The Dark Man sat back, hooking his device into the yellowish ropes of matter clinging to bone, and extracted whatever he was after. The Dark Man waited as it hummed, eyeing his female captives, until it beeped at him. He depressed a button so the device spat out the used bit of pink tissue, then flicked his wrist to bring out a glass ampule filled with pale liquid. He set this in his pack and reloaded his device with an empty vial. When he stood up again, the Dark Man’s eyes came to rest on Fat Joey.

He shook his head hard, trying to project his sincerity, his fucking reason, to this Devil in a black coat, but even if he hadn’t been bound, he couldn’t have run. His whole body felt like the bones had dropped out of it. He felt like he was dead already.

The Dark Man came for him, smiling that half-sided, easy-going smile. He hunkered down and extended that awful clawed hand, punching through Fat Joey’s gag with a tolerant air.

“I never touched her,” Fat Joey said, the words tumbling out as though sprayed from a hose. “I never touched her, not once, I never did.”

The Dark Man was nodding, and Fat Joey felt hope, thin and fragile, trying to find a gripping place in his heart. “I know you didn’t,” the Dark Man said, and suddenly showed his sharp teeth in a demon’s smile. “That just means I kill you fast.”

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Chapter Seventeen

Raven sat on the edge of a booth table, her legs dangling off the floor and hands clasped between her tightly-together knees. She kept catching her reflection in the window and it bothered her. She looked like a delinquent child outside the principal’s office, one that had finally had all the rebellion scared out of her.

She was watching Kane work his little lab. He’d filled his fourth ampule and stopped there, with four bikers and the women still to go. Of the women, he’d killed only one outright, the one Raven’d had to go down on, tasting sour sex and curdled cum and the reeking meat of her until she thought she’d pass out and die. Now the woman was dead, piled with the others behind the bar.

Twice, someone new had come to the bar. Both times, Kane had watched them through the window, and then showed them his gun when they opened the door and ordered them to lie down. Both times, the bikers had tried to reach for weapons and had their head air-conditioned for their trouble. They were also behind the bar.

The sun was going down. Raven watched the sky change color through the grimy window over Kane’s broad shoulders. She tried not to see her reflection in the glass. It was getting harder and harder to recognize herself. Better to look at Kane.

He had glanced back at her now three times and finally he said, “This is going to take a while. Come and blow me and then get some sleep.”

Raven slid off the table, looking over the captive women as she passed them. Kane noticed the path of her eyes and chuckled, putting his tools aside and turning in his chair to open his thighs to her.

“I’m going to scan them,” he said dryly. “But I won’t hold my breath while I do. If one of them is clean—” He snorted to show the likelihood of this. “—or can be cleaned, I can let you rest for what remains of your…” He sought the word, scowling.

“Period,” she supplied, still unsure.

“But if they all have to die…” He shrugged. “Your mouth is almost as good as a fuck. Better in some ways.”

“You’re not—” She tried to clamp down on the rest of that, but he looked at her sharply and she reluctantly finished. “Not going to replace me?”

“Replace you,” he stated, and cracked a thin smile while she hunted for a way to translate that. “Why would I do that? I just got you the way I want you.” He trailed his eyes with relish down her naked breasts to her skirt, glanced dismissively at the other women, and then back at her, sliding one hand up her thigh to hook a claw through her clit ring and tug lightly. “If I could wait…what? Five days?”

“Four or five.”

“Then I would.” He tugged again, then released her and rubbed one palm restlessly over the taut bulge his clothes restrained. “But I’m not going to wait if I don’t have to. Not if I can throw a fuck into one of these ichuta’an until I can have you again. And have you the way you are.” He cupped her sex again, hungrily staring as though he could see right through her skirt to her pussy and admire it, ringed all around with steel. “The way you are,” he murmured. “The way I made you.”

She smiled hesitantly and let him draw her a little closer, holding very still as he moved his hand with his lethal claws over and around the folds of her pussy. Relief and gratitude, spiced by new confidence in her position as still belonging to him, made her close her eyes, even rock a little with his movements. She brushed one hand over her breasts, her nipples permanently hardened by steel, and sighed.

“That’s enough,” he growled, but he sounded as if he might be smiling.

He gave her a gentle tug and she went to her knees, carefully avoiding the sticky puddles of blood around his chair. He was smiling, she saw, showing his fangs as he played with the tips of her hair and watched her unfasten his pants. She lubed him with her tongue, licking and rubbing to work the moisture in, and felt him swelling even more in her grip. She’d had so many dicks in her mouth today, it was privately a little amazing to her that she could work up anything like enthusiasm for this, but there was nothing in the world so arousing as kneeling in a bloodbath and hearing the killer say that you were special and still worth keeping.

“Go a little slower,” he murmured. His hand came up to lie heavy on her head. “I want to feel what you can do.”

Raven was marginally unnerved by this deviation from the norm, but cautiously jubilant at the same time. She could give damned good head, although she’d gotten used to the way he seemed to like, rough and fast. She began to tongue lightly at his glans and stroking down the shaft to massage at the place his balls would be if he were human, unsure whether this were what he meant or not. She could never quite relax when he wasn’t hurting her. Not that she liked pain, although she’d put up with it in the past if the ends were lucrative enough. No, it wasn’t that she wanted to be hurt, it was just that she knew where she stood when Kane hit her. When he didn’t, it was nerve-wracking—was she doing something right, or was he just ignoring her?

Raven began to throat him, hesitant at first as she took his girth, but she’d long ago learned the trick of suppressing her gag reflex and so even if she couldn’t take him all right away, she could take a lot. She made swallowing motions, squeezing his thick base and he put his head back and groaned, flexing his powerful thighs around her ribs.

She released him, nipping at the head of his dick before bending over him, lapping at the sweat pouring down his chest and stomach as she massaged his cock.

“Do that again,” he hissed. “With your throat.”

She swallowed him obediently, gulping around his shaft as she squeezed and pulled at the base. She was rewarded with a raspy “Haaaah” of pleasure from Kane, who kneaded at her hair with his careful claws.

Raven could hear, beyond the wet sounds of her work and Kane’s grunting growls of pleasure, the quiet sobbing cries of captives muzzled by duct tape. She pulled back to look over her shoulder, rubbing her fist up and down with one hand while tracing the alphabet on his glans with the thumbnail of her other. She tried to find it in her to be sorry for them, but felt only a shivering relief in the knowledge that she would be saved.

The two hookers were facing each other, both weeping, pressing their bound hands together in a captive’s embrace. The biker chicks, by contrast, were staring back at her—the redhead wide-eyed and pale with shock, the blonde with narrow concentration, as though studying for a test.