But Mattie was no fantasy. She’d torment then tear apart the sturdiest of grown men.
Hayden ought to know. That’s what she’d done to him.
Shredded him. Pulled him into tatters, then laughed in his face.
Someday he’d need therapy. Someday he’d heal. Right then he needed to get her what she wanted and, in the process, find a permanent way to protect himself from her coming at him again. And again.
And again.
And now he had Matthew’s gift to deal with. What the fuck was he going to say if someone came to his place and saw it? Not that it was likely anyone would be looking under his bed, but if they did what could he possibly tell anyone to explain what the fuck it was? And why he had it?
He got off the couch, went to the window overlooking Boston’s Back Bay. Some of the snow had broken loose from the trees lining the boulevard of Commonwealth Avenue, but the evening scene below still reflected the huge blizzard that had attacked the city. Piles of dirty snow made the curbs invisible, but the street itself was exposed and passable. The dark brick of brownstones, the grey-blue sky, it was classic Beantown. His own dilemma, an aching for a high-status job, an East Coast classic too. Add in the pressures of student loan debt, and the result was the typical plight of a recently graduated man. Except this man had no connections—social, political or economic.
All he had was his brain, his ability to write, and determination. Hayden watched the traffic further down the street and imagined the harsh wind coming off the Charles River a few blocks away. The blizzard had been historic, unforgettable, one to be remembered. For him, it was one he’d want to forget.
He moved away from the window, went back the stand over the table. Maybe it was better that he hadn’t been able to talk to Bob. The piece he’d just turned in the day before, the follow-up one on sex-cult zombies roaming the blizzard-locked Boston streets, was still a huge hit. Web subscriptions were up. Ad sales were up. Sex craved zombies prowling through the nasty blizzard, seeking human sex slaves, made good reading. Apparently, judging from the huge crowd at the comic convention that shit made for good fantasies too. Nobody but him knew the truth. Well, except sex-cult zombie tracker Guy Belmont, but that guy was gone. Keeler, his boss, sure as hell didn’t care about the truth. He cared about money, that was it.
Writing another trash piece for Bob wasn’t going to be all that hard. The fake stuff he’d used for the piece that had everyone buzzing was some half-ass shit he’d coerced Belmont into helping him put together. Belmont had followed the tribe for decades and even he didn’t understand everything. Granted the man had been more concerned with what he wasn’t getting, sex with the undead, rather than what he had—some chunks of potentially useable information. Despite their incompatible research styles, Hayden did have something in common with the old man. Once he got what he needed, he planned to keep it completely to himself, use it for his own purposes and never tell anyone a single thing.
Nobody was going to believe him anyway. No way in hell. That shit was too hideous, too disgusting and too vile. No wonder Mattie wanted out. Was she out? Maybe. Maybe she’d gotten what she’d needed from the notes she’d snatched from Belmont. He doubted it, though. He still felt her presence. Constantly. Acutely. Painfully.
Hayden shoved the pile of notebooks aside, pushed them onto the floor where they landed on the stack of library books he’d demeaned himself to get, then got up, paced. Beyond the windows, endless black stretched across the city. The velvet cloak was broken up by dots of light. The bits of color were only the illusion of civilization and decency. He padded across the polished wood floor, back to the window, cupped his hands and peered out at the Boston skyline. The night he’d been in the public library, citizens had been told to stay in. That had been his plan, too, once he’d gotten that first zombie piece done. Him staying in with his girlfriend, Rachelle, and screwing her until the sun came out, that had been the idea.
Hayden almost laughed at the memory.
That isn’t what’d happened.
Not by a long shot.
He’d been the one to get screwed.
Now, the blizzard from the last few days had softened to flurries. Flakes whispered through the cold night air, landing lightly on top of the huge swells of snow the storm had left behind. Some of the snow settled into the corners of the window sill. Some floated through the pale light cast out from the street lamps. The gentle scene was a lie.
Snowmaggeddon had delivered something worse than treacherous feet of snow. It had brought them. And now the entire city was infected and in danger.
Mattie was near, he knew. He imagined her skittering across the roof of the brownstone, muscular thighs twitching, ice hanging from her tangled hair. She’d gaze into any window she could, steal the humanity from those inside simply by watching them. Maybe she’d do more. Maybe she’d find a loose window, get into their apartment, take what she needed and leave.
“I’m surprised you didn’t lock the bathroom window.”
He was almost relieved. In some ways the anxious anticipation of awaiting her arrival was worse than her presence. With her there, he’d soon have an outlet for his anger and disgust. A chance to fight, to fuck, to give in. After he dropped his hands from the window, he could see the green glimmer of her eyes reflecting off the glass. The chill from her body caressed him as she moved forward. The pressure of her knee against his thigh was the first point of contact.
Chapter Two
“There now. Doesn’t this feel special?”
“Why bother with a lock?” he replied, watching a black sedan pull away from the curb, skidding briefly before straightening out, then creeping around the corner. “The lock didn’t stop you before.”
She jerked her knee forward and up, knocking him off balance. She grabbed his upper arm as he fell, squeezing her fingers deep into his flesh as she flung him onto the couch. Sneering down, she kicked at him until he scooted himself to the far end, stopping at the arm. “And I was thinking the unlocked window was an invitation. That you’ve started to like me.”
Trying to brace against the effect she had on him, hoping for a fraction of control, Hayden stiffened. She came forward, loomed over him as she fingered the hem of her midnight blue mini-skirt with her dirt smudged fingers. “No? No new feelings for me?” She lifted the snow-stained fabric with one hand and tucked the fingertips of the other hand into the top of her tattered thigh high fishnets. “To think I’ve been hoping you’d start to like me as much as you liked Rachelle.”
Hayden’s gut clenched. “She isn’t part of this anymore.”
“Oh, but she is, Hayden.” Mattie lifted her skirt up over the tops of her fishnets to show off her bare pussy. “Your girlfriend is a big part of this.” Dropping the skirt, she moved forward, her heavy black boots thudding on the floor as her sneer shifted into a false frown. “Sorry. I meant to say your ex-girlfriend.”
Ready to fight his way through, Hayden reached for his belt, jerked it loose. When he started in on the fly, she set one wet foot on his hand and pressed down to stall his motion. Chunks of ice fell onto the back of his hand. Cold water dripped into his palm, then ran down to soak into his jeans. “Not that, not now. Talk first. Fuck second.”
Hayden thrust her foot away, then scooted himself upright and away from her and gestured to the pile on the floor. “I don’t have anything new and you took all Belmont’s stuff, so there’s nothing to talk about.”
Except, of course, the burlap thing under his bed.
Or did she already know about that?
She knelt and sorted through the papers and books. The clumps of ice in her hair were starting to melt, letting loose fat drops that hit the wood floor with wet taps. Still perched on the backs of her heels, she flipped open Guy Belmont’s book, the one that had been the cause of all the fucked-up shit Hayden now called his life.
“Where’d you get this copy?”
“From Belmont. It was his good-bye present.” That was partly true
. After they’d finished the follow-up piece, Hayden had taken it from the old man’s suitcase, then told him to fuck off.
“Wasn’t that nice of him,” she said, flipping through the too-familiar pages.
The sketches of the barbaric sex rituals, the initiations, the speculations about the turning ceremonies were well done, Hayden had to admit. The sketched images were clear and made you feel like you were right there. Probably because the old man had been right there-decades ago, back before he was old.
Mattie glanced up, the bright green glimmer in her eyes shining between tangles of hair. “Imagine that man stalking us all those years, hiding behind trees, jacking off, drawing pictures, doing who the hell knows what else. If he wanted it so bad why didn’t he do something about it? Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?”
Hayden figured the man stayed in the shadows because he was either terrified or had a shred of good sense to hide. He kept that to himself, though, because he got what she meant. From her point of view, that man was a loser, a coward who was afraid to go after what he wanted. After all, she’d made the choice to cross over and join the tribe of the undead. Never mind that she now wanted out.
Drops of melted ice continued to fall from her hair, hitting the pages, leaving dark dots on the lurid drawings. For a long minute, she studied a picture of a woman bound at the ankles, while another woman examined her breasts. After carefully inspecting a few more drawings, she set the book aside and grabbed the stack of papers, flipped through it quickly, scanning the lines of careful notes and few random sketches tucked in along the margins. “These are all your notes? This is all you have?” When she looked at him, her frown turned real. Or as real as any of her expressions could be. “Nothing new?”
He shook his head but thought about Matthew’s so-called gift stuffed under his bed.
“Be glad that old man left town. He was going to be an issue for you.”
For the first time that day, Hayden laughed. “Hell no. I don’t even think so.” That old man was the only one he wasn’t afraid of.
“You’ve been wrong before and you’re wrong about that.” And then her face changed, the stiffness returning, the hard glaze in her eyes an icy reminder of what she could do to him. Of what she already had done to him.
“What did you want to talk about?” he asked, even though he was sure he already knew.
“An update,” she rolled back then stood. “But I guess that’s covered.”
He hated the way she easily wrote his skills off, as though he was useless. But the truth was, what bothered him more was the fact that once she decided he wasn’t ever going to find what she wanted, he’d be totally vulnerable. Then, he’d have absolutely no leverage, and she could do whatever she wanted to him. Killing him, the least of his worries. “If you want to take advantage of my research skills, why don’t you give me the journal and thumb drive you took from Belmont?”
“Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t. Haven’t decided yet. Meanwhile… ” She went to the window, placing her hands where his had been. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m still working on it.”
Neither of them spoke. She leaned forward, continued staring out the window. He watched her, imagining the slices of skin visible between the red straps binding her huge tits. Her black leather jacket hung loosely on her shoulders, suggesting a casual air that was the opposite of reality. His heart began to thud, and his jaw was beginning to tighten. That was the same reaction he’d had when he’d first met her, but now the response came from both fear and uncontrollable lust. How easily she’d pulled him in and how stupidly he’d followed.
Her head swiveled, and she found him with her emerald gaze. It wouldn’t be long before she was on top of him. She moved her hands from the window, then slid her fingers under one of the straps. Her breasts bounced as she tugged on the binding. It was her way of taunting him, humiliating him for wanting. Needing her. “What’s your plan researcher?” she asked, still tugging on the red straps. “I know you have one, so tell me.”
He shifted, trying to evade her study of him but still felt the weight of her cold stare. The icy gleam cut through him, gave him a chill that went straight to the marrow flowing deep in his bones. “We have to go back to the camp. Both of us.”
“Sounds fun.” Mattie stopped toying with the red straps but left her hand cupped on her breast. “You need my help, don’t you? I like that. It’s nice to be needed.” The green in her gaze had deepened, the color a threat, a reminder that he was her possession. Her tool. He was whatever she wanted and needed him to be.
And she did still need him, he knew that because if she was willing to go to the camp, that meant she was still part of the tribe. And if she was still part of the tribe, she hadn’t yet figured out how to break free. And so… she still needed him. As bad as that was, it was good.
He shivered. The quiver rolled through him, eventually making his skin tighten. Going to the camp wasn’t going to be fun. Slowly, he looked her over, took in the holes torn in her fishnets, the snarls in her hair and the roughness in her powerful hands. “You’ll help me? What do you want in return?” he asked.
“Don’t be an ass, Hayden. You know what I want.”
Pretending he had a choice, he unzipped his jeans, shoved his pants and briefs down and took out his dick. Stroking it, feeling it get hard, he said, “I think you want more than this.”
Lifting her skirt, she moved toward him. “You’ve gotten to know me. That is so sweet.” She climbed onto him and with one hard thrust covered his dick with her cold, tight pussy. “That will make fucking you so much more amusing.” She looked down at him, her eyes raw, the green glow swirling deep. “Won’t it?” The edge of her top lip curled as she reached back and gripped the side of his hips with her hard thighs. Once she had him pinned to the couch, she started rocking. “There now. Doesn’t this feel special?”
Hayden clenched his jaw, ground his teeth and turned his attention to the window, staring out into the night and praying the darkness would take his mind, make it as blank and as still, as the cloudless night. As it did every time, his body betrayed him. With each motion, his cock grew harder and harder still, responding to the tightness of her icy sheath and the aura of possession he had no control over.
If she was going to fuck him and take what she needed, he was going to try and take advantage of the opportunity. “What about Matthew?” he asked, remembering the last time they’d been together and the abrupt way she’d responded to her brother’s name.
This time she didn’t slow. “What about him?”
No reply came to mind. The brutal physical pleasure was beginning to shut off his thoughts. He stiffened his legs, firmed his back, tried not to smell her scent. “That’s what I want to know.”
She slowed, stopped then put one cool hand on each side of his face, glared down. “Guilt. You know about guilt, right? It makes you do stupid things.” Then she bent down and kissed him, brushing her lips across his so softly and quickly he didn’t even feel the cold. She released his face, and unnerved by the tender contact, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Slowly at first, she moved again. Grinding long and hard each time she rocked. Unable to stop himself, he lifted his eyelids. As he expected, she was glaring at him with an anger seated so deeply inside her that he knew he was only the target of it, not the source. Whatever caused hatred that deep took months, years, to get that rich and insidious. The new rage and disgust that now flowed through his veins was no match for hers, not even close. With a groan, he turned his head so that only the night skyline filled his vision. Gradually, she quickened her pace, pounding on him with her hard body, taking, taking, taking...
He sucked in several deep breaths. The bitter iron smell that made the back of his throat tighten filled his nostrils with the stench of fear, anger and undeniable lust. The combination sparked his adrenaline, kicked his nerves into high gear. The muscles along his spine twitched, knotted, then clenched. He was nearly immobile, but not
numb. Her cold sheath squeezed his cock, gripped him hard. Her hips pounded his crotch, hitting his balls, rubbing his thighs. Everywhere her body touched, chilled and heated him. The effect was everywhere. All over him, all in him, as though she consumed him inside and out.
Fighting was pointless. Why did he bother? Pride?
Still she moved over him. One of her breasts had come free from the bindings. The other was pinched between the straps. His hands burned with the desire to grab them both. Squeeze them. Feel the cold skin in his warm, human flesh, pretend for a minute that what they were doing was normal. Healthy. Right. He kept his hands down, willed himself to accept the truth.
Suddenly, she stopped and reached under him, her arm movements sharp as she explored his underside. Seconds later, she pulled his phone from his pocket. After checking the screen, she held it in front of him. The call was from Bob.
His boss.
The reality of the situation couldn’t sink into his mind. He was that far gone, his dick nearly throbbing from the way she’d been banging into him. Every muscle twitching, every nerve on fire.
Hayden shook his head.
“If you don’t answer it, I will. She held the phone aloft, starting again to grind against him, continuing to take what she needed to sustain her inhuman strength.
He snatched it from her and answered.
“I need you to come to the office.”
Gray haze hung in the depths of Hayden’s thoughts, the cloud so thick he could barely recall what he did for work, let alone where the office was located.
The man kept talking and Hayden kept wishing he would shut up.
But that electric edge in Bob’s voice snapped through the line and Hayden knew that whatever was causing it was going to be something he didn’t want any part of but would end up right in the center of. That was how he’d gotten himself pinned beneath this undead thing. “Right, yeah, of course. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Mistress of the Undead Page 2
