Death Row: The Hunter Read online

  If I were a wench traveling by foot without a Master, which way would I go?

  His eyes narrowed in concentration as he considered the options. Cavern 1 led to the north-east, Cavern 2 to…

  His body stilled. Adrenaline coursed through his blood. There could be but one path.

  The path less traveled by…

  Kerick walked slowly toward Cavern 7, the route that led into the deepest part of the Earth’s belly. He stopped when he reached it, his eyes flicking over a stone sign with Spanish writing carved into it.

  AVISO: ZONA PELIGROSA. WARNING: HAZARDOUS ZONE.

  Squatting down on his thighs and using his torch to shed light on the dirt ground, Kerick’s steel gray eyes methodically studied the packed mud of the cavern’s floor. His gaze narrowed in concentration as he searched for clues that would tell him whether or not Nellie had traveled down this route—foot impressions, fibers from body décor—anything would give him the answer he sought.

  “I’m going to find you, Nellie Kan,” Kerick murmured, his eyes scanning the ground with the efficiency and detail of a hawk’s. “One way or another you will be—”

  His words came to an abrupt halt when the light from the torch hit upon…something. He reached toward the object, carefully picking it up between his thumb and forefinger.

  Hair, he thought, his body stilling. He had found three strands of dark red hair.

  Kerick’s jaw clenched in resolve. He had been led a merry chase, but the hour of Nellie’s mastering was within his grasp once again.

  His gaze flicked down the long, wide corridor of Cavern 7. “One way or another, you will be mine,” he murmured.

  * * * * *

  “Cyrus 12?” Nellie whispered. She swallowed roughly as her eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness. The torch had gone out at least fifteen minutes ago, the light from the wick having been snuffed out during the small avalanche she’d managed to survive. Now she understood why Cavern 7 was considered a hazardous zone. She just prayed to Cyrus that her droid had managed to survive the impact, for it had been her droid who had shielded her from the falling rocks.

  Nellie bit her lip. She would never forgive herself if Cyrus 12 had been crushed beyond repair. The droid was a machine, true, but she was also the scientist’s faithful companion. “Cyrus 12?” she asked again, her voice a bit shaky.

  She knew that they had fallen into some manner of antechamber, but hadn’t a yen as to what it was or where it could possibly lead to. If only she could find a way to ignite another torch—

  Nellie’s heart all but stopped when three men bearing torches entered the antechamber. The trio looked to be brothers, for all of them were possessed of the same blonde hair, lanky build, and scratchy body décor. She tried to shield herself, tried to duck behind a boulder before they saw her, but she didn’t move quickly enough. They came to an abrupt halt the minute they spotted her, their faces shocked. And then their expressions changed…

  Her cat-like green eyes widened in alarm, recognizing those expressions for what they were.

  Lust. Gluttony. Malicious intent.

  She swallowed again, her heart rate soaring. Without Cyrus 12’s protection, Nellie realized she would never escape this antechamber without being raped.

  Or worse yet, raped and claimed.

  “Well lookie at what we got here, amigos,” the tallest one said on a chuckle. His grin widened, showcasing his rotted teeth. “And here I thought we was just gonna find us some more flint today. Looks like we’re gettin’ us a cunt instead.”

  Nellie gulped. Her gaze darted nervously about the dimly lit antechamber as she tried to find a method for escape. And a weapon to defend herself with.

  “Sweet Cyrus, but ain’t she pretty!” the youngest one said excitedly. “We’re gonna have us the hottest pussy in the Underground!”

  “Not so fast,” the third man said warningly. He was shorter than the other two, but the gruffest looking of the bunch. This was obviously the trio’s leader. “We gotta get her pregnant before we take her back to the tribe, otherwise everybody will wanna poke her. Nester,” he said conversationally, as if Nellie wasn’t standing there listening to all this, “go build us a fire. We’re gonna be here a while. Zeb, you help me corner the wench.”

  Nellie closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself. The thought of being mounted and continuously impaled by these three disgusting males was enough to induce vomiting. She had to find a way out! she thought hysterically. Sweet Cyrus, please…

  “Come here, little wench,” the tallest one said quietly, holding out his hand to her. He made kissing sounds with his lips, as if calling to a dog.

  Her nostrils flared at the insult. Obviously he’d never been around many females. She scurried back, yelping when she accidentally hit her head on a boulder behind her.

  Now she did sound like a dog, she thought grimly.

  “Look at them big breasts,” the tallest one—Zeb—said in awe. “Holy kong, she must be biosphere bred.”

  Nellie’s heart rate picked up, thumping against her chest. She took off, madly dashing away as fast as her feet could carry her. “Help me! Somebody help me!” she cried out as she ran between boulders.

  She was tackled a few seconds later, inducing her to scream. Two sets of meaty hands dragged her to the ground, simultaneously covering her mouth. She gasped when her stomach hit the rough earthen floor, the wind knocked out of her on impact.

  By the time she could breathe again, it was too late. Nellie closed her eyes and softly cried while the two men tore at her tattered body décor.

  Chapter 22

  It had taken the trio of Outlaws less than a minute to discard her body décor. It had taken them less than five additional minutes to gag her and then subdue her flailing body.

  Staked out spread-eagle on the ground, her arms pinioned above her head and her ankles tied to her thighs and bolted to the ground so she couldn’t straighten out her legs, Nellie could only lie there and watch as the two males stared at her exposed cunt.

  She flinched when one of the males grabbed his own erection and squeezed it, his meaty hand pressing against the rough wool of his trouser-like body décor. She tried to scream, but the gag made it impossible.

  “Where the kong is Nester?” Zeb asked, his voice incredulous. “I’m gonna fuck her without him if he don’t hurry.”

  The leader of the brothers looked around the antechamber and sighed. “Don’t know. I’ll go find him.” He turned to Zeb and, in a lightning-fast motion, wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in close. “If you fuck her before I do, I’ll kill you. Y’hear me, boy?”

  Zeb nodded between gurgling sounds. The leader released him. “I’ll be right back.”

  Nellie closed her eyes briefly, thankful for the small reprieve. She tried to calm down, for she knew her labored breathing was causing her large breasts to heave up and down, which was only serving to snag Zeb’s undivided attention. Attention she most certainly didn’t want.

  The brothers were truly the ugliest males she’d ever laid eyes on. But it was more than the ugliness, more even than the rotted teeth and oniony breath, that had all of her senses on full alert. It was that bizarre gleam that haunted their eyes…

  They had been infected, she knew. The disease was only in the beginning stages, but there was no guessing how long it would take before they turned. She could only hope that she managed to escape them before it happened.

  Otherwise, today’s rape victim would be tomorrow’s dinner. And then there would be no serum. She chilled at both thoughts.

  Ten minutes later, Zeb was pacing the antechamber floor, clearly torn between following orders by waiting on his eldest brother to return, and using Nellie before the brother did make his reappearance. He was growing more and more anxious and agitated as each second ticked by, a state of chaos that was making Nellie more nervous as well.

  It was getting chilly inside of the antechamber, inducing Nellie’s nipples to harden. She could feel cold a
ir hitting her pussy, which was quickly making her all the colder. She wanted to ask for an animal fur, but the gag prevented her from doing so. She couldn’t even motion with her hands or legs that she needed to ask a question because she had been well secured to the dirt ground.

  Finally, Zeb stopped his pacing. He turned his head toward Nellie, his hands on his hips. “I’m gonna go find my brothers. Don’t even think about gettin’ away, wench. Horan would kill you. He ain’t right in the head sometimes.”

  Which meant the eldest brother’s devolution was growing more acute than the others’.

  “I’ll be right back.” Zeb reached down and pinched her nipples, making her flinch. “Then I’m gonna suck on these babies all night.” With that he stood up and stalked from the antechamber.

  Nellie laid there, cold and shivering, for what felt like hours. Perversely, her mind often wandered back to her first captor, a grim reminder that if she had to be held against her will by a male, at least she would have been detained by an attractive one not showing signs of devolution had she not fled from him.

  But that didn’t matter. And, she reminded herself, she wanted to be captured by no man. What she wanted was to escape.

  Think, Nellie! Think!

  Nellie began to systematically check the binds for weaknesses. She struggled against the hemp ropes, hoping to tatter them against the nails the brothers had used to stake the bindings into the ground.

  But by Kalast, it was no use. The harder she struggled, the tighter the binds became.

  She cried quietly from behind the gag, praying for help.

  Just then she saw the shadow of a large male appear against the far wall of the antechamber. He was carrying a torch—

  Nellie blinked. He was carrying a torch and he was…hooded.

  Sweet Cyrus. Could that be—

  No. No, it wasn’t possible.

  Nellie’s cat-like green eyes widened as she watched the male slowly walk towards her. It felt like it took forever before he finally came to a standstill before her splayed out body, but when he did, he at last lowered the black hood…

  Kerick.

  Nellie gulped from behind the gag as she watched those intense, familiar eyes trail up and down her naked body. He looked at her with lust, with need—with anger.

  “I told you once that you could never escape me, Nellie Kan.” His words were rumbled out in that dark, forbidding voice of his. The voice that said she had reached the end of the line and that she would belong to him until the day she died.

  That explained what had become of the brothers. He had picked them off one by one, systematically hunting them down like prey. That way there had been no screams.

  She swallowed nervously.

  Kerick’s steel gray eyes flicked up from her cunt to her face. His jaw was clenched, his muscles visibly corded. “One thing I am not, wench, is a liar.”

  Chapter 23

  Nellie screamed from behind the gag, her body thrashing madly against the binds to no avail. Kerick made no move to stop her, just stood over her like a grim guardian and stoically watched as she wore herself out. He had removed his cloak several minutes ago, and now wore nothing save the black woolen pants that were molded to his muscled lower body like a second skin.

  By the time she calmed down and quit fighting, she was exhausted. The fact that she was having difficulty breathing was visible by the dramatic heaving of her breasts. Kerick came down on one thigh beside her, a callused palm running over her belly. “I’m removing the gag that you might catch your breath,” he murmured. “I’d advise you not to scream.” One eyebrow rose slightly. “Unless you desire to watch me kill any male who might enter this antechamber.”

  Her body stilled. She hesitated, then shook her head no.

  “Good girl.”

  His muscled arms reached up, the roped veins there bulging as he worked at the knot behind her neck. The familiar scent of him reached her nostrils—a clean but masculine aroma that was both oddly comforting and understandably frightening.

  Comforting because it was familiar. Frightening because she had no idea how roughly he would handle her.

  Given the circumstances, given the fact that to him she was but an escaped piece of sexual chattel he’d managed to recapture, she expected that his anger was bound to manifest itself and that a great deal of pain would be forthcoming. Masters in general were not known for their kindness. The reputation of Underworld Masters didn’t even bear dwelling upon.

  Would he beat her? Nellie nervously wondered as the gag came off and she was able to suck in a deep breath of air. Would he use her roughly, then pass her around to others to do the same with?

  She closed her eyes briefly to steady herself, her thoughts tracking back to her sire and some of the severe punishments he had handed out to each of his five wives over the years. At some point or another he had beaten them all within an inch of their lives—some were whipped, some caned. He’d even infected one…her mother.

  Kerick placed one large palm on her belly, breaking her from her thoughts. She sucked in her breath when his fingers began to lazily trail downward, knowing as she did what he meant to touch.

  Nellie took a deep breath and blew it out. Her gaze was fixated on her captor’s throat, for she wasn’t feeling quite bold enough to look him in the eye just yet. “I suppose you mean to punish me,” she whispered a bit shakily. It wasn’t like her to show a weakness, but there it was. She was tired and cold and—

  “Of course,” he rumbled out. “Whether or not you earn further punishments is entirely up to you, little one.”

  Little one. Nellie blinked and looked away, hating how secure she felt by his patronizing words. She was hardly a little girl anymore, yet the words conjured up an imagery of a naïve young lass being guarded by her strong, invincible protector.

  Kerick’s callused fingers ran through the thatch of dark red curls at the juncture of her thighs. Softly. Soothingly. Over and over. Again and again. It felt so relaxing that she almost—almost—drifted off into slumber.

  His fingers trailed down further, inducing Nellie’s muscles to clench, her mind again worried that he would handle her roughly. His callused thumb settled against her clit a moment later, making her gasp. He worked his thumb in slow, methodic circles, arousing her within mere moments.

  Nellie’s breasts began to heave up and down in a slow, sensuous gyration. Her rouge nipples stabbed upward, achingly swollen.

  “That’s a good girl,” he murmured, his intense eyes raking over her exposed cunt and nipples. “Let go for Master, Nellie.” He applied more pressure to her clit with his thumb, simultaneously speeding up the circles he was making on it.

  Nellie gasped, her eyes closing on a soft moan. She was irrevocably lost in a whirlwind of arousal a moment later—too turned on to be frightened about what punishments might await her, too turned on to care about the precarious position she was in, spread-eagle and splayed out before him.

  “Let go for Me, Nellie,” Kerick rumbled out again, his voice dark and coaxing. He rubbed her clit faster, his saturated thumb running easily over the slippery piece of flesh. “Let go for Master.”

  With her hands tied together and staked to the ground above her, and with her thighs and ankles tied together and staked out at either side of her body, fighting her captor wasn’t an option. But then judging by the way she felt now, she doubted she would have fought him even if she hadn’t been.

  Nellie gasped, her back arching and her breasts thrusting up on a groan. “Please,” she whispered. “Faster.”

  He complied, his thumb working faster and faster still. She moaned low in her throat, her eyes squeezing tightly shut as her body prepared to orgasm. She could feel the climax coming on quickly and knew it would be violent. Faster and faster his thumb rubbed. Faster and firmer and—

  Kerick removed his thumb, allowing her no release.

  Nellie’s eyes flew open. She whimpered. “What the kong are you doing?”

  His steel gr
ay eyes clashed with her wide green ones. “You will not come,” he murmured, “until Master is pleased with His wench.”

  She gulped as she watched him stand up and shed the remainder of his body décor, wondering how long he meant to torture her this way. She was to find out all too soon.

  Over the course of the next hour, Nellie was turned into a writhing, gasping, moaning, groaning, begging, pleading, wanton woman. Kerick kissed her everywhere, sucked on everything, teased her with the promise of being impaled, but allowed her to feel no more than the head of his manhood before pulling back.

  She didn’t know how he could stand it, for she could see the clenching movement his jaw made every time he withdrew, could see too how corded and tense all of his muscles were.

  He was like a machine. A gigantic machine with the mental and physical resolve of a droid.

  She was going to go mad.

  “Please,” Nellie groaned for what felt like the thousandth time. She moaned as she watched him palm her breasts as best as he could, then swirl his tongue around her aching, jutting nipples. His hard, naked body was settled atop hers and she could feel his thick erection poking against her belly. “Please,” she begged louder.

  But he paid her no attention. He popped a rouge nipple into his mouth and suckled hard from it, making her moan. He sucked on it until it was so ruby-red and swollen that it was painful. Then he switched to the other one, his mouth latching onto it and suckling while his hips gyrated back and forth in slow, methodic circles, teasing her with what could be but wasn’t quite hers.

  “I’m going mad,” she dramatically declared, her voice a pathetic sob. Her head began to thrash from side to side, her moans tortured. “Please!” she groaned, unable to take it anymore. She took her pleading a step further, begging him for what it was she wanted in more precise terms. “Please fuck me!”

  The torture grew worse. He unlatched his mouth from her nipple, releasing it with a popping sound. Kerick then ran kisses all the way down her body, his tongue darting around her labial folds to lazily lap at them while his hands gently kneaded her breasts and plucked at her nipples.