Ravage: Siren, #5

By Katie de Long

Love is pain.

Calder Roane has always been the spoiled youngest son, and is struggling to seize the reins to the family business following his mother's death. But when he wakes up imprisoned in a rusted death trap with several others, it's gonna take everything he has to get out alive. As the mystery unfolds and he tries to discover why he's there, a vulnerable and resourceful fellow prisoner could be the key. If he can win Milla's heart.
Under other circumstances, Camilla Greenwich would've grown up as Winchester royalty, born to a life of politics and privilege. But when the Roane family took her family's place, their actions corrupted the entire community, and cost Milla everyone she loved. Now, she has the chance of the lifetime: the chance to punish the heir to the Roane family empire, and those who've abetted him. But seizing that chance could well be her undoing. She'll have to get far closer to her enemy than she dreamed possible, and risk exposing herself. She'll have to become prey, alongside him.
As her war goes on and the collateral damage mounts, they're about to discover how deep the conspiracy runs. Each past sin is exposed, and in the end, they may be the only people who can redeem each other.

Ravage (Siren #5)

Oh, how the tables have turned. Calder Roane's gone from my victim to my handler. And we're racking up the bodies, taking out those who hurt my family before they can kill him. What's one more body on the pile?
I'm further down this road than he is, but he's doing his damndest to catch up. Turns out that Calder's got a monster inside him, too. Maybe we're not supposed to redeem each other. Maybe we're supposed to make each others' trips to hell worthwhile.

Ravage contains mature content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Katie de Long
• Release date: Dec 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781540194138

Katie de Long

USA Today bestseller Katie de Long lives in the Pacific northwest, realizing her dream of being a crazy cat-lady. As a kid, Katie flagged the fade-to-blacks in every adult book she encountered, and when she began writing, she vowed to use cutaways sparingly. After all, that's when the good stuff happens. And on a kindle, no one asks why there's so many bookmarks in her library. For more information on Katie's work, visit delongkatie.com.

Book preview

Ravage (Siren #5)

Katie de Long

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

RAVAGE

First edition. December 4, 2016.

Copyright © 2016 Katie de Long.

Written by Katie de Long.

Also by Katie de Long

Anarchy Duo

Anarchy And Roses

Anarchy and Kisses

Black Roses

Oleander's Kiss (Coming Soon)

Love and Lapdances

Party Lights

Step Back

The Hunt

Double Dance

Strangers

Unplanned

The Chase

Teach Me

Plan B

Dare You

Fallen

Bet You

Party Girl

Love and Lapdances Volume One (#1-7)

Siren

Capture

Torture

Restrain

Mindf*ck

Ravage

Deathwish

Standalone

Bad, Bad, Thing

Watch for more at Katie de Long’s site.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Also By Katie de Long

Ravage (Siren)

One, Milla Greenwich

Two

Three, Calder Roane

Four

Five, Milla

Six, Calder

Seven, Milla

Eight, Calder

Nine, Milla

Ten

Eleven, Calder

Twelve, Milla

Thirteen

Fourteen, Calder

Fifteen, Milla

Sixteen, Calder

Seventeen

Eighteen, Milla

Nineteen, Calder

Twenty, Milla

Twenty-one, Calder

Twenty-two, Milla

Twenty-three, Calder

Twenty-four, Milla

Twenty-five

Twenty-six

Twenty-seven, Calder

Twenty-eight, Milla

Twenty-nine

One, Camilla Greenwich

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Also By Katie de Long

Ravage (Siren #5)

Oh, how the tables have turned. Calder Roane's gone from my victim to my handler. And we're racking up the bodies, taking out those who hurt my family before they can kill him. What's one more body on the pile?

I'm further down this road than he is, but he's doing his damndest to catch up. Turns out that Calder's got a monster inside him, too. Maybe we're not supposed to redeem each other. Maybe we're supposed to make each others' trips to hell worthwhile.

Ravage contains mature content. It is the fifth book in the Siren series, by New York Times bestseller Katie de Long.

The Siren Series

Capture (Siren #1)

Torture (Siren #2)

Restrain (Siren #3)

Mindf*ck (Siren #4)

Ravage (Siren #5)

Deathwish (Siren #6) (Coming December 2016)

One, Milla Greenwich

C’mon, birdie. Let me watch you.

I bite my lip self-consciously as Calder climbs between my legs, his naked body still damp from the shower. "Watch me sleep? I thought I was supposed to be the creeper in this relationship."

You know what I mean. I want to memorize the way you come.

He’s a kid in a candy store, delighting in the newest treat he’s found. It’s hardly the first time we’ve fucked; no, not by a long shot.

I'm gonna fuck you 'til you cry, Birdie.

Like hell you are.

You just keep telling yourself that. Keep saying it right until you scream my name.

He tugs my hand between my legs, his large palm covering mine as he manipulates my finger in gentle circles over my needy clit. I shut my eyes and moan as he finds the sweet spot, nursing me closer toward what I know is gonna be an explosive finish.

He watches me bobbing up and down on his cock, sucking him as hard, taking him as deep into my throat as I humanly can. The thrill of my own control warms me; in this moment, we’re not enemies, we’re not pretending to be friends. There’s only him gasping for more, looking at me with such need that I seem benevolent for giving him this.

Fuck, he moans softly. It’s just as well; the last thing I need is for one of the others to walk in on this.  Fuck.

That’s it, birdie. Come for me.

My lips part, air wheezing past dry skin as my body begs for release. A wordless cry leaves me as he picks up his pace, two fingers inside me and his thumb on my clit. I sound feral; feel it, too, since my mouth still tastes like blood after a night of torturing men for him.

It’s all for him.

"You’re mine, Mil. Keep your eyes open—"

"You know how to make this stop. You know the safe word. Now, if you don't tell the truth for once in your life, and tell me the safe word, I'm gonna cut you ten ways 'til tomorrow."

He leans over me to taste my moan as I come, fingers slick with arousal, and his dick hard between my legs. Calder’s broken me down completely, accepted every fucked up piece of me, and asked for seconds.

You ready to go again, or are you too sore?

Two

Through each boring day at work, going through the motions of caring about the seam I’m welding, the sting between my legs reminds me of him. His touch, his commanding tone, his inclination to see things in me that no one else would... I am a killer, after all. Eight victims publicly acknowledged, five victims not. The taste of the last four’s blood is a not-so-distant memory.

Nearly a year ago, Calder should have been my ninth victim. But over months of watching and manipulating him, using my body to lure him closer to his death, he wasn’t the man I thought, and I fell for him. Hard. Hard enough to let him watch me come. Over and over again. Screaming his name bent over his motorcycle, on my back on his kitchen table. And of course, that first time just last week, hiding in a mafia safehouse's closet, listening to four of the men who wanted him dead. At his brother’s command, even. At least that lessens some of the guilt over George Roane Jr. being victim number six. Though now I kind of wish he’d escaped alive, if only because seeking answers for Calder the roundabout way is so much more... roundabout.

Mil, are you okay? You’re moving a little funny today.

Carl, my manager, is a good soul. But I’ve taken so many sick days lately that he’s beginning to get a tad overprotective. Still, I can’t blame him. After all, he’s working with one of two survivors of the Siren serial killer. Calder’s the only one who knows I wasn’t actually the victim.

Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, if you know what I mean.

The Man sticking it to you good?

A few of the other guys working in the same area chuckle under their breath. Normally, that’d be grounds for a sexual harassment lawsuit, but I’ve worked with these guys long enough to let it wash off me. After all, I am dating the boss. I can put up with a few off-color jokes for the rest of the protection that implies. Half the sick days I’ve taken Carl would have reamed me for and denied, in the old days. Still, I try not to push it.

"What do you think?" I wink roundly, hamming it up a little. Half these guys were in my class, and the other half have known me since I was a kid.

I think you look damned happy today. Even if you are walking like you’re constipated.

Don't you know that's just the limp? And why’re your eyes on my bum anyways, asshole?

He laughs, and claps me on the shoulder. There’s the stone cold bitch who’s gonna finish that wall before her lunch break. And it's been months since the limp was noticeable.

I roll my eyes. It’s the longest seam in the room, and will probably take me half the remaining time at work to finish it. "Whatever you say, boss."

Emboldened by Carl’s teasing, one of the others quips, He make you say that, too?

I give him the finger, and lower my visor.

***

As promised, Calder picks me up. The early shifts aren't comfortable for me, but he insisted that I take at least one before the big day. When else would I get a dress that makes me look like a rich man’s girlfriend?

These’re the kind of normal activities that still throw me a little. On some level, I can’t get used to the idea that so far as the world’s concerned, I am a rich man’s girlfriend. We bonded during a traumatic experience, and have one of the most unique how they met stories any overly saccharine couple could tell.

They don't know how Evan Duran looked at me as he died with my knife in his ribs. They don't know how George Roane Jr. ended up drowning in a defunct ballast tank. They don't know about Calder’s confusion when I trained my gun on him.

How's your day? Calder asks, leaning over for a kiss as he turns around in the lot.

Fine.

That's how poorly we do small talk. And why should we bother? My mind's been abuzz with ideas, ever since we found out the Schroeders were involved. I shouldn't be getting ready to stare at clothes; I should be tracking the Schroeders' underlings back to them. Setting my new targets.

I'm sorry we don't have time for you to go get cleaned up. But the manager I spoke to said there's an event at the store later, so there's only so far she can bend letting us in. I brought you a rag, some bottled water, and some clean clothes, though. That'll do, right?

I flip him the bird. If it has to. I'm more sweaty than anything.

Get to it, then.

He steals a peek at me as I thread my arms through the sleeves of my t-shirt, wet the rag, and begin scrubbing myself under the shirt. Only when I'm sure I've gotten the worst of the sweat off my skin do I  reach for the new shirt. It's gonna be awkward trying to wiggle it under the old one without revealing anything.

You know, I doubt the cops care if you flash a little tit. They might even enjoy the view. I would, too.

I stare at him, debating whether he's serious, and tug the old fabric over my head. Truthfully, the cool air on my breasts does feel divine. And he can hardly keep his eyes on the road. Just to be cheeky about it, I pinch my nipples until they're pert, and flip him off, before pulling the new shirt on.

What was that for?

For you not being able to take advantage of that.

"Oh, birdie, if I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted us to miss our window."

I growl, to be found out so easily. I hate shopping.

The pants are somewhat easier to handle, since I don't have to worry about scandalizing anyone except maybe any freight drivers passing us. Calder glances at me several times while I wipe my legs down, and I grin wickedly. While he intermittently watches, I slide my fingers into my panties and start warming myself up.

"You are such a tease," he says, looking back to the road, and puts his hand over mine, squeezing my fingers until they stay still.

Just making sure me changing in public's as weird for you as it is for me.

***

The woman who greets us when we walk into the boutique looks at me like I'm something under her high-heeled boot. Good evening, Mr. Roane. And this is Camilla, I presume?

I smile as politely as I can. Yeah. Thanks so much for accommodating us. My work schedule's crazy. I just got off.

She stops herself from saying what's obviously on her lips: I can tell. And I smirk at the accidental wordplay. Thank goodness she didn't ask to shake my hand.

Do you mind if I use the ladies' room really quick? I ask, just to be sure. It's been a long drive.

Of course. Down that hall, to the left. She waves to the back of the store.

Calder's talking to her when I get back. She notices me before he does. Right this way, Camilla. I set aside some pieces in your size earlier after Mr. Roane and I spoke.

I stare at him hard as she leads me away. Is that normal? It seems a little weird. Did he say my ass is fat?

A muffled laugh escapes her as she opens the door to a fairly spacious room, with a bench to sit. There's several floor length dresses hung on the hook, and two pairs of heels on the ground. Please let me know which of the shoes work. He said you had several sizes in your closet. These two should be right in the middle.

Thanks. Did he tell you what cut of thong, too? I ask, knowing Calder's still close enough to be in earshot. I still remember shopping with my mom, buying my dad's clothes. 34 inseam, 28 waist. Same cut every time, and whatever color was the least likely to stain, since he was a known klutz. It seemed natural