New Olympus Saga (Book 2): Doomsday Duet by C.J. Carella

Author:C.J. Carella [Carella, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fey Dreams Productions, LLC
Published: 2014-06-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The Twisted Twosome

New York, New York, March 17, 2013

The Russian ran full-tilt for the exit, but Kestrel caught up with him in two leaps. She grabbed him by the hair and casually threw him face-first into a wall. His squeals of pain made her smile. Just the way I like it, she thought, chasing down new toys and playing with them. Her mind delivered a brief flashback: herself, lying face down on cold concrete, the smell of her own flesh burning in her nostrils while she screamed in agony. Her smile wavered for a second. It was going to take a while before those images faded away, but they would. She knew all about old nightmares and how time would smooth their rough edges off. Time, and doing unto others the things done unto her.

“Where are you going, little Russian boy?” she asked her new toy. He was crumpled against the wall, blood and drool dribbling down his chin. He coughed and spat out a couple of broken teeth His eyes weren’t focusing, half-blind with terror. Kestrel couldn’t blame him; what she’d just done to his buddies had been a bit much, even for her tastes. Unfortunately for them, she had some pent-up rage she needed to work out. And unfortunately for this little Russian boy, she wasn’t quite done working it out. She grabbed him by the throat with one hand, grasped one of his ears with the other, and started twisting it off, taking her time. If you did it too quickly the pain wouldn’t be too bad; shock would mute much of it. A slow twist really ramped things up, the gradually increasing agony and the knowledge of what was about to happen would maximize the torment until it skin and cartilage finally ripped and...

“Kestrel, stop it.”

Kyle’s voice cut through her joy and drowned it in shame. She knew she’d been bad and she needed to be punished. “Sorry, lover,” she purred, and let go of the Russian, who collapsed back to the ground, rubbing his ear as if trying to reassure himself it was still there.

“Take it easy, K,” Kyle said as he stepped closer behind her. He looked pale; he must have looked in the other room and seen her handiwork. His fingers reached behind her neck and rubbed her skin; she closed her eyes and shivered. A few moments later, his grip shifted, became a fist around a handful of her hair, and he brutally yanked her head back, forcing a moan through her lips. “We’re not here to play,” he hissed, but the slight tremor in his voice belied his words.

Kyle had seen what Melanie had done to the three Russians in the other room. It’d been too much. Nobody deserved to go like that. He’d kept her under control for a good while, but she was slipping back into her old habits. What could he do, though? He hated how much he liked her, but he loved the way she made

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