Daemon’s Mark by Caitlin Kittredge (web ebook reader .TXT) 📕

girls as his offering, and more recently the Thelemite cult that had exploited a rift in the fabric of the ether to draw their leader back from her exile, I was still working with a fifty-percent success rate.

That had to count for something.

I drifted in and out, trying not to listen to the faraway screaming, until footsteps and two voices sounded in the corridor, once of which I recognized as Grigorii’s.

“She’s still very spirited, which I believe meets your requirements. She’ll fight you.”

The other voice mumbled something in what sounded like Russian—I only knew enough Ukrainian to be sure it wasn’t that. Grigorii gave that silken chuckle that I had already grown to hate.

“Yes, but not so much that she’ll do you any harm. You’re a were of breeding—you understand how these things work better than I.”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck and double that right on down. Another were was something I hadn’t counted on.

The Russian grinned at me as he and Grigorii came to a stop outside of my cage. I tried to pull the baggy shirt down over my thighs. The Russian was tall and pale, with an Adam’s apple that stuck out and big knobby hands that were perfect for hurting things softer than he was.

He opened his nostrils and scented me, the were equivalent of putting your hand on someone’s ass without an invitation. I gave him the finger and a snarl. Couldn’t hurt to sell myself as the perfect fantasy for his particular brand of Sick Twisted Fucker.

Grigorii tapped his finger against his teeth. “We can clean her up if you like. She’s a bit rough around the edges, I know. Just in from America.” He winked at me and I fought the urge to go straight through the mesh and sink my claws into his smarmy throat.

“Not necessary,” the were rumbled. “Bring her to the room. I will pay for the night.” He stalked off, heels of his knockoff shoes tapping on the concrete. Grigorii flashed me the OK sign.

“You’ve already put us in the black for the night, Joanne my dear. Too bad you’ll be out of commission for a few weeks. I could get used to this.” He went to an antique circuit box on the wall and flipped a switch, then came over and unlocked my cage.

I looked up at him as he came into the cell and grabbed my arm. “Don’t do this.”

“Why?” he said. “Because I should feel pity, deep down past the black burnt crust over my heart?”

I leaned close to his ear, and smiled. “Because if you put me in that room, there will be no place you can hide from me and the hurt I am going to inflict on you when I get out of here.”

Grigorii jerked me into the hallway, hard enough to make me stumble. “You speak very crassly for someone who has such lovely features. Then again, you do have the body of a porn star, so perhaps that explains it.”

“You think of these all by yourself, or does your lovely sister write them out for you?” I said as we halfmarched, half-stumbled down the corridor, toward the sounds. Toward the screams.

Grigorii surprised me by grabbing me and slamming me into the wall, holding his long, thin fingers against my clavicle with a pressure that made my bones creak. “You don’t get to talk about my sister, you whore. Is that understood?”

I swallowed, my heart fluttering against his grip. “I’m sorry.”

“She’s a finer woman than you could ever hope to be. Don’t go opening your mouth on the subject again if you’re as smart as you seem.”

“I said I was sorry,” I told him quietly. Grigorii showed a spark of human in his eyes for the first time, but then the ice sculpture that lived in his skin came back in control and he swallowed, straightening his tie.

He stepped back, letting me go, and gestured me toward a metal door, in a row of similar metal doors that looked to be storage units for the apartments above. I heard soft sobbing from behind the closest door.

I was at the source of the screams.

“Inside,” Grigorii said.

The Russian was already half-undressed, his shirt off to showcase a powerful barrel chest.

So much for me getting a puny human to deal with. I gritted my teeth and stepped inside. “Behave,” Grigorii said before he shut the door. He dropped me a wink, and then I was alone with the were.

He stood up, undoing his belt. “You want me, yes?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Not particularly. You smell like onion soup. I hate onion soup.”

He growled, showing black fangs. In fact, all of his teeth were black. As far as were strains went, that was an unfortunate scrap of DNA. I backed up, fanning exaggeratedly in front of my face. “By all means, take this as constructive criticism, but—breath mints. They’re a wonderful invention, even in Soviet Russia or wherever the fuck we are.”

Once I got started, I didn’t stop. Usually my big mouth is a detriment, but now it just might save my ass.

The Russian grabbed a pair of handcuffs from the iron headboard of the sagging single bed and advanced on me. “I teach you respect, whore.”

“Why is that the one word all of you dumb lumps of Chernobyl-addled werewolf flesh know how to say in English?” I said. “Seriously, are you really that dumb, or is it just all of the cheap vodka rotting your brains out and making your tiny little dick so limp you can’t get it up unless you’re beating on a defenseless half-starved girl?”

I pushed myself into his personal space, staring into his eyes and baring my teeth in a show of dominance. “Is that why you still have your pants on? You’re just totally embarrassed? I don’t blame you.”

The were roared and backhanded me in the jaw. He was strong—it was like taking a hit from a compact car, and I crumpled in the corner, no acting required. A loose tooth scraped