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Chapter One
Hands reached out, ripping at her shirt, tearing at the thin fabric of her skirt, pulling it away from her struggling body. Even as she ran, she knew she was no match for the strength of those hands, or for their number for there were far more men there than she had seen before. How they had become fixated upon her, she did not know, but for now, she was in trouble and scared for her life.
She screamed, over and over as she pushed away the hands that groped at her body, hating the clammy fingers and grasping hands as they pinched and prodded at her. She was caught in a heavy grip, a faceless man, head hooded in shadows, laughed at her dilemma while she sobbed and begged for his help. Instead, he tore at the soft lace of her bra, exposing her breasts to this roomful of depraved beasts.
A collective gasp rose from the throng as the pale mounds sprang free of their captive bonds, her nipples quivering brown tips in the center of the firm flesh. His fingers pinched at one of her sensitive nipples, pulling on it as if to see how far it would stretch, hurting her further. Then she was pushed to the next man, his lips fastening around that same nipple, his tongue lapping against the sore flesh. He suckled hard upon her and she cringed away, trying desperately to break his hold.
It was so dark, the room seemed foggy and out of focus, the faces of the men around her swirling like a rainbow of lascivious lust. She was torn from one man’s arms, pulled into another, hands grabbing at her breasts, pawing at her thighs, one slipping between and she felt stubby fingers pushing at her sex, pushing inside of her. Tears of pain and humiliation streamed down her cheeks, cries of rage and terror seared her throat. She screamed NO! as loud as she could, but it only made them laugh.
Then she was lifted, held high in a pair of strong arms, against a hairy sweaty chest, taken down to a smelly mattress upon the floor. Hands reached out, grasping her ankles, pulling them roughly apart. Other hands grabbed cruelly for her wrists, pulling them above her head, holding her trapped in their inflexible grips. She was held spread eagle in front of the lusty gazes of strange men, her head rolling between her trapped arms.
He fell upon her body, his mouth finding hers, his tongue pushing past her lips and inside. It tasted like beer and stale tobacco, felt wet and slimy, like meat left out too long. His hand was between her splayed thighs, pushing against her soft flesh, rubbing and probing, hurting her even more. His eyes met hers and he brought his hand up to his mouth, spitting upon his fingers before once more shoving them inside of her.
It hurt, it burned, the pain impossible to escape as he thrust what felt like his whole hand inside of her, laughing as he made comments to his friends about how he would fuck her and teach her what a woman should be like, not the hard, cold, bitch she was.
Then she felt it against her, his cock, seeming impossibly big and hard. He moved his hand, using it to aim that rancid flesh so that she felt it rubbing against her body.
Fear, terrifying, incapacitating fear, held her motionless as he lined himself up, his hips already rocking as if he couldn’t wait to be inside her shrinking flesh. She felt as if she were trapped in her body, as if this was playing out with someone else as the main star, someone else was about to be raped by eight men, her body torn open and probably left bleeding in some back alley. It couldn’t be her, it couldn’t. This stuff only happened to other people.
He pushed into her, his cock stretching her unprepared flesh, ripping her so that her blood coated his shaft, easing his way. A shrill scream was torn from her throat, echoing in the room, drowned out by their hideous talk and raucous laughter. Words were hurled, jokes and constant urgings given. “Fuck her harder. Make her come. Show her how to be a woman.” Others just urged him to hurry, anxious for their turn upon her resisting body.
A growl split the air around her, loud and feral sounding. She could see over her attacker’s shoulder, see the faces of the men as they noticed the intruder for the very first time. They backed away slowly, some pulling up their pants, zipping and buttoning as they moved away from where she was being fucked by their friend.
He never stopped moving against her, his grunts and groans sounding loud and horrid in the now quiet room. His body was heavy on top of hers, not moving but to grind his hideous flesh into her harder no matter how she tried to push him off now that her hands were free. She reached towards his face, her fingers curved into claws, her nails primed to feel his skin digging beneath them.
But he was gone before she could, lifted off of her body and tossed across the room like a weightless rag doll, leaving her still splayed open, unable to close her thighs for the pain that throbbed between them was horrid. She stared in astonishment as screams of pain and running feet could be heard in the room, watching the men who’d tried to rape her now being abused by the hands of the stranger.
Bones snapped and crunched, jaws were broken, and not a single man was left untouched. Her rapist was left for last, to watch as the other men fell prey to the stranger. His eyes were huge and she managed to sit up, anxious to see for herself what was going to happen to him. She saw the man, his body clothed in black from the black silk shirt he wore to the black motorcycle boots on his feet, lift her rapist with one hand, holding him a few inches from the ground effortlessly.
“Eight men against one woman,” he said, his accent strange and intriguing. “Not very fair odds, sport. Perhaps I should take you out and let you meet eight of my friends. We’ll see how you like being the pawn.” He smiled darkly and her eyes flashed to his face, amazed at the handsome mien and the fact that he wasn’t even breathing heavy. It almost made her forget what had happened to her.
“No, please,” the man croaked, barely able to breath because of the strangle hold upon his throat. “I…I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”
Her rescuer smiled again, his other hand coming out to rest against the now limp piece of flesh that was still sticky with her blood. “Perhaps we should make sure of it,” he said softly, and for a moment, she swore his eyes glowed in the dimness of the room.
“NO!” her rapist screeched, struggling twice as hard now.
“Then you would prefer what is behind door number two?” he asked the struggling man, laughing softly.
“Yes, anything but that, please don’t do that.”
He smiled, the coldest grin she’d ever seen in her life, and lifted the man even higher, taking him to the doorway of the building and opening it. He left the room with the man and only then did she wonder what would happen to her now. She looked around for her clothing, seeing bits and pieces of it scattered throughout the room, but nothing that even resembled the shirt and skirt she’d been wearing when she’d come into this room, mistaking it for the bar her friend had promised to meet her in.
She had nothing to wear. She was alone, for now, in a room with the groaning of seven injured men. She had no idea what was going to happen next. It took her a moment to stand, for every move sent twinges of pain and brought notice to new injuries. But she would not meet the man who had rescued her flat on her back with her crotch bare to his eyes. She moved around the room, carefully staying out of arms reach of the men, searching for something to wear.
A jacket was draped over her shoulders, dwarfing her frame and coming down to the tops of her thighs. She turned her head, meeting amber eyes that shone with concern. “Oh,” she muttered. “I didn’t hear you come back in.”
“Put your arms in the sleeves,” he said, that accent making her heart beat faster. He reached down, zipping the front of the jacket up as if she were a child. She shivered as the back of his fingers touched her skin. “There now, that’s better, isn’t it?”
She nodded inanely, unable to stop looking at him. He was perfect, tall, dark and tasty, with those strange amber eyes that seemed to slant up at the edges like a cat’s. Perhaps it seemed strange to feel a spurt of lust at the sight of a handsome face after what she’d just been through, but it was there all the same, tingling in her belly and making her wonder if she’d gone insane.
“Will you come with me?” he asked, using just the tip of one finger under her chin to raise her face to his.
She nodded, feeling almost as if she were under some kind of spell. Then she shook herself. “Where?” she asked.
“I want to take you someplace safe and away from here. This area of the city has a lot of bad people in it, as you found out,” he stroked her cheek with his finger, gently calming her fears with his soft touch.
“M…My purse,” she whispered. “It’s here somewhere.”
“You’re bleeding,” he said, as softly. “Sit down, I’ll find your purse.”
She could feel the blood sliding down her thighs from where that foul man had ripped her. Walking was agony and she made her way slowly to one of the chairs that had been knocked over in the ruckus. But once more he was there before her, reaching down and picking up the chair, straightening it and then holding her hand to help her sit. Sit she did, but gingerly, for every move was painful.
“What’s your name?” she asked him, stopping him from moving away from her in his search for her things.
“Lukah,” he said. “Lukah Alexandros.”
The name sounded as foreign as his accent and made her long to ask more questions but she could sense a strange urgency about him as if he wanted to be away from this place. Truthfully, she did too, for it would haunt her nightmares for many nights to come.
“My name is Marissa Spencer,” she said, before letting go of his hand. “Thank you for being here.” And then, to her utmost horror, she burst into tears.
He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands coming gently around her. Marissa felt the smooth silk of his shirt against her cheek, the heat of him surrounding her. She could smell his scent, something woodsy and almost wild smelling, mixed with the scent of male that had mixed signals going to her brain. She’d been raped, violated in a way most foul and here she was, lusting after a man only minutes later. Was she a slut like those men had said?
His body was hard, muscled and sleek and he held her until her sobs subsided, his hands stroking over the length of her red hair, untangling the curls with his fingers. He soothed and calmed her, crooning soft words in a tone that was almost a purr. She finally looked up at him with damp eyes the color of soft heather. “Thank you,” Marissa whispered, rubbing her hands over her face as he let go of her.
“Are you all right for a few minutes?” he asked her gently, waiting for her nod before he rose and started around the room again, finally coming back to her with her small brown leather purse in his hands. “Your clothes are gone,” he said, his voice sounding apologetic, as if it were his fault that those men had pawed her and raped her.
She could do nothing but nod, pain and fatigue wearing her down. She tried to stand but her legs gave out from under her, embarrassing her. With little effort, Lukah lifted her in his arms, turning and striding out of the building. The night air was tinged with the lightening of dawn as he took her towards his car, opening the passenger side and sliding her onto the soft, supple leather seat.
He hurried around to the other side, sliding in and gunning the engine, taking off with a squeal of tires as Marissa gasped and grabbed for the door handle. He sped through the city streets that were mostly deserted at this time of night, finally turning down a roadway that led into a multitude of subdivisions and entering one that was richer than most. He hadn’t said a word in the car, seeming to concentrate upon his driving instead of speaking.
Lukah pulled the car into a small driveway that led to a huge gate, hitting a button on the dash of his car. She couldn’t help but be impressed as the gates parted way, letting him drive through before closing behind him.
“Where are we?” she said softly, looking around at the landscaped gardens and the small lake. “Is this like a private park or something?”
Lukah laughed, turning his head to look down at her. “No, it’s my home. I thought maybe you’d like to be somewhere you wouldn’t have to worry about being safe.”
Marissa felt her stomach turn cold. “You brought me to your house,” she said softly and slowly, trying to understand what he had meant.
“Oh God, no, Marissa, I didn’t mean anything like that.” He reached out and touched her hand cautiously. “I have a huge house and you’re more than welcome to any room there. We can call the police if you want to report the crime, but I don’t think those guys would think of coming within a mile of you now.”
She felt the gentleness of his hand and saw the look in his eyes. He wouldn’t hurt her; she knew it like she knew her own name. “Okay, for tonight,” she said, her mouth opening wide as a yawn surprised her. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she covered her mouth with her hand just in time because he drove up to his house, a huge mansion with a four car garage. He drove the car inside, parking it next to cars she had never seen outside of adventure movies.
Marissa tried to get the car door opened, cringing as the pain in her body reminded her of the trauma she’d just suffered. Lukah was there quickly, opening the door and lifting her out, making her feel tiny and weightless in his arms. It wasn’t a scary feeling, no matter the manhandling she’d gotten but one that was reassuring.
He opened the door from the garage that lead to a kitchen huge enough to cook for an army. It was spotless and gleaming, dark slate counters and cherry colored cabinets with stainless steel appliances and terracotta floors. Even the sinks were gleaming and she doubted there were enough crumbs around to feed an anorexic mouse.
“You live here alone?” Marissa asked, taking in the luxurious furnishing of the rooms he passed through.
“Me and my aid, though he won’t be around until later in the day. I tend to be a night owl and sleep most of the morning away,” he admitted sheepishly. “Occasionally I have family show up and it’s always nice to have a place for them to stay while they are in town.” He stopped in a room done in reds and grays, a huge micro suede sofa taking up one side. Slowly, trying not to hurt her, he settled her onto it.
“Oh, no, I’ll stain it,” she cried, trying to lever herself up but the bruised muscles in her thighs screamed in pain.
“Don’t worry, it will come clean. But maybe we should take you to the emergency room,” he said quietly, reaching behind her to drag the throw from the back of the couch. He laid it across her lap, hiding a delectable pair of legs that he’d been trying not to stare at since he’d met her. They were long and slim, leanly muscled with slender thighs that had his libido singing, despite the fact that he’d rescued her from that gang of men.
He hadn’t been able to believe it, hearing her cry and walking into that room. Those men had been gathered around her, their hands busily stroking their cocks while another man grunted over her. He’d seen her eyes, the shock and horror in the depths of them, the blackness of her pupils against the purple-gray irises, and hadn’t been able to turn away. This wasn’t his gig, saving women. At least not saving human women, he tended to run with his own kind and Marissa Spencer was definitely not of that class.
She had a fine boned beauty that was startling, even with her mascara running across her cheeks and the red welt of a hand print on her face. That print had him wanting to snarl, to go back to that room and finish off those men in the way of his people, a way he would find most satisfying. Instead, he took a deep breath, leaning over to brush her hair from her face. “Would you like to go to the emergency room?”
“No, no hospital or doctors, they’d want to call the cops.” She shook her head, wishing she could start the entire day over.
“How about a shower then, if you don’t want to report them? I’ll find you something to put on afterwards,” he said, lifting her in his arms again. He started towards the stairs, tucking the blanket in around her. “Maybe a bath would be better,” he said. “You could use the tub in my bathroom if you’d like,” he offered, reaching the top of the stairs, not even the tiniest bit out of breath.
“If you’re sure I won’t be putting you out…” she said, hesitating.
“Nope.” Lukah walked down a long hall past a number of closed doors and then opened one at the end of the hallway. He stepped into a room that was built for luxury, done in a male fashion with dark colors and sleek fabrics. A bed that seemed the size of a small lake sat in the middle of the room on a raised dais. It was covered with a dark comforter of what looked like suede in stripes of different shades of blues. Heavy oak bedroom furniture was situated around the room on a carpet of creamy white. Expensive water colors were on the walls and one wall was covered with dark drapes, gauzy white sheers showing in between.
Lukah moved through the room, opening a door off the far wall and stepping into the bathroom. If the bedroom shouted luxury, the bathroom screamed decadence. Navy tile was on the floor and on the surround of the tub, candle holders held scented candles built into the surround, the bath tub was huge and deep, curved softly to fit the body. A huge steam shower with four heads took up one whole end, French doors led onto a small balcony that was full of potted plants.
He set her down gently, going to the tub and turning on the water and carefully checking the temperature. “I’ll go find you something to wear, unless you need my help to get in?” At the shake of her head, he smiled gently. “Take your time, there’s bubble bath on the side and the switch for the jets is right over there,” he said, pointing at the small toggle switch next to the waterfall faucet.
He turned to leave only to feel her hand grab his. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Not just for rescuing me but… for everything,” she added, suddenly feeling shy.
“It was my pleasure, Marissa. Do not worry. You are safe here.” He smiled down at her and she felt her breath seem to catch in her throat. He squeezed her hand softly before letting hers go and leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind him with a soft click of the latch.
Marissa stood slowly, unwrapping the blanket and then unzipping his jacket. She slowly shrugged it off, feeling her muscles protest every move as she walked over to the huge mirror that hung above the long counter top.
Her gasp was audible, her hand coming up to touch her swollen and bruised lips as she stared at the mess reflected in the mirror. Her hair was mussed, tangled from the hands grasping and pulling at it, her face was red, her eye bruised from where she’d been slapped. Little bruises could be seen over the length of her pale skin from where their fingers had grabbed and groped at her mercilessly.
Marissa could see the blood drying on her thighs, the scratches and bruises from their hands and the bite marks that were on her shoulders and breasts. “Oh God,” she whimpered quietly. It hit her suddenly and hard. She’d been raped. She could have been killed. Even now she could still feel their hands and lips on her body, and worse, she could feel him, his cock still thrusting so painfully inside of her.
With a cry that she stifled by pushing her fist into her mouth, she hurried as fast as her battered body would handle and went to the tub, sitting gingerly on the edge and slipping her legs into the water. She grabbed the bubble bath, pouring a liberal amount into the water before sliding into the tub.
Heat soaked into her skin and into her muscles but it wasn’t enough. She felt dirty, violated in the worst way a woman could be. Grabbing the soap that she found in the small dish set on the side of the tub, she rubbed it into a heavy lather, scrubbing at her body until her skin was red and sore. She managed to stand, lifting her leg so that it rested against the side of the tub, opening her body up.
With hands that shook, she used the soap on her woman’s flesh, scrubbing gently at her sex, ridding it of the traces of blood and traces of him, of her rapist. She rinsed and then scrubbed again, gasping as her fingers found abraded flesh in the tender mound.
When she was finished, when she finally felt the tiniest bit cleaner, she sat in the tub, her head bent forward, arms wrapped around her knees. The tears fell, silent drops that splashed into the water, quiet sobs shaking her slender shoulders. She cried until the water grew cold and her head hurt, finally getting up and forcing herself out of the tub and into one of the thick fluffy towels Lukah had set out for her.
It was huge, wrapping around her almost twice and she savored the softness of it against her bruised skin. Sitting on the counter, she found his brush and used it to pull the tangles out of her damp curls.
Marissa sat the brush down when her hair was silky soft and tangle free, staring at the closed door of the bathroom. He’d said he was going to bring her some clothing to put on, hadn’t he? She went to the door, pressing her ear to the sturdy wooden portal and listening intently.
Silence greeted her. If he was in there, he was being awfully quiet about it. Why was she so worried about him seeing her in a towel anyway, when he’d seen her trapped beneath that bastard, his body slamming into hers? She sighed, reaching for the door handle and turning it quietly.
The bedroom was empty, a small stack of clothing sitting on top of the huge bed. She hurried over to it as fast as her bruised and sore body would let her, picking up the soft sweat shirt and pulling it on before dropping the towel.
The shirt was as huge on her as the jacket had been, covering her from her neck to the top of her thighs. It was soft, smelling of fabric softener and warm. Pulling on the sweat pants, she tied them securely around her slender waist, laughing as they hung on her. She rolled up the bottoms and then sat on the bed and pulled on the thick socks he’d left for her, feeling infinitely better now that she was dressed.
The towel was hung on the towel bar to dry and she picked up his jacket and the throw, folding both and laying them over the edge of his bed. Then with a determined stride, she headed toward the door, opening it and heading down the long corridor and then down the stairs.
The house seemed too quiet, almost as if she were completely alone. Marissa stared around at the different rooms she could see from the stairway, finally deciding to try the kitchen to look for Lukah.
Two steps into the living room, a low growl stopped her in her tracks. It was loud and menacing, a feral sound that had the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.
“Hello?” she whispered
It came again, that low growl, louder still and she whirled in her tracks, a small shriek escaping from between her lips before she could slap her hand over her mouth. Standing in front of her was a big black cat. It was way too big to be a domestic house cat, too powerful and black to be anything but what it was, a panther.
It strolled toward her as if it had all the time in the world, its black coat shining in the light coming from the windows, its eyes gleaming a strange amber. There was a look in those eyes that was terrifying, one of intelligence and hatred as it stared at her.
Marissa couldn’t take her eyes off the beast, her heart pounding in her throat, fear depriving her of what little strength she had. She’d survived rape and now she was going to be eaten by a panther. Could this day get any worse? Taking one tiny step backward, and then another, she tried to put some distance between herself and the big cat.
It crouched, its long black tail flicking ominously, its big padded paws looking incredibly large with sharp talon like claws that it seemed to delight in digging into the thick carpeting, almost as if it were trying to frighten her.
With a sudden roar, it pounced!
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