The Fallen (A Sons of Wrath Prequel) (4 page)

Karinna blinked, splashed water onto her face, and left the restroom. Head angled downward to avoid any advances, she caught a flare of red before her face smashed into cool, bare skin.

Eyes wide, Karinna glanced up at the woman, decked out in the most elegant red gown she’d ever seen, complete with matching red lipstick. Her beautiful auburn hair cascaded over thin shoulders. Gorgeous.

And not at all fitting in with the scantily clad strippers, including Shannon, who bounced around her with excitement.

Beside the woman, a young man, probably in his early thirties, sported short-cropped blond hair and a pinstripe suit, looking like a mobster edition Ken doll.

A solemn smile didn’t quite touch the woman’s eyes as she gave a nod and kept on, toward a small table, where three other men in pinstripe suits met them.

“You’re the new girl?” Another veteran dancer, who didn’t mingle much with the other girls, watched on beside Karinna. She had her thing, a very seductive routine she did in the back rooms. All private.

“That obvious, huh?”

“What’s your name?”

Karinna still had to make a conscious effort not to slip when answering the question. “Lexi Bane.” After years of introducing herself by her real name, Karinna Roy, her alias just didn’t sound natural.

The woman raised a brow, and  her pretty face reminded Karinna of Lana Del Rey, for some reason. “Lexi Bane,” she repeated, like at any moment she’d call her out on the fake name.

Karinna glanced away from the woman’s exceptionally long gaze.

“You look …” She cocked her head to the side and seemed to forget what she wanted to say. “I’m Sloane. I do booths.”

Karinna’s gaze trailed back to the elegant woman taking a seat at the pedestal table.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Sloane asked.

“She looks like some kinda debutante.”

“You’d never guess she worked here just a few weeks ago.” Sloane nodded toward the male. “He first saw her dance, and she hasn’t been back since.”

Karinna gave a silent
huh
. “She looks happy.”

“She looks the way they want you to see her.”

“Who’s they?”

“Look closer, girl.” Sloane’s whisper feathered Karinna’s ear.

A moment later, the woman’s hand reached back to her nape, stroking her hair over her shoulder and off to the side. A flash of silver caught the light at the base of her neck, right at the spine, where a thin black band wound around her neck like a delicate choker, meeting at what looked like a silver clasp. An equally thin chain dangled from the clasp and disappeared into the folds of her dress. Karinna narrowed her eyes, noticing half the ring embedded in her flesh, like a deep piercing.

Or a D-ring to fasten a leash.

Tingles at her spine had Karinna rubbing her own nape. “Are they … Sadismen?”

At the lack of answer, Karinna turned to see Sloane’d walked away.

Urgency tugged at her stomach. Lolita had plenty of piercings. It wouldn’t be odd to find one in a strange place.
Had Lita worn a band around her neck?
Had Karinna ignored a similar piercing at her sister’s spine?

Guilt churned at the thought.

Perhaps if she’d noticed anything about Lita before that night, her sister might’ve felt compelled to talk to her.

“You ‘bout ready, Miss Bane?” The bouncer’s raspy voice broke Karinna from her reverie.

“I told you. I’m all set.” Damn, the man was persistent. She rolled her eyes and waved Quentin on. “Go walk one of the other girls.”

All strippers had to be escorted out of the building after hours. Karinna had made it clear to the big burly bouncer, who looked like a steroid-infused Ice Cube, that she didn’t want him walking her to the bus stop every night.

“You make it hard to do my job, Lex.” Of course, no one called her Karinna, except Shannon.

“I promise not to tell the boss. Really, I’m okay.”

“Somethin’ happens to you out there,”—Quentin pointed an exceptionally thick finger in her face—“I will hunt you down and whoop your ass, twice.”

“Understood.”

He opened the door and looked around the empty parking lot before letting her pass. “My ass could get in some shit for this.”

Karinna patted his shoulder as she slipped by. “Goodnight.”

Cold air gusted through her hair, and she tucked her hands into her coat pockets. The bright glare of the marquees and flood lamps faded to the occasional streetlight as she continued on down Cox Street toward the bus stop.

Empty. Quiet. Like sharks circling below a placid sea.

Shuffling sounds against the concrete tickled Karinna’s senses.

She spun around, walking backward, then halted in her steps. “Who’s there?”

No response.

A white wisp drifted aimlessly on the air toward her.

Karinna reached out to capture it, brows drawn as she stared down at the object lying in her palm.

A feather.

She smiled and tucked it into her coat pocket.

CHAPTER 4

Xander punched the wall. Smooth stone of the old refurbished castle that he called home hardly stood a chance against his fury, and crumbled with every strike into an impressive cloud of dust.

Over and over, his knuckles pummeled a bitter clash against the cold blocks of the bedroom, until they bled.

Fuck!

Grunts and moans droned on in the background.

Bootleg copy of another girl.

He should’ve been studying the video, familiarizing himself with each of the players and their signature moves. Instead, his mind clutched visuals of that fucking woman, those green eyes, piercing right into his soul and the bastard she’d taken out to the back alley.

So what if it’d been her way of getting information? He didn’t have to like it.

He slammed another punch to the wall, and the hung pictures rattled, bouncing off center.

“Fuck you!” Xander growled out.

He bent forward, hands on his thighs, breaths heaving. Damn her for having the power to fuck him up. He clutched his skull. “Fuck!”

The documents lying about the bed offered a second’s worth of distraction, and Xander swiped the medical record from atop a stack of folders, knocking papers to the floor. For twenty bucks, he could get damn near every detail he ever wanted about a person, thanks to his underground connections—including psychiatric evaluations. He rubbed his skull back and forth, eyes focused on the words of the page in an attempt to smother the images of Karinna stroking another man’s dick.

Psychiatric consult performed by Dr. Victor Gross at the request of attending physician, James Harrison, MD.

Chief Complaint: Amnesia after patient fatally stabbed father

Patient is a seventeen-year-old Caucasian female taken into custody by police following a brutal attack against her father at approximately 09:00 two days prior. She claims to have no memory of the actual events. Her mother called paramedics, who arrived to find the patient unconscious on the floor. Patient arrived to ER, conscious, presenting with dizziness, nausea, and multiple bouts of vomiting. Noted to be in shock.

She reports depression on and off. Experiences excessive energy at times, with racing, irritability and irresponsible activity. She states that she has difficulty falling asleep with daytime fatigue.  No known history of previous psychiatric disorder. Will review progress notes from Sacred Heart. Denies use of drugs but admits she does occasionally consume alcohol. Denies delusions or hallucinations.

Past medical history includes hospitalization two years prior, July 8th, 2001. During that admission, patient was transferred to pediatric ICU, unconscious, suffering from subdural hematoma, copious blood loss, blunt trauma to the skull, as well as burns and disseminated bruising. Patient made a full recovery and was discharged to Sacred Heart Asylum with no recollection of the events that had taken place just prior to her admission. Mother claimed she ran away from home and appeared to have been attacked while living on the streets.

Examination performed in consultation with the nurse practitioner, J.L. Raina and social worker K.A. Langley.

HEENT: normocephalic, scar tissue palpated at the left base of the skull, PERRL, TM intact, oropharynx red, swollen, neck supple. Piercings noted in lip, eyebrow and ears.

Social history: Patient is a seventeen year old girl who attends high school in Detroit. Straight A student, taking college prep classes. No drugs. Previous attempts at suicide.

Family history: Father is recently deceased, attacked by patient. Mother has been taken into custody, undergoing investigation.

No medications.

Vitals: 37.9, pulse 76, RR: 16, BP: 108/70, O2 sat: 97 RA

Observer notes bilateral bruising of arms and legs, as well as multiple lacerations across trunk, abdomen and thighs. Prior scars healed, scattered across bilateral arms, chest and legs. Vertical scars along forearm indicate attempted suicide. Rape examination performed by emergency medical physician. Semen samples confirm assault by victim’s father.

Prior consultation postponed as patient was crying, refusing to be examined, though several bouts of lashing out at staff noted in progress notes. Social worker Langley has spoken with her. Patient agrees to be seen at this time.

Patient’s appearance upon arrival noted to be unkempt and disheveled. Mood and affect through most of the examination is flat and blunted. She claims to have no recollection of the attack against her father. When asked to discuss her relationship with her father, she becomes very defensive to the use of the word, ‘relationship’. Mood and affect, dramatic, much more exaggerated. A very pronounced change in patient’s behaviors.

When asked about her prior hospitalization, patient claims to have been raped, beaten and brutally tortured by three adult males wearing white masks.

Doctor Sandra Toliver has been consulted and will attend to this patient’s psychiatric needs from this point on.

Escalated screams on television caught Xander’s attention. A curvy brunette hung by chains, in what looked to be a staged basement. Whipped by a man wearing a white volto mask. Shitty video work. Close-ups of her face—eyelids heavy, dark circles like she hadn’t slept—showed she’d probably been drugged out of her mind. Not even the abrupt jerk of her head, as the tormentor yanked her hair, deterred the look of pure ecstasy swimming her eyes.

That’s how they got away with the shit—made it look like the girls loved what they were getting, which only made the viewers wish more upon them.

Xander wished it repulsed him the way it had when he first joined the force.

Screams, begging for mercy, praying to be let go, the same sounds that’d once turned his stomach had become nothing but white noise—numbness.

She released one last outcry before her captor sliced a blade across her throat in a fountain of red.

Xander swiped a fifth of Jack Daniels from the nightstand, tipped it back, and chugged half the bottle.

To find the murdering bastards, he’d learned how to think like one. For years, he’d trained his mind to see what traits they looked for. Rounded curves gave the girl on TV a look like something out of a Michelangelo painting. Fleshy. Nothing more than swine in their eyes.

He opened his palm to the six silver pills. Shine. One pill for a human could incite a raging hard-on and hallucinations that seemed almost real. Like ecstasy on steroids. Two would leave the same human comatose.

Xander popped all six into his mouth, slanted the bottle, and wiped his hand across his lips.

The dagger lay on the nightstand, mocking him.

One slice. Unearthly steel from the heavens could end all the pain, all the shit of watching without any sense of feeling or morals, with one properly executed slice. Yeah, he’d be kicked out, banished and left to roam hell and earth as the very creatures he hunted.

Suicide was the ultimate sin amongst angels.

Xander couldn’t go back to the heavens, though. Not after what he’d seen. Done. He’d gotten into it too deep.

Some sick part of him had actually come to enjoy the life—a confession he’d never reveal to his superiors. If they discovered the thrill washing through him at the thought of killing a human, torturing as they did those females, reveling in the sight of blood and the gore of tearing limbs from bodies ….

And always the fantasy of fucking the females afterward.

It’d gotten worse the longer he’d remained entrenched in the hell of the underworld. Only a matter of time before he acted on it and then the shit would fly.

Karinna’s name caressed his thoughts.

Damn her
. Revenge or not, the thought of another man receiving pleasure from those voluptuous lips curled his fists into rockets of sheer pain—pain he’d have loved to launch straight into that married cocksucker’s face.

He rubbed his skull.
Too much
. She’d become too much to him too fast.

With a drag of his hand through his hair, he set down the bottle and headed toward the shower, swiping a gray t-shirt off the bed. With a flick of the lights, a cockroach skittered across the worn tiled floor. Xander ignored it, threw back the curtain, and flipped on the flimsy water spigot.

Sitting on her knees in the center of his shower stall, the female kept her head bowed, not daring to look him in the eye.

“I’m ready.” His toneless but commanding voice prompted movement.

She rose up to her knees and came to the perfect height.

Xander didn’t move. He tipped his head and waited.

Like a good slave, she opened her mouth and took him all the way to the base. Xander hissed as she moved up and down his water-slick dick at the same time sprays of heat pounded against his back. She moved like a machine—slow then faster, just as she’d been trained. He nearly staggered with the intense sucking, teeth only lightly grazing his dick—just enough pain to temper the extreme pleasure. Steam swirled and filled the small stall. He lifted the tiny, gray T-shirt to his nose, away from the water, burying his face in the soft cotton, sucking in Karinna’s scent while bucking his hips.

Fuck her.

He’d swiped it while scoping out Karinna’s apartment. Must’ve been saturated with her perfume, because the smell clung to it. Watered his mouth. Delicious. Like oranges and vanilla.

As the steam swarmed the fabric, her scent carried on the air, pervading every dark corner of his mind. The stall did a tilt-a-whirl as the pills breached his senses, skewing his reality.

For a newbie angel on the force, Shine could be his undoing. Even supes couldn’t resist the fucktastic good feeling of skin on skin, the grip of his balls and the inexplicable rush of coming.

Xander closed his eyes, reached down and gripped the female’s hair, desperate not to look at her. Most angels were forbidden to have a human female suck them off. Sentinels were given special pardon based on the nature of the job. It relieved tension sometimes. Kept them from going insane.

Only problem?

They craved more.

Xander projected his thoughts, allowing the scene inside his head to take form on the tiles of the shower. At least,
he
thought it played out on the tiles, anyway.

From a wall, the curvy female hung by chains, limp, black hair covering her face. A sheen of sweat shimmered across her body, and small beads of moisture trailed down her spine.

Fire burned inside his muscles and kicked his primal urges into gear at the female helpless and at his complete disposal. So small and fragile beside his big body.

A feeling of possession consumed him. He wanted her. Not just for sex, but to own. To dominate and torment with pleasure and pain.

She’d never break. Even in chains, the female would never surrender.

His equal. His obsession.

Karinna.

The fantasy played out in his head like a porn reel. Punishing her for the madness she incited in him. The undeniable urge to shatter her, destroy her, ruin her with his dark and wicked cravings.

Pinching his fist in a tight knot of her hair, he rode the slave’s throat as he imagined fucking Karinna in the ass. Sweat beading down the perfect curve of her spine. Cries of pain and pleasure beating against his skull.

Xander fell forward, forehead pressing against his arm that rested across the tiles. The staccato of his groans and grunts echoed in the stall as the orgasm mounted, hips jack-hammering, ass clenched, his fist tight around a good chunk of her hair. He needed to come so bad it hurt. Karinna did it to him every time. Not having
her
mouth at the end of his dick made for a tricky climb to finally blowing his load.

Karinna. Dirty fucking girl
.
Fuck you!

Light exploded behind his eyes.

He yanked himself free of the slave’s mouth as he spilled hot, glistening seed into the steaming swirl of water that slipped down the drain.

Had she taken it in her mouth, Xander would’ve had a much bigger problem. Human females easily got addicted to the taste of angel cum. Obsessed, even. Like a drug, the shit gave them the same euphoric sensation as Shine, and most turned into greedy little nymphos, trying to score that same high with a regular human male.

Likewise, for an angel, one taste of sex with a human set an insatiable hunger into overdrive, impossible for mortals to abate, which was why angels were forbidden to fuck at all. The inevitable pregnancy would spawn the evil of a half human-half angel hybrid, or Naphil.

The hot spray played against his skin as Xander rode out the last of his orgasm.

Felt so good, soothing.

Visuals of Karinna’s passion-glutted face tingled his muscles, almost made him want to do the unthinkable and kiss the slave. Somewhere in those months of observation, his body had become convinced that Karinna belonged to him—his with which to be angry when she pleasured another man, and his to punish when the fury overrode his control.

She never
had
belonged to him. Never would.

And the girl at his feet who’d just sucked him off wasn’t Karinna.

God help her if she was.

Xander didn’t know her name. Didn’t need to.

Without command, she rose to her feet and washed him.

As for kissing her? He never kissed the slaves. His occasional kindness, when he didn’t happen to have a flogger on hand, balanced the discipline he inflicted, but Xander never bathed them in affection. In the end, it was better that way.

“Last case,” he muttered to himself, rinsing lathered soap from his body. That blade would come after the case had ended. He glanced down at the slave, who’d gone back to sitting on her heels. “To the cross.”

The girl shuddered, still bowing, and gave an acquiescent nod. Slowly, she rose from the shower floor. Xander reached outside of the door to nab a towel for her.

With a weak grip, she waited for him to release it, then patted herself dry and disappeared into the adjacent bedroom.

After drying himself, Xander followed behind her, wrapping a towel around his lower half.

The slave stood by the steel St. Andrew ’s cross.

God, he loved the look on their faces once they’d come to know the fear he could incite.

Xander locked her naked limbs into the cuffs and stood back to admire her helplessness.

From the gun safe beside them, he pulled a long, serrated blade and set it where she could see. Allowed just enough slack in the binds to catch the warning glint of the steel. Her chest rose and fell, faster, bottom lip quivering as she sucked it into her mouth and swallowed a gulp. Xander reached for a black scarf and tied it around her eyes. A black cleave gag left her mouth slightly agape and a forced breath escaped her.