“Let’s see you fight back now, little rabbit,” he ground, his lips curled back in a sneer. “And if you want to try coming after me, then do it, but be prepared to fail time and again before I eventually decide it’s time to end your pitiful life.”
Marcus then used his power over Warren to stir his senses and stoke the fire inside of him that loved him and would always do as he commanded. Warren fought the feelings, even in his pain and anguish, and Marcus laughed again. “You don’t like it, do you? Being forced to adore me and be my slave for hire.”
“No,” Warren agreed. He just about managed to get to his feet and Marcus delighted when he stepped closer and Warren recoiled in fear.
“You’d best get used to it, because you’re my new favourite. The one I’ll be keeping a close eye on to ensure you don’t step out of line again, as well as the one I’ll be recommending to all my new clients.”
He then pressed the button to call the lift and stepped away with a devious smile. Warren looked a wreck and felt even worse, he could tell, and Marcus felt a sense of victory come over him as he watched him leave. It was just too easy.
Sixteen
Wynter watched Marcus and Warren fighting out the corner of her eye and while she hated seeing him get hurt, she found it was actually rather satisfying. And kind of a chivalrous move from the ancient vamp. Warren had hurt her feelings and her pride, but Marcus had avenged her, in his own odd way. He had questioned Warren and punished him, and even though Wynter knew there had to be a bigger reason than just to discipline him on her behalf, it still felt good to see him scuttle off with his proverbial tale between his legs.
She and Marcella were working each other up nicely and had been kissing and touching one another in a bid to get all those frenzied hormones buzzing, even after Marcus had finished his initial feed. She was already absolutely desperate to climax, her body aching to be touched, and she couldn’t wait for the three of them to get started again.
“Wynter,” Marcella whispered, breaking her heady reverie, “I want this. I want you,” she added, along with another kiss. “But I’m not as experienced as I made out before. I don’t really know what to do.”
Wynter pulled back and looked into Marcella’s warm eyes with a smile. So, she’d given her some false bravado that time when they’d discussed their sexual proclivities following a feed. Surely most people would’ve done the same in a bit of a bid to impress their new friends though? She couldn’t begrudge her a bit of over exaggeration and so kissed her again while scooting closer on the table and then wrapping her legs around Marcella’s back.
“We can just show each other what we like. Where we like to be touched and how, and then the other can follow. This is about me and you, not him…”
They were still pressed against one another, Marcella standing between her open legs, when Marcus returned and then sauntered past the pair of them with a cocky grin.
“Shower,” he told Wynter, who had guessed that was to be the case anyway. He’d been the same the previous Sunday morning after her evening’s work and she could tell he liked his prey clean and fresh. Ready to tend to him.
But this time it was going to be different. There was a third party involved and Wynter was surprised by how calm and unnerved Marcella seemed to be. Anyone else and Wynter was sure they’d be all over Marcus in a bid to get in with him, but she was focused solely on her.
She led her behind the glass panel and into the bathroom, where they mirrored one another as they each undressed. Marcus watched them from the doorway, eyeing Wynter with a sort of reverence she found difficult to process. He seemed to be ignoring their guest too. Just like Marcella, he was focused on her alone and it was odd having two sets of eyes on her as she stepped under the left set of jets and began washing her hair and body clean.
When she was done, she looked to her right and found Marcella had just finished up too, and she was about to shut off the water, but Marcus seemingly had other ideas. “Join her, Wynter. Keep each other company while I wash up as well.”
She did as he’d commanded and stepped over to where Marcella was standing timidly beneath the warm jets. Without her clothes, she had a petite body Wynter was envious of. There wasn’t a single stretch mark, nor a blemish in sight. She had breasts that were small, but seemed swollen, and she groaned appreciatively when Wynter cupped them and trailed her tongue around her nipples. She then ran her hand down over Marcella’s stomach to her hips, and laughed when she elicited a ticklish giggle from her.
Marcus watched them, and then removed his suit and underwear, and Wynter found herself watching his every move as he walked towards them but then headed under the other shower. He was actually pretty beautiful and she studied him as he washed. Watched his delicate hands and the way they tended to the wash routine she herself had always taken for granted as a boring deed. But when he was touching himself and massaging that soap into his palms and then over his body, Wynter was mesmerised.
Marcella seemed to sense it and she reached for her, running her hands over the places Marcus was massaging on his own body. Her top-heavy frame had left her with a big set of boobs and a tiny waist, and Marcella didn’t seem at all fussed by their differences in shape and size. Her fingers swirled across Wynter’s nipples and she worked them into peaks before gently pinching and kneading them, sending pleasure through every inch of her body.
She then followed each of Marcus’s movements, even when he cleaned between his legs, and he then turned to the pair of them with that same smile that always dazzled her.
He continued to rub himself, his hand going back and forth in ways she had seen many a man do in the past. However, none of them had been this beautiful. Wynter wished she was touching him, but knew she would have to settle for the alternative offered to her. Marcella’s hands were magic. She was somehow gentle and yet still penetrating her deeply both at the same time as she delved between her parted thighs and stroked in and out to the same rhythm Marcus was working.
His eyes were on her pussy just as hers were on his cock, and with a jolt, they both came at the exact same moment. Wynter cried out and began to pant with the force of it, while Marcus shuddered and released his climax, letting the water wash it away.
In his moment of release, his eyes burned a brighter blue than Wynter had ever seen them, but by the time they were both done so too had that strange inner flame. He was cool and composed once more and Wynter yearned for the return of that look in his eye. The sense of something deeper. Something real.
He turned and looked up into the jet of water, letting it cascade down his body while she continued to watch. In fact, she couldn’t peel her eyes away. Not until he’d finished up and left her and Marcella behind. She watched him go right until the last moment, and then snapped back to the here and now with a sigh. It was the first time they’d parted and she hadn’t been glad, and it felt odd to miss him.
“Was that okay?” Marcella asked her once she’d given Wynter a little space to come back down from her high. “Was it what you wanted?” she added as she shut off the water.
She was so gentle and timid Wynter wanted to laugh, but instead she stepped closer and placed a deep, appreciative kiss against her lips, her still wet body crushing against Marcella’s. She was so odd. Like she really didn’t know how to be with another person sexually, and not just with women. Everything about Marcella was different now that she was exposed and laid bare. Her bravado and the funny woman Wynter had gotten to know before was gone, and all that remained was a sweet and pure young woman with innocence like that of a child.
“It was perfect,” she answered when she finally released Marcella from the kiss. “You are perfect.”
Marcella blushed and smiled coyly, but said nothing in response before then leading them out of the shower cubicle to where warm towels awaited them. Wynter moaned appreciatively as she wrapped one around herself. They were huge, and like heaven against her sensitive skin. She let out a contented sigh before getting to w
ork on drying off and fluffing her hair as dry as she could get it. Marcella did the same with her deep red shoulder-length hair and then helped her plait it and weave the braid into a bun, and soon they were laughing and joking at how inept she was at trying to style Wynter’s far longer hair.
She loved spending the time with her though, and Marcella was so sweet it was endearing. Her lithe fingers were gentle, but she kept forgetting herself as she leaned across Wynter’s back, their semi-naked bodies moving against each other’s and the edges of their towels catching one another’s, threatening to fall loose.
Marcus hadn’t so much as bothered to wait for them as he dried off. He’d just left the women to it and Wynter caught him watching the two of them through the open doorway with a scowl. She wanted to ask him what the problem was. To demand some kind of explanation. But instead, she smiled at him.
The games could wait. This, what was happening here between the three of them, was the best thing she could’ve hoped for. Marcella was tending to her with a tactile sort of grace she found she adored, and Marcus, well… he was being his usual brooding self, but still, she quite liked it.
***
Marcus watched Wynter with a frown, thinking how odd it was that he’d so easily entertained the idea of mutual voyeurism with her, when he’d never once done it before. Especially not with a human. He was a creature of habit and had only tended to his sexual needs with one woman in all his years. The vampire Camilla was marginally younger than he and the pair had come to an arrangement centuries before so that whenever either of them was in need of a lover, they would make themselves available immediately. No matter where or when, Marcus had been there for Camilla, and vice versa.
His body grew restless and in need of release perhaps once or twice per human year and she was the same. In fact, most vampires were. Their bodies worked slower than their human underlings’ did. They were creatures without much of an appetite for anything other than the blood coursing through their Blood Slave’s veins. But, every now and then the mood would strike for something more than just the satisfaction a feed would give them. That was when vampires called upon one another to satisfy that urge. It wasn’t that they respected humans too much to defile them, not at all. Far from it. If anything, most vampires saw them as too lowly to be worth their affections, plus there were risks to taking human lovers. It had to be real love or else there were severe consequences.
There was plenty of his kind that had found someone they truly cared for, of course. When a vampire fell in love, they fell hard, and so were often forced to turn their lover into one of their kind anyway, thanks to a kind of ancient oath each of them had readily taken in order to accept their vampiric transition. Like with all the other elements to their immortal existence, it was magic that had done the deed in creating them. Not God, a demonic force, or a curse, but an undertaking they’d had to accept. A blood pact with the ancient covens and dark mystical forces they were beholden to from the moment they were turned to their eventual demise.
Blood was a necessity, but anything more was by choice and wasn’t to be taken lightly. It was why he’d refused the Priestess’s insistence that he take Wynter and make her his. Should a vampire make love to a human, their souls would merge and their immortal life would be tied to the other’s fleeting existence. The human would be protected and magically warded, and when they eventually died so too would their loved one, for the witches decreed that should the one you love perish, then surely any true soul mate would wish for the same fate rather than live on without them.
Instead, vampires turned their lovers before they could grow old, and they would enjoy immortality together as one. Many unions had been forged and whole families of vampires created over the years, but never for Marcus. He’d always remained alone. Never sired a single progeny. Never fallen in love or mated with another.
Times had changed, along with the morals and values of the humans they fed on, but still the fundamentals remained the same. If a human wanted to become like him, they could ask for such a change. If accepted by a witch or warlock, their transition would be slow and their actions measured to ensure they were right for the gift being bestowed upon them. The oath was not taken lightly, and would override even the most potent Blood Slave curse. The new vampire would be free from the chains of servitude and overnight would become one of the many predators feeding upon the humans in Marcus’s employ.
None of Marcus’s Blood Slaves knew this truth, though. It was one of their most absolute laws not to reveal how the transition worked, but in the throes of passion even the strongest of vampires could reveal all to their lover. In a show of the ancient magic, their eyes burned brighter when they gazed upon the one they loved. Their soul, the only link to their former life, and that which had so readily been locked away, would come to life in that moment. Especially during their carnal release and the few seconds afterwards. Then, they were helpless.
The act of making love was sacred to the witches and they had kept it so even centuries later.
Even today, a vampire could only take a human to their bed if they truly loved them, and the oath they’d each taken had made it so they could not deceive their soul mate once the deed was done, even if they weren’t yet turned. Any curse a human might be under would be broken. All manipulations would come to an end. The covens believed that to truly love another then each party must be laid bare, and were willing to force it if necessary.
Marcus continued to watch as Wynter smiled up at her new friend. One she now knew intimately. She was so free with her sexuality it was a pleasure to see, and yet he couldn’t help feeling covetous. He felt like sending Marcella away, but knew he couldn’t without looking like a jealous fool. And so, he forced his feelings aside and locked them tightly away.
This was dangerous ground and that was the safest place for them, after all. Like the storybooks always said, true love was the greatest power of all and could break any spell. Falling in love was the biggest risk a vampire could take, and was exactly why so many only ever had sex with those of their own kind. Like Marcus, they wouldn’t take even their most prized Blood Slave to their bed. They would let them tend to their needs themselves in private or with another human after the feeding was over, while they ignored those desires and focused only on the needs that must.
And that was how he’d come to this decision to have another person service his new obsession. Of all the people Marcus had wanted to watch her be with over their day together though, it was strange that Wynter had chosen Marcella—his undercover Priestess. She was the same young girl he’d watched grow and change into a woman under his care and guidance. Someone who had only recently learned what it meant to have a lover touch and pleasure her. And now she was learning new lessons. Changing all over again and exploring her body, giving into new wants and needs.
It was becoming apparent to him very quickly how the witches didn’t count lesbian love affairs as breaking their sacred oath never to make love to someone they weren’t intending to procreate with. It made sense, given how every witch he’d ever known had been female and only ever used a man to further their bloodline. Never for fun, love, or a long-term liaison.
Plus, it was something he was now going to bear in mind during his alone time with Wynter. If foreplay wasn’t enough to create an unbreakable merging between them, then he was damn sure he wasn’t going to waste any chance he got to pleasure her. Himself too, just as long as he kept away in the aftermath when he felt weak and his soul was rising to the surface, ready to be laid bare.
He had felt it when he climaxed in the shower. He’d wanted to go to Wynter and bury himself inside of her, but his willpower had won and Marcus had held himself back. He was sure he could do it again. Just as long as she didn’t touch him then all would be well.
He continued to watch as the two women he still couldn’t quite believe were together left the bathroom and positioned themselves upon the sofa. Marcella was letting her cover slip. She was showing Wynter her
true self, and yet there didn’t seem to be any hurt feelings or upset from the latter.
Wynter seemed open and accepting of her, regardless of her daring and the demeanour of the independent woman she had falsely portrayed to her during the times they had met over the past week. In fact, he sensed no malice in her, only lust and desire. It was almost as if she liked teaching Marcella the intricacies of the female body, and Marcus wondered whether this kind of treatment was exactly what Wynter had needed to ensure she finally felt comfortable at Slave. Every time he had pushed her, she’d fought back, but with Marcella it was different. Wynter was the one pushing. She was doing the leading and appeared to be in her element with having someone so ready to follow her.
As he watched, Marcella climbed up higher on the sofa so that she was kneeling behind Wynter, and she leaned over her from behind, kissing her neck. Her hands danced over Wynter’s supple breasts and she shot Marcus a look that spoke a thousand meanings. She was enjoying this and knew he was too.
Marcus wondered if she had planned it this way. If she had swayed Warren into refusing Wynter’s request and then had swooped in to claim the prize she too had been drawn to? Was it inevitable that they all might love Wynter in the end? His Priestess had issued Marcus with a forewarning to take her as his own or lose her forever in the arms of another. Would it be to Marcella herself? Would they fall in love and his powerful witch would defy him after all her coven had done?
As he stood there deliberating, she climbed down and soon had her mouth between Wynter’s parted thighs. Marcella was lapping at her, building another impending orgasm, and he could sense her desire building as well. She wanted Wynter to return the favour, but was too shy to ask her for it. Sex, or at least the semblance of it she now knew could exist between two women, was something Marcella apparently wanted, and especially with his most prized possession.
The Beginning Page 15
