Mistress of the Undead

by Isabelle Drake

  She looked at Hayden, a question in her eyes.

  Hayden himself stayed silent but Belmont piped up. “You should have seen him just a couple hours ago, running away from a teeny little scare.”

  He turned around to face him dead on. “Fuck off, old man.”

  “I may be old, but I’m not a coward. If you’d been man enough to stick around and watch to the end, you might not need me. But you didn’t, did you? So, you don’t know what you don’t know.”

  Shit.

  Mattie reached for Hayden’s shoulders, pushed him back a step then planted her palms on the cool glass. “You’re wrong old man. I don’t need you. I need him.” She lowered one hand long enough to lift the back of her skirt and expose her bare ass to Belmont, still sipping his precious tea. Hayden didn’t need to be told what to do, yet still he stalled. Just for now, he told himself. Soon, he’d be out. Done. Safe.

  He twisted his head to look outside. Below, on the street, the guards had turned their ponies back to face the brownstone and gaze up. Watching. As Hayden unzipped his jeans and released his stiff cock, he studied the taller of the two men. “Is that Matthew?”

  She came to stand beside him. Her face inches from the glass, she spread her legs and replied over her shoulder. “Do you want it to be?”

  It didn’t matter. Hearing Belmont whine about being left out again, he rolled to get behind her and thrust in, pumping hard and fast as he stared around her shoulder into the pale faceless creatures below. When he moved in closer, the knots on her hair brushed his lips. Behind them, Belmont continued to mutter, pausing only to take another sip of tea.

  Soon his hot cum flowed into her icy channel. After he withdrew, his jiz dripped down the firm pale skin of her thighs, dampening the tops of her tattered fishnets. He’d left his imprint on her, marking her as she marked him. The two of them were bound together through dark, cruel, unnatural sex. That and the threats of what lie ahead at the camp.

  * * *

  Because he’d been to Mattie’s tribe’s base camp before, Hayden wasn’t shocked to find himself shut inside a dim log cabin, chained to the large wooden bed. He lifted his head and was rewarded by a sharp tug from the metal collar bolted around his neck. The chain rattled as he moved, rolled across his shoulders as he scooted back to give himself some slack. The chain, and the fact that he was naked, except for his socks, wasn’t a surprise either. His clothes were piled on a chair next to the bed. His boots were by the door.

  The heavy fur cover shielding him from the cold air slid against him as he shifted backwards, giving himself slack so that he could sit upright. He inhaled deeply in an attempt to settle the effects of the tea Mattie had made him drink. Unlike Belmont, he hated the stuff. From experience, he knew its memory blocking effects would wear off soon, leaving him with only a lingering haze and missing a chunk of his life he would never get back.

  The air was tinged with smoke from the wood-burning stove glowing in the corner, but there was no bitter scent, the tell-tale odor of her. He adjusted the heavy chain, so it didn’t pull on the collar and turned to take everything in. A single oil lamp burned on the table beneath the window. Even with the glass pane covered by a thick black curtain, he could tell it was still night or had become night again if she’d drugged him through an entire day. It was possible. Anything, he understood now, was possible.

  “Want to go for a little walk?”

  Hayden turned in the opposite direction and spotted Rachelle seated in one of the two chairs in the far corner. Wearing the floor length fur robe and soft leather boots, she looked at home in the camp of the undead. The top of her head was hidden by the robe’s hood, but he could see her entire face. Her blue eyes were clear, but still he saw the difference in her. The effects of her time under Matthew’s care had been fast and complete. All traces of innocence were gone and now he saw the power-hungry woman that had been hiding beneath that fresh-face socialite façade.

  “Been busy these last couple days, haven’t you?” He reached down to make sure his cock was underneath the cover.

  Laughing, she came forward to stand beside the bed and look down at him. A week ago, because he’d thought the expression was an act, he’d considered that haughty glare sexy. Now it looked insolent and mean.

  She pointed at his hand. “I’ve seen your dick already Hayden. Thought it was decent then. I still think its decent now. Why are you bothering with that?”

  He threw the cover aside. When he looked down at his bare skin, he noticed a moist sheen coating his stomach, thighs and cock. Sweat? Had she fucked him while he was unconscious? “Why are you doing this?” He gestured to the door, indicating the camp and creatures beyond. “All of this?”

  “Stupid questions.” The conceit in her eyes changed to something else. Something he wasn’t familiar with. “They like me. It’s fun.”

  Hayden’s chest clenched, turned hard. “Getting used, hurting people, that’s fun?”

  “Who’s been hurt?” She leaned down and tapped his metal collar with her thumb. “Besides you, I mean.”

  “You too.” He hadn’t meant to say it aloud because speaking it made his part in her pain real.

  She brushed the hood off and arranged it into a collar below her chin. “Whatever do you mean?” She asked, faking an accent. “Little ‘ole me? Hurt?” She shrugged her compact shoulders a couple times, made the robe fall to expose her bare breasts. When she spoke again the phony sweetness was gone. “If I was hurt, whose fault would that be?”

  Thinking about Belmont and the so-called gift wrapped in burlap under his bed, he said, “I’m going to get away from all this. I’ll get you out too.”

  Her barking laughter made her tits shake. “Don’t be silly. You aren’t going anywhere until Matthew says so. I’m here to get you. He wants to see you now.” She tugged on the chain. “So up, up, up.”

  He grabbed the chain and yanked back. “Where’s Mattie?” As long as she was around, needed him, he was safe.

  “Good thing I’m not the jealous type. Cause if I were, I might have a beef with that giant bitch. But as it is, I’m thinking she and I should be friends.” Rachelle righted her robe, covered her naked body. “What do you think about that idea?”

  Hayden ignored the barb, instead yanking on the chain again, tugging it sharply enough to make it snap out of her grip. “What’s this about? I came here willingly.”

  “That was my idea. I thought it’d be fun to play with you while you were napping.”

  “Napping? You mean unconscious.”

  She shrugged. “I was even going to tell you what we’d been up to, but then I figured, it wasn’t really any different than what we’d been doing—before—so, mmmm… ” She twisted her mouth and looked upward, “I decided to keep it to myself. You know, like you kept things to yourself.”

  No way would she ever believe he’d done some of what he had to try and save her. He wasn’t even sure he believed that any more himself.

  She dug a key from her pocket. Dropping all pretense, reached over and unlocked the padlock securing the chain to the wall. “As you must realize by now, no matter how dense you are, I’m Matthew’s girl. He trusts me. He tells me things. Maybe he’s starting to trust you too. Maybe he’s going to want to tell you things too.”

  “What makes you so sure I won’t run off in to the snow? Make you look like an incompetent asshole?” Hayden swung himself off the bed. His foot hit a bottle, it tipped, then rolled under the bed. He grabbed a cloak that hung by the door, then stepped into his boots.

  “You’re not about to do that.” Rachelle threw herself onto the bed and eyed him as she tried to bounce on the hard mattress. “Everyone knows you asked to come here. That’s why things are different this time.”

  Different could mean a lot of things. Obviously, though, she had no interest in being helpful by explaining what the fuck was going on. Hayden shoved open the door, then stepped out into the night. Moonlight slashed through the thin line of clouds stretching
across the pewter sky, occasional flakes of snow skittered through the air. It was cold but not unbearable. The trail of packed down snow was easy to walk through, making him wonder how often Mattie has walked it. Or Rachelle. Or them both.

  Beyond the closest trees, two mounted guards lingered. He looked back, waiting for Rachelle to get closer. “Are they here because of me?”

  She stopped beside him, that haughty look covering her face. “Do you want them to be?”

  Was guilt impairing his judgment or was she starting to sound like Mattie? Had the two of them been spending time together? Just considering the possibility made him sick.

  As though she knew what he was thinking, and wanted to confirm it was true, she put her hand on the small of his back and shoved him forward.

  He stumbled. Once he’d righted himself, he lifted a leg. “Don’t you want to bind my ankles? Then you could really shove me down.”

  She shook her head. “You’ve gotten yourself in a mess, haven’t you? You know enough to be a threat, but not enough to get out of here for good.” She brushed past him, putting herself in front.

  All in with no way out. That described his situation.

  He walked behind her now, stepping in the trodden path through the pines. The branches sagged under the weight of the snow. The heavy thumping hooves of the horses a solid reminder, don’t even think about running. The threat was just for show. Everyone knew he wasn’t going to run. He was hardly a threat, either. If he did know something he could use against them, he sure as hell didn’t know what it was.

  He glanced back. The guards stared ahead, faces gray and stiff. They all were so big on control, scaring the humans, making a show of everything. Each day at this camp, it seemed, was another day of drama and torment. What a way to live.

  They moved farther out in to the snowy clearing, past the circle of five cabins that filled the area before reaching the leader’s secluded, larger cabin. Like the last time he’d been there, some of the cabins were completely dark, some had a small bit of light inside and a thin thread of smoke coming up from the chimney. The ones with smoke had fires to keep the humans warm enough to perform. Hayden counted three with smoke. Three—or more—humans were there at the camp, captive, being used for sex.

  Why had he thought coming back was a good idea? Why had he thought he could manage this?

  Rachelle’s back, straight and strong as she strutted through the wintery night, shifted in silhouette against the shadowed snow. Could be she had the right idea: if you can’t beat them, join them.

  She disappeared into the darkness of a thick copse of trees. He followed, the snow deeper in the shelter of the branches. Soon, they were in an opening between some bushes. The two chimneys of Matthew’s cabin came in to view. Each had a line of smoke drifting up into the night. The one large window facing the front had curtains, but a slice of dim light reached through to the outside.

  Picture perfect, except for guards on each side of the door and the woman tied to a post. Unmoving, she leaned against the timbers of the cabin, her hands stuffed inside the dark grey blanket wrapped around her. As they got closer, Hayden realized her face looked familiar. It wasn’t anyone he knew, but he was sure he’d seen her before. An interview? Billboard? Was she a local news anchor? He continued staring at her until one of the guards stepped up and blocked his view. “Mind your business.”

  Rachelle reached back and grabbed Hayden’s arm, tugging him past the guard to the door.

  The guard lurched after them, holding out one palm. “Hey!”

  At first Hayden thought the guy was barking at him but soon realized he was holding his hand out for Rachelle. She took the guy’s hand, guided it toward Hayden. With her other hand, she loosened Hayden’s cloak until it fell. The bitter wind bit into his skin, made his nipples peak.

  “Rub your hand on him, he’s covered in oil.”

  The second guard jumped forward, reaching out as well. “How long ago did you apply it?”

  Before they touched him, Rachelle pushed both their hands away. “Less than 15 minutes. One swipe each. That’s all. Or I tell Matthew.”

  Side by side, the man’s palms slowly slid down Hayden’s chest, a long, reverent caress. When they pulled them away, each pressed his palm to his neck, then shoved it down under his cloak.

  “Remember who’s really taking care of you around here,” she called to them as she opened the wooden door. A gust of wind caught it, ripped it from her hands and it hit the cabin with a smack. She grabbed Hayden’s wrist, pulled him over the threshold, then reached back, fighting the wind to get the door closed. The front room was empty but warm. The light shining from the lanterns placed across the rows of crates gave off only enough light to see the floor and wooden walls. The fire in the stove was barely visible behind the grate.

  Soon, Rachelle was pulling him through the dark hall, then sweeping aside the black beads hanging at the end of the hallway. Once through them, she shoved him forward then stood beside him, hands on hips, beaming as though she’d brought Matthew a prize.

  Matthew was leaning on the ceiling-high wooden cage, his hand on the door, swinging it slowly open, then closed. “Hello, pet.” As usual the man’s chest was bare, his leather pants partially unlaced. At least his dick wasn’t hanging out, so there was that to be thankful for.

  Aside from Matthew and Rachelle, the room was empty. No guards, no sign of Mattie. Or Belmont. A pair of handcuffs sat on Matthew’s gold wing-backed chair, the table beside the chair was empty. The covers on the huge bed in the corner were smooth and tidy. The warm fire in the stove flickered, orange, red and yellow, behind a grate. The room was warm. Cozy. Non-threatening. Except for Matthew’s evil presence, his constant threats, the cage, the guards and the woman tied to the post outside.

  “Come closer.” Matthew shut the door, locked it. “No cage tonight, Hayden. We don’t need that now. Do we?”

  Chapter Five

  “No cage tonight, Hayden”

  Rachelle’s fingers pressed into his spine, drilling in to the bone. “No, we don’t. Right Hayden?”

  Hayden moved forward, away from the pain in his spine.

  “Good.” Matthew nodded, his face expressionless, his dark eyes shadowed. “Closer.”

  Hayden felt Rachelle’s presence behind him. Was there any goodness left inside her? He couldn’t tell. He’d lost his ability to determine. He’d lost the edges of himself and no longer trusted his own judgment. But there was only one way out of this fucked up mess. He took another, longer, step forward.

  “Good. That’s right.” Matthew held out one hand. “Come to me.”

  The guy had to be fucking crazy. Hayden had no intention of reaching for that disgusting asshole.

  Matthew swept his hand upward, ran it across his bald head. “That’s alright. We can wait until you’re ready.”

  “Wait?” Hayden backed away. “Wait for what?”

  Rachelle came around, put her hands on Hayden’s shoulders, then guided him backward to the bed. Once his calves hit the bed, she eased him down until he was sitting on the edge. The bed was higher than the one in his cabin and much more substantial. It was a real bed, with a carved headboard and stacks of pillows. A very nice normal, everyday bed. It suddenly seemed like the most sane, welcoming thing he’d experienced in the past days filled with terror and torment. He scooted back, let his legs relax.

  “Tell me something about yourself, Hayden. Something I don’t know.”

  In the back of his mind, Hayden knew Matthew was up to something, but rationalized, why not tell the guy something. Maybe he could get something in return. “I’m trying to get a real job. One that isn’t about assholes like you and shitholes like this.”

  Matthew propped his hands on his waist and laughed, the first human, genuine sound he’d heard from the man. Once he’d stopped shaking from laughter, he began stroking his own stomach. Still smiling, he stared at Hayden as he used long, slow motions to caress himself.

  Hayden
eased his head into one of the big, fluffy pillows. “Glad that’s funny to you.”

  “How do you plan to do that?” He moved his hands back to his hips. “What are you going to do to get this real job?”

  “Belmont.” Maybe he shouldn’t’ve told the truth, but surely Matthew had figured out that much already. It was obvious he and Belmont were working together, sort of. Weren’t they working together? That assignment Bob had given him in his office seemed like days ago, instead of hours, but Hayden was pretty sure it meant the two of them were working together. Why suddenly did his recollection to the clear-cut order seem so hazy?

  Hayden turned his head and watched as Rachelle backed away to sit in Matthew’s wing-backed chair. As she crossed her legs, the cloak fell open, exposing her breasts. She shrugged the heavy fur lower, exposing her shoulders as well. “Hayden’s a great writer. He’s going to write for The Globe.”

  Hayden scooted back again, so that his head was resting on the headboard, his eyes almost level with Matthew’s who was pointing to himself. “Has it occurred to you that this asshole and his shithole have already done a lot for you. If it weren’t for us, you wouldn’t have had that private meeting with Bob Keeler, wouldn’t be getting special assignments with celebrities.”

  For a split-second Hayden wondered how Matthew knew about that meeting. Had he read his mind? No. Couldn’t be. The room was getting so warm, the fire so pleasant, he decided he didn’t care.

  “Want me to tell you something about myself?” Matthew came to the foot of the bed.

  Feeling warmer and warmer by the second, Hayden reached down to loosen the fur cloak. “Sure,” he replied. “Why the hell not.”

  Matthew stepped around and sat on the edge of the bed. “Mattie only turned because of me. That’s how much she loves me. That’s how much we mean to each other.”

  “Matthew has a way with people,” Rachelle said. “He understands. Sees the strength. Wants you to be strong.”