He pictured Elizabeth’s blue eyes and blonde hair, remembered the tremor in her voice as she disappeared.
“No blondes,” he added to the second guard.
Exiting Daemon’s room, he shut the door firmly on the mess left behind from their raging magics, then turned the key and locked it. No one else could know about Elizabeth’s visit yet.
Nothing had gone to plan but he had learned quite a bit. There were questions he hadn’t thought to ask, paths he never would have travelled for the answers. Now, he had a direction.
Where there was smoke, look for fire.
He should have followed his nose the first time with Elizabeth, pushed her into the library and taken more than one stolen kiss of her lips.
He could have demanded she tell him what had put the worried look in her eyes. She might have allowed him to protect her. If only, then he wouldn’t be left standing with his strong hands empty.
It hadn’t been a complete loss.
Phillip pocketed the room key with a wry smile. The taste of Elizabeth’s rich blood still tingled on his tongue.
She could run, but she couldn’t hide. The delicious witch would lead him to all the secrets she was holding, perhaps even to Daemon.
Now, the game he had to play was becoming clearer.
There was just one last thing he needed to research before his next engagement with Elizabeth. A term he knew but was mostly unfamiliar, one he had dismissed as romantic nonsense to woo the ladies, and he had no need for such tricks.
The rules of mating may be the most important ones he learned for the game ahead.
Deal with the Devil
Jill
Jill got up from the bed when Victor entered the room after a perfunctory knock. She had been hugging her knees, trying to settle her stomach after talking to her sister.
She was glad Elizabeth was safe, even if her sister was stuck with the horrible George. It was selfish to want Elizabeth here. Jill didn’t need her older sister to deal with the general and to stand between her and Victor.
It was time to be strong.
“This should fit,” Victor said, putting a neatly folded purple dress at the foot of the bed.
It was a vivid hue she normally would never pick for herself. Her mother had prepared all pastels for her court gowns to fit the demure profile they had wanted to project.
Normally, she preferred neutral browns and beige colours, along with lots of basic blacks. The only exception was the brightly coloured nursing scrub tops she bought, with plenty of cartoon characters for her paediatric patients to enjoy.
“Thanks,” Jill said.
She fingered the soft material. It was cotton but the high thread count made it silky against her skin and would probably make it cooler.
Victor dropped another bundle of clothes, obviously intended for him, on the bed.
“Tor is ordering a meal for us downstairs,” Victor said.
“Breakfast? Dinner?” Jill asked. “I don’t even know what time it is right now.”
She’d been kidnapped late at night from the human realm. It seemed like the night had been breaking when they crossed over to Maeren.
She probably couldn’t eat anything with the way her stomach was twisting in knots.
“Breakfast, although at a Maeren pub, you kind of get dinner and alcohol served all the time. Vampires don’t always keep to the same hours as humans,” Victor answered.
She shrugged. Hopefully, he wouldn’t say anything if she only picked at her food.
“The vampires you met at the portal will be joining us. I got a private dining room for you to meet with your grandfather,” Victor added, giving her questioning glance.
Elizabeth had already spilled the beans on that secret, but it seemed like Victor had arranged things so Jill couldn’t run when she found out.
He was pushing her.
“Oh,” Jill answered, looking away from Victor. She let go of the dress, dropping it back on the bed. “Do I have time to bathe and change first?”
She wasn’t ready. A delay would be wise. Some more time to settle her nerves.
“You’ve never met your grandfather before, have you?”
“No,” Jill answered, looking down.
Victor slipped two fingers under her chin and lifted her head back up from where she'd been studying her boots.
“He’s a good vampire,” Victor assured her. “I didn’t recognize him at first, but I’ve heard of him from my father. He’s rather famous for that scythe, General Ansulf.”
Jill was going to throw up. She knew her grandfather’s other name, having overheard the other witches gossiping about it when she first entered the court and made such a splash at the tasting ball.
Her grandfather was like the grim reaper. That made sense in a family with demons in the closet. She would rather just keep thinking of him as the general.
“You could go with your grandfather. If he requests it, then I’ll have to release you to his protection. That is, if it’s what you want. He would still have to take you to the castle for questioning but you wouldn’t have to travel with me,” Victor said, not releasing her chin as he watched for her response.
Did Victor want to get rid of the burden of taking care of her so quickly? Well, too bad. He couldn’t pawn her off on her grandfather, who was practically a stranger to her.
She’d rather tangle with the devil she already knew.
“No, I would rather go with you. As you said, I don’t know my grandfather,” she said, stepping back, so Victor had to release her chin. She picked up her dress again. “I would like to get changed.”
“Do you realize what choice you are making?” Victor asked. “No, I don’t think you understand,” he said, not waiting for her answer.
He backed up to the door and slid the lock home. With a flick of his fingers, he added a blue fire barrier around the lock, securing it against everyone but Jill.
He looked back at her wide eyes and pulled his ripped shirt over his head, baring the rest of his broad chest and muscled abdomen.
“I didn’t come all the way to the edge just to pick up a witch for questioning,” he told her, walking back over to her and tipping her chin up again when she looked down at her boots in embarrassment.
He released her and took a step back.
“You took some things from me the day you poisoned me, things I have worked hard to ensure no one would take from me again,” Victor said.
He unbuckled his belt, yanking it out of the jean loops with a noisy snap. His jeans hung low on his hips, baring crisp black hair that disappeared under the button fly.
Jill made a small sound of distress, a tiny whimper she choked back as those dark eyes forced her to meet his challenging stare, instead of letting her hide, looking down at the floor again.
He was watching her with that animal stillness he had shown for a few moments outside her work, capable of snapping out and grabbing her before she could even take more than a step away from him.
“I’m sorry about taking those things away from you,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the beast.
Victor’s eyes never left her face but he replied, letting her know her apology wasn’t going to be nearly enough.
“My sister lost the respect she had earned back, as well, when you walked out of the castle with her under Elizabeth’s power,” Victor said.
Of course, Victor knew how they had done it. He had experienced Elizabeth’s power firsthand and drank the same poison as his sister.
“Tor did mention it to us. We didn’t intend that to happen,” Jill excused.
Victor sighed.
He hooked the top of his fly between his thumb and index finger of one hand and gave another yank, revealing his commando state.
Jill looked there and then back at her boots.
“Eyes up,” Victor ordered. He toed off his boots, holding his jeans up with one hand. “I'm going to punish you, Jill.”
What?
Victoria h
ad warned her.
She trembled. He saw it, of course, had forced her to meet his eyes while he stripped and talked.
“I don’t hurt witches. I won’t put a mark on you,” Victor said, staring into her eyes. “I told you, I’m dominant. I have other ways of teaching a witch like you.”
All of the princes had reputations. Jill should have paid better attention to his before she allowed him into her bed.
They had only rested together, but she had known he wanted her. At the time, she had craved the attention.
So reckless.
“Have you done this with other witches?” she asked. She hated how her voice trembled, too.
“Some witches like to play games for fun,” he said. “This thing, between us, is different. You knew my interest before you left. You are the first witch in a long time I even considered adding to my harem for something more than feeding. I still am interested, Jill, and the offer of a claim is open, once we have completed your punishment.”
He dropped his ruined jeans, standing unabashedly naked in front of her. She looked down at her boots.
He growled and she looked back up before he could order it, again.
Had she really told him that it was no big deal to see his body when she had stripped him and positioned him over a bedpan, nonchalantly tucking him under the blankets before closing the door on his paralyzed body and doubtless outrage?
That witch had been out of her mind!
“How long?” she asked, barely able to speak past the trepidation squeezing her throat. “The punishment . . .”
He reached for his new pants and paused.
She flicked her gaze down and up, and then when he didn’t snap at her, she bravely looked down again at his groin.
Curiosity won over fear.
Victor’s penis was a pale-honey colour, a little lighter than the rest of his tanned skin. It was larger than the last time she’d glimpsed at it, probably partly erect, the foreskin retracted a little, so the head peeked out.
He stood still as she looked her fill, only bending to finish dressing when she flicked her gaze briefly up to judge his reaction.
His scrotum hung heavy as he bent over, each testicle large enough to fill her mouth alone. He tugged the pants on, cutting off her view.
“Eyes up,” Victor whispered, the order softer this time.
Jill blushed and looked back up, trying to focus somewhere over Victor’s shoulder.
He buttoned his new pants. They looked like cotton, but sturdier than her dress. They were tighter fitting than she would have expected as he did up his fly, revealing a bulge that she had examined just moments ago.
“How long?” he said, reminding her of her earlier question. “Your punishment will last until you give me what you promised, a proper feeding of my choice,” he said, and she almost smiled in relief. That shouldn’t take long. “And I already told you, Jill, that I would be inside you, next time when I feed.”
He was going to take her virginity. If she wasn’t blushing earlier, then she was now.
“I d-don’t know,” Jill stammered.
Victor didn’t bother with a shirt. He walked over to her, slow and measured steps closing the short distance between them.
She only had to look up a little to meet his eyes, their height almost the same.
He could lean closer and they would be kissing again.
“Hands up over your head,” Victor told her.
She obeyed. He grabbed her scrub top at the waist and pulled it over her head, growling when she tried to lower her arms to stop him.
Her lacy, pink bra left nothing to the imagination. The matching g-string under her pants bared even more and still felt damp from her orgasm on his motorcycle.
“I think you do know what you want, Jill,” Victor said, looking down at her pointed nipples. He walked a slow half-circle behind her and undid her bra hooks. “You don’t have to tell me or decide when I’m in control. I’ll take care of you,” he said.
He slipped her bra off of her shoulders and she let it slide down her arms and onto the ground.
“You’ll tell me what to do?” Jill asked. “What if I don’t want to do something you ask?”
Victor wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, his fingers seeking her scrub-pant ties. His chest was like a furnace against her back.
“I don’t ask permission. I give you an order and I expect you to obey it,” he said, untying her pants. “You trust me to only tell you to do things I know you can handle, things we’re both going to find pleasurable.”
“I thought you were going to punish me,” Jill said.
“You are being punished, but willingly. If there is something you truly cannot accept that I tell you to do, then say, ‘red’ and I will stop.”
A safe word? That seemed rather modern for a male from Maeren, but it was also presumptuous to think BDSM was new. Sex was as old as time.
Victor pushed her pants over her hips. “Step out of them,” he told her, smoothing his palm over the firm roundness of her exposed ass cheeks.
She was well aware that her toned butt from hours of martial arts practice drew male appreciation, although the sexy lingerie had only ever been for her. She still wore boy shorts for swimming instead of the sexier bikini bottoms she craved.
“Bend over, lay you arms flat on the bed from your elbows to your hands, palms up,” he ordered.
She obeyed. His tone didn’t offer any other options. She was blushing but he didn’t even notice, walking behind her to admire her bottom.
“Spread your feet,” he ordered.
“Um, why?” she asked.
“Do you want me to smack your ass or add time to your first punishment?” Victor answered.
She swallowed back a reply of none of the above. He said he wouldn’t leave a mark on her, so the smack would be like a slap on the wrist, she supposed.
“Um, the first one,” she said.
“Tell me that you want me to smack your ass, Jill,” he told her.
“I want you to s-smack my ass,” she said.
He did, startling her with the loud, quick slaps that covered one cheek and then the other. She felt the heat blooming as he nudged her feet apart.
The question about punishment seemed to be answered. Honestly, she had been expecting worse.
“You are a beautiful witch,” Victor said, hooking his fingers under the strings of her panties and pulling them down.
She bent her knees and tried to twist away.
“Get back into position now,” he growled at her.
She straightened her legs despite the embarrassment, anticipating another couple of smacks. She had closed her thighs again, trying to stop him from baring her completely to his view.
“I want to see how wet my hand made you, Jill,” Victor said, not specifying if it was from when he fingered her on the bike or the brief spanking, now.
He tugged her panties over her bottom, leaving them halfway down her thighs.
She kept her legs squeezed together tightly.
“Are you going to spank me again?” she asked, trying to distract him.
“I didn’t offer you a choice this time. I’ll be adding another minute to your punishment instead,” Victor said. “If you don’t open your legs for me to look, I’ll have to use my fingers to feel how wet you are,” he warned her.
“I can’t,” Jill said, squeezing even tighter.
Victor bent over her, gathering her long hair into a thick ponytail that he fisted around, close to the back of her head. He held it tightly enough that she knew he had her under his control.
The erection straining his new pants brushed against her bare ass as he leaned near enough to whisper in her ear, tugging her head sideways.
“I don’t have time to show you how I would normally deal with your reluctance, Jill, so I’m going to cut right to the punishment for today. If you cooperate better next time, then it won’t all be punishment,” he said.
She didn’t mov
e or say anything and that was all the permission he needed.
Rolling off of her and to the side, his hand still fisted in her hair, he directed her to look at him. Their faces were just inches apart.
The position put her above him, looking down, but there was no mistaking who was in control.
“Fuck,” he whispered, coming up on one elbow to kiss her lips.
It was closed-mouthed and quick, but he didn’t pull back more than a couple of inches after he kissed her, his dark eyes watching her as the first, few icy drops of his water hit her lower spine.
She gasped against his mouth, kissing him again, one of them shifting.
He pulled back a little, looking down as she nibbled her lower lip. Cold water dribbled down from her heated buttocks to her back, then as she squirmed, rivulets of cool water down her thighs.
Smooth, freezing ice in the shape of a finger touched her perineum.
She made a sound not quite a scream but close enough.
The icy finger rubbed, melting and slipping further between her pussy lips. She had already been wet but the cold seemed to set her libido on fire, leading to a new gush of slippery moisture as she wiggled against the strange sensation.
“Open your legs,” Victor ordered. He used that dominant voice that made her body obey.
The icy finger touched her clitoris. She would have shot off the bed but Victor still had his fist in her hair and put his other hand on her upper back, between her shoulder blades, apply firm pressure keeping her from escaping.
“I would have stopped here for your first punishment to just give you a taste, but you were so disobedient,” said Victor, moving the ice around her pussy, so nothing got numb from the cold.
He waited just long enough to start melting the ice and then moved to the next sensitive bit of flesh, the little nubs on the icy finger-shaped to stimulate every nerve ending.
It was going to be like the bike, just as fast and hard. She leaned against the ice, pushing back against the sexual torment, seeking release.
The ice was gone as suddenly as it had appeared. All Jill was left with was the ache of incompletion.
“It wouldn’t be punishment if I let you orgasm,” Victor said.
No Witch Way Out (Maeren Series Book 2) Page 40
