THEY SAY FEAR CAN GIVE you strength. They say it can give you the power to drag heavy bodies out of a burning building, or to kill a man without hesitation. All of these remarkable feats can be done with the proper motivation. Fear is a big motivator, yes. To the girl-woman huddling against the graffiti-covered bathroom stall in a lonely rest area in a strange country, fear was joined by another motivating emotion; anger. It was pure, beautiful, righteous anger that gave her strength to endure, strength to resist despair, strength to hope.
Oh, Holy Father, please help me.
As Irina Masahor struggled to shimmy her shorts to her ankles so she could use the toilet, she banged her elbow into the metal wall and winced at the numbing pain.
A mean chuckle accompanied her hiss of indrawn breath. The man who held her captive dragged his black eyes over her bare thighs with a gleam of speculation that froze her in place. Handcuffed as she was, and now with her shorts down, she’d never felt more vulnerable. A trickle of sweat made its way between her bony shoulder blades to join with others that had left her t-shirt sticky with moisture. If he chose to act on his impulses, she’d be helpless to stop him.
As if reading her mind, the corners of his mouth quirked with humor. “I’m not turned on by the golden flow, sweetheart.” Dismissing her completely, he moved to the sink to wash up while she kept her gaze pinned on his back. He sluiced water over his face and scrubbed at his eyes. His broad back hid the sink. If only she had a knife. She could bury it in him and run into the night. The oddly humorous tone sharpened as he shut off the tap with a hard twist. “Hurry the fuck up. I’m not stopping again tonight.”
With that, he stepped outside, but kept his big body wedged just inside of the open door. That was probably the only privacy she was going to get from the monster. Shoving the urge to argue deep down inside, she finished going to the bathroom, and dripped dry since she couldn’t reach the toilet paper roll in the other stall and would rather die than ask him to help her with such a personal act. Struggling to stand upright again, she managed to wiggle and shimmy her shorts up and buttoned them just as he turned around.
“May I wash my hands or will that take too long?”
His eyes narrowed at her challenging tone, but he nodded thoughtfully, a glint of flame crossing the black irises. Even though he agreed, the sudden tension in his powerful shoulders sent her thoughts racing in panic. What was she thinking? This man held her life in his hands. She should be working to escape; working to survive. Challenging him wasn’t helpful. According to him, they had a long trip ahead. She had some time to think of a plan. Instinct whispered beneath her fear. She needed to play up being the victim. Make him think she was subdued, obedient, terrified. She was definitely terrified, but obedient? Never! Her grandmother did not raise her to cower like a scared kitten. She would find a way to get away from this man. Though for now . . . It was better to act as he expected. He believed her to be helpless. She would be that for him. He was only a man. He would make a mistake sooner or later.
Seth drove with one wrist balanced on the top of the steering wheel. The other lay on his thigh. The night sky popped into sight occasionally as the road twisted and turned in the high peaks of the Smokey Mountains. Life outside of Hell didn’t get much better than this. The Porsche’s powerful engine purred beneath his hand. The top of the line sound system throbbed with the rising crescendo of Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyrie as he set his mind to autopilot and simply enjoyed the moment. Fuzzy visions of helicopters and machine guns drifted across his memory. Ah, great movie. Great war. He sometimes missed his time in Vietnam—so much death—so much suffering. Those were good times.
Tapping his fingers to the piccolo, he resisted the urge to close his eyes and sink into the leather seat. They were almost there. It wouldn’t be long now. They were both ready for the trip to end, though for very different reasons. He was looking forward to payday. She was looking for salvation. One of them was bound to be disappointed and he’d bet Lucifer’s ass it wouldn’t be him.
The woman was asleep. Her thoughts of rebellion and survival were quiet as her subconscious gave her dreams instead. It amused him that she was trying to be clever. Even if he couldn’t read her mind, her face was an open book. Every emotion shone clearly for him to see. The fiery anger was intriguing, exciting. What a rush to let her release that fury just before taking her hard and fast. It had been a while since he’d had a virgin squirming beneath his cock. In his line of work, they were a dime a dozen, really. He didn’t indulge often though. Working his way into the big boss’ inner circle was more important than pussy. That being said, his cock twitched with interest and he idly dragged his fingers over the bulge. Maybe he should pull over?
The music abruptly stopped playing as the soft ding of a phone call came through the speakers.
“Seth,” he snapped.
The voice on the other end snapped right back. “Where are you?”
All thoughts of pleasure evaporated and he sat up straight. “We’re a few hours from the first stop, sir. In the Smokies. We’ll be in place well before the meeting at 9:00.”
“Is she cooperating?”
“Yes, sir, but she’s thinking of rebelling already.”
His boss laughed smoothly and Seth relaxed. “Of course she is. Now you see why she has to disappear?”
“I understand completely. I have everything arranged. This will be a prosperous venture for all of us.”
His boss snorted uncharacteristically. “Money means nothing to me. Do what you want with her as long as she doesn’t reproduce.”
The connection went dead without another word. He rolled his shoulders and peered at her from the corner of his eye. Still asleep. Her plump lower lip trembled and her mouth parted with a soft sleepy sound. The tip of her tongue showed for a moment. The dashboard clock showed it was just after 4:00 a.m. The sun would be up in a little while and they would be at the first stop soon. He’d need to get her washed up and fed to meet their first client, but before that . . .
“Does she have a name?” Country music superstar Caleb Travers asked even though he probably didn’t really give two shits. His fans would be horrified if they knew what a sick fuck their hero was behind closed doors. Travers licked his lips as he dragged his bloodshot eyes over the girl’s nude body. The reek of alcohol surrounded him as he circled her, hands raised to touch her.
“Her name is Number 422. That’s all you need to know. Look. Don’t touch.”
Scrubbed clean in a gas station bathroom, with her hair piled on top of her head to show off the delicate skin of her throat, she stood naked and still handcuffed in the hotel room. Her face was left free of makeup to emphasize her youth and softness. This was what the buyers wanted; a fragile flower.
She was behaving much better than Seth thought she would. She’d been furious when he’d pulled over and dragged her into the trees beside the highway. He smothered a growing smirk behind the back of his hand. Shit. She was still a virgin. He’d only made use of her mouth. She had no idea how lucky she was. After she finished him off, he’d even patted her on the head and said thank you. He was polite that way.
Seth snatched Travers’ wrist just as he pinched her left breast. “I said don’t touch! She’s not to be handled by anyone except her final buyer. No exceptions.” He tightened his grip until the man jerked his arm away with a tense frown.
He didn’t like the way Travers’ eyes narrowed shrewdly before cutting to his two bodyguards standing out of the way. Was he seriously considering having one of his bodyguards take her? Bring it, dumbass! He wouldn’t mind killing a few humans today. The trip was getting boring.
Pinning his gaze on the hulking man by the door, he warned, “Don’t be stupid unless you want to die bloody,” as he drew his favorite athame from the sheath that magically appeared at the small of his back.
With nearly identical expressions of surprise, the two guards paused with guns halfway drawn from their holsters. Caught in the crossfire, the girl’s head whipped around, her terrified eyes begging him to stop.
Travers held up his palms in a gesture of peace before plastering on the good ol’ boy grin he was famous for and drawling, “Take er easy, boys. It’s all good.” To Seth, he said, “I do apologize, Mr. King. No hard feelings?”
“Not as long as your assholes put their guns away. They’re scaring the merchandise.”
And just like that, the guns went bye-bye and the guards took a step back. Sidling closer to him as if he were the safer option, the girl sagged with relief. Trying to seem brave, she thrust her chin out, but her shaking hands gave her away.
Seth gave the humans one last going over before sliding his blade into its sheath and pointing his chin towards the door. “We’re done here. I’ll be in touch with the date of the final auction. Get out.”
After the three men left, he locked the door and turned around to find her glaring daggers at him. “What now?”
She swiped the back of her hand over her mouth and spit on the floor. “You are a pig! I want to brush my teeth.”
Oh, that. “Do you now? Tired of my taste already?” Laughing softly, he peeled away from the door, moving purposefully, drawing his shirt over his head as he approached her. Her hands came up to cover her chest. The slight clink of metal only accentuated her helplessness and stoked his interest. The spark of defiance in her eyes dimmed to uncertainty and finally faded to fear when he backed her into the nearest wall. With her hands pinned between them, he leaned closer to talk directly into her ear. “Be very careful, woman. I’m showing restraint.”
Pulling back to look into her eyes, he willed his human façade to fade until his eyes revealed his true demon origin. As the round pupils elongated to slits, the yellow irises burned with a dark red fire. Her sharp gasp of shock made his dick hard, but he only smiled coldly and rubbed it against her bare crotch until lovely tears flowed over the pale skin of her cheeks. “Don’t push me. Restraint isn’t in my nature.”
She stiffened against him, blinking away the tears. After a few seconds of getting herself under control, she finally cleared her throat, and stated defiantly, “My name is Irina. I am not a number.”
Well, she was cocky. He’d give her that. She might have been amusing if he had time for games. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t. He studied the stubborn tilt of her head, the determined set of her jaw, the pride burning in her eyes. She didn’t have much time left on this plane, and that pride would be a handicap where she was heading. The two of them were destined to spend the next few days together; days that would end in pain and pleasure for them both.
He didn’t give a shit about her suffering; his biggest concern was getting her to the last stop without strangling her himself. Clearly she needed to be reminded of her place. With that thought in mind, he backhanded her across the face, sending her crashing into the wall with a cry of pain. Before she could slide to the floor, he was on her. Grabbing her by the hair, he hauled her to her feet and slammed her into the wall again. Letting his scales show through the human skin until the intricate diamond pattern was clearly defined over his chest and shoulders, he ground out, “You are Number 422. That’s your name from now on.”
With a fierce scowl, she crossed herself awkwardly, still holding her head defiantly. “My name is Irina. Be gone, demon! You cannot possess me. I will not agree.”
The sign of the cross was the last straw; like waving a red flag at an already pissed off bull, really. The leash on his self-control snapped. Her eyes went huge with understanding as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans and kicked them to the side. “I’m not interested in possessing you, my naive little snack.”
As he stepped away from the jeans, he allowed the rest of his demon self to show and watched her reaction as the truth sunk in. Standing rigid with terror, she tried to be brave, but her hands shook violently as she tried to cross herself again. The good little Christian thought that would help. He relaxed his mouth into a genuine smile as all of her bravado vanished.
Ah, there it is—there’s the fear, the doubt—intoxicating. “Oh, yes, sweetheart. It’s as big as the legends say.”
He gripped the base of his icy cock and caressed it lovingly until it swelled to its full inhuman size. “Did you think you were safe from this?” He moved closer, backing her against the bed. She opened her mouth to scream, but he cut off the sound with a simple thought. Panicked now, her primitive survival instincts took over. Her eyes darted over his shoulder, frantically searching for a way out. Her pulse pounded so loudly it rang in his ears. He could practically feel the blood rushing through her veins.
“It’s unfortunate that I can’t scar your beautiful skin.” He cupped her flat breast with his palm and released each of his claws one at a time; heightening her terror, pushing her panic to its limits, until her eyes rolled to the back of her head and her heart nearly exploded. “I would so enjoy drinking you dry.”
Her knee came up at the same moment she tried to duck below his arms and run. The knee missed his balls and he simply snatched her back by the braid. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as he launched them both to the bed. The moment they hit the mattress, she struggled as if her life depended on it. Kicking and trying to claw at him, her mouth moving in a constant stream of curses and useless prayers. Pathetic. Her god wasn’t listening. Did she really think begging for rescue was going to help?
“The more you fight, the more this will hurt.” She kept struggling until she managed to land her nails in the skin of his cheek. The sting of three bloody gouges was followed by warm blood flowing down his neck. “So you want to play rough?” He yanked her cuffed hands over her head and covered her with his body. “We can do that.”
Now he wanted more than a quick, hard fuck. He wanted to play with her. To relish her pain. To break that rebellious nature. He was one of Hell’s best torturers. Breaking people was what he did best. She would beg for a mercy that wasn’t in his nature. When the auction came, she’d be more than willing to die.
Oh, God, please help me.
As the sun began to set, Irina carefully rolled to her stomach before folding her knees beneath her to pray as she’d been taught by her grandmother a lifetime ago. Kneel before God, granddaughter.
She was trying. It wasn’t easy to get into that position with her hands still cuffed in front of her and every muscle in her body screaming in pain. The lumpy mattress sank beneath her weight causing her to fall face first into the scratchy sheets. Turning her face to the side so she could breathe, she began to pray.
Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy name...
By the time she’d finished The Lord’s Prayer, the beast was stirring in the chair next to the bed. Had he even been asleep at all? Did monsters need rest? He hadn’t needed to rest earlier when he’d used her body over and over again until she finally escaped into numb unconsciousness. Even now, warmth trickled down her thighs to soak the filthy sheets. Blood. And worse. Oh, God. What was happening to her? Why was she here?
Curling into a miserable ball, she buried her face to hide her feelings from him. He would mock tears as he had mocked her anger. He had taken her voice. Still unable to scream her frustration, she sobbed silently until he abruptly flipped her onto her back. She flinched as he reached down to grab her by the cuffs. The metal dug into the delicate bones of her wrists, surely leaving another bruise. He’d said she wasn’t to be damaged. This rule didn’t seem to apply to him. Was he her final master?
“Get up, Number 422. You’ve had enough time to grieve for your lost virginity. You’ll heal.”
He pushed her towards the cramped shower and shoved her inside. Cranking on the water, he aimed the spray at her face and used his hands to rub her clean. He wasn’t gentle. She cringed as he took extra time to clean her breasts and the raw space between her legs. Tears of shame joined the water as he touched the parts of her that no man had touched before.
At her grimace of pain, he brought his mouth to her ear, purring, “I went easy on you this time,” as his hands roamed over her butt. “Push me again and this little jewel will be next.”