The Fallen (A Sons of Wrath Prequel) (9 page)

CHAPTER 8

“Stay away from him.” Bailey’s whisper hit Karinna’s ear, over the earsplitting blast of
Whore
by In This Moment through
Chix
’s speakers.

The tall male in leather that’d left her a knee-knocking pile of goo had strolled back into the club, like burying his face between a woman’s thighs happened as often as taking a piss.

Maybe it did.

“Who is he?” Karinna asked.

“They call him the Reaper. He’s not the way you want in to the Sadismen.”

“All girls want in, right?”

“He’s broken way too many females. Some have disappeared. Girls at Cat O’Nines told me they lost two girls last week. Shannon hasn’t shown up for shift yet, either, and that bitch is making me nervous.” She let out a sigh. “He’s pretty, but that’s a tall drink of water with a shot of Everclear. He’ll fuck you up before you know what’s hit you.”

No shit
. Karinna had spent half the previous night trying to find the spot he’d scored with his tongue. She cringed again. “When you say
broken,
what’s that all about?”

“When he takes a female … he doesn’t take a sub. She becomes his slave. There’s a difference. And word is, he’s fierce.” She raised her hands. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some prude. I’m down for some light kink, but that motherfucker is straight-up scary.”

“Have you and he ever …”

“Fuck, no. I’ve seen the girls around him, though. Couple nights with him and they want nothing to do with the Sadismen. Good way to ruin their reputation.”

“Why does the club let him take the girls?”

“Shit, Ian would probably let the guy kill a bitch, if he wanted. That’s just how they roll.”

“Ian?”

“Owner of
Hard Limits
. Never met him, only heard of him. He recruits girls to the club through Frankie sometimes. He’s untouchable, though.” Bailey nodded toward the man who’d gone from Mr. Tongalicious to Freaky Reaper in one night. “Like I said. Stay away from that one.”

“And if he propositions me in the meantime?”

“Just … try not to let that happen. Keep your distance. He’s not known for seeking girls out. They go to him.”  Bailey’s face pinched into a frown. “God help you if he takes an interest in you.”

God help him if he indulges in his interests
. “He have club privileges?”

“Only because Ian treats him like a brother.” She nodded toward him again. “Word is, he saved his life a few years back.” Her finger pressed into Karinna’s chest, inciting a moment of discomfort at the invasion. “Keep in mind what I told you. We gotta look out for each other in this business.”

Still, the question of whether or not the man had saved or killed her sister remained.

Karinna had snagged two valuable bits of information, though: the guy seemed to be important to the club owner, which made him much more important to Karinna; and he didn’t seek girls out—they sought him.

As long as she stayed out of his path, she could watch him from afar.

***

“Who’s ready for D-town’s most sadistic little whore?” The DJ’s voice boomed through the speakers, titillating the already-cheering crowd.

Xander sat back in his booth. Quiet. Watching.
Yeah
. The whole crowd of cock-hounds knew what waited in the wings—pure pussy torment. No doubt, every one of the bastards up in the club would have a case of sore nuts after Karinna’s set.

“You assholes awake out there? I said, who. Is. Ready for some pole-riding knife play to make your cock dance?”

Another roar, louder than the first.

Strobe lights exploded onstage. A rush of adrenaline cooled Xander’s veins.

Blood
by In This Moment shattered the sound system, and Xander’s heart drummed to the beat inside his chest. Excitement. Something about the female excited the shit out of him.

“Give it up for Lexi Baaaaaane, y’all!”

Lights flickered, smoke curled, and the lithe body slid down the pole at the same slow, controlled tempo of the song’s intro. Like her command of the pole, the lyrics of the song spoke to him alone.

Thighs, tone and tan, hugged the long inflexible metal, bending to its cold stiffness. A white straight jacket tethered her arms behind her back, placing all her rhythm and balance in those powerful thighs he’d had at either side of his face—ones he’d kill to have wrapped around his body, with heels digging into his back. The tiny black thong and stilettos threw off potent little mind bombs, of Xander’s teeth tearing fabric.

He’d seen some bodies in his time—smooth curves with nice rounded asses—and the female on stage came about as close to perfection as possible. Not too skinny. Muscled in all the right places. Curvy in others.

Her stage name didn’t fit, though.

Karinna
, chimed endlessly inside his head, like a siren coaxing him toward the flashing ‘danger’ sign that would surely land his ass in hell.

As soon as the song’s chorus slashed the speakers, a knife glinted, slicing the cuff of her jacket, setting her arms free. Long black hair flipped around her head, wild and chaotic. Untamed. Unbridled. Angry. Just like Karinna. Like she danced for herself instead of the horny fucks, including Xander, up in the place. She owned that pole. Her body mesmerized. Seduced. Called to him. As she ground against the steel rod, knife clenched between her teeth, his dick hardened, painfully, in his pants.

***

Karinna jumped the pole, wrapped her legs and rocked her hips against the metal. Faster. Faster. Hating that men watched her. Touched themselves while thinking of her, their thoughts carnal and wicked.

She closed her eyes and let the music take her somewhere else. Somewhere she hadn’t become the very thing she loathed. Drugs probably would’ve helped, but after Lita’s death, she’d fallen into a depression—couldn’t risk hitting that low again.

She slid her ass along the pole and bent forward, grabbing the base of it then lifted her legs until she was upside down. A quick twist had her legs crossed and facing the pole and she pulled herself upright again, ending the routine on a long seductive slide down.

From her mouth, she plucked the blade and held the butt of it between her legs as though fucking it. With quick movements that coincided with the song, she pretended to slash her stomach, then dragged the blade slowly up her inner thigh, without breaking any skin, and cut her panties away.

“Aw, fuck!” someone shouted in the crowd.

Couple of weeks practice had kept her from slicing herself on stage.

Humanity had a way of disappointing, though.

The fact that such a sadistic show could catapult a new girl to the same popularity of which some of the veteran dancers boasted didn’t speak well for half the assholes up in the club. Unfortunately, she had a feeling it’d be the only way to draw out her prey—the Sadismen who liked edgy kink—precisely what Lolita had always been into, and likely the reason they’d taken an interest in her at all.

Unhooking the buckle, she tore away the straightjacket just as the first song ended, and the second song of her performance began with her tits bared like a psychotic nympho just escaped from the mental ward. Karinna removed herself from the surroundings, like always, drifting into memories of Lita on stage, which somehow added a depressive tone. Maybe that’s why they liked it. Certain men craved a damaged female.

The music died down, giving way to grunts from the men just below. Fucking pigs. Any other club would’ve gotten busted for selling alcohol in the same place the girls stripped nude.

Somehow
Chix on Cox
got away with it.

Lights flashed on, she crawled on her hands and knees along the edge of the stage with a bag dangling from her teeth, and collected tips—a routine she’d come up with to keep them from touching her. Thankfully, the regulars knew better.

Newbies? Not so much.

Mister J-Crew stood amongst a bevy of drunken v-neck sweaters, licking his lips as she approached, and shoved a twenty in the bag. A hand squeezed her ass, slid beneath to her panic button and his breath hit her ear. “I’ve got some cash if you’ll meet me in the parking lot with a couple friends.”

Karinna dropped the bag, rose up onto her knees, and smiled at the glimmer of excitement in his eyes quickly fading to horror as she hammered her fist into his nose.

Within seconds, Quentin’s laughter broke up the outcries as the disrespectful prick clutched his broken bridge. The other yuppy puppies beside him called her a whore, threatening to take it out on her ass.

“Fucking bitch broke my nose!”

“Don’t touch the goods, son. Miss Bane don’t like creepers.” Quentin and two other bouncers escorted the men through the crowd.

***

Karinna emerged from the back, decked out in a black corset and jeans. With a bag slung over her shoulder, her hips swayed to the beat of Rob Zombie’s
Pussy Liquor
, as she passed tables of men who didn’t dare lay a hand on her. The clubs closer to the suburbs didn’t allow dancers to touch the patrons that way, especially since they could very well sue the club.

In the underbelly of the world, laws meant shit.

Xander couldn’t lie. Heat scorched his body just thinking about her knocking the fucker in the face. He tugged his hoodie up over his head and moved in for the interception.

With her head low, she slithered through the crowd.

He nabbed her wrist.

A swift twist, and she unhooked her arm, blade to his throat. Xander ran his tongue across his teeth and smirked.
Not just a prop. This feisty little thing knows how to use it.

He lifted his sleeve, revealing the tattoo. Like an emblem, it communicated his intent without saying a word. Dancers and prostitutes, who’d committed themselves to the Sadismen for both money and
protection
,
were as privy to it as models to their shady ass agents.

She tilted her head, as though trying to see past the hoodie. “Want to hook up?”

Xander nodded.

With a finger pressed into his chest, she lowered her blade. “Don’t ever touch me again without asking first.”

His dick sprung at the fierceness in her voice.

Down a long hallway, he followed. Once they’d reached the shadows, he snatched her wrist and took the lead. A slight pull from behind signaled some resistance and hesitation. One earnest glance over his shoulder, and her tug slackened.

He led her to the VIP section of the club, past the bouncer, to the rooms with couches. Pulling back a curtain, Xander ushered her inside the small room with an ugly shade of gold painted walls, a single table and bright colored satin pillows with tassels, like something a sheik’s harem might lounge across, strewn about the floor.

How many other guys had fucked in there?

He stepped inside, filling up most of the small space, closed the curtain, and turned to see her backing toward the wall.

As Xander drew back his hoodie, he grinned at the silent
oh, shit
in her eyes.

***

Jesus.
Karinna’d been propositioned by the Reaper. More than that—she’d had the Reaper between her thighs already. A tingle at her core rapped at her conscience like a goddamn popup screen from a porn site.
Idiot.

Well, fuck him.

He stepped toward her. “Name.”

She held a defiant tilt of her chin. “You first.”

He lurched forward, palm kissing her throat faster than she could dodge it. “When I ask you a question, answer.”

Okay. I’ll play along.

“Lexi. Lexi Bane.”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s your real name?”

“That is my real name. Take it or leave it.”

“You’re lying.”

No way in hell she’d tell him her real name. And how did he know she was lying, anyway?

“Doesn’t matter.” He released her neck and backed away. “Strip.”

She mentally leered at his request. “On second thought, I’ve changed my mind.”

“There is no changing your mind. When a Sadismen summons, you drop your fucking panties and bend over.”

“Some girls, maybe, but not me.” A heave against his chest did nothing but leave her wondering if a wrecking ball had enough power to knock him on his ass.

He volleyed a shove with his fingertips and she flew back onto the pillows. In true Jekyll and Hyde spirit, Doctor Tongillingus from the night before had apparently given in to the sinister Mister Reaper. He tossed his leather coat to the floor and straddled her. “I wouldn’t fight.”

Oh, I think you’d welcome that
. “Fuck you.” She punched him in the face and something flickered in his eyes. Not anger or hatred. He looked
excited
. As if she’d knocked a beast loose.

Xander pinned her arms above her head and pressed his weight into her body. She squirmed against him. His chest heaved, and his gaze fell to the mounds sticking awkwardly in his face like she’d meant to serve them on a silver platter.

His tongue swept over his lips, and the popup bounced between her thighs again. She made a mental scramble to stamp it out, except that his cologne had her eyes rolling back, enthralled, and totally against her rational mind.

Raping bastard
played over and over in her head. His eyes, though, those greedy silvery eyes damn near devoured her where she lay.

“I’ll break that wild spirit in you. Like a fucking horse. I’ll ride you until you yield at my every command.”

“I’ll never yield to you.” She spoke past clenched teeth.

“As I recall, you did exactly that.” He smiled and his questing fingers snaked down into her jeans where he slid her panties to the side. An eyebrow kicked up at what must’ve been the dampest cotton in the hellhole.

What sick and twisted joke made a woman so susceptible to a man’s fingers on her body?

“You’re wet?” His voice carried an edge of surprise, forcing bile up her throat.

She cursed her own clit for being so gluttonous.
Traitorous, finger-loving slut.

Shame and disgust churned in her stomach. “I just fucked a pole, what do you think?” In truth, she’d done that every Friday and Saturday night, never once feeling the need to change her panties afterward. Yes, she’d always had a kinky streak. Vanilla relationships certainly had their share of boring moments. It didn’t help that, for years, Karinna avoided sex like the plague while finishing up her medical degree.