Catacombs Read online

  His invasion of her mind withdrew, the hunger remained. Pearl found it was she who clung to him, she who lapped at his mouth, greedy for more.

  That was his trick...

  He stole his arms back, left her lying dazed and starving on the cot. “Are you not going to kiss me, Pearl?”

  She’d swallowed enough to feel the effects of a sip of darkness. The skin of her cheeks was pulling together, itching as it mended... but her belly was still so hollow.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Daring to admit confusion, repulsion, and delight, Pearl grew drunk. “I’m still hungry.”

  A sharp nail gently grazing back and forth over her collarbones, the creature smiled. It leaned down, mouth working over her throat, teasing gently at her pulse point. “Shall I slit my throat so you can feed?”

  The instant desire for a deeper drink was at odds with clearer thought. What he offered was not what it seemed.

  Breathless, eyes open and unblinking in the dark, she felt a sharp nail graze over her nipple and complete revulsion returned. The demon’s hand crept lower as if to delve between her legs.

  Insidious fear bloomed right back to life, licking through her, ruining any chance Pearl might have had at further reason. She did not beg for mercy, or scream when a talon pierced through her undergarment. She was past that point when a separate flash of claw raked through leathery skin.

  The monster sliced himself so deeply, a river spurt over her face.

  Perhaps if she had not been so hungry, Pearl might have exercised self-control, but one tiny taste, his offering dripping over her lips, and she latched on despite the dry digit wriggling deeper into her body.

  Fixed to his wound, she opened the fissure of flesh, jabbing her tongue into the meat of his neck to force the fountain wider. Greedily she gorged, never having known a meal that fulfilled and warmed as this deep drink did.

  While she gorged, it pawed at her clothing, picking it apart with nail and fist until breasts popped free of her dress and cold air moved over bruised thighs. He stripped her naked, the scraps of her clothing left to bunch under their bodies, and then he did the same to his own ancient garments.

  She would have drunk him dry, utterly unaware of his actions had his palm not settled like sandpaper over her breast. One scrape of his dry-skinned touch grating her nipple and she whimpered, lips parting from his neck.

  It felt... odd.

  The pebbled tip of her breast tingled, responded to a pinching roll of the monster’s forefinger and thumb. When his thighs purposefully maneuvered to her parted legs, when pressure was placed against her mound, Pearl found she had no focus to resist. Not with that delicious fountain oozing to fill up her mouth.

  While she fed, the monster spoke. The things he said, had Pearl been beyond bloodlust, would have set her screaming. “I have waited an eternity for you, kara sevde. Your blood will be my blood, your cunt dripping nightly from my attention. Every last part of you will be saturated in me, in your lord. Forget your God, and worship at my feet.”

  When her belly grew full and her mouth fell from his throat, Pearl was given no absolution.

  It was a devious seduction; the red-eyed one having waited so it might look upon her face when his cock speared straight into her unsuspecting body.

  The shock was less from pain and more from astonishment. Pearl’s mouth fell open, head thrown back at the intrusion. The deceitful monstrosity had taken raw advantage, leaving her cramped around the dead meat inside her.

  Her female parts... the slit he’d called her cunt... felt stretched unmercifully. The burning wash of sensation didn’t ease no matter how hard she tried to crawl out from under the unwavering glowing red eyes.

  There was no negotiation. He did not try to soothe. Instead the creature roughly jerked his hips, ground against her, and restrained with ease. When his thrust grew more than experimental, when her breasts bounced and friction built, it began to groan.

  The hissing breaths and pleasure saturated hums were grotesque, the way her body responded sickening.

  She was engorged, nerves tingling, tightening, fear and hunger feeding the buildup. If the ruthless pounding did not stop, Pearl was going to split in two.

  Tears leaked from her eyes when the ripple of muscle where he invaded began to seize. Unsure what was happening, she called out to her God.

  The devil laughed.

  Pain crept through nerves, coming to life in her gut, and forming into something obscene.

  She wasn’t screaming in agony at all, it was something else—something foreign.

  Pulling out until only the tip of his instrument was tucked in her sopping slit. Once she’d found her breath, staring up in horror, it began all over again.

  Every time she was on the cusp of abandon, the devil took away what tore her apart. It may have been hours, it may have been days, before Pearl understood his brand of torment.

  It was never going to end until she begged for the very thing she found so disgusting.

  Sobbing, she asked for mercy. He told her what to say—filthy words worse than any she’d picked up from men in the supper club fell from swollen lips, desperation lacing every last entreaty until the monster reared and redoubled his effort. The instant she discovered her first climax, he put his teeth to her neck, puncturing soft skin.

  His cock kicked and he gushed.

  He didn’t drink much, but exhaustion unlike she’d ever known made Pearl’s eyes heavy and her limbs useless. The dusty groan of a beast still filled the air, and it was not until he’d fully savored his pleasure, that the demon laid his lips to the very skin he’d bruised.

  Small kisses peppered flesh tender from the scrape of his chest. Gently, he sucked her nipple, tongue teasing, teeth nipping. Warm breath fanned over her flesh as he sighed. “How I wish you would remember the glory of this moment as I will, but alas, that cannot be.”

  While she lay struck and horrified, it rolled its hips to tease out a cruel reminder that she had enjoyed his blood, his cock, and even his brutality.

  The room was once again cold, Pearl aware of the hideous thing that had fucked her raw and the threat his last words posed. “I don’t want to die.”

  If pure evil might be sweet, the demon made an attempt, cooing at her gently. “You are too valuable to break. No, my Pearl, you will be mine forever.”

  Chapter Five

  Waking groggy, Pearl turned in her bed and snuggled deeper into soft blankets for warmth. A dull ache irritated her gums, and absently she tongued the spot, only to find two teeth were missing. Not just any teeth, but the sharp teeth she’d tried herself many times in life to wrench out.

  The thing that made people afraid of her when she got scared or angry...

  Her fangs, were gone.

  Throwing back the covers, her hand flew to her mouth, and the shock over the nagging discomfort was replaced with absolute bewilderment.

  She had no idea where she was.

  There was light, golden and soft around the strangest room she’d ever seen. Not a single window contributed to the glow, only weighty gilded candelabras, ancient in design, strewn about. A small portion of the candles had burned to stubs, beside them fresh tapers with wicks white and untouched waited to be lit.

  She was in a bed larger than any she’d ever seen. It gave off the subtle fragrance of teakwood and was foreign in its design and height. Above it draped a canopy, heavy curtains of embroidered gold, tied and gathered by anchors implanted in crumbling stone walls. Layered around her body were red velvet coverlets, the pillows sumptuous and plentiful at her back.

  Between the candelabras and bed, there was scant other furniture in the small room. A writing desk took center stage, a thick tome open atop it. Beside the blotter were pens, a brush, a hand mirror. Even a pot of rouge.

  There was more, other things littering hoary, somber stone. Strange fabric against her skin...

  Over her breasts was not the familiar uniform the Palace Delight had charged her three doll
ars for, but black chiffon. So sheer her nipples were on display, it hung gathered at her shoulders like some tart’s version of a nightgown.

  Someone had dressed her in this. Someone had put her in this room.

  Memories of a man holding her down in the snow, of pain, left her colder than ice. Had he brought her here after he’d finished? Hadn’t she killed him?

  There had been so much blood…

  A sour flavor.

  What was going on?

  There was no exit save a wooden door straight from a medieval movie set. Leaning against the portal, half concealing the frame, was a massive mirror. Like the candelabras, it was overly ornate, gaudy, and looked far too heavy for her to move.

  Untangling from the covers, Pearl’s feet landed on a woven rug of burgundy and cobalt. Under the brightly colored wool lay rushes that crunched the instant she placed weight on her foot. With her every step, the drying grass’s scent mingled with the room’s must, the smoke from the candles, and the smell of ambergris.

  Her wrists had been perfumed.

  Nose to her arm, she inhaled, and noticed an ornate ring sparkling on her hand. She had not felt the glimmering collection of stones, but now it held her complete attention. The piece was much larger than the art deco jewelry in fashion; the stones were much grander. In the center was a ruby rounded smooth, as big as an eye, anchored by tarnished gold and surrounded by seed pearls.

  Unlike the other objects in the room, something about it was wrong. It pinched and felt unwelcome. Yanking the ring from her finger, she cast it off as if it were cursed.

  Chest rising and falling in panicked breaths, Pearl tried to make sense of it all—of the stone walls half hidden by pastoral paintings, of the feeling of foreboding—and knew this was a bad place.

  Hurtling toward the low, arched exit, she found herself caught by the mirror before her shaking hand might even try the knob.

  There was a reason the colossal furnishing had been left there... the door was only an enticement. The true aim of the object was to get her close enough to the reflective glass to see.

  Her hair was no longer clipped into a sleek bob. Wrongly, it hung past her shoulders, tangled from sleep. The shape of her body was foreign as well. Where were her prominent ribs, the dark marks under her eyes?

  Yes, she’d always been attractive in her way, but she had never glowed with health. She’d never had soft curves or full breasts.

  Blue eyes lacked the makeup she’d painstakingly applied every day. She didn’t need the kohl, or the cake mascara. Had she shown up to the Palace Delight looking like this, Mr. Weller would have never fired her. He would have promoted her.

  Hell, he would have married her.

  “Most nights when I come to you, you have yet to look in the mirror. It’s the journal that habitually grabs your attention, Pearl.”

  An unladylike shriek came from the girl, Pearl spinning to find a stranger stepping toward her.

  Pinched between long fingernails, he held the ring she’d rejected. He offered it to her, smiling and splendid, but all she could see were his eyes.

  They were red as fire and so utterly wrong she thought she might be sick.

  Putting the desk between them, she took in the face of what every last woman in Manhattan would deem perfection. He was beautiful, cheeks shaven smooth, dark hair slicked back in the style of Gary Cooper—more handsome than Gary Cooper, if such a thing were possible. But he was not dressed as a gentleman. In nothing more than a long black robe tied with a sash at his waist, he was hardly dressed at all.

  Something about him, beyond the blood red of his eyes, set the hairs on the back of her neck to attention.

  His gaze lost the crimson glow, growing into an almost soft brown as he smiled. “I am Darius.”

  Red eyes, cold stone, and the scream of a dying man in the pitch black… fragments of memory echoed until the room with its finery looked like something else.

  A tomb full of monsters.

  “Where am I?”

  His gaze tripped over her breasts, admiration all over his face. “I did not mean to startle you, Pearl. Come closer so I might see that you are well.”

  Dizzy, Pearl put her fingers to her cheek. It had been torn open last she recalled, held together by a red-eyed demon who’d crept through her mind and asked her his questions.

  A single candle in a room colder than death.

  A corpse’s body moving against and inside her.

  Mumbling to herself, caught between the present and the past, Pearl said, “The light went out and you came in.”

  And now golden light was abundant, the red-eyed demon was back, wrapped up in beautiful skin and walking toward her with a smile.

  She dared to counter his advance with a retreat, and a face that was beautiful grew twisted with impatience. “Kneel, my Pearl.”

  It was as if some unseen force shoved her down. Legs hit the floor, the girl folding downward, her body utterly out of her control at his command.

  “Look at me.”

  In the attitude of prayer, body prostrate and hands clasped before her, Pearl stared up at what had come to tower over her. A manicured hand reached forward as if to bless her.

  His fingers were warm, soft, but a ghostly touch of memory came with it. Sandpaper, claws… pain in the dark.

  And then memory of something that wasn’t pain. The intimate sensation twinging in her belly was profane, as was the urge to reach between her thighs and rub.

  The man chuckled. “Your mind goes interesting places, dear girl. You are afraid and aroused all at once. It makes you taste particularly delicious. Are you trying to tempt me? I would hate to neglect my treasure.”

  A pulsing heart grew between her legs, sweat breaking out over her brow as Pearl’s breath grew shallow. “Is this hell?”

  The stranger raised her from the floor. “If it was, would it be your hell or mine?”

  With no preamble, he cupped her breast, his tongue wetting his lower lip.

  Impulse brought her to raise her arm. She struck him.

  All her strength, and the slap didn’t so much as turn his chin. Instead, it inspired ravenously heated eyes and a growing smile full of unsavory promises

  Run.

  But there was nowhere to go.

  The door met her back, the man pressed indecently to her front. Lips came to her ear, warm breath offering, “You may lie upon the bed, legs obediently parted, and I’ll see that you feel the pleasure of my mouth where you itch. Or, you may kiss my hand and beg my forgiveness for such rudeness, and I might find it in my heart to be patient and see to your other needs first.” His hand came to her face, taking her jaw with enough strength to be more sinister than sweet. “But never strike me, child, unless you’d like your night to be one of suffering.”

  She had known enough pain in her life. Seeking mercy from a thing that terrified her very soul, she beseeched, “Please. I didn’t mean to kill that man.”

  Smirking menacingly, the stranger, Darius, captured her fingers. “Darling, kara sevde.” He did not break eye contact. The ring she’d thrown slid home, nestled where he desired it to be, and then he lifted her fingertips and kissed them. “You have a weakness for desiring to live in the past. I require you live only in this moment. What came before and what will come after do not matter. They do not exist to you. Nothing but this room and my attention exist to you.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  His hand came back to her breast, the red-eyed man daring her to slap him again. “What is there to understand? I am your everything, and you are my beloved treasure.”

  Skin crawling, she knew more than anything that she wanted out of that room—just as much as she wanted the man to stop kneading her breast. “I don’t want to be your treasure.”

  A low growl, demonic in nature preceded, “Where is your gratitude today, Pearl? I do not appreciate when you wake in a temper.”

  “I belong to God.”

  “And what would God do for my da
rling one? Where are you safer than here? Where could you be more comfortable? As you are, you’re buried so far under the city no soul could ever find you. No one will take you from me. No others will know the taste of sunshine in your veins. I made them all forget. You exist in my world alone.”

  Eyes cast to the ceiling, she offered a prayer. “Jesus, help me.”

  “There is no God for you but me. There is no heaven waiting for you. I own your soul and your body. I own your mind, daywalker… your blood.” All of this was spoken gently, lovingly, each word acidic and tainted by evil. His voice burned her. “I am your life and your only reason for existence. Without my care, you would live alone in this tomb for eternity… forgotten by the thing you would pray to.”

  Stroking her hair, ignoring her incantations to the Christian Lord, he cooed, “Your affection will earn a reward. Give me a kiss and cease these theatrics at once. I’m giving you one chance to avoid punishment today.”

  She shook her head.

  He caught her hair with clawed fingers and forced her neck to bend where he willed it. On the straining column of her throat he licked a path all the way to her ear. “I told you to kiss me, Pearl.”

  Breath shaking, unable to move from the strength of his grip in her hair, Pearl whimpered, stopped the prayer, and gasped when a little sting set her neck to jumping.

  “Delicious. Your fear is almost worth the trouble.” A tongue ran over her pulsing vein. “But I have another flavor in mind today.”

  Stepping back, he released her hair, smirking as she sagged against rough stone.

  Twisted in his sweet offer was a much more sinister threat. “Last chance. Kiss me, beg my forgiveness for your rudeness, and let’s begin anew.”

  Pearl didn’t want pain, she’d known enough in her life. She didn’t want terror, but it was staring her in the face. Swallowing, certain she was going to be ill, she reached for the door handle at her back, and found it frozen.

  It would not be moved.

  If he was keen to the scrambling of her fingers at her back he said nothing, the gloriously beautiful devil seemingly patient.