia with their child. Felicity would be his number one if she could give him a boy child, if not she would give him much pleasure, after he trained her.

A knock sounded on his door. “Enter,” he said softly.

His wife walked in. Her hair was left in loose waves down to her lower back. Her makeup was flawless, like everything else about her. Her only flaw had been her inability to give him a child.

“Good afternoon, sir. Have you need of me?” The dulcet tone of his woman answered.

He looked at the book that kept all his wives names catalogued. He only had eighteen, but they could get mixed up. Carol. Her name was Carol. “Ah, Carol, thank you for coming. Please come around the desk.” He turned in his seat, letting her see the erection tenting his slacks. His wife’s eyes rounded. They never knew how he was going to take them, and he reveled in their anxiety. Today he didn’t plan to play with her too much. His cock jerked at the thought. “On your knees, now.”

She did so without a word. He didn’t need to tell her what to do next. She crawled over to him, undoing his belt then his pants. His cock was in her tiny little hand and then her hot mouth in seconds. John sighed, tangling his hand in her hair. He pulled her forward roughly, hitting the back of her throat, fucking her mouth without a care for her comfort, and she let him. Her eyes sparkled up at him. He almost felt bad that he was going to snuff her life out. Not enough to forego his plans. She was thirty-two and had been his wife for over ten years. If she was going to have a baby, she’d have already gotten pregnant.

Carol hollowed out her cheeks and brought her hands up to cup him. Oh yes, he’d trained her well, and he’d train his next wife better. His balls drew up and he held her to him, knowing she wasn’t able to breathe properly. He was what some would call a sadist.

He was a prophet.

He was their god.

His orgasm spurted down her throat and she swallowed like a greedy little bitch, but he didn’t call her that. He ran his hand over her head, letting her lick him clean. He’d need to send her back happy and fulfilled. No need to raise suspicion amongst the other wives when she ended up dead. Such a shame really. He hadn’t had to kill off one of his women in a long time. At sixty-five he was still in his prime thanks to modern science, and the help of some of the best cosmetic surgeons in the world.

“Zip me back up and go lie on the couch.”

She obeyed like a good little woman, too bad she couldn’t reproduce like one. He shook his head sadly. Getting her off didn’t take him but a few minutes. He was a master at manipulating women’s bodies, when he wanted to. He used sex as another weapon, another way to control his followers. He spoke few words of devotion to wife number twelve before sending her out the door, a smile of bliss on her face.

His community was below the town of Felicia, California. He laughed at the irony of the name, and his wayward child and her mother. She’d soon be brought into the fold. The world thought the population of his little town was only two, when in all actuality, their numbers were in the hundreds and growing closer to a thousand. John had forged his little world with his own blood and sweat when he’d been a boy at his father’s feet, digging like all the other young men, creating a world beneath the ground. His dearly departed dad had thought the world was going to end and set out to secure a livable place for their followers. John was only one of a select few that had been chosen to follow, and follow he had. The dozens of men and women who believed everything Big John had said would’ve followed him like little lambs to the slaughter. Just like John’s mother had.

He shook his head at the naiveté of women across the world. Show them a little kindness, and they were on their knees, doing anything you told them. His dick got hard thinking of all the dirty, nasty things he’d had his wives do to him. He’d taken his father’s world and made it his own. Big John wasn’t so big once he’d turned fifteen. John shook off memories of his dad, his dick deflating like a popped balloon. He got up from his chair and paced to the wall to floor monitors, looking at the images of the outside world. They were now hundreds of feet below the earth. Modern technology and equipment had made it possible for him and his followers to dig further, creating a world so far beneath the city they were undetectable by radar. Of course nobody thought to look for them here. They’d been down below far longer than most military bases, and had never done anything that would set off alarms. The women and men that came into the fold were ones who were looking for a new world, a place to belong. John the Prophet gave it to them. They didn’t want for anything. Their world was a virtual Eden.

The money he made from selling the videos of the wives servicing their husbands would never be known to anyone down below. Keeping their identities hidden wasn’t an issue, since most of the men and women had been underground for years. John only videoed the young and nubile ones. Lately the market had been requesting the big and beautiful, along with the hot older women. He had a few of the bigger ones, although they were quickly put on diets and exercise routines. Eden was meant to be a place of perfection. He still didn’t understand the affinity for fucking the older women, but who was he to judge those. What the market wanted he supplied. Pressing a button, he pulled up the newlywed suites. He’d had two of his highest ranking males take on a new wife. They were given a week in which they got acquainted with their newest family member.

Marcum was bringing his wife breakfast in bed. John would speak with him about pampering too much if he sees this action again. The enforcer tended to be too easy on the women in his charge, but he was a damn mean fighter. Switching to the other suite, he watched Charles flip his new bride over with no care for her person. The women all come to their husbands virgins, unless they come from the outside. John tried to look at the young girls face, but from the angle he was watching he couldn’t see. He switched cameras with a push of a button and saw tears streaking down her cheeks. With a sigh, he turned off the camera. Charles only had two wives because he was too hard on them. John had thought he’d learned after the last one that he couldn’t be so rough with them.

Walking back to his desk, he hit his bodyguard’s alarm. “Troy, I need you in here now.”

Seconds later his linebacker like guard appeared. John assumed the man had been outside the entire time, although he’d given orders he was to be given time alone with his bride. Troy trusted no one when it came to his safety.

“We have a situation that needs to be dealt with. I’m afraid it’s going to be messy.”

His guard stood at over six foot eight and weighed close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He gave a nod and waited like a well-trained soldier. John would have given him a wife, or ten, if Troy had wanted, but the man seemed to not want anything to do with either sex, making him the perfect soldier.

“Follow me.” He didn’t need to ask if the man was properly armed. He was a weapon himself. A grunt was his response. For a big man, Troy walked almost noiselessly. They entered the tunnel leading to the suites reserved for honeymooners. Guards were posted at each end, neither man would protest an action their Prophet did, even if one of the followers was carried out in a body bag, they’d believe whatever was told them. Yes, being the ruler of his world was wonderful, except when he had to discipline.

He punched in the code that overrode all locks. He was the only one who had the ability to do so. The interior of the room smelled of sex and blood, making him sigh. If there was anything left of the young girl, John would have to give her to the women to care for. She’d become one of the care givers, and if she chose, he’d allow her to pick a man. He could be reasonable.