A Feather's Worth (Spawn of Darkness Book 2) Read online

  For the first time in my life, I’ve used my body to gain advantage.

  Fuck.

  The thought settles deep within me, finding a comfortable place to sit amongst the shadows shading my insides. But it’s not comfortable at all, it’s the opposite.

  For the first time in my life, I deserve my brand.

  For the first time in my life, I’m every bit one of the whores they make us out to be. Only a far more sinister version, because I’ve got nothing left to lose … but everything to gain.

  A tear slides down my face as I take the cock of the man who spent the past twenty years emotionally abusing me, controlling me, fucking me, and slowly yet surely moulding me into something even my nightmares are afraid of.

  Chapter Three

  He finishes in record time, dries his cock with a freshly laundered cloth he pulls from his jacket pocket, then grabs my face, holding it in a tight grip. “If you’re well enough to chew someone’s cock off then you’re well enough to be active again. Time to rise into the light.” He lets go of my face and unlocks my door, signalling for me to follow.

  We walk through the dark catchment room, me clothed in nothing but blood. I note the lingering scent of citrus and sage. A scent I recognise …

  Fuck.

  Aero. He’s been in here, and not too long ago.

  This could really throw a cock in the works …

  Did Aero watch me chew that man’s penis off? I fucking hope not, he’ll be having nightmares for the rest of his immortal goddamn life.

  It doesn’t make sense that he would come to this cum smeared shit hole knowing there is nothing he can do for me ... if he’s been listening, he knows how well guarded I am. And after what I just did, I doubt that’s going to change any time soon.

  Kroe leads me up the ladder and through the open trap door, along the hallway and up the set of stairs into his personal chambers.

  There’s no light coming through the windows, night time then. The only way I could track the days down there was by counting the late Ballsacks’ sleep cycles. But they took turns, so it was hard to tell day from night.

  Kroe gestures to the ornate door that leads to his bedroom. “After you, Cupcake.”

  I hate sharing his bed, but I suspected this would happen tonight.

  Again, I banked on it.

  After witnessing the carnage I just created with my cock biting teeth, Kroe will keep me close. He will also want to put me back in my place … with his penis.

  It’s a good thing—my plan wouldn’t work otherwise.

  It’s a good thing, Dell.

  I try to still my trembling hands.

  Fuck.

  I open the door to the opulent bedroom—not the sort of room you’d expect from a man like Kroe, being all white with plush soft furnishings and natural wooden accents.

  A wave of nausea rolls over me again and I run through to the bathing chambers, making it just in time to dry retch into the toilet.

  Kroe runs a bath behind me, stripping off his clothing as I cradle the bowl, trembling like a nympho at an orgy. “Get in here with me when you’re done. I want your arsehole clean.”

  Fucking wanker. I retch again, this time bringing up a small amount of bright red blood.

  Damn.

  I sigh, wipe my mouth and pull the chain, flushing the contents away.

  Kroe’s waist deep in the large stone tub, stretching out as the steam coils his hair further. The blood from his hands has stained the water a soft blushing pink.

  “Come, Cupcake.” He motions for me to join him. I repress the urge to vomit again—he’s sheathed himself into most of my orifices while in this tub.

  Stepping into the water opposite him, I sink into the warmth, sending the water a deeper ruby tone as the blood from my skin mixes with that from his own.

  We’re both monsters—him and I, in our own ways.

  He leans forward, muscles rolling as he grabs a bar of soap from the holder, before snatching at my wrist and lathering the slippery substance all over my arm. “You’re filthy. Tell me, have you been fucking around while you’ve been galivanting about on your own? How many men have you opened these pretty thighs to?” He edges forward and pushes his hand between my thighs, parting them, exposing my comatose vagina to him.

  She’s silent as a fucking mouse and I just don’t get it—she usually preens at moments like this, no matter how much I’m crying on the inside. Maybe she knows I’m using her right now, banking on her eager beaver ways. Cunning wench. Always going against my fucking grain.

  I guess we’re going in dry.

  He pushes the douche he just procured from the side of the bath up my arse and pumps it. “None, sir,” I reply, wincing. “Only the ones that forced their way in.” My voice sounds gritty as I tense around the contraption.

  He quirks a brow and slips it out of me. “Really? Pray, do elaborate ...”

  Bingo.

  I nudge my beast even though she’s a cowering, trembling mess. If my vagina won’t be there for me right now then I need the other, more ruthless side of me to take the reins and show the twat how it’s done. We girls have to stick together.

  She’s not sure she wants to play a part in this though. Not with him, not even in light of the bigger picture. I grip her by the scruff of her neck and force the bitch to the surface, because fuck it, I need her right now.

  A cool calm washes over my body and I crack my neck to the side, rolling my shoulders slightly as I shuffle my hips forward, parting my thighs further.

  Kroe quirks a brow.

  “They cornered me in the alley, five of them …” I say, in a sultry, suggestive voice that isn’t my own. But my beast is owning it, playing the part seamlessly. Kroe’s interest is piqued, the vein in his neck pulsing.

  “Go on,” he grinds out.

  “The big one shoved me against the wall. He didn’t get me warmed up before he pushed himself inside me, then he began to move, fucking me so hard that the bricks tore at my skin and I thought his cock would tear me in two.”

  He’s practically salivating now, probably getting off on the fact that, for once, I appear willing.

  I shuffle my hips a little closer, lick my lips and arch my neck to expose my throat to the man I hate with almost every fibre of my being.

  Closing my eyes, I arch my back. “He groped me while the others pumped their cocks, watching him move inside me, my arse rolling with the force.”

  I peek through my lashes. He’s stroking himself, getting ready to rein my beast himself.

  “And then?”

  I bring my hand around and rub at my dry fucking vagina. I’m not kidding, even in a goddamn bath it’s as dry as a fucking desert in there, but my beast is putting on a good show.

  “He forced me to the ground, and another one fucked my mouth, pouring his cum down my throat while I choked on his cock. But I wanted it Kroe … I wanted them all to fuck me.”

  That does it for him. He’s flipping me over with a single movement and sheathing himself inside me, fucking me so hard I slip and crack my elbow on the side of the bath, causing me to lose hold on my beast who swiftly cowers back into the corner, shaking like a wounded pussy cat.

  Looks like I’m on my own. Her and my vagina can fuck off, I don’t need them anyway.

  Shit I’m dry. Not to mention that well of courage that no longer exists. Damnit. But I can’t back out … it’s all or nothing.

  I don’t realise I’m crying until a tear slips between my lips and the taste of salt smacks my buds.

  Pull it together Dell, this is not the time to lose your testicles.

  He’s thrusting into me so firmly I can barely catch a breath. Silent tears drift aimlessly down my cheeks.

  What’s happening to me?

  He’s been asleep for a while, arm draped over my body, hand shackling my wrist. We’re naked, his immaculate physique next to mine which is trailed with scars, as though a toddler drew all over me with a blade.

  Starligh
t’s shafting in through the open balcony door, illuminating the steady stream of tears still lining my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them after the bath. At some point he realised I was crying and got off on the fact.

  Kroe shifts in his sleep, removing his hand from my arm and rolling onto his back. I let out a shuddering breath I hadn’t realised I was repressing, finally free of his branding fingers.

  I look across, towards the monster sleeping next to me, and freeze.

  Standing in the doorway is a silhouette I recognise … very fucking well.

  ‘Aero …’

  Fists clenched, stance wide and enough malice in those dimly lit eyes to suggest he’s wrangling his dark side for purchase. My heart shutters over a few beats, finally finding its rhythm again before I can stress too much that I’m having a fucking coronary.

  My vagina’s doing a little somersault and I breathe a soft sigh of relief that she didn’t die of starvation. She’s such a hussy, apparently only in it now for the big, juicy god cock. She’s developed expensive taste over the past month.

  I try not to cry out, try not to jump out of bed and run directly towards him like a flailing damsel. ‘What are you doing here?’ I yell in my head. I know he can’t harm Kroe—the wards would probably kill my Dawn God if he tried. He has no more wishes to take from me either … is he here to fucking rescue me?

  He nods, taking a quiet step forward as he brings his finger to his lips, motioning for me to ‘shhh’.

  Yeah, ok, so I’m silently ugly crying. Big fucking deal.

  Actually, it is. I never usually cry, but I’m just so bloody glad to see him that my sad tears have now turned to happy tears. Aero’s here, for me … walking towards me … about to grab me and take me somewhere safe …

  He’s four steps away. I can see his features so clearly now; eyes of molten amber surveying me all over for the damage I can see him scenting. But he’s holding his feral side at bay … maybe he’s been practising.

  Nope, I was wrong. His eyes are all black now—he’s growling from his chest like a fucking animal.

  Kroe shifts in his sleep. Aero freezes.

  My gaze slides to Kroe as he brings his arm lazily back over my body, clamping his hand around my wrist and muttering something unintelligible.

  I look back at Aero.

  Fuck.

  I was so excited to see him, so caught up in the moment that I almost lost sight of my fucking game plan, and I’m angry at myself.

  I need to be so much better than this.

  ‘There’s something I need to do first, Aero,’ I convey, and he shakes his head, taking another step towards me.

  ‘You can’t take me right now! He’ll wake up and you’ll get in trouble with the real motherfucking monster out there, probably even die.’

  He shakes his head again, harder, baring those canines in their full, feral glory.

  Stubborn fucking Fae God.

  ‘I have to do this, you have to let me do this. Please! I won’t be able to live with myself otherwise ...’

  He hisses loudly, causing Kroe to stir and mumble. Another figure, all dark and broad shoulders, slips through the door and drags Aero out backwards, into the night.

  Tears slide down my cheeks.

  He cares … is it too much to hope they all do? I know that’s a bit fucking greedy of me, but I’m a little euphoric right now because Aero actually cares. And I’m in the good graces with my vagina again, which is a big bonus. That bitch has some serious fortitude, because I’m dubious of her ability to stretch enough to accommodate his god cock.

  Anyway.

  I’m rambling, because I know I just fucked off my Dawn God; because I know he’s likely been listening to my internal jumble this entire time … and he probably knows my plan. They all probably do.

  He still tried to extract me, cheeky bastard.

  He knew what he was doing, knew this plan of mine will likely cost me my life. Knew I’d willingly go with him if he showed up in my hour of need. Not that I blame him, I would’ve done anything in the world to save my mother, if I were able.

  I want to tell Aero to trust me. I don’t do it though, because I barely trust myself. Because I’m powerless, weak, useless and caged … but beneath my skin lies someone else entirely; perhaps no more than a shadow, yes, but she’s out to redeem herself to this world she failed a very long time ago.

  Chapter Four

  “Fuck, I’ve missed you.” Kroe slips out of me and wipes himself clean of our residue.

  My own shame oozes onto the sheets and I suppress the urge to groan, instead rolling over and pressing my face into the pillow, ignoring the fact that it smells heavily of Kroe. I really just want to go back to sleep, but a sharp slap to my bum fucks that dream right up the proverbial arsehole.

  “Go get ready.” He gestures towards me. “Powder that face up, some khol around your eyes, too. You look a fucking wreck. Can’t be charging triple for a go at you if you look like that.”

  Nice one. Good thing I have thick skin. Who needs an ego anyway?

  I hobble to the bathroom, hands between my legs, cupped to prevent any spillage staining the carpet. I reach the stone floor of the bathroom and begin to close the heavy wooden door.

  “Leave that open. I need to see you at all times.”

  Bastard. I can’t even pee in peace.

  Pushing the door back open, I sigh, wrapping my arms around my body. I’m not sure what it is about Kroe, but he makes me feel so fucking exposed.

  I glance in the mirror, the one hanging over the excessively ornate wooden vanity, noting my swollen, puffy lids and bloodshot eyes. He wasn’t lying. It’s pretty obvious I’ve been crying most of the night. This is going to do terrible things for my reputation.

  I haul out the glass box from beneath the vanity, where Kroe keeps a set of cosmetics for me, and try to patch the shit show that is my face.

  When I walk back into the bedroom, war paint in place and my hair secured high, there’s a skimpy red corset and something that barely qualifies as a skirt laid out on my pillow.

  Kroe pushes back the covers and climbs out of bed, smoothing his hair back from his face. “Get dressed, the girls have been at it for an hour already. Don’t want them thinking you get special treatment.” He slaps my arse again then parades himself to the bathroom, where he proceeds to pee in my direct line of sight.

  I finger the clothing and try not to heave my guts all over it. Special treatment? Fucking hell.

  “Oh, and Cupcake? Oil your holes. It’s going to be a long day.” He throws me a wink as he shakes his penis off. Wanker.

  I’m not oiling my fucking arsehole, because fuck him. That’s why.

  When we’re both dressed Kroe gives me a scan over, squeezing my breasts and arse like he’s testing to see whether I’ve been adequately baked. “You’ll pass. Let’s go.”

  He grabs my wrist and leads me out the door, into the hallway which curves around, then connects with the grand stone staircase in the centre of the building.

  I take the moment to study the man who owns me—tailored suit and hair slicked back, so shiny it gleams in the rich candlelight illuminating the halls. In an alternate universe, I’d find the fucker appealing. I wonder if it’s a situation of circumstance that led him to be this way—though perhaps that’s the insane part of me talking. The part that doesn’t want him to die.

  We pass a whore I know well—Muriel. We’ve often kept each other warm at night. Mousy coloured hair pinned high, boobs pushed to her chin and face painted thickly, she leads a middle-aged man with a face like a fish. He’s dressed in finery that suggests he’s a high payer, and therefore qualifies the use of one of the rooms upstairs.

  My interest is drawn to her left hand, the curl of it unnatural against the soft fall of her skirt. I draw in a sharp breath, feel the blood drain from my face when I realise … Muriel’s hand is missing three fingers and a thumb.

  Muriel never steps a foot out of line … has never done anything to war
rant even a slap on the wrist.

  Fuck.

  I lift my gaze to her face, seeking to understand. She’s scowling at me, her upper lip curling back as her gaze drags over my body, before she leads fish face around the bend and disappears out of sight.

  What the fuck was that? Surely that wasn’t one of my girls hating on me?

  I vomit into my throat then swallow it, the coppery tang of blood lingering as Kroe leads me down the grand, stone staircase.

  The hall opens up before us—prevailing black undertones, rock surfaces wet with liquor and laden ash trays, ornate chandeliers, and lush velvet seaters caped in blood red. The scene is muted by a wispy film of smoke that smells both sweet and herbal. I have no idea what it’s called, but the men smoke a lot of it. Unfortunately, the ones who smell the strongest of it can go for hours. Either that, or they struggle to get it up.

  Other whores watch me keenly from where they are either serving drinks or men’s penises, as Kroe leads me to a space in the crowd. Hundreds of men toil about, dragging their eyes over my scarcely clad body, licking their lips and whispering to each other.

  Well, fuck. Quite a turn out. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the place so full.

  Kroe tucks me in close, his lips grazing my ear. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He pats me on the arse, before disappearing into the crowd.

  Nobody approaches me. It’s like I have some sort of invisible barrier around me, though almost everyone is watching me.

  The men.

  The women.

  I wring my fingers together, strangling them as tension thrums through my muscles, a thick pulse of anxiety threatening to choke me.

  Something doesn’t feel right.

  The place has been changed around. There’s a new clearing in the middle of the main zone housing two fucking poles which look like giant erect cocks, replicas of the ones on the whipping dais.

  Great … a fantasy stage for anyone who watched my public whipping pre-penis eating days.

  Fuck me, it’s going to be a long day.

  A woman I recognise heads in the direction of the bar. There’s a patch covering her left eye … the residue of a scar mottling the upper arch of her cheekbone, neither of which I remember her having.