The Fallen (A Sons of Wrath Prequel) (8 page)

The back alley had been his own personal indulgence. A taste to satiate his curiosity, and, goddamn, it had been as divine as he imagined it would be. That sweet sugar scent she wore like her own perfume. Hell if he could stand one more night, watching her get some limpdick off for information. Xander’d needed one touch, one sweet mouthful of that heavenly pussy, and fuck, it still wasn’t enough.

Fucking little wildcat
. He grabbed himself through his leathers to keep from getting hard again.

The look on her face as he left her hungry for climax had damn near broke him.  A weaker angel would’ve slammed her against that wall and exhilarated in her outcries. The only thing that separated Xander from a weaker angel was an unflinching commitment to vengeance.

Unfortunately, she played a bigger role than he cared to admit.

Below him, she took her usual route to the bus stop. Xander clung to the shadows, listening for the plodding of her heavy boots across the sloshy pavement.

A tendril of her hair had fallen out of the hat, playing on the wind. Made him think of that curl plastered to her sweat-drenched cheek, dancing along the rim of her gaping O-face.

He shook his head.
Enough of that shit.

Karinna boarded the bus, and Xander followed the vehicle until it reached the corner of her street, just off campus, where a large building took up the corner of the block. In the open once more, she trudged through the slushy snow, up to the front door, and disappeared inside.

Lights flicked on around her two bedroom apartment as her silhouette moseyed about. She reached her bedroom, and like every night before, pulled the shade.

Hand gripping the blind, she paused and the shade rose to reveal her form.

‘The fuck is she doing?

Long black locks tumbled out of her hat as she pulled it from her head. She removed her coat, her boots, until all that remained was the tight T-shirt and panties. As if she
knew
he watched her.

Merciful creation, she was perfect.

An ache between his thighs had him cursing the gods of hot fucking bodies and blue balls. Grabbing himself through his leathers didn’t relieve the pain. With a mind of its own, his dick stood at attention.

She brushed her hair in the mirror and he imagined those locks tangled in his fist, lips stretched around his cock, eyes half-lidded, begging him to fuck her.

Stop.

That kind of thinking made angels fall.

Xander exhaled a shuddering breath and leapt from the building, falling six stories through the air until he landed on the concrete below, where the sidewalk, like nearly every street in Detroit, stood empty.

He hopped on his bike and headed in the direction of
Hard Limits
, and the city slipped beyond his periphery as his mind fixated on raven hair and green eyes.

Beautiful.

Untouchable.

He turned into the packed parking lot. Unlike most joints in the city,
Hard Limits
closed much later. Xander strode up to the heavy medieval-looking door. A large peephole slid to the side. With a flash of the tattoo on his wrist, the door opened.

Jed met him on the other side, wearing his usual executioner garb. He gave a salute as Xander stepped into the haze of red.

Hard bass pounded like a fist on the other side of the door in front of him. Beyond, the innards of
Hard Limits
greeted him with leather-clad males and females, grinding and openly participating in acts that would make a porn star blush.  Weaving through the tight crowd, Xander swatted at groping hands that brushed his monster hard-on. Karinna fucked him up every time. What kept him from nabbing an unsuspecting female from the crowd and pounding her right there against the wall could fall into the category of miracles. Headed toward the private rooms in back, Xander pushed out beyond the main floor.

He couldn’t help kick his lip into a smug smile as he passed Jimmy, leaned against the bar. Little cocksucker always looked pissed to see him.

“Ian tells me we have a missing girl on our hands. I’m certain he’s already made you aware?” Jimmy’s voice trailed after him.

Xander halted. “Yeah,” he said over his shoulder.

“Hope we find her. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of torturing and interrogating a female. Last was a few years back. Not much fun. After about an hour, she broke.”

Xander’s jaw clenched at the reference to his former partner, Celine—the angel Sloane had replaced. He pushed the wild brew of fury down into his gut and turned to face Jimmy. “Half the time, if you’d have sent her my way.”

“Oh, I can’t fault the girl.” Jimmy seemed to subdue a smile. “She was unconscious through most of it.”

Rage beat like a war drum through Xander’s veins. Visions of snapping Jimmy’s neck right there in the club passed through his mind.
Tamp it down
. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something, Xander. For all the talk you do about breaking a female, I question whether you’ve actually
fucked
one before? I mean, you’ve seen just about every bastard up in here, including my older brother, indulging in the clientele. And yet, you hide away with yours. Where do you take them?”

“Wherever the fuck I want.”

“Humor me, for a moment.” Jimmy whistled over his shoulder and a topless female sidled up to him, collared, with her gaze cast downward toward the floor. “It’s my duty to make sure all personnel have gone through proper screening before working at the club. It seems I missed your orientation period.” He leaned in and whispered in Xander’s ear, “It’s a well-known fact that angels, even those undercover, are forbidden to fuck a human. So, what do you say you perform a simple verification of your allegiance?”

“What do you say you take your verification and fuck
yourself
with it. I fought angels to save your brother’s life.” He strode up to Jimmy. “Also forbidden by the heavens.”

“So you say.” Jimmy stroked his chin. “And yet I’m still not convinced.” His head tilted to the side. “Mandy ... if you would.”

The female turned and bent forward, clutching the back of the couch behind Jimmy.

“Fuck her.”

Xander glanced down at the female, whose ass bore the welts of an earlier client. “First, I like a little fight in my females. Second, I’m not your bitch, but I’ll let you suck my dick if you want to be mine.”

Jimmy chuckled and rubbed a hand down the girl’s ass before giving it a harsh squeeze. “My apologies. I’ve forgotten that you’re my brother’s bitch.”

Gripping the male’s throat, Xander pinned him to the wall.

“What’s going on?” Ian asked from behind.

“It seems your brother has a problem with my loyalties.”

Ian’s hand rested on Xander’s forearm, and he released the male in his grasp.

“Jimmy, I suggest you focus your efforts on more important matters. There isn’t an angel in creation that would do what Xander has done in the last five years.”

Jimmy straightened his tie. “I was merely making an observation that we’ve never seen our valiant guard, here, fuck a female.”

“Well, I have to say, if I had any inkling that someone was watching my cock as much as you seem to watch his, I probably wouldn’t pull it out in front of you, either.”

Jimmy’s face pinched into a frown, at the same time Xander smirked.

“Get back to work.” Ian stepped past the two of them and kept on down the hall toward his office.

“I’m watching you.” Jimmy fell into step behind his older brother.

Through the crowd of grinding bodies, Xander continued on to the back until he reached the VIP rooms and pulled back the curtain of the third room on the right. Ice blue eyes framed by jet-black hair peered up at him, and Xander grumbled, falling into the booth.

Nephilim.

Half Fallen, half human, and good for one thing—they could find just about any drug or weapon a supe might need to get shit done.

“’Sup, my man.” He raised a hand that immediately turned limp when Xander didn’t bother to shake it.

“Let’s make this quick.”

The nephilim passed along a vial filled with a bright orange substance. “Hundred percent pure Demortis, straight out of Orcosia. Careful. That shit’s wicked. Had me wigged out the whole time, thinking it’d explode in my pocket.”

Xander passed the wad of cash they’d agreed upon and slipped the vial into his coat. “And?”

A grin flashed across the nephilim’s face. “Almost forgot.” He pushed a small bag of silver capsules across the table. “T-pack of Shine. Best shit you can git.”

“You come up with that all by yourself?”

The nephilim’s grin withered as his gaze fell toward his drink. “Got time for a drink, brother?” He fidgeted with the glass in front of him. “Not every day a guy gets to mingle with the Fallen.”

Xander bit his tongue at what he considered belittlement, though his reputation of aligning with the enemy had helped him climb the ranks of Ian’s cartel. To a supe who didn’t know better, he might as well have been the Fallen. Still, not even the lowest bastards on the food chain gave nephilim the time of day.

“I’m not your brother. Finish your drink and get the fuck out.”

CHAPTER 7

Sweat trickled down Karinna’s temple as she lay in the hot bath, most of her body hidden by a thick layer of bubbles. Only candles lit the room, and their soft, flickering glow lulled her into a state of serenity. Knees splayed to the side, she blew out an easy breath, allowing the man’s face from earlier in the night to take form inside her mind. Dark hair. Shadowed jaw. Mysterious silvery eyes that made her wonder what they looked like half-lidded with lust.

She hadn’t even caught his name.

Licking her lips, she slid her palms down her belly and into the inner part of her thighs. Crashing in on her quiet, the neighbors in the adjacent apartment seemed to be reaching climax as the thumping against the wall beat in time to the woman’s escalating cries. Unlike Lita’s apartment, teeming with questionables, Coral Gables Apartments attracted mostly college students. No one stuck around long enough to learn names, though. From one semester to the next, a new crop of students came and went.

Karinna called her neighbors Wallthumpers, since it seemed all they ever did was fuck.

Their moans and grunts played into her fantasy and stoked her slowly unraveling libido, as she pictured the stranger’s sweaty, muscled body pounding into hers.

She arched upward and the soft pop of bubbles against her stiffened nipples incited a surge of arousal.
Mmmm
. She imagined his big palms kneading her breasts and tugging her small pink buds to a stand. As she glided her finger across her cleft, visions of his head between her thighs, his tongue voraciously lapping at her clit, rippled through her mind. She sighed. Tickled the sensitive nub. Could almost feel the wet warmth slipping in and out, the slow, methodical rhythm that had her rocking her hips against the back alley wall. Not even the water splashing over the side of the tub with her heightened fervor could break her from that memory.

She let out a moan, toes curled, feet sliding against the porcelain, as her mind galloped toward the climax she’d been denied by him.
Asshole
. Karinna pinched her breasts with thoughts of his greedy tongue slamming into her slick pussy.
Yeah
. She imagined his moan vibrating against her flesh, in that dark, seductive voice, so masculine and full of pride.

I play the same way I like to fuck. Dirty.

“Mmmm, I’ll bet you do,” she murmured.

Karinna!
Her mother’s voice called out to her from deep inside her head.
What are you doing in there?

Oh, shit!

“Nothing!” Karinna absently called out to no one. She broke from the fantasy and sat straight up in the tub, her heart beating inside her chest.

Wash yourself and don’t ever put your fingers there again,
her mother chided.

All at once, she was fifteen, lying in the big porcelain claw tub back at home, imagining Michael Trombley, her high school crush.

Karinna blew out a breath, pulling her knees into her chest, and the ghostly laughter of Lolita had her rolling her eyes.

Busted!

The memory faded away to silence and the flicker of candles as she stared at the white foam.

“’Bout the only thing we had in common was a love for baths, eh, Lita?” She chuckled and rested her head against her drawn knees. Sometimes talking to the dead helped clear the mind. She missed talking to Lita, though. Only memories swirled inside her head. The laughter. The tears. Lita had always been Karinna’s complete opposite, and yet, as close as she’d ever allowed anyone to get. “I’d never admit this to you,”—Karinna sniffed—“but I’m scared.” Hugging her folded legs, she tucked her head in the space between her body and knees. “If I fail … nothing changes.” She squeezed her brows together. “If I fail, their laughter will go on forever.”

Then, don’t fail
, Lolita answered inside her mind.

A flash of Lolita hanging from the ceiling blasted through her head, the interlaced rhombi clinging to the forefront of her mind. Karinna screwed her eyes shut, trying to blank the scene away.

As another thought struck, she opened her eyes, muscles tight, and gasped.

No.

Reaching for her towel, a million reasons why she shouldn’t be doing what she was about to do passed behind her eyes like movie credits—with the biggest one that she’d be tearing open a wound that could very well bleed to death.

Karinna dried off and pulled a T-shirt over her slightly damp body, then tiptoed out of the bathroom and into the hallway. Two doors stood across from her. Like heaven and hell staring back, one door led to her bedroom. The other? A place she hadn’t ventured inside since Lita’s death.

The steady drum of her heart kicked up as her reflection shone back in the brass knob. Karinna reached out a hand but recoiled, fingers fidgeting as she bit her lip and exhaled a sharp breath.

Do it. Go inside.

No, no. Can’t.

She spun on her heel and headed toward her room, coming to a halt about two steps down the hall with butterflies clashing inside her gut.

Deep breaths
.

She twisted back in the direction of Lita’s room and padded toward the plain white door. In a fit of anxiety, she scratched her neck. Her tongue grew thick with dryness and she swallowed past a gulp. The hallway seemed darker, narrower, suffocating.

Karinna clamped her lips shut, sucked a deep inhale through her nose and turned the knob. Voices carried on the air, seeping through the small crack she’d created, and her muscles begged to slam the door shut.

She didn’t, though.

Closing her eyes, she listened to the voices running through her mind—conversations she’d had with Lita. Laughter. Memories. As if they’d peeled themselves from the wall the moment she unlocked their prison.

Tears sprung in her eyes and Karinna opened the door. The stagnant room carried a chill of emptiness, though it remained temperate. Plain white curtains hung unmoving. The bed, with its beige comforter, stood unruffled. Two beachy landscapes adorned the dull white walls. Karinna’s gaze wandered the room and paused at a spot on the floor, just below the rafter where her sister’s body had hung limp, turning blue with each second toward death.

Crippling pain bled into her heart and, locking her knees, she fought the urge to collapse into a heap and sob.
No
. Too many nights she’d done that and it’d gotten her nowhere.
Focus
. On the adjacent wall, two overlapping rhombi had been drawn in black marker—the same symbol she’d seen tattooed on the man who pleasured her in the back alley. The same man she’d pleasured
herself
to in the bathtub moments before.

Karinna’s stomach sank into the pits of shame.

Keeping her gaze forward, she crept across the room to the closet and flung back the door. An art easel fell outward, and she caught it before it hit the floor, re-propping the sketchpad that sat on the small shelf.

She flipped up the first page to an abstract sketch of an older woman smoking a cigarette on her front porch, dark circles under the eyes that held a teary shine—desperation leaping off of the page. The subject must’ve been sixty. Then again, drugs and the struggle to survive often added lines to a person’s face. Lines that Lita captured so brilliantly on the page. Her drawings carried an edge of sadness, the desolation of her subjects that seemed almost an extension of Lita. She’d felt their pain, evident in the harsh strokes and shadows that clouded their expressions. As Karinna flipped through the pad, every image seemed to reflect the candid moments, so realistic, as if she’d snapped a photo—a talent that’d always made Karinna a bit jealous.

Another flip of the page and Karinna dropped the sketchpad, page down. Rubbing her fingers together, she bent forward to pick it up. Paused. Palms sweating, she hooked a finger into the wire spiral and laid the sketchpad flat. Her mouth fell open, gaze riveted on the image of a strong, square jaw, shadow of stubble, dark, silvery eyes.

Him.

Another flip.

Nearly the same image, only different from the first in the slight smirk of his lip. She flipped the page again. A third image of the man, very similar to the first two.

The man from earlier in the night. Again, pangs of remorse beat inside her stomach at the thought of getting off to him.

Except …

One question swirled inside Karinna’s head, tempering her humiliation: was the man Lita had apparently obsessed over the angel who saved her—or the one who’d tormented her?

***

“Xander!” Ian’s voice scarcely carried over the shock-rock metal and the mosh-pit crowd wielding chains and whips. “Come. I want to talk to you for a moment.”

Xander followed him to his office toward the back, taking a seat once inside.

Ian poured a drink. “Scotch?”

“No, thanks.”

The oversized leather chair caught Ian’s fall as he fell back and kicked his feet up on the desk. “Nothing’s simple anymore.”

“What’s going on now?”

He sipped his drink and sniffed. “What’s going on with the girl?”

Dead
. More than that, though, Xander had found an earthly obsession in her sister, Karinna—neither of which he planned to divulge to Ian.

Before he could answer at all, Ian cut in. “According to the manager of her apartment, this …
Lola
, or whatever the fuck her name is, died a few months back.” He chuckled. “Should’ve seen the asshole’s forehead. Somebody’s got a fucked up sense of humor.”

No shit.

“So then, what makes this so complicated?”

“The camera hasn’t been found.” He shook his head. “Fucking politicians. Like I gotta be somebody’s whoring mother and clean up the shit.” He huffed. “They’re afraid of someone finding
Mayor Knox
caught with his ass in the air. But I have a much greater interest in the camera.” Ian buried his gaze in the drink. “See, I believe we have a wolf amid the flock. Another angel, if you can believe that shit.”

A pointed silence hung in the air as a million questions crowded Xander’s head. The last angel they’d found in the flock had been his partner, Celine—the reason Xander had even bothered with the Sadismen. Had they not murdered her some five years ago, Xander might’ve taken that promotion in the heavens. He might not have gotten so deep in the truly lecherous side of humanity.

And his nuts wouldn’t still be swelling with visuals of Karinna undressing through her bedroom window.

“The female was traced,” Ian continued. “The men were …. let’s just say, this angel is probably about as sick and twisted as you are when it comes to taking care of business.” He shook his head. “Never seen anything like it. Jimmy thinks we’ve got a traitor among us, and I can’t argue. I’ve had some suspicion myself.”

“What kind of suspicion?”

He tipped back the remains of the drink and slammed it on his desktop. “We’re not talking about a cozy little dungeon in the city, my friend.” Ian’s cheeks flushed red, as if the thought of being duped again had set flames to his blood. “This place was out in B-F-
motherfuckin’ sheep and a cornfield
-E. An abandoned warehouse. Knox and a few other Sadismen have been taking girls out there for the last six years without getting so much as a noise violation. Some bitch rolls in from the streets, and suddenly I’ve got bullshit to clean up. She got away. Two of my clients are dead. Not just dead. I coulda grilled fuckin’ burgers from what was left of them.” Veins protruded from his neck. “I don’t think I need to explain the impossibility of all this.” A crazed, unfocused stare seized his expression. “Won’t happen again. I will not be dragged through shit-stinking lies and deception again.” He seemed to snap back to attention and pointed a finger. “I’ll take my time. Send a message to the fucking heavens, if I find out an angel has penetrated my guard again.” His nostrils flared as he spoke. “It’s about trust. Nothing is more important to me.” A sudden, unexpected softness claimed his eyes, like he’d just popped the head off a kitten and felt better. “Preaching to the choir.” The pride nearly made Xander puke.

“How can I help?”

He leaned forward, entwining his fingers. “I want you to find this traitorous bastard, first of all, and do what you do best. And then I want you to look for the girl.”

“Corpse?”

“Not her. A very reliable source tells me she has a sister.” He grinned. “Who knew she existed? Not a damn thing on this girl.”

Xander bridled his surprise at the reference to Karinna. “What source?”

“Best friend of the
deceased
. Sharon, or Shannon.” A wicked smile stretched his lips. “Seems she wanted in, in the club. So I had Remy interrogate her. Though I’da probably gotten more out of her if
you
had.”

Remy
. Sadistic, torture-loving Remy. Thing about
Hard Limits
, many members didn’t respect limits at all. Not that Ian gave a shit, as long as he didn’t have to deal with it.

Steely face on, Xander sat forward in his chair. “Still can, if you want me to.”

“Not exactly. Seems Remy got a little carried away with the torture. Already disposed of her. At least that’s one less bitch I gotta worry about.” Ian stood from his chair and poured himself another drink. “I want that camera found. In one week, I got that Masquerade Ball. Every fuckin’ Fallen angel from the country’s top ten most dangerous cities is gonna be there. A Sentinel’s wet dream. I want the traitor tied up by his nuts before then. Hell, I’ll make a goddamn spectacle out of it. A perk just for our guests.” He raised a brow. “The boys’ll be out recruiting new talent from Chix this weekend.”

Fingers crushing the wooden arms of the chair, Xander tried not to think how quickly they’d swipe Karinna up into their slave trade. “This girl. What makes you think she knows where the camera’s at?”

Ian huffed. “I don’t. But finding her is going to be a hell of a lot easier than tearing this shithole apart, looking for an angel in the woodpile.”

One week
. Xander nodded. “I’ll find it.”

Ian jerked his head to the side. “Don’t tell Jimmy about this. He never liked the idea of film. I’m sure this will have him stroking his dick with pride.”

“Got it.”

“And if you find the girl’s sister …” Ian swirled the drink, staring into the fluids. “Bring her back here.” He sniffed. “We’ll let her work off the mental strife she’s caused me in all of this, before anything else.”

Xander kept a silent gaze locked on Ian. The biggest bust in Sentinel’s history was about to go down in one week.

Yeah, he’d find Karinna. Whether she wanted to or not, she’d tell him where to find the camera.