The Beginning

by Eden Wildblood

  After Wynter’s next climax, she didn’t hesitate, or ask for permission to return the favour. Marcus watched as she took charge and soon had Marcella panting and writhing against her mouth atop the sofa. The atmosphere was heady and tense, and when the powerful witch cried out with her release, it wasn’t just her eyes that grew brighter. Her entire body seemed to shine for a moment, and he was glad Wynter hadn’t appeared to notice.

  Damn, that woman was a sight to behold though. She was bent over Marcella and was stark naked, her body completely on show to him. And still she had all the power. He would not touch her there. He couldn’t. It was too dangerous.

  Marcus felt as though he was running around in circles again trying to piece it all together. Marcella had foreseen something. A life-altering change was on the horizon, and all centred on Wynter. He wished he knew more than just the fragmented prophecies he’d pieced together with his own thoughts and the experiences he’d had with her under his wing the previous week. There was still much for him to learn, but overall, he knew he had to trust that Marcella would make him proud.

  He didn’t know where their future lay, but he knew he would be a fool not to cherish every moment he had with both his coveted new slave and his powerful ally. She would come through for him in the end. His Priestess always did.

  After all their years together and him having entertained her request to actually live as a human and work for him, Marcella had become a woman in just a matter of days. While still in her ceremonial robes she had taken Jack over and over again until the pains within her had subsided, signifying the conception of the next generation of witch. Her human lover adored her now and pined for the woman he hadn’t even been allowed to kiss, touch, or see while she’d taken him. Jack would never be the same again, just like Patrick hadn’t been after conceiving Marcella with his old Priestess.

  And yet already, she had moved on. Little had Jack known that he was making a child with the same woman he had worked with for almost two years, but there was no point in him revealing the truth. Marcus knew Marcella had no intention of showing her true self to him. She was now released from the virginal binds that had once shackled her, and it appeared his Priestess was eager to indulge her womanly needs in as many other ways as she could.

  And while she took care of those needs, so too would he. Wynter had been given a long enough reprieve.

  It was time he fed again.

  Seventeen

  Wynter woke up late that afternoon with a big stretch and a loud yawn. She expected to find Marcella still lying beside her on the sofa where they’d eventually fallen asleep together, but she was gone and Wynter looked around for her in a panic. Marcus wasn’t there either and she immediately clambered up and pulled one of the thin cotton nightdresses from out the nearby drawer. As she was pulling it on, she heard a pair of voices and halted, listening intently.

  “Unlike you to succumb to the pleasures of man. Or should that be, woman?” Marcus was saying, and she heard Marcella laugh.

  Wynter froze and listened closely, desperate to hear what Marcella had truly thought of their time together. She herself had enjoyed every moment of it and would gladly do it again sometime, but then again she also knew she wasn’t gay. While it had been fun, she didn’t want to lead Marcella on or make her think there was anything to it, other than them having spent a day following Marcus’s orders and her friend having come through for her when it’d mattered the most.

  “It was time,” she replied dreamily, “and she was worth it. Just a bit of fun with a beautiful woman who gave me everything I needed and more.”

  Wynter sighed in relief. Yes, it’d been fun all right, and she was glad Marcella thought of it the same way. It was nice knowing there would be no hurt feelings now that their liaison was over.

  She also couldn’t stop her thoughts going to Warren and his embarrassing refusal to help her. God, she was mortified. She wasn’t sure she could even face him that evening when it was time to work again and looked at the clock, wishing the time would slow a little.

  What a change in her, she thought. Just days before she had come to love her night time work and hated the days she had spent feeding Marcus, whereas now she was exactly the opposite. Had he done it on purpose? Had he somehow known to push her and her friends and watch them crack?

  Wynter told herself it was impossible, but then again, nothing was impossible where the devious vampire was concerned.

  “Yes, just a bit of fun…” Marcus was saying, and Wynter got the feeling he was interrogating Marcella somewhat. “And something worth repeating or not?”

  “Perhaps, if my lord commands it,” Marcella answered, and Wynter thought it odd how she’d addressed Marcus. How old fashioned.

  “And what of the baby?” he asked, making Wynter freeze in shock. Marcella was pregnant? She hadn’t said anything before, and she just hoped their exploits wouldn’t have hurt things in any way. Surely not, given how much they had both enjoyed themselves? Not once had Marcella had to stop or ask Wynter to be gentle, so she had to have been sure.

  “She will come, as babies do,” Marcella answered him with a teasing edge to her tone, “but I assure you, I am quite well and the pregnancy did not get in my way.”

  “Oh, I noticed,” Marcus answered, “now go, get some rest.”

  Wynter heard Marcella leave and she waited, listening to see if she could figure out what Marcus’s next move was going to be. She got her answer when he appeared behind her as though he had moved as fast as lightening.

  “Shit!” she cried, making him laugh, “you scared me.”

  “That’s what you get for snooping,” he replied.

  “I didn’t mean to…” Wynter stammered, “I woke up and didn’t want to intrude.”

  “It’s fine,” he told her, batting the subject away as if he truly didn’t care. “It was nothing private. In fact, it’s better that you know of Marcella’s condition.”

  Wynter nodded and then found herself stepping closer to Marcus, suddenly needing to touch him. To have him hold her. He reacted just the way she’d dared hope for and wrapped her in his arms. She then nestled herself against him and breathed him in, thinking it strange how he was neither warm nor cold, but almost imperceptibly temperate, and how still he remained. Like a waxwork model or something.

  “What’s wrong?” she whimpered. Wynter then pulled her head back and peered up at him. “Were you not pleased with us?”

  Marcus answered by brushing the stray strands of hair from her exposed neck thoughtfully, stroking his way across her skin more times than had to have been necessary, but she didn’t mind. It was nice to have him touch her so delicately.

  “Yes, but you were both more focused on pleasuring yourselves than pleasing me, Wynter.”

  Her first instinct was to pander to him. To beg Marcus for forgiveness and ask how she might make it up to him, but then another voice in the back of her mind reminded her that he had pushed for this. He had forced it upon her and she didn’t need to ask his forgiveness in the slightest. The second voice won the internal battle to control her response and Wynter let out a small, forced laugh.

  “I came and you drank, over and over,” she reminded him with a smile. “That was what you wanted and I delivered it. The rest was up to me to do as I pleased.”

  A smile curled at Marcus’s lips and Wynter felt a pang of fear echo through her when he let it spread across his entire face.

  “And so you became my whore,” he countered, and her heart sunk. He was right. Not even one week previously she’d told David that she was not going to whore herself out to the boss talking in his earpiece. And now look at her, still reeling from a day spent fucking one of her colleagues for that same boss’s enjoyment. “Shall I show you what I do to my whores, Wynter?” Marcus asked, but he didn’t wait for her answer.

  He pushed her away and charged for the chest of drawers she’d plucked the nightgown from, where he opened the bottom drawer, pulled out a day dress and tossed i
t to her.

  Wynter yanked the old fashioned nightie off and threw it to the floor in a huff, and then waited for him to throw her some underwear. He didn’t. Marcus simply watched her with a scowl, his brows furrowed atop those impossibly bright blue eyes.

  She couldn’t hold his gaze, and so looked down at the cotton dress in her hands. She wanted to cry. She’d seen the pattern and style before and knew exactly where he’d bought it. Madam Brigitte’s. Her favourite boutique dress shop and the place she had frequented in a former life. She’d only been able to window-shop there for months due to her lack of funds, and at some point in the last week, he’d sent someone to buy her clothes from there. He’d known she’d love them and had bought them for her, and now she’d tainted his gift by being rude.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled, stroking the soft fabric. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to show me anything. I was wrong and you were right.” There was no part of her that wanted to fight him, but that didn’t seem to matter.

  “Too late for saying sorry, Wynter. Just put the fucking dress on.”

  She hated how he could go from one extreme to the next. One moment he’d been so sweet and kind, but now he was back to being impossibly cruel again, and she loathed his ability to turn his emotions off so easily.

  Fighting back her tears, Wynter pulled the dress over her head, letting it fall around her, and then buttoned it up at the front. The vintage style was perfect for her shape and size. It cinched in the middle and was low cut enough to be provocative without being slutty, and the sleeves fell in a delicate cascade over each shoulder before tightening around the tops of her arms. Luckily the dress was long enough that she didn’t feel exposed, given her lack of underwear, and when she was done she turned away from Marcus so she could slip on her shoes.

  The moment she was ready he had her back in his grasp and was soon leading Wynter over to the elevator. Every move he made had her jumping out of her skin. He went to press the call button and she flinched, and when he yanked her into the lift and pinned her to the mirrored wall, she cried out and shook her head. Wynter knew he was going to punish her. Was he going to force her into bed with someone? Turn her into a proper whore without any of the choices being her own this time? She couldn’t stand not knowing and began to tremble and cry.

  “Please, Marcus,” she whimpered, “let’s just spend this time together. Let me feed you,” Wynter tried, and against all her inner commands to run or to fight him off her, she curled her body against his and placed her hands up on his shoulders, her fingers lightly rubbing his neck just above the collar of his polo shirt.

  He pressed an urgent kiss to her lips in answer and then grabbed her behind so roughly Wynter knew it would bruise, but she didn’t care. She gave herself to him and forced herself to be silent as Marcus lifted her up into his hold and then perched her up on the wooden handrail that went around the middle of the wall. He could have whatever he wanted, just as long as they remained alone.

  He pulled away just long enough to press the stop button and halt the elevator’s descent, locking them inside and somewhere between floors, and then he was on her again. Wynter was left panting and she flushed with heat, but desperately tried to force those feelings away. Marcus needed to know it wasn’t about sex, but about her willingness to be one of his special slaves. One of his chosen few that were his alone and he didn’t share.

  Shit, she thought. That was exactly the point. He’d wanted her to have some fun but then had to have been jealous in the end because she’d had too much fun. Marcus didn’t want to share at all, and was willing to scare her into not wanting to go elsewhere either.

  Her legs opened wider at his command and she then did exactly as he directed without question or argument. Marcus was calling the shots and she knew she had to let him. The curse aside, Wynter’s sense of self-preservation was doing the leading and she was more than happy to let it.

  She expected him to bite and feed, but Marcus surprised her again by burying his face in her pussy, rather than over his usual spot on her thigh. Wynter squealed and writhed when he lapped at her clit, and even when she felt the razor-sharp sting of his tongue cutting her down there, she continued on in desperation and need. His careful licks changed to deep sucks as he began to drink from her and Wynter became like a woman possessed. She cried out and reached down, unable to stop herself from pressing Marcus harder against her. He responded by taking more and more of her, and she gave it perfectly willingly.

  When she came, she felt as though she might pass out. She saw stars and was in a euphoric high, but then reached the other side of her climax with a thud. Her head was pounding and her core ached, and she peered down to find Marcus still feeding from her. Panic rose in her chest and she tried to squirm away, but his hold was absolute, and he wouldn’t stop drinking. She screamed and called his name over and over, but he paid her no attention at all. He was lost, just like she’d been warned he would be, and death would soon be the only option left for her if he carried on this way.

  A question entered her mind. Was she willing to give him everything? Would she happily die right here and now if he decided to drain her dry?

  The answer was no. The curse was working on her yes, but not fully enough that he’d won and she was done for. She was still her own person and wasn’t going to let her life come to an end like this. “I resign,” she mumbled, and then took a deep breath and forced herself to speak up, ignoring the blackness behind her eyes threatening to drag her under. “Marcus Cole, I wish to invoke my rights to resign and terminate my employment.”

  With a hiss, he pulled himself back and then clambered away, as though she’d struck him. He shook his head over and over again, staring at her in shock, but Wynter was having none of it. She could feel his curse breaking somewhere deep inside of her and knew she was on her way to becoming her own person again. Not his slave. Not even his employee. Just Wynter. Penniless and miserable Wynter, but at least she’d be free. And alive.

  “No,” he cried, peering up at her in surprise. As if he couldn’t quite believe she’d managed it. Marcus actually looked weak there on his knees, and she felt sorry for him. Part of her wanted to stay, but Wynter knew it was foolish to want it. Just because she’d felt safe there and loved the work didn’t mean she could overlook the rest of the awful nonsense that went on inside Marcus’s club.

  Ignoring his pleas, Wynter pushed the button that restarted their descent and the lift shuddered back to life. They arrived on the first floor a few moments later and Wynter stormed out, but Marcus was hot on her heels. Plus, she was weak from her blood loss and he was still far stronger than she’d ever be, and before she could get more than a few feet away, Marcus had her up off her feet and in his arms.

  Wynter fought back and didn’t stop. She was her own person again and he had no sway over her, and she saw the handful of security guys watching her in surprise from the doorway that she knew would lead to her ultimate freedom.

  “No!” she screamed, “get off me. Let me go.” Marcus didn’t listen to a word. He carried her further into the club and through the huge double doors that led to what would later be the dance floor. Where writhing bodies had once enveloped her was instead a set of leather beds, and atop each were two humans who were fucking like their lives depended on it. They were bound to each other at the waist, ensuring they couldn’t part their bodies from one another, and each wrist had been cuffed to the bedside in readiness for the next feed. It was the most awful sight Wynter had ever seen and she wanted to scream.

  Marcus let her go and when she turned away, he whisked her around so she was forced to see them in all their sexually depraved glory. They were people she knew or had seen around the offices and she cringed and tried again to look away, but it was no use. Marcus had her face in his grasp from behind and he kept her looking forwards by force.

  “Whores,” he then growled in her ear, as if she hadn’t already guessed. “I have whores by the plenty, Wynter and while they fuck each ot
her my clients drink from them.” As if on cue, the next round of patrons were positioned by each wrist and they immediately began to feed. The people on the beds didn’t seem to notice. They simply succumbed to their euphoria and closed their eyes, smiling to themselves as they rode the new high.

  “I won’t be your whore, Marcus,” Wynter demanded, earning herself a gruff laugh.

  “No, you won’t,” he agreed, his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “But you will be my slave. You may have, by some miracle, broken the curse, but I can still force you to do as I command. I have other methods at my disposal.”

  “Just admit you’ve lost,” she replied, feeling braver by the second now that his curse had indeed lifted. “I’ll never be yours again. I’m going to leave here and never come back.”

  Marcus didn’t respond. She sensed rage rolling off him in waves, but he didn’t bite, so to speak. Instead, he lifted Wynter off the ground again and carried her away. He stopped only once they’d left the main dance floor and had gone into the smaller one at the back, which was used as a chill-out room when she’d been there on a weekend night.

  He settled Wynter back on her feet and it took her a few moments to decipher what it was she was seeing. A boxing ring was in the centre of the room and she couldn’t properly see what was going on inside thanks to the huge array of onlookers who were shouting and calling to the people inside.

  Then, as if Marcus had somehow willed them to part, the vampires each moved out of her line of sight and Wynter saw at last what it was they were watching. Warren was in there and he was laying punches at someone curled into a ball on the ground. Hope speared through Wynter’s gut that it was a vampire he’d successfully fended off, but then she saw the guys face and recognised him as one of the security guards she’d come across during the past week.

  A whistle blew and Warren retreated right away, but the poor guy on the floor wasn’t quite so lucky. He was then dragged out of the ring and straight into the arms of an awaiting vampire, who didn’t waste a moment in getting her fill of his blood.