Desecrated Beauty (Twisted Fairy Tales #1) Page 3

  The truck pulled up to a building not far ahead and she almost cried in relief if she could actually catch her breath to do so. Slowing down she slinked back into the darkness so they didn’t see her, pausing when she was close enough to catch her breath. Each deep gasp of air stung her lungs, making her wheeze and splutter. She needed to focus more on cardio than combat maybe.

  Ducking into the nearest alley as they came around the back of the truck, she leaned her back against the wall and closed her eyes, waiting for the pain in her chest to subside. She knew better than to overexert her heart, but as her father would remind her: pain was just weakness leaving the body.

  Getting control of herself, she finally opened her eyes and screamed. His hand flew up, clasping over her mouth to stifle it so they didn’t alert the Lieutenants around the corner. She grabbed his wrist and shoved it off her face, sensing from the tension in his muscles that he’d allowed her to do it.

  “What the fuck! Are you following me?” She narrowed her eyes at the hottie from the bar and shoved him away from her as she moved around his body, curling around the corner to see if the Lieutenants had heard her.

  When she decided they were safe, she turned back to him, crossing her arms defensively and waited for him to answer her.

  “Yes,” his voice was lazy like he was bored, “I’m intrigued by you.”

  “Intrigued?” she asked incredulously.

  “Yes. Not many women… resist my charms.”

  “Well, stick your charms up your ass and I hope you choke on them.”

  He laughed as she walked out of the alley and moved toward the truck slowly. She felt the curve of the knife’s handle against her hip and reassured herself that she could take down anyone who might attack her. It still didn’t shake the nervousness she felt recalling she hadn’t even heard him sneak up on her. Nor did she notice him trailing her the entire way from the bar - and he wasn’t even out of breath as she was.

  “What are you doing?” He was right behind her, his breath surprisingly cold on the back of her neck. She didn’t bother looking at him, she didn’t need the constant reminder of how painfully attractive he was. Not that it mattered much since he had a personality of a slug.

  “My job,” she said with annoyance. He nodded, she knew because his chin bumped her shoulder. How was he staying so close to her?

  She took a deep breath through her nose trying to center herself and calm down before she moved up toward the truck. This time when she touched the knife she withdrew it from its sheath.

  “Ooh, a knife.” Her face darkened more as she twisted and pushed it up against his throat.

  “Listen, I don’t know what your problem is. I don’t know why you’re “intrigued” with me. I don’t know why you’re following me. And I don’t know why you’re still here but I’m going to count to three and if you’re not gone, I’m going to slit your throat.” Her voice was deadly and her face even colder.

  “One.” He didn’t even flinch. “Two.” He still didn’t move. She let her fingers flex so he knew she was being serious about slitting his throat, “thr-.” The words died on her lips as his hand moved lightning fast, switching the angle of her grip on the knife and the blade was suddenly facing upwards making her wrist ache with sharp, shooting pains.

  “Fucking…” She kneed him as hard as she could and he laughed, he fucking laughed she couldn’t believe it. She swung her head forwards and smashed it against his nose. Hearing it break and feeling the gush of his blood on her forehead was satisfying but like his breath it was cold. She didn’t think too much of it as she backed up, wrenching her hand from his. She swiped the knife toward him, but he moved so quickly she missed. In the blink of an eye, he had twisted them around, pinning her between the truck and his hard body.

  “See, this is why I’m intrigued. You’re so much fun.” She growled at him, a feral instinctive reaction to being cornered and taunted. She thrashed in his arms, an overwhelming urge to panic rising up in her. But she wouldn’t let him win. She couldn’t let him win. He wanted to believe that he was in control, but she would have the upper hand, she would find it and take it. Thinking back to all of Tate’s lessons she kicked her foot out as hard as she could, connecting it with his knee cap and listening to the reassuring crack. That would do it. But he didn’t even pull back, his grip never loosened.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you!” She pulled harder, trying to pry herself from his grip. Nothing she did worked, no amount of pain she inflicted on him worked. His hands slipped down her wrists, fingers trailing like icy fire down her forearms. The way he held her ensured she still couldn’t move, her hands wagging helplessly in the air. His body stepped closer to her, his hard chest nearly crushing her between the truck. His leg nudged hers apart and she thrashed harder as another bout of panic seized her.

  “No! Get off me!” She moved harder, faster, and more desperate.

  “I want you.” His words were velvet in her ear as he leaned down, his nose nudging along the column of her throat and she heard him inhale her like a fine wine. “I want you so bad, let me have you.”

  “No! Get the hell off me!” She stomped on his foot as hard as she could, and then again and again and again. Quill couldn’t figure out why nothing she tried worked on him.

  “Get off me! Stop it! Stop!” The more she protested and screamed, the more dread filled her up and panic began to seize her heart. It thumped painfully in her chest, catching her breath before stealing it completely. The panic ascended and her stomach knotted, the wooziness of a blackout hung over her.

  Just as suddenly as the assault had begun, it stopped and he stepped back, dragging a hand through his hair in aggravation.

  “Damn it, woman.” He groaned softly before dropping his hand to stare at her. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

  She expected to feel relieved when he released her, giving her the space she needed to put distance between them. Few things in her life had terrified her as much as that moment had. It wasn’t even the threat of a sexual assault but her sheer and utter helplessness. Quill wasn’t used to not being stronger, smarter and more deadly. She wasn’t used to being the victim and the idea stung.

  “I drive you to rape women is my guess.” She snarled at him, stepping away from him quickly. She put as much distance between them as she could, but he kept talking, kept following her.

  “I’ve never met anyone quite like you. And I’ve known a lot of women.”

  “Did you rape them too?”

  “Some… Yes.” He smiled in a predatory way, “you need to understand it was our way. Though, I have advanced with modern society.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, imagining what he would so happily do to her even despite her protests. But if that was true why did he stop? Why did he let her step away from him?

  It was a silly question, she didn’t want to know the answer, even if a voice in the back of her head warned her that something was wrong.

  “I’m… sorry… I frightened you.” The way he spoke suggested that an apology very rarely graced his tongue, but that didn’t mean she was going to accept it.

  “Go fuck yourself.” She glared, all but forgetting about why she was there. Fight or flight instinct had kicked in and she wanted to run, get back to the compound and hide for days until she could wash the memory of this night from her mind.

  “I am, truly, sorry.” He bowed his head and then he disappeared. The tension that had coiled in her muscles relaxed slightly but not enough. She knew she was still in danger. She carried on walking backward until her back hit the wall and slid down it. Her knees pressed to her chest and she stared at the tailgate of the truck, her mind racing. She couldn’t even begin to make sense of what had just happened.

  The way he spoke, the way he moved and most especially the way he felt was all unnatural. Had the government created some kind of super-agent and this was the result?

  It terrified her to think of men who were perfectly capable of dismissing
morals and conscience. Men like that could take over the world in the blink of an eye and things would never be the same.

  Then again, she was fairly sure, things would never be the same after tonight anyways.

  CHAPTER 3

  Quill sat against the wall for a while, regathering her strength and focus. When she finally pulled herself together, she rose, recalling her original mission and why she had come here. Her eyes surveyed the truck, long since forgotten by the Lieutenants. But there might still be clues within it. Pushing herself to her feet she ignored the shaking in her limbs, the result of the sudden loss of adrenaline.

  She crossed back over the street to the truck, watching for any signs of the agents before touching where her knife normally sat. It was gone.

  She’d pulled it on the hottie from the bar - no, the beast who attacked her. Squinting in the dim light of the street lamp she sought out her knife, hoping for a glint or something but it was gone. It had completely vanished into thin air.

  She mourned for a moment at the loss of her favourite weapon. It left her feeling even more vulnerable than the night had already made her. She had a gun on her still, but it wasn’t her weapon of choice. Guns could be unreliable compared to the nick of a sharp blade.

  Grabbing the door handle of the truck she wrenched it open and peered inside. The agents had more or less stripped it of all the tech they had put inside of it for trips and missions. That wasn’t surprising to her. What did surprise her was the paperwork in the centre console, an apparent oversight when the Lieutenants got out of the truck.

  Hauling herself up onto her stomach she leaned across the seat and fingered it a couple of times before managing to get a decent grip with two fingers around the paper. She jumped back down onto her feet and glanced at it. It was processing information for the prisoners. But ever better were the instructions at the bottom.

  They all weren’t heading for the same place, but the majority of them were going to one place in particular. She memorized the address and considered that location versus where the truck was. They hadn’t brought it to where the prisoners were being sent, and the house they were at was easily another five or so blocks away.

  She’d lost a lot of energy already tonight with her running and then the fight but then she thought of the fate that might become of the Desecrated, who had been caught. It was her job, her duty, to get to them before the government had their way.

  Tossing the paperwork back into the truck, she slammed the door and took off in a sprint down the street. She was thankful, for a moment, for her childhood growing up in the city. It had equipped her with the knowledge she needed to get around this place in times like this when others would have easily been lost.

  It was probably the only worthwhile thing she had gotten out of her childhood.

  As she came up to the building, she slowed to a walk, glancing around looking for any security. There were two guys posted on the top of the building holding what should’ve been intimidating guns. There was a guard at the main door which meant there would be one at the back door as well.

  She had two options - she could try and walk in like she belonged there or she had to find a way to sneak in. Urges told her to try and sneak in, it was the better option since she didn’t fully know what she was walking into and her ignorance could be her Achilles heel. But if they let her into the building she would have free reign to figure out what was going on.

  They would pat her down, she realised, watching the door carefully as two people approached and confirmed her suspicions.

  Against her heart’s desire, she undid the sheath from her hip and dropped it to the ground before pulling her gun out from the back of her pants. She didn’t want to go in empty handed so she put it in the one place he wouldn’t thoroughly check, between her thighs up nice and high.

  Walking proved to be a little more difficult with something so cold and metallic snug up in her nether regions but she tried not to think about it as she approached the door. She went over Blondie’s words from the bar in her head. This had to be the point of the auction, this is where they were going to sell everyone off. She was sure of it. And going on that whim she burst into character as she got to the door.

  “Invites only.” The guard held up his hand in her face to which she quickly grabbed and pushed down.

  “Do you not recognise a General’s daughter when you see one?” She arched an eyebrow at him, taking her haughtiness to a new level. The guard spluttered for a moment and stared at her.

  “Whose daughter are you?”

  “General Faulkner.” She didn’t need to lie about this one, her father’s name had opened many a door.

  “Rose?” She nodded her head, taking her sister’s name because it was a lot better than telling them who she was. That was a fast track to jail, she was certain of it.

  “I thought you had been patroned off.” He looked bewildered.

  “Yes, and now I’m here to get some help around the house. Are you going to let me in or not?” He was still staring at her and she shifted on her feet, jutting a hip out so it was on display when she put her hand on it.

  “My patron isn’t going to be too pleased to hear that I was held up at the door.”

  “Yeah, but…” He frowned more at her and for a moment Quill felt her confidence waver. Maybe he knew something about her sister that she didn’t. When had Rose become such a celebrity?

  “Yeah, okay, go ahead.” He stepped away and she shifted uncomfortably through the door, vaguely annoyed he hadn’t tried to frisk her for a concealed weapon. Ducking into the side room nearest the front entrance she quickly retrieved the gun from between her legs and tucked it in the front of her pants under her jacket again. She felt a lot better now without a barrel between her ladyhood.

  Following the noises through the house she was led into a receiving room where chairs had been set in front of a stage. Apparently this was going to actually be an auction.

  She moved through the room, someone pausing to hand her a fan with a number on it. Everything was so official except for one thing - her. Everyone else was decked up like they should be at a Presidential Inauguration whereas she looked like she’d been dragged out of the slums. If people believed she was an agent it still wouldn’t earn her any favour, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Wanting to get out of there as fast as she could she moved through a threshold at the left of the room, skirting around the edge of the room and moving through to the next. She followed the maze of rooms, looking for the other Desecrated wherever they were being kept. She paused outside of a swing door that led into a kitchen. There were several staff members working hurriedly to get what should’ve been hors d’oeuvres but instead were little shooter glasses of congealed burgundy jelly. Another cook frantically sprinkled something white on top before a waiter came through and picked up the tray.

  “What the hell?”

  She didn’t have long to mull over what kind of jelly it was as the waiter moved toward her. She slinked back into the shadows, the door narrowly swinging into her as he walked through and headed back toward the main room. There was nothing for her in the kitchen so she turned and made her way through the next door. This proved to be more interesting, two guards stood against the wall slumped with boredom until she walked in.

  “You can’t be here.” Her eyes flicked around the room to where each of the prisoners was dumped on the ground, all looking like they were high on something and completely out of it. Her eyes slowly moved back to the guards and a Cheshire Cat-like grin crossed her face.

  “Sorry, I must’ve taken the wrong room. I’m looking for the powder room?” She batted her eyelashes for effect and the guard smiled back at her - the dope. It was unbelievable even to her how quickly guys fell for the helpless woman routine despite what she was wearing. They couldn’t have actually run across that many helpless women in leather and denim, had they?

  “Of course, let me show you.” He nodded at his friend like they were
having some kind of silent conversation before he had the nerve to put his hand on the small of her back and lead her out of the room. She let him believe she was following him, but as soon as they were alone in the next, empty room she turned on him.

  She knew she wasn’t as well trained as Tate would hope and couldn’t expect to incapacitate him in hand-to-hand combat. So she launched herself on his back and wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing as tight as she could. His fingers dug into her arm as he gagged on the air, or lack thereof. His face turned red first then purple and when his knees buckled and she felt him start to fall to the floor she still didn’t let go. They landed and his body waved on the ground and she laid there on top of him for a moment longer before letting go finally. She grabbed his arm and dragged him, huffing with the effort, into the corner before kicking his ribs for good measure.

  “Jackass.” She turned and returned to the room with the prisoners, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she entered.

  “Your friend got called away. He told me to come and get you that you could show me.” She flashed him another grin.

  “Oh, well, I can’t leave my post.”

  “Right.” She tried to be demure, but she was rapidly losing her patience. She wanted to get back to the compound with the prisoners and get gloriously drunk and fuck Orion to take her mind off of that beast from the bar. She could still feel his hands moving down her waist, over her hips and… She shivered, physically recoiling from the memory and returning to the present.

  “Could you point the way at least?” She smiled more, her cheeks aching and she felt like her face was going to crack from all this smiling. He looked uncertain but finally nodded and moved to the threshold, looking out into the room.

  “You’re going to want to go straight and then take a right instead of a left. You should’ve gone one more room-”

  He didn’t say anything else as she took her gun from the front of her pants and brought the butt down on the back of his skull. He slipped to the ground like water poured from a glass and she stepped on his leg to make sure he was actually out cold.