The Sea Witch: A Wicked Villains Novel

by Robert, Katee

  I try to protest, but there isn’t enough air. Not with Alaric swiveling his hips and rubbing against something inside me that has me feeling too warm, too desperate. “Oh gods.”

  “You have permission to come.” Ursa shifts her touch to my other nipple, pinching it just as hard as she did the first. “I’d say you earned it after that performance.”

  If I were stronger, if I were less angry, maybe I’d attempt to resist. I’m not. I’m just me, in over my head and sinking fast. When Alaric moves his hips in that devastating motion again, I come apart around him. I’m still whimpering when Ursa reaches between my legs and wraps her hand around Alaric’s cock. “Not you, lover. Not yet.”

  He grits his teeth and looks almost pained, but he finally eases out of me. Ursa laughs. “Good boy. Now get rid of that condom and clean yourself up.”

  Again, he hesitates the barest second, looking down at me. Finally, he climbs to his feet and walks away, leaving me sprawled on the couch next to her. Ursa shakes her head when I start to close my legs and presses my thigh back open. “I like looking at you. Don’t deny me that.” She idly strokes my thigh. “Are you angry at me or at him?”

  I answer without pausing to think. “I’m angry at everyone. My father lied to me, and the longer I’m outside his house, the more problematic he seems. You’re using me. Alaric lied to me and he’s using me.”

  She strokes my thigh. “Darling, do you think you’re special?”

  I blink. Of all the things I could have anticipated her saying, this wasn’t on the list. “What?”

  “Your father lied to you, but if you ask him, he’ll tell you he had his reasons. Do you think a man who sets himself up like a god to his daughters wants to admit that he’s anything but infallible? Of course not. At the end of the day, he’s simply a man with sins like anyone else. Pride. Wrath. Greed.”

  I turn my head to look at her fully. It should seem weird to be having this conversation while I’m naked and she’s idly touching me, but it somehow doesn’t. “You set this entire thing up to get revenge on him. Why are you defending him now?”

  “I’m not.” She taps my knee and moves to the other thigh, still stroking me. “I’m saying that a smart person doesn’t let rage blind them to the realities of the world. No one is wholly good or wholly bad. If you know their motivations, you can use them to encourage the outcome you desire.”

  It almost sounds like she’s teaching me something. I reach out tentatively and put my hand on her leg. Her dress is silky and slides against her knee at my touch. “My father put me and my sisters in a cage. It might be because he wanted to keep us safe, but it doesn’t change the fact that he doesn’t care if we suffocate in the process.”

  “Yes.” Her dark eyes gleam. “How would you use that as leverage if he was your enemy?”

  I barely have to think about it. “I’d take one or all of them. You can’t really undermine his business and standing with Poseidon, but the daughters are an easy target to hurt him. Which is exactly what you did in drawing me here.” Really, Ursa was smarter about it because I left of my own free will. That has to hurt more than if she kidnapped me. I frown. “What is your motivation? Beyond revenge.”

  “Oh no, we’re not talking about me.” She laughs and gives my leg a tap. “We’re talking about you.”

  “Me?” I shift a little. “Why me? Out of everyone involved, I’m the simplest to pin down. I wouldn’t have been so easy to manipulate otherwise.”

  Her laugh seems to reach across the sparse distance between us to stroke me right between my legs. “Darling, give yourself a little credit. Your father had you nailed down and penned up. You were so desperate for freedom, you let yourself fall in love with a man you didn’t know. There’s no shame in that. Even the weakest person will find the motivation for strength if given the right set of variables. And you’re not weak.”

  I don’t understand her. Is she comforting me? Setting me up for a bigger let down? I can’t begin to guess. “I feel pretty weak, and very foolish.”

  “A weak person wouldn’t have gone to the lengths you did.” She glances at the doorway, where I can hear Alaric walking back toward the living room. “A foolish person wouldn’t be holding their own right now.”

  I frown up into her beautiful face. “I don’t understand you, Ursa. You don’t have to be nice to me.”

  “Darling, I’m not being nice.” She smiles kindly and stands. “I’m merely stating the truth as I see it. You are not part of my endgame. It doesn’t hamper me any to give you a little boost before I set you free next week.”

  The reminder that this is only temporary feels like cold water dumped over my head. I have no right to the disappointment that sours my carefully balanced bliss at having Ursa’s full attention. Six more days and then I’m free. That should make me happy. This was only ever temporary, and if it’s a thousand times more pleasurable than I could have imagined? That should be a relief.

  I don’t know this woman.

  What I do know of Alaric is just a fake persona he projected to ensure I danced to the tune he and Ursa set.

  I should be happy to leave them behind. Should use them for what they can give me and walk away stronger for it. Isn’t that what successful people in this world do? At least I can be assured that Ursa and Alaric are strong enough that nothing I can do will harm them. I can afford to be as ruthless as they are without guilt.

  Except none of these thoughts gain any traction.

  All I can think about as I watch Ursa offer me her hand is that I haven’t gotten nearly enough time with this woman. She exhibits a pull stronger than gravity, a slow spiral that tempts me into the deep where I’ll surely drown. It sounded like a fate worse than death a few days ago. Now, I’m not so sure.

  Who needs air compared to the pleasure of drawing a smile from the Sea Witch?

  Chapter 18

  Ursa

  I’ve seen infatuation enough times to recognize it on Zurielle’s pretty face when she looks at me. I’m just ruthless enough to use it. She’ll walk away at the end of this week with her heart bruised, but she’ll survive the wound. She’ll be stronger for it. Or that’s what I tell myself as I lead her and Alaric into the secondary living room that I’ve converted to a playroom. It sits in the corner of my penthouse suite, so two of the walls are floor-to-ceiling windows. It pleases me in a perverse little way to know that anyone can look through these windows and see the games I play.

  What can I say?

  I’m a bit of an exhibitionist at heart.

  “Kneel there. Eyes down.” I turn and stride back into the kitchen to retrieve the dildos. I have a wide selection of them in a variety of sizes and colors. It amuses me to play into the reputation I earned when I was young and impulsive. The Sea Witch. A woman not to be fucked with, not if one wants to avoid a death steeped in salt and brine. Carver City isn’t a port town, so finding a way to bring the ocean here to make examples of my enemies took some creative problem-solving. Creative enough that I haven’t been challenged directly in years now.

  The territory is stable. More than stable, really. My people are flourishing. If I sometimes take little bites out of the Belmonte territory for my amusement? Well, I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t give in to temptation from time to time.

  I didn’t get this far by letting go of old vendettas.

  I pause just outside the door to the playroom, letting the emotions stirred up from my conversation with Triton have their moment before I file them away. I’ve riled him, and the pure satisfaction that knowledge brings is almost enough to blot out the danger. Triton isn’t a loose cannon, no matter how intense his anger.

  There was a time when I could have anticipated his next move as if it were my own, but I’ve changed in the last twenty years. No doubt he’s done the same. I can’t assume that I’ll know what moves he’ll make.

  More, I can’t allow hate to consume me until it’s all I see.

  I’ve been a thorn in Triton’s side sinc
e we were still young enough to think that power came without price. Olympus is a heady drug and answering directly to Poseidon, one of the legacy roles within the Thirteen, is headier yet. I worked hard to get to that position, to be seen by Poseidon and the others as someone of value. Something far from the little suburban life I had growing up, safe and wholesome and suffocating me more and more with each day that passed. It was enough for my parents, but I wanted more. I wanted to hitch myself to the glowing stars that are the Thirteen.

  Securing the job working for Poseidon, stepping into a world that only the lucky, the powerful, the ambitious get to see? It felt like coming home, fulfilling the hole inside me that I’d barely been able to define. Even my rivalry with Triton was part of that feeling. We were friends. Occasionally we were closer than friends, at least before he married Zurielle’s mother. Even so, I should have expected the knife in the back, should have known that it’d be his hand that wielded it. It took me longer than it took Triton to understand how the game worked. The Thirteen might be all but the gods they’re named for, but they get their power in the same way everyone else in the world does. Money. Edging the line between legal and illegal. More money.

  I let fondness for Triton muddy the waters, and it made me hesitate when I should have been the one to strike first. I didn’t realize at the time that it had to be him or me, that Poseidon only wanted one second-in-command. The strongest. The most ruthless. The one willing to do anything for the position. I thought Triton would challenge the order to eliminate each other the same way I did.

  He didn’t.

  Better that he killed me. Exile is a bone in my throat, no matter what I’ve made of my life in Carver City. I didn’t have a choice, can never go home again, and for that he has to pay.

  I take a deep breath, and then another. With each exhale, I push away the unwelcome thoughts. No matter what role of Dominant I play, that kind of prickly anger has no place in a scene. If it were just Alaric and me, I could trust him to draw the line. He’s experienced as a submissive and can ride the waves of my anger easily. He’s done it before.

  Zurielle?

  I might harm the girl.

  No matter what she might think of me, that was never part of the plan.

  Another breath and I have it locked down. I’m able to smile as I step through the door, and the expression becomes more prominent at the sight of them. Alaric and Zurielle. Different in so many ways, but identical in the only way that matters. They submit to me, and do it beautifully.

  I leave them kneeling and allow myself to sink into the simple enjoyment of preparing the next bit of the scene. There are times when I’d want the action ready to begin the moment we walk through the door, but I enjoy making them wait while I do this. They can hear me, but they’re both too obedient to disobey a command and look up.

  I strip out of my dress and take my time getting the strap-on fastened and adjusted. The larger tentacle destined for Alaric attaches easily and I take a moment to look at myself in the full-length mirror positioned just so.

  Perfect.

  I snap my fingers. “Zurielle, on your feet.” Pleasure courses through me when she obeys instantly. This girl really is a joy. If I were a different person, if she weren’t such an innocent… If, if, if.

  There is no keeping her. I’d do well to remember that.

  I lead her over to the bench I’ve positioned carefully. It’s long and rectangular, and short enough for her to kneel on the ground. The smaller tentacle is fastened to the center of it. I stroke my hand down her hair, enjoying the way she shivers. “You’re going to ride that, darling. And while you do, I’m going to fuck Alaric. Be very good and I’ll let him lick your clit while I take his ass.”

  Her gaze flies to my face before she seems to remember herself and drop it. I give her ass a playful little swat. From her sharp inhale, she’s still plenty sore. “Come along, little Zurielle.” I nudge her forward and arrange her to my satisfaction, kneeling astride the bench. It’s just high enough that once she’s taken the dildo deep, she won’t be able to escape it. Not without standing.

  The look she gives me… Gods. She’s intimidated and looking for reassurance from me despite the fact that I’m the one responsible for what comes next. I love this part of being a Dominant; the dual nature. Punishment and comfort, all tangled up in a delicious knot. Finding a balance between the two is walking the knife’s edge, and each moment thrills me, a challenge I’m only too happy to rise to meet.

  I don’t intend to kiss her. It’s sentimental in the extreme to think that kissing means something when we’ve been exchanging bodily fluids for hours now, but I can’t deny the shock that goes through my body as her tongue tentatively strokes mine. As if asking for permission, even in this.

  Gods, what if I do keep her?

  I tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her closer, letting myself off the leash a little, kissing her the way I crave. Deep and messy and oh so decadent. She tastes like innocence. Like a gift that I’m suddenly certain I’m too selfish to give up.

  By the time I manage to lift my head, she’s got her arms looped around my neck and she’s pressing her body to mine. She’s so damn delicate. So fragile. So fucking breakable. It simultaneously makes me want to crack her open just to see her cry and protect her from all the harshness the world is only too happy to brandish.

  I carefully take her throat and urge her back a step. She’s flushed and blinking up at me like I just blew her mind with only a kiss. I can’t blame her. The world is a little unsteady beneath my feet, though I’ll never admit it aloud. I hold her gaze and cup her pussy. She’s soaking wet, and I doubt it’s solely from the kiss. No, little Zurielle wants what I’m about to give her, even if she’s nervous.

  It’s enough to make me wonder if she’ll approach everything I do to her with the same balance of fear and desire. It’s a heady thing, and I have to stop myself from coaxing her to orgasm again purely from the delight she brings me. “On the bench.”

  I hold her hand as she awkwardly sinks onto the bench a few inches behind the dildo. She looks down at it, that delicious trepidation in those big dark eyes. I give her hand a tug, urging her closer to it. “Grind on it, darling. You know you want to.”

  She rolls her hips a little, rubbing her pussy against it. Zurielle’s eyes go wider yet, and she looks at me. “I don’t…”

  “Dislike it. Yes, I know.” I lean closer. “It feels wicked, doesn’t it? Rubbing on it like a wanton little thing while I watch.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” She licks her lips and begins rolling her hips again. This time, she doesn’t stop. Her body flushes, and she doesn’t quite manage to lower her eyes.

  No, she’s looking at my body while she grinds away against the tentacle. I suppose it’s the first time I’ve been anything close to naked in front of her, and she stares at me like I’m her favorite treat. Her gaze traces my breasts and down my stomach, lingering on the strap-on for several long moments before moving to my legs and back up again.

  When I finally manage to speak, my voice has gone husky. “Ride my cock, darling. It’s there and waiting for you.”

  Zurielle takes a deep breath and lifts herself up. The dildo is just large enough that it’s an awkward thing to sink onto it, and I have to force myself to plant my feet and not assist her. There’s a lesson in here. I’m still not sure who it’s for, though.

  I hold perfectly still and watch her work herself down the tentacle dildo. It begins narrower at the top, curving a little as it expands to the widest part at the base. She whimpers in that sweet way of hers but finally manages to lower herself completely.

  “Good girl. Now wait.” I smile. “Do not come until I give you permission.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  I turn to Alaric. “You’ve been so patient, lover. Come here.”

  He rises easily despite having knelt for so long and crosses to me. Gods, he’s beautiful. Maybe one day I’ll be able to look at him without my breath disappe
aring, but today isn’t that day. No matter how attractive, he’s not entirely happy right now. I know him well enough to recognize that.

  I catch his chin and lift his face until he meets my gaze. “The only one allowed to whip you is me.”

  Alaric blinks those pretty blue eyes at me. “What?”

  “You’ve been mentally whipping yourself since you realized Zurielle was here in Carver City.” When he doesn’t deny it, I raise my brows. “Are you a god, Alaric?”

  “No.”

  “Hmmm. Are you Zurielle’s caretaker? Her guardian? Responsible for her choices? Would you like to play her Daddy and keep her in a pretty cage?”

  His jaw sets like he wants to trap his answer behind his teeth. Ultimately, my demand wins out. “No.”

  “You can let that inconvenient guilt go and enjoy what we’re both offering this week, or you can go spend some time in your room alone to sulk. It’s your choice.” I pause. “Just like it was her choice to come here, her choice to participate in the auction, and her choice to continue to obey my every command.” I use my grip to turn his face to where Zurielle is panting a little and shaking with her need to move. “Am I forcing her down on that cock?”

  “You gave the order.”

  I sigh. “You’re disappointing me, lover. Answer the question honestly. Am I forcing her?”

  He’s clenching his jaw so hard, it’s a wonder he doesn’t damage his teeth. “No.”

  “That’s right. Now, stop wasting all our time and make your choice. Stay or go.”

  He stares at Zurielle for several long moments. I could push him, but the only way to get through to Alaric is to rub his nose in his ridiculousness. If this situation was playing out between anyone else, he wouldn’t blink at what was being done. It’s only himself that he holds to such strange standards. The man holds his guilt as close as any lover. Closer, even.

  Finally, Alaric sighs. “I’d like to stay, Mistress.”

  I wait a few beats, giving him the chance to change his mind. We both know he won’t do it, but this is another sort of punishment. It’s all well and good to blame me for everything, but he’s made his own choices. Everyone in this room has.