Falling for Faith

by Anne Conley

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!!” Faith could taste blood in her mouth, and she was suddenly pissed.

  “The necklace. Where’s the necklace? The one you stole from Mr. Howell?”

  The necklace? “It’s a reliquary? I didn’t know.” Whatever the hell a reliquary was. She’d heard the term before and probably knew when her brains weren’t scrambled from being knocked around and sedated all day. Which was probably why she couldn’t answer him.

  The man abruptly stood, shocking her back to sense. She realized he was about to use a different tactic, and it would probably be worse than just hitting her. She’d better answer. “The safe. It’s in the safe. I would think your goons would be thorough enough to look there. And not really care about damaging it, since you broke all my windows and no telling what else with your smoke bombs and grenades.”

  Honestly, they’d come into her house and kidnap her and not searched the place? What the hell? Who was running this organization?

  Faith hadn’t noticed the baton in the loop of the man’s pants until he pulled it out. He ran his hands loving up and down the smooth exterior, extending the telescoping feature with his motion.

  “Cool toy. I have something at home that gets bigger when you rub it too.” Oh God, where was Michael? Her thoughts of his silver eyes penetrating her insides, and the obvious conclusion she would probably never see him again left her breathless. But she refused to show fear. She knew this was some sort of covert military operation, and they didn’t leave a lot of witnesses to their shenanigans. This warehouse would probably be the last place she’d ever see.

  “We checked the safe, sweetheart. Try again.” Instantly, her arm was on fire. Again, the man had moved with a speed she couldn’t see, and the loud snapping noise accompanying the pain in her arm told her it was broken. Like a twig.

  Pain blinded her and darkness clouded her eyes, but Faith didn’t scream. She knew he wanted to see her broken, whimpering. The coldness in his eyes told her that would be the only thing that could warm the man’s heart. He got off on people begging him for mercy. She’d seen people like that in her training courses, the leaders who for whatever reason, didn’t want to be in the field and found pleasure in the power trip of torturing the recruits and calling it training.

  Although this was a whole other level.

  “Got a hard on, yet?” Saliva had pooled in her mouth, and she spat, missing his polished boots. Then he started working her over with his fists.

  Faith had been beaten before. After Eli’s death, she had gone to a lot of bars looking for a fight. She’d been trying to toughen herself up, to forget about the pain of losing her life by finding a different kind of pain, a physical one. At first, she’d been stupid and picked fights with people who really hurt her.

  But nothing like this.

  This man was systematically pounding her flesh to a pulp, starting with her eyes and ears, then hitting her mouth, then her cheeks, then back up to her eyes. There wasn’t any time between blows to catch her breath, and it had left her in a whoosh after the first strike.

  His hard brown eyes showed absolutely no emotion, other than satisfaction, as he used her face as a punching bag. Sweat dripped from his crew-cut hairline, and he wiped his nose periodically, sniffing as he did, but his fists never unclenched.

  Faith had never known pain like this before. She was pretty sure he’d broken some bones around her eyes and cheeks. But all she could focus on was the noise inside her head after the first blow to her ear. A loud ringing filled her head, and she could see his lips move as he spoke to her, then smiled a wicked grin, but she couldn’t hear him over the roaring in her ears.

  The roaring seemed to meld with the pain, radiating out from her brain and flushing across her face to combine with each other so that the vision of the man, mingled with the roaring in her ears equaled excruciating, undeniable, pulsating agony.

  Abruptly, the man stopped and stood at attention. His clipped movements were dwarfed by a shadow behind Faith of a person she couldn’t see but was grateful for. Whoever he was, he’d given her a respite.

  She finally was able to breathe, thankful the man hadn’t started his `journey downward to her ribs. She sucked in a long watery breath, knowing her nose was broken, among other things.

  The man did an about face, crisp and sharp with the movement, and Faith felt herself relax with each step he took away. It didn’t matter who had stopped him, he could be the Devil himself, and Faith would kiss his feet for the interruption.

  As the man walked away, each step brought a leaden feeling to Faith’s limbs. It was as if she were under some sort of spell, making her heavy, filling her veins with concrete. Her muscles wouldn’t move, not even a twitch, no matter how hard she tried. She panicked when she realized she’d rather have the man back beating her again. The unknown shadow elongated, growing closer, each step closer weighing down her limbs more.

  The shadow of the man behind her changed shape and Faith blinked, wishing she could rub her eyes. It looked like wings. Enormous wings. The shadow grew in length as it neared, and relief flooded her body when the shape finally made sense to her. The footsteps of the winged creature stopped directly behind her.

  Michael.

  She sighed with relief, but when she heard the voice, the short-lived relief turned again to panic.

  “Sorry to disappoint, although I do have something fun planned for the day.” The scent of burnt matches was the last thing she remembered before she passed out.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Love is honest in its brutality.” The words came in Faith’s mind, but she couldn’t see anything. All was dark. She blinked as best she could with her swollen eyes, but that didn’t change anything.

  She was getting tired of this. She kept losing consciousness and then waking up somewhere new, tied up. Getting old. Real fast.

  Her entire upper body screamed in agony. Her broken arm was tied awkwardly, shooting blinding pain up to her shoulder, and she couldn’t feel her fingers at all on that side. And the rest of her head was pounding from the beating she’d endured. She could feel cold, sticky blood on her face and knew it was probably swelling. She probably had broken bones in it, her cheekbones surely, maybe even her brow bone. It all hurt so bad she wanted to throw up.

  Tied up? She tried to move her legs, but she was definitely tied up. Spread-eagle. Still naked. She immediately thought of Michael, but it wasn’t his voice she’d heard. A prickle of fear raced down her spine.

  She blinked again, and this time she could see. It was as if someone turned on the lights in her room, which was where she was. Except there was still daylight outside, and it never would have gotten that dark. Something was wrong with her eyes. She stiffly moved her neck and looked around but didn’t see anybody.

  Who had spoken?

  “Love is honest in its brutality.” The voice, cold and gritty, repeated, and Faith looked for the speaker. There he was. Standing behind the door. As the smell assaulted her, she remembered. It was the man. Dressed in a long, black robe looking… sinister. There was really no other word for it.

  She was back in her bedroom. How did that happen? Why would he bring her back here? “That’s why I tied you up like this. I have other ways of restraining women, but you seem to enjoy being tied up and hurt, so I thought I would oblige.” He walked slowly to the foot of her bed and reached out to her foot, helpless to move. “Love is brutal, don’t you think? It rips your heart out, turns you inside out, and leaves you to rot, regardless of the pain you feel.” His eyes eagerly drank in her body and landed on her face. He licked his lips and flashed her a grin, which under any other circumstances, might have been charming. “You can call me Damien.”

  Quelling the rising panic, Faith knew exactly what was happening. She didn’t want to give up her soul. She didn’t necessarily love her life or the way it had turned out, but it was hers. She didn’t want this guy to be any part of it. “You tricked me.”

 
; “You know who I am, Faith.” He stalked toward her slowly until he was at the foot of her bed. His hand snaked out and caressed her foot, his skin chilled, sending goose bumps popping out on her flesh.

  “I know now. I didn’t know that night.” That night he’d given her the necklace, telling her he’d collect. She tried to squirm against the restraints but couldn’t move. She was tied tight.

  “You like this.”

  No. she liked it when she was turned on, doing this with someone she trusted. Not like this. But she couldn’t speak. Her voice wouldn’t work. She opened and closed her mouth, eliciting nothing but strange croaking sounds.

  “You like it brutal.” He came closer, up the side of the bed, and Faith was overwhelmed with the smell of him coming from his pores. “You like pain.” His cold hand trailed up her leg as he walked, pinching her thigh hard. “You’re into all this bondage.” He waved his hand over her in illustration.

  She frantically shook her head, willing him to let her go. But she knew it wouldn’t happen. Pain ricocheted around her insides at the movement, so she stopped, defeated.

  “You’re perfect for me, Faith. We could cause each other all sorts of delicious pain.” His tongue snaked out to lick his bottom lip, and Faith recoiled in horror. It was black and split at the end. He sat on the bed next to her, making that side of her body cold. She nearly retched on the smell of burnt sulfur coming from him but couldn’t make a sound. “Michael hasn’t told you has he? Why he’s here?”

  She opened her mouth to say, ‘to protect me from you,’ but closed it, knowing the futility of talking. Even if she could.

  “Our Heavenly Father sent him to you. He’s got something working in His mind, that He’s going to replace His helpers, the Four Winds. My brothers.” He spat the word brothers like it tasted bitter on his tongue, and the resemblance to Michael made her long for the angel. She wished she was the object of his anger, not the object of this demon’s desire.

  “He’s making them turn human, fall from grace, so to speak. But He’s also making them fall in love. He killed your precious Eli so His own could have you. He took away your love so he could give you to Michael. Like chattel.” His words made Faith cold. That couldn’t be right, she didn’t want it to be right. But there seemed to be truth in the words, and something inside her broke. Suddenly she wished she could disappear, go somewhere that nobody could find her. Not Damien, not Michael, nobody. A futile helplessness filled her bruised and broken bones with dread. She wasn’t going to be able to get out of this.

  His hand stroked her stomach, swirling around her belly button. She sucked it in to avoid the touch, but it didn’t work. “You see? Michael’s falling in love with you. Isn’t that sweet?” His voice took on a sing song quality, giving him a surreal tone, as if all this wasn’t surreal enough.

  “But what you don’t realize is Michael never wanted to fall in love. You see, we don’t have emotions, per se. We don’t feel anything. No pain, no joy, no pleasure. We just feel sensations. And now, Michael has all of these feelings for you, and it’s making him weak, and he hates that.” His hand caressed her breast, fondling the nipple, pinching it and twisting it. Faith felt nothing but pain and revulsion at his touch. “Hates weakness.” His hand stilled. “Hates you for making him weak.”

  Faith knew he was lying. She had enough religious background to know he was the great Trickster. All cultures had one, and she was listening to the original Trickster spin his tales at her.

  His hand snaked down her torso to her pubic bone. “That’s why he left you. He doesn’t want to be weak anymore.” He cupped her, and Faith tried to squirm out of his grasp, but the same lead that filled her earlier at the warehouse when this monster had showed up returned to her blood. She couldn’t move, and her speech had left, so she was helpless.

  Totally out of control.

  Panic seized her paralyzed limbs, and Faith knew if she could move the panic would make her strong enough to rip through the cords holding her. She had to get out of here. Tightness worked its way up her throat, and her chest hurt from the thud-thud-thud of her heart. She clamped her jaw, fighting the wave of nausea closing her throat.

  “And he’s not coming back for you.” He lowered his head to her sex, a loud sniff reverberating through the room, and that creepy-ass tongue flickered in the air above her groin. She couldn’t stave off the shudder that wracked her body.

  “But what nobody realizes, because they haven’t taken the time to get to know me in centuries, is that you’re perfect for me, Faith. You should be mine.” In the flash of an eye, he was standing before her naked. His voice softened, “Life is an illusion, Faith. Nothing is as it seems.” He paused, and Faith started screaming inside her head, hoping it would drown out this monster’s words. “Everything you used to know isn’t real. It’s a fantasy inside your head.”

  She shook her head, the only body part she could move, denying everything. Her life wasn’t some fantasy. It was hers. It was real. This was real. Michael was real. Eli had been real. Her parents had been real.

  “You will be mine.”

  At his words, his skin flashed, and Faith got a glimpse of something that made her blood run cold. Something scaly, and undeniably awful, and then gone. Had she even really seen it? Or was this the product of the drugs those other men had given her?

  His member jutting proudly out was red and engorged. And huge. Faith watched, swallowing back bile, as he stroked himself. Her eyes were glued to the appendage, as the man’s hand slid up and down the length. He climbed on the bed, and Faith could only imagine what was going to happen. She was in deep shit.

  She found her voice and screamed.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Pretend you’re scared. That’s good.” His voice was husky, tinged with desperation that terrified her. Why was he desperate? But she could see it in his eyes. He had the look of a man who knew this was his last chance at something, and he wasn’t going to give up easily. He seemed to be trembling slightly as he slowly climbed up her body until his member was at her mouth. “I’m going to fuck your face now.” His voice was quiet, almost like he was asking permission. Remorseful.

  That was it. Panic morphed into rage. She recognized this as another intimidation tactic, and she grasped the rage with everything left inside herself. “Stick that thing near my mouth, and I’ll bite it off, fucker.” He froze at her words, and she used it to take a deep painful breath. “Michael!!!” A scream of fury penetrated her ears before a blinding strike knocked her head to the side.

  “Yelling for him is futile...” He’d recovered from whatever fleeting bout of remorse he’d felt and was off her in a flash, his eyes gleaming with evil. She watched in horror as the man’s body changed to something altogether inhuman. She screamed again. The man’s voice came from the beast’s mouth, and Faith wished she could pass out again. So she did the next best thing.

  She started to scream.

  After racing back to the cabin, desperation growing in his gut, Michael laid his motorcycle down in the yard and ran to the door, pounding on it. He couldn’t get in, but he could hear her. Faith was screaming, and it physically hurt him to hear it. The Deceiver had her and had charmed the house so he couldn’t get in, couldn’t see in, but he could hear her. Bastard.

  This was fear unlike any he’d ever known. Ironic, he’d just been thinking on the dichotomy of love, and fear had come to mind. But at the time, it had been an abstract fear of the ‘what if,’ not this debilitating concrete fear of whatever the hell the Deceiver was doing to her.

  Stuck outside the cabin, he screamed for his Father. “Get Your ass down here right now!” He paced back and forth, beating anything within reach with his fists. “You did this! Get down here and fix it!” He could hear Faith’s screams, screams for him. The asshole was allowing him to hear her scream and call out to him. He could only imagine what was going on inside the room.

  “How did I do this?” Michael turned to the voice and saw The Boss dressed in a three-pi
ece suit, totally inappropriate wear for a cabin in the woods, but his mind didn’t register the anomaly.

  “You and Your fucking games. You chose her for me, and while I’m trying to get her, he targets her. And now he’s in there, doing only You know what to her! Get her out of there, and let me have her!” His fingers were pulling at his hair in frustration.

  “She’s not a possession, Michael. You need to understand she’s still not getting all of this.” His hands gestured around the forest, as if that’s what he was talking about. “You still haven’t told her the score on all of this, have you?”

  Michael shook his head, looking at his feet impotently. Another scream from inside the cabin shot his head up to glare at the man standing in front of him. “Please, do something? I can’t get inside the room.”

  Idly, He asked, “What would you have me do?”

  Michael thought furiously, and only one thing came to mind. “Just get me in there. Please.”

  Faith’s last scream was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a ball-gag tied tightly in her mouth. The man had his back to her. “You need to shut up now. Take your punishment like the good submissive I know you can be.” He turned to her, and her eyes widened at the sight of a cat of nine tails with tiny, flashing metal barbs on the ends. She struggled against her bindings, choking out screams through the gag in her mouth, as he approached. He was back in human form, naked and fully erect. She could smell him, the odor of spent gunpowder, but not quite, more fowl, rotten somehow, permeating her senses, radiating from him.

  He dragged the wicked toy up her legs, leaving cuts and scratches in its wake. Cuts and scratches that left blood oozing out of them. And a fiery pain. The pain was almost as severe as the pain in her head and neck, but not as bone deep. Although the slices in her legs opened up a different sort of pain, one that seemed more intense.