Razors & Ruin (Rare Horrors #1)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Nellie

“ I ’m here to see Currer Brook. The murderer.”

The guard eyes me dubiously. “The psychopath who slashed a man’s throat in the street. That’s who you want to visit?”

I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m his sister.”

The guard looks me up and down and smiles. “Of course you are.”

He knows damn well I’m not the younger sibling of his most famous charge. I look like what I am; an urchin. A pretty but poor girl, a nobody, from nothing and going nowhere.

“I suppose I can let you in.” The guard stands and stretches. “He’s getting deported tomorrow. What harm can a little fun do now?”

“Would you please remove his shackles?” I ask. “You know. It would be…better.” I tilt my head to read the sign on his desk. “Charlie. You could do that for me, couldn’t you, Charlie?”

“Depends, love.” He smirks. “What you gonna do for me? I get lonely in this shithole. Only me on duty all bloody night.”

He’s fifty if he’s a day, but I could give him what he wants. God knows it would be easy enough—I’ve spent most of the day in my bed, my thoughts churning, knowing what the evening would bring. My pussy is soaked, and my clit is sore from the repeated friction. I’ve come so many times today, biting the pillow as I imagined Currer fucking me.

I know I’m sick in the head. But when he chased that barber into the street, I was there, and I saw the look in his eyes. That burning, searing passion, hotter than Hell.

He cut the man’s throat like it was butter, sending arterial blood spraying over the terrified bystanders, but it wasn’t enough. Again and again, he slashed and yelled, a feral rage driving him until the constables dragged him away.

He’s thirty years old, and I am eighteen today. He is my birthday present, and I will do whatever I must to prove my feelings for him.

I give Charlie the guard my most innocent fluttery glance. Men like him love it when you play the angel.

“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

He walks around the desk and stands before me. “Yes, you do. Goodness me, you really are a lovely little whore, aren’t you?” He takes my chin in his hand and turns my face into the light. “Still pretty clean, too.”

I’m not a prostitute; I work in a butcher’s, and he pays me a fair wage. I pull my face out of his grip and step back, giving him a little curtsey. “No, sir. I ain’t for that.” I reach into my pocket. “I got a few coins if that’ll do the trick.”

“It’ll do, I suppose,” he says, holding out a hand. “What I want is to put you flat on this desk and fuck your little cunt, but you like your men rougher than me.” He pockets the money and beckons me to follow.

“Much obliged, sweetie,” he says. “Now, come along. Let’s go see if your favorite murderer happens to be in.”

Charlie goes into the cell ahead of me, and I hear the clanking of chains being removed. Currer murmurs a question I don’t quite catch.

“You have a visitor,” Charlie says. “Lovely girl. Give me a shout when you’re done.”

He comes out and takes my wrist. “In you go. If he kills you, that’s your lookout, so don’t be saying you wasn’t warned.”

He shoves me through the door, and then he’s gone, his retreating footsteps echoing.

It’s dark, but a low lamp alleviates the gloom. On the cot in the corner sits the hunched figure of a man I don’t know but cannot stop thinking about.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“Nellie,” I reply. “We don’t know each other, Mr. Brook. I just?—”

“You can call me Currer.” He looks up and narrows his eyes, his expression quizzical. “Come here so I can get a better look at you.”

I step into the light, and his lips curve into a smile, but the rest of his face doesn’t move. “You’re intrepid. I like that. Isn’t trade rough enough out there without soliciting the condemned?”

“I’m not a whore.” I feel suddenly shy, and I glance at the ground. “I saw you the day you killed the barber.”

“Many did. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.” He sits back, and I realize he’s shirtless, his muscles flexing beneath his skin. “So, what’s the deal? You came to stare at the murderer?”

I shudder involuntarily. God help me. My pussy clenches, a trickle of juice running down my inner thigh.

“I wanted you to know I believe you.” I step closer. “I think what you said in court was true. The barber’s wife was your lover; her baby was yours, and the barber knew it. Right?”

“He only had to look at little Johanna to know the truth,” Currer says. “She looked just like me. Same dark eyes. He came to my shop, ready to tear me limb from limb, and his wife followed, begging him not to do it.”

“Did you love her?” I ask. It’s masochistic of me to ask, but I have to know.

“I did not.” Currer’s eyes flick over my body. “Nevertheless, she did not deserve to die at her husband’s hands. And she was no longer his to touch. She was mine.”

I sit on the floor and lean back on my hands, my knees drawn up. “I think you were amazing,” I say. “Killing a man, witnesses be damned. It’s so raw. People can be too controlled and reasonable sometimes, don’t you agree?”

“Indeed.” He leans forward. “A question. I’ve been in this room for three days; this is the first time I’ve been without the cuffs. Why did good ol’ Charlie Boy remove my shackles?”

“I paid him to do it.”

He stares at me, his inky eyes reflecting tiny points of light. “Why?”

I find myself unable to speak, poleaxed by his attention. I slide my feet through the dust, parting my legs, and he draws a sharp breath.

“Well, well, well.” He sits on the edge of the bed, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen. Today.”

“Happy birthday.”

I’m lost, my fear and arousal churning as I stare into his endless eyes. “Mr. Brook. Currer.” I open my legs wider, and he groans, reaching for his growing erection. “I’ve thought of nothing but you since the day you were arrested,” I say. “I want some of you for myself before they send you away.”

He beckons me with a curled finger. “Come here and kneel.”

Currer

Yeah, she’s young. But when will I feel a woman’s warmth again?

She crawls toward me, the dim light catching her eyes, and I see she’s got some genuine spirit. Must have to come down to this dump in the middle of the night, spread her legs, and show me her snatch.

“Now then, treacle,” I say, holding up my hand. “You stop right there.”

I stand and lower my prison-issue trousers. My cock stands proud, thick and hard, and I grab it at the base.

“You think that’ll fit in your little cunt?” I ask, smirking. “How many have you had?”

“None.” Her voice quivers as she rises onto her knees. “Are they all this size?”

I grab a handful of her hair. “How the fuck should I know? But you’d better get it good and wet unless you want to be a sore girl tomorrow.”

She opens her mouth, and I waste no time in shoving my dick straight down her throat. Her muscles constrict as she gags, and I pull out, tugging her hair back so I can look at her as she coughs.

“Come on now, you can do better than that. Tell me how your pussy feels.”

“It’s wet. I’m so hot for you. You’ve no idea how much?—”

I interrupt her with another thrust into her mouth, my slick head sliding over her tongue. She can’t get away, and as I hold her in place, she relaxes, opening her throat so I can get a rhythm going.

“That’s it, treacle. You’re a good little learner.” I withdraw and slap her face with my shaft. “Spit on it and work it with your hand.”

She obeys immediately, hawking a gob of saliva onto me and spreading it along my throbbing length. I groan as she gathers pace, my pulse pounding in the vein beneath her palm.

“You keep doing that, and you’ll make me come,” I say in between harsh breaths. “On your pretty face or in your pussy. What’s it gonna be?”

Footsteps getting louder, along with the unmistakable jangle of keys. Charlie’s voice calls through from the corridor.

“The Superintendent is walking down the street,” he says. “You hear me in there? Get done with the slut now. I have to put these cuffs back on you, or the Guv will wring my neck.”

I stick out my lip. “Aw. My cock-hungry wee princess will have to settle for a faceful.” I grip my cock and pump it. “Open wide, lovely. Have a taste.”

I groan as thick ropes of come splash over her face, enjoying the view of my release catching in her eyelashes. She swallows what’s in her mouth and sits back on her heels, smiling at me as I rearrange my clothes. How she can look so innocent with my mess all over her is beyond me.

Charlie lets himself in and surveys the scene. “Oh, class act, aren’t you? Right, fuck off, girl. You’re sending a man to exile with a happy memory, which is more than he deserves.”

The girl stands, and I shrug. “Sorry, love. Some bastard will be lucky to get a go on you. What’s your name?”

“Nellie.” She wipes her face on her sleeve. “Don’t forget me.”

She’s mad as a box of frogs, this one. Does she think she’s gonna hold a vigil and save herself for my glorious return from the colonies? She’ll forget my name by next week.

“Whatever you say, Nellie.” I give a jaunty wave from the wrist. “Ta-ta.”