Damnable Grace
Page 80

What have I done?
I looked around the room. There was nothing but an old table and chair in the center. Then I thought of the man’s order. He wants her in Building Two . . .
He . . . Meister.
On my hands and knees, I crawled into the corner of the room. I curled against the wall and tried to picture Grace. What were they doing to her? What would they do to her?
Meister. He had coveted her in New Zion. And I had just delivered her to him on a silver platter.
I chased back the vomit creeping up my throat. Lilah . . . she would never forgive me for this.
What have you done, Phebe?
The sound of the knob turning in the door made me freeze. I held still, my heart beating a frantic rhythm. I kept my eyes fixed on the door . . . then lost all strength when Meister walked though. He was just as big as I remembered. He looked at me across the room, his blue eyes meeting mine, and a wave of memories rushed to my mind. I remembered being chained to a bed . . . I remembered being kept naked, only given clothes when he claimed I had earned it.
I choked on a cry when I remembered being in a bar of some sort. On Meister’s lap, riding Meister in a room full of people . . . then I turned . . . I turned and . . .
. . . AK?
Kind eyes.
The tree . . .
. . . my AK.
The soles of Meister’s black boots stepped toward me on the hard ground. My muscles trembled as he stopped before me. I heard every breath I took echoing in my ears. I felt the pulse in my neck, temple and wrists race in an unsteady beat.
He bent down. I closed my eyes, yet I still felt his gaze on me. I felt the daggers his eyes threw and the tension he held in his enormous body. I flinched when a finger landed on my face. My nostrils flared as I desperately tried to control my breathing. I wanted to throw his hand from me, I wanted to lash out and hurt him.
But fear held me ransom.
“Where have you been, my little whore?” his deep, rough voice asked. I froze, my tears falling down my cheeks. A short laugh spilled from his lips. “But I know, don’t I, Liebchen?” His hand left my cheek and pushed into my hair. Suddenly, my head was ripped back and I felt his breath on my face. “Open your fucking eyes, slut,” he demanded. I automatically did as he said, and my gaze clashed with his.
My stomach fell. He was seething. The skin on his face was red, and his muscles were strained. His teeth were bared, and veins bulged from his neck. He yanked my hair back again, and I cried out. “You were with one of them, weren’t you, whore? Fucking them, fucking their cocks like the cult cum-slut that you are.”
Meister reached down and slammed his hand between my legs. I screamed, unable to hold back my reaction when he dug his fingers into my folds, ripping at the flesh.
Meister’s rough, unshaven cheek rubbed against mine, burning my skin. “After everything I gave you. After saving you from dying along with all the other dumbfucks at that cult, this is how you repay me?”
Shaking and fearful, I managed to open my mouth and ask, “What have you done with her?”
Meister’s head drew back, and he smiled. “You mean the little eight-year-old pussy you brought me as a gift? The one I’d wanted in the cult from the minute I saw her?” His malicious smile caused my skin to shiver. “Nothing. She is safe. A girl as pretty as her, untouched and a virgin, is going to make me fucking fortune.” He pulled me closer by my hair. “That gift almost . . . almost makes up for your disobedience. You’re a good little whore-fisher, Phebe. Bringing me only the top-quality bait for my buyers. I should have you on staff. We’d make a fortune putting your skills to use.”
My eyes closed, ignoring his taunts, relieved that Grace would remain unharmed for now. “Open your motherfucking eyes!” Meister snarled. He jumped to his feet, pulling me to stand. My scalp felt on fire as I struggled to escape his hold, the pain that was shooting down my spine. I was slammed against the wall, my lungs losing air at the impact. Meister’s huge body pressed against mine. He lifted my dress and, ripping my panties in two, thrust his fingers inside. I screamed.
“What’s wrong?” His lips ran over my cheek, a dark contrast to his hands scraping and stabbing within my channel. “Did he not take you like this? The sniper? Xavier?” I froze, my eyes colliding with his in shock. “Xavier Charles Deyes. Plano, Texas. Scout Sniper, Marines. Sergeant-at-arms for the Hades Hangmen.” He smiled wider, then licked over my lips. “I know everything about him. I know his brother killed his wife. I know he has a nephew who’s still alive, lives with his Aunt Claire and Uncle Tom.” He nodded his head in approval. “Good-looking kid. I went to his school and made sure it was really him. Zane’s his name. He kept Deyes as his surname, even though daddy-dearest went postal and hacked up his mother on the kitchen floor.” He sighed. “I’ve got to make sure I target the right people, Phebe. This war shit ain’t no horseplay.”
My eyes widened in horror. Meister looked affronted. “What? You thought I’d just let them get away with taking my girl?” He shrugged. He brought his fingers out of my channel, leaving the tips resting at the entrance. “Shame you came back so soon though. It was unexpected.” I searched his eyes. What did he mean by that? “I’d just bought three barrels of cesium. I was in the middle of making a dirty bomb, real potent shit. I was going to watch that Hangmen compound burn to the fucking ground, a smile on my face, with all those bastards inside.” He shook his head in mock-disappointment. “All their sluts and kids too. The bastards deserve it. I did some digging on that MC. It used to be an all-white crew; they had a no-blacks rule. Did shit right. But now they have a black-and-white mutt riding beside them. The Hades Hangmen, just another fucking letdown to the white race.”
“You are insane,” I whispered, thankful that he did not get to go through with his plan. Lilah . . . Grace . . . AK . . . all their family. The children.
Meister froze, then rolled his head my way. “Insane? No. I’m in a fucking war, a war I’m going to win.” He forced his fingers back inside me, so roughly I knew he would have drawn blood. “And you were going to be my woman. The one beside me when the Brotherhood and Klan unite and take back what is rightfully ours.”
He leaned in until his mouth was at my ear. “So I had to get a replacement. I need a whore, after all. I’m fucking Meister. I needed a good little Aryan princess on my arm . . . and on my cock. Meine Liebchen.”