by J. D Reo
"Yep, that's definitely you, what was it you said to me the other day?" I still can't see her from the angle I'm chained up but just as the jackass's finger grazes his gun his whole body locks up.
He tries to talk but he's left slack jawed with nothing but garbled sounds escaping his throat.
"Oh yes I believe it was, 'I bet that that ivory skin would look hot as fuck caked in blood, bruises and my handprints after being thoroughly broken in and fucked raw.' Isn't that what you said?" Her purr turns to a growl.
Her hands and arms come into view. A single delicate hand wraps around the man's throat as he whimpers.
"Don't worry, I'll make sure no other woman ever has to suffer hearing your nasty mouth spout that shit their way again." She tells him, you can literally hear the cruel smile in her voice.
Why does that make my dick hard? Oh, Fates I'm a sick mother fucker too.
Her finger twitches just the smallest amount on his throat and in an instant my tiny window is painted the darkest of red at the same time a sickening pop echoes in the cab of the van.
There's so much blood soaking the window all I can see is shadows moving on the other side. The van slightly bounces back and forth with the movement in the cab as I try to find my voice.
Every couple second the woman grunts and moves around in the cab. She drops f-bombs under her breathe every so often like a veteran sailor.
After a couple of minutes, the door slams, I hear the seat belt click and the radio turns on as she scans the radio for a few seconds before she gives up after hearing nothing but static and clicks it off again.
As soon as the van is switched into reverse and starts to move my head comes backs to reality and I clear my throat.
"You need to stop." I try to say it calm, she isn't my enemy here, but I can't let her drive away.
The brakes are hit so fast I almost hit my head on the window again as it comes to another screeching halt but manage to brace myself on my forearms at the last second.
I watch as she presses her hand to the side of the small window and the blood practically rolls away on its own leaving it cleaner than it was before the blood bath. So, she's an awake Fae then. But what kind of Fae can do something like that?
"Oh, Fates, aren't you fucking terrifying? Not in a bad way but fucking massive. How the hell did they catch you? They must have had a small army." Her voice is pure awe, but I hardly hear a word she says.
Her hair is a tangle of wild ginger curls. Its insanely bright wherever it's not caked in blood, it's wild and untamed. The kind you want to sink your hands into. Her eyes are a stormy blue and hold a look almost as wild as the curls on her head. Her lips are full and plump the kind you want bite and kiss until they swell and bruise. They would look amazing wrapped around my dick.
"Not much of a talker huh? Well, that's okay, I haven't had any one to talk to for a while, so I'm bound to talk enough for the both of us. Just tell me if I start annoying you." When she turns around again and re-buckles her seat belt, I'm able to focus again.
"We can't leave." I snap.
"You are Fae, right? A prisoner?" She asks as she finishes turning the van around and switches it into drive.
She has to stop. I refuse to have gotten this far for nothing.
"I don't have time to explain, yes I'm Fae but you have to stop. Or kick me out. I'll pretend I escaped the van and let them find me." If she doesn't stop, I'm going to have to quit treating her with kiddie gloves and make her stop, I really don't want to have to do that, but I can't let her ruin everything.
"No can do, not sure if this is just early Stockholm or what, but you don't know what it's like in there. The S.T.F don't fuck around. I'm sure the fuck not going back just because you're having a mental break down or something. And I'm sure the fuck not going to let them catch you and put that shit on my conscience. So, settle in, were taking a road trip." She clicks back on the radio again and starts scanning the stations once more cutting me off before I can even respond.
I'm going to have to kill this chick.
"You need to pull over. The gas light has been on for thirty minutes, you don't know where you're going, and I can’t stand this fucking collar anymore." The man in the back growls again.
He has been yelling the whole way, but he's right, I know he's right. I'm just too anxious to actually bring myself to stop the van.
"They could still be following us." I tell him as I check my mirror for what feels like the millionth time.
I take another turn as we pass signs for upcoming campgrounds. We have passed countless campgrounds already; they absolutely littler the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.
"They haven't been following us for hours. They weren't prepared for a chase and it was only the one car. You need to stop, I can’t move my arms, I've been forced to stand for hours. I'm sure your hungry too. I need my magic back. Pull over, we can make camp, and I can use the campfire to recharge my magic and we can make a plan." The plea in his voice is just desperate enough to eat away at my fear. He's not my prisoner. I'm not cruel, besides he's absolutely right, I have no plan.
It takes me about fifteen minutes to find the actual campgrounds, I had to dip into my desperately low pool of magic to clean the blood from the cab to pay the ranger for a site. Too bad I wasn't thinking when I killed the guard back at S.T.F. I should have taken a drink while the blood was still fresh and refilled my reserves.
All the blood in the cab had been sitting for too long at this point, all the power and life within it long ago died away.
That's okay guard mcperv ended up paying for the campsite tonight with the only twenty dollars he had in his wallet in the center console. Our change was a mere twelve dollars. It will be enough for another night if need be. Though I am hoping not to need another night, I really want a fucking shower.
After pulling to a stop at our site I step out and stretch as I look around. You can't see another site at all, which I absolutely prefer. Is it even camping when everyone is stacked on top of each other? Not that we are aim for a real camping experience tonight, but still.
Moving around the van I unlock the double doors and pull them open. Moving to climb up in the cargo hold the exhaustion starts to leave my body as I come face to face with a predator.
The man watches me intently, his dark hair long and wild, the dried blood in it telling me he didn't get in here easily. So why try to stay? His eyes are hard and dark. The color of flint and gunpowder. I've never seen eyes so dark and emotionless. He watches me like I'm prey walking into a trap. And call me fucked up but I'll be damned if I don't feel that straight down to my core.
"Do you plan on coming to unlock me anytime soon or are you waiting to see if I do a trick?" he snarls.
Okay, so he's pissy with me. I get that, but also, hello biceps. Fates, they're the size of my head. His tee shirt is a tad too small, but I imagine it's not easy to dress almost seven feet of pure testosterone.
I open my hand and look over the keys to bring my attention back to our current situation.
"I think this is the key to the padlock on the chains." I say dangling the key chain by the key in question.
"But I don't see anything on here for the collar." I continue.
“Better than nothing.” He says.
He nods for me to go ahead and angles his body to make it easy for me to unlock the pad lock and chains holding him to the wall. I feel bad for not pulling over sooner. This ride must have been hell, the chains too high to sit, but the ceiling too short for him to stand completely.
My left forearm brushes his left forearm as I maneuver the lock to where I can unlock it. The moment our skin touches I feel heat, it starts on the surface just where our skin meets but like molten lava it sinks in and burns through me. The feeling is over whelming and like nothing I've ever felt before, it's pure magic and my eyes close as the heat spreads to my center making my heart pound and my toes curl. Something deep inside me settles. Something I didn't even know was out of place.
When hot breath tickles my neck and cheek my eyes fly open to see the man is somehow impossibly closer.
"What the hell was that?" I ask, my voice embarrassingly breathy. I clear my throat and work to keep the blush from my face.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, just hurry up with the lock so I can get out of this van and bust this fucking collar off." His words come out in an annoyed huff. That I get. But he also fucking lied. I can hear his heart rate; I can sense his blood pressure. You can't hide emotions from a Blood Witch.
You also can't hide a raging hard on from one either. I can feel the blood rush before it even hits your dick jackass.
I don't say any of that though. Why even tell him what I am if he wants to be a dick, I can keep all my tricks to myself.
Instead, I smile sweetly, and unlock the padlock.
"of course, sorry." I say as sugar sweet as I can manage.
The padlock hits the metal floor with a heavy clang and the man turns and walks out not even a ‘thank you’ is spouted in my direction.
"What's your name?" I ask as I follow him out.
"Shepard." He says as he stretches. His t-shirt rides up as he stretches his arms over his head making my brain misfire and damn near combust. I'm such a sucker for an Adonis belt, and his is phenomenal. Fates what's wrong with me.
"How did you get your collar off?" he asks, his gaze meeting mine when my eyes finish their slow tour of his body. He absolutely saw that judging by the slight amusement he's trying to hide. But I see him fighting the edge of his lips that want to curl up. You can't hide shit from me Shep.
"It cracked when I was thrown and pinned against the wall. Lennox didn't know he broke it, I pried it off after I escaped." Which reminds me.
I look down and investigate my torn-up fingers. I didn't even notice the pain until now. Pulling from deep within me I force them to heal. I'm so magically exhausted I'm not even surprised when the black spots dance in my vision.
I glance back up and catch Shepard staring at me with a slack jaw.
"You said you need fire to replenish when we get that collar off? So, if you don't mind me asking, what kind of Fae are you?" I should know this, even before the purge blood witches were rare. Or at least that's what I've heard. But I’ve heard enough about my kind to know that I should be able to tell what kind of Fae he is by the scent of his blood. But truth be told, even if he gave me a taste, I probably couldn't figure it out. There isn't a lot of awake Fae left. I've hardly met any in my life at all. I'm not familiar at all with the different scents.
Shepard takes his time looking me over. He looks at me like I'm a burden, a pain. He's definitely pissed at me. Still, after accessing me he must find me harmless enough because just before he turns to the empty fire pit, he mumbles out…
"I'm a Demon.".
Everything is so silent out here in the woods. The stars are so incredibly bright too. Everything is amazing, peaceful, and simple in the wild. The sights, the smells, the silence. At least the silence would be amazing, if the sound of Shepard repeatedly bashing a rock against his collar didn’t keep cutting it off.
If it didn’t work the first several times, I’m not sure what makes him think it’s going to start working now.
Not long after I finish that thought does a loud cracking sound follow the thud of the stone against his collar.
Yep, super glad I didn’t say my opinion out loud.
He tosses the stone to the ground and starts to work to pry the collar off by the crack exactly the same way I did. For some reason I can’t comprehend though it’s much more difficult to watch him tear his fingers apart than it was for me to tear my own apart.
It only takes him a few seconds before he is tossing the collar into the fire pit and covering it in the dry leaves and twigs, I had added for starter kindling.
Shepard stays in a crouch, his elbows on his knees across the fire pit from me. For just a second I’m convinced he’s lost in thought but as I’m about to break the silence his flint eyes begin to glow the most amazing deep color of rubies. They shine like hellfire and steal my breath away.
That change in his irises only lasts for a split fleeting second, but it was absolutely amazing to see. Especially as the kindling begins to smoke and he starts to feed in wood from a pile close by.
“Wow, that was fantastic.” I breathe out, still unable to look away from his gorgeous face. His jaw is sharp, in fact all his features are. He's the definition of ‘manly’ an absolute wet dream.
“You’ve never met a Demon before then huh?” He sits with a grunt still staring at the fire. He however sits much closer to the pit now, refueling his magic reserves I imagine. The reflection of the fire licks off his features and I just can’t bring myself to look away.
“I’ve never really seen any awake Fae before, except my parents that is. They were both awake. My dad was a vampire, my mom was an earth elemental. I followed their faith, I mean I’m not super religious, but I know what the Fates have done, the good and bad. I’m living proof of it. But I don’t worship them.” I watch as his dark eyes come to mine.
“Any way, they're the only Fae I had every really known. I was eleven when they passed away. So, I don’t know a lot our kind unfortunately.” I say as my stomach growls yet again.
“How about you? Do you know many of our kind?”
Shepard looks away again inspecting his torn hands as he answers.
"I live in a small community of fae. As soon as my magic isn’t completely exhausted, I can shimmer you home and go back.” He explains.
“I don’t have anywhere to go, it’s cool though, I can stay here I have a couple more bucks, I can figure it out. No worries.” I answer as I chew on my lip mindlessly.
Of course, the van is out of gas, and my clothes are destroyed so I’ll look insane walking in anywhere. I’ve been in worse situations though; I’ll figure it out. I always do.
“What’s a shimmer?” I ask as I look back up and see his eyes are set straight on the lip I had been gnawing on and my face flames scarlet.
"It's kind of like teleporting, like you see in the movies. We call it shimmering because I don’t just blink in and out, when a Demon teleports, to someone watching our body looks like it's sort of like fading out but it looks like it’s moving too. Like it’s shimmering."
His voice is still full of distain. Like my questions are a burden. I want to ask why he was so dead set on staying with the S.T.F but I imagine if he hasn’t volunteered the information by now then he doesn’t want to share, and I’m not going to push him into it.
Still there has to be something I can do to make him not fucking hate me so much.
Pulling myself to my feet I walk over to him slowly, I walk like I’m approaching a bear ready to attack me. Which might be accurate because he’s definitely tracking my movements like I’m his prey.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I get close.
“I need to refuel too. It’s honestly starting to ache. So, I was going to ask you to help me out with that, but also figured if you are willing to help then maybe you’d let me heal your hands.” I step back and begin to worry my lip once more.
Maybe I jumped the gun here? Maybe Fae are protective of their blood, hell I know humans are. I shouldn’t have asked.
“I don’t need your help. You’re the reason I had to remove the damn thing like that at all.” He growls and I take another step back.
He'd still have the collar on if he was at S.T.F. He’s free now, how can that possibly be a bad thing?
“What do you need? For your magic? I’ll do what I can, depletion can be more dangerous than starvation. You already look like your starving, and dehydrated. You also need to bathe, and your hair is a fucking wreck, you should sleep too because the bags under your eyes are-"
“Fates, okay, fuck you’re rude.” I roll my eyes.
“I was a fucking prisoner, not a fucking guest. I want to see you look your best after what I’ve been throu
gh.” I bite out and continue on as he opens his mouth to interject.
“Blood, I need fresh blood, not a lot.” I glare back at him now.
I won’t be ashamed of my conditions. I’ve been doing my best to survive, screw him for thinking that’s not good enough for him. Unfortunately, he’s right that I have a lot of basic needs I need to fill, and my magic reserves are something I can cross off that list right now.
“So, you’re a vampire?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.
“I’ve never seen a vampire do any-“ his eyes moving between me and the van. I’m sure he’s recalling the pervy guard incident.
“No, I’m not a vampire, I’m a blood witch, vampires need to drink a lot of blood since it doesn’t just refuel their magic but it’s also their nutrition.” I tell him. Remembering how my dad used to fill a huge mug for himself and a shot glass for me from a freshly filled blood bag.
