When it was over he sat back and let himself take a few calming breaths before deciding on what to do next. The chivalrous thing would be to clean her up and cover her over. To let her rest. But, Marcus wasn’t feeling in a particularly chivalrous mood. He wanted Wynter to know she had been taught a lesson, but he also wanted her to believe she had the upper hand.
Marcus adored playing these games with her and wasn’t going to put an end to them yet, so instead of cleaning her up, he leaned forward and smeared her with his release using his fingertips. He smoothed it over her skin like he was applying moisturiser, when instead it was a part of him blending with her of his accord. A part he was more than willing to share, but on his terms. Marcus even spread it over her breasts and into her belly button, and then to her thighs. Wynter’s unconscious body still fought his oppression and she snapped her legs closed, much to his devious amusement.
The ancient vampire laughed to himself, thinking how even in sleep, his new favourite was getting one up on him. She was winning, even though he had taken so much from her.
Anyone else would’ve been nothing already. Naught but a broken shell of a person, but not Wynter. She was his little fighter and Marcus hoped she would always remain that way no matter what he put her through in the days to come.
Nine
Wynter awoke hours later feeling groggy and disorientated. She tried to remember everything that’d happened before Marcus had bitten her, and groaned when it dawned on her just how much trouble she was apparently in. The vampire who hadn’t laid down any kind of law or outlined his rules had decided to punish her for simply being herself and having her own mind. Well, that simply wouldn’t do. Wynter would fight him on everything, big or small, and hoped Marcus was ready for it. There was no way she’d be the timid little slave, no matter how hard he tried to break her.
But first, she had to figure out how the hell she was going to get through her current punishment in one piece while still being fundamentally free. Wynter opened her eyes and tried to take a look around, but was met with nothing more than pure and utter blackness. She wondered for a moment if she had been blindfolded and reached up to check her eyes, but found nothing covering them, so figured the room had to have instead been completely blacked out.
Wynter hated not being able to see. There wasn’t so much as a strip of light running down at the ground where she guessed the door had to be.
She clambered to her feet and stumbled forward, making slow progress thanks to her lack of vision and because she didn’t know the room well enough yet to navigate it in the darkness.
When her fingers found purchase on what Wynter thought had to be the doorframe, she scrambled at it, trying to pry it open, but it wouldn’t budge.
The darkness continued to envelop her and she soon began to panic. She hated feeling trapped and tears started to prick at her eyes within seconds.
“Marcus? Are you out there?” she whimpered, calling to him even though she’d promised herself she wouldn’t pander to him. That she wouldn’t go crawling to him. “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me locked in here all alone and in the dark.”
“Oh, the darkness isn’t so bad once you get used to it,” Marcus’s voice whispered from right beside her, and Wynter screamed with fright. He was in there with her? That had to be it. There was no other possible explanation for how closely he had spoken and Wynter shook her head furiously in a bid to make sense of it all. “And you’re not alone, my sweet. I’m here. I’ll always be here…”
She stumbled away from the sound of him and tripped over her own feet as she did so, falling back onto the bed with a thud. Thankful for the soft landing, Wynter then curled into a ball and tried to cover her head with the pillow. She then felt the bed dip as Marcus climbed over her and she tried to scoot away, but it was no use. He had her exactly where he wanted her. Ever the prey to the all consuming predator.
He turned her onto her back and leaned over her. Wynter could feel his body bearing down on hers and she opened her eyes, looking frantically for a way out. And yet still, all she could see was the black darkness all around them. It shrouded Marcus and hid him from her, but she got the feeling he could see her just fine. A creature of the night, or wasn’t that the myth? Maybe it was right, just like all the other dark sides of her new employer and tormentor that had been true to the lore.
Wynter shuddered and fear emanated from deep in her gut when Marcus spread her legs and nestled himself there, and she peered up to find two crisp blue orbs piercing the darkness from directly above her.
Marcus’s eyes were doing that insane thing again where they glowed from within, as if a light had been turned on behind each of them, and Wynter knew what it meant. She knew his soul was calling to hers and that she had to steer clear of him when in this state, but she had nowhere to run. Nowhere else to look other than right back into those incredible blue eyes.
“Is this what you meant?” she whimpered, hoping she might talk him down instead. “When you told me I’d soon become your willing slave? Are you going to merge your soul with mine?”
Her words seemed to disgust him and Wynter was glad of it when he climbed off her and backed up, his icy blues eyes still on hers.
“Never,” he then croaked, “now, it’s time to get to work.”
Marcus then seemed to simply press on the panel behind him and it opened with ease, far from the absolute nothingness Wynter had got when she’d tried. As it opened and he left, a crack of light from outside hit her and she flinched, but then she sprang forwards to stop the door closing behind him and locking her inside.
Wynter was on her hands and knees before her master again and she peered up into his amused face with a frown.
“Please let me have a key,” she begged.
“This room is for your protection as well as a place to put you where I know you won’t wander away. There is no other key than the one I carry. You want the door open? Then I suggest you stick by my side. End of story.” With that, Marcus walked away and Wynter let out a scream in her rage. It consumed her and mixed with the fear still churning within to provide her with the worst kind of emotions she could imagine.
The fight or flight instincts kicked in, but they were joined by a third sensation. One of hopelessness. If she did either then she would lose it all and end up not only with nothing, but also with the weight of the world on her shoulders too. Marcus would undoubtedly kill those she loved, and all whom she had become close with at the club.
Warren would be taken from her first. There would be no running off into the sunset together. No celebration of their victory. No evading their oppressive leader. Just death and loneliness.
By the time Wynter had screeched herself hoarse and looked back up, the Priestess was standing over her and she had her hand outstretched, beckoning for her to take it. She did, and she let the small woman she’d still never seen without her hooded red shroud pull her up on her feet and into a gentle embrace. Wynter savoured the warmth readily given from another and leaned into her some more. It felt so good to be held she couldn’t bring herself to pull away, so she rested her head on the witch’s shoulder and slowly felt her fear and anger begin to dissipate.
“Be still, my love,” the Priestess told her in that same deep voice with a thousand tones she always found incredible, and Wynter found herself doing so without even thinking of answering the witch back or defying her. In fact, she welcomed her guidance and felt herself starting to calm down pretty much right away.
The two of them stood like that for a few more seconds before Wynter eventually pulled back. She was glaringly aware of how naked she was, and in need of a shower, and she breathed in deeply to calm her nerves, planting a fake smile on her face.
“Thank you,” she told the Priestess, peering into the darkness of the hood to try and discern some kind of face beneath the cloak. There was nothing but blackness. Almost akin to a black hole or something, she found no eyes staring back or a mouth pulled into the smile she hop
ed the strange witch might be mirroring. It was the oddest sight. “I need to shower and then I have to find some clothes. Do you know where he put mine?”
The Priestess pointed her hand back to the room Wynter had just left and she shuddered. The idea of going back in there made her want to scream again, and she shook her head. “Then I’ll go down to my office wearing nothing but a towel if I must. I have spare clothes in there.”
“I’ll hold the door for you, my love,” the Priestess replied as she ushered Wynter backwards, but she resisted. “You must hurry. You’re late and will be punished.”
“But—” Wynter tried, but she was persistent.
“No time to argue. He’s on his way,” the Priestess hissed, and Wynter had no other choice but to follow her command. She decided to trust in the strange woman to do as she had promised and hold the door open. It hadn’t closed behind her anyway so the likeliness was that the door wasn’t going to close and lock her in, but Wynter still hadn’t wanted to risk it. The thought of staying in there all night made her want to cry. She’d never been claustrophobic in her life, and yet the idea of being held prisoner there was terrifying. Something she hoped Marcus wouldn’t ever do to her again.
Thanks to the light streaming in from the main room beyond, Wynter found the light switch and managed to turn on each of the three overhead lights. It was stupidly bright now, but she didn’t care. She’d take that over the darkness any day.
Wynter then took in the small space Marcus had seemingly built just for her. There was the bed and the same small set of drawers she’d tried before, but not much else. She had plug sockets and space for her laptop, so hoped that if she ever was stuck in there again Marcus would at least have the decency to offer her some form of entertainment during her captivity. And maybe some more lighting.
She turned to the Priestess with a frown and was about to ask her where the clothes could be, when she lifted her hand and pointed again, this time at the set of drawers that had been empty just a few hours previously.
Wynter ran to the unit and pulled open the top drawer to find underwear and hosiery at the ready, each of them brand new and exactly in the right size. She slipped into a pair of knickers and its matching bra and then tried the next drawer. That one had pyjamas inside. The bottom drawer only had casual clothing and Wynter let out a disgruntled cry. They would have to do though, so she plucked out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and threw them onto the bed behind her, ready to put on.
That was when she noticed how the full sized mirror at the opposite side of the room had a handle on it. Wynter scooted around the bed to it and pulled, thinking it might open inwards, but instead the door slid to the side a little to reveal tracks at the bottom, and she carried on sliding it sideways until a small closet behind opened up.
Inside were more than twenty whole outfits for her. More than half of them were dresses in either a fitted wiggle style or the floating tea dresses she liked and the rest were tailored dress suits and blouses, just the type she liked for her working nights.
Wynter threw a skirt on along with its matching shirt and blazer, and then slid her feet into a pair of kitten heels that had been laid out for her at the bottom of the small closet.
“Marcus has really thought of everything,” she whispered as she turned back to the Priestess, and was pleased to find her still holding the door open like she had promised.
Wynter thanked her and then ran across the room to the bathroom so she could freshen up, brush her teeth, and apply a quick bit of makeup to her pasty pale face. All the blood loss was taking its toll on her complexion and she cursed Marcus again for taking so very much from her.
By the time she was done, she was over half an hour late for the working evening but didn’t rush. It was Marcus’s fault after all, and so she emerged through the new doorway into his refurbished office with her head held high.
Wynter was all for going straight to the lift and leaving without so much as a single word to her boss, but was met with no choice when she found the heads of departments all sitting around the meeting table in wait—presumably for her.
Just like at the last of Marcus’s meetings, he had saved her the seat to his right and he patted it with a smile.
“At last,” he chimed, “I thought we’d have to wait all night…”
The others sniggered and their faces each turned to watch Wynter as she approached.
The majority wore fake smiles as they eyed her up and down, and she wanted the ground to swallow her whole as she moved forward on autopilot and then took the only available seat, but with her eyes anywhere other than on their vampire boss.
Wynter suddenly felt like she was on the outside of some playground clique and didn’t know why. She began to wonder if they’d been talking about her behind her back. Plotting something devious to humiliate her or oust her further. Joanna was watching her with a venomous stare and it made Wynter feel like an ant the older woman wanted to crush beneath her stiletto heel. Was she the ringleader? Had she whispered evil lies into everyone’s ear so that Marcus’s new favourite wasn’t going to be liked by anyone but the vampire himself? Wynter could imagine her doing something like that. In fact, she could imagine him instigating such a thing, no doubt about it.
Bryn then piped up from behind Marcus and he read through the meeting’s itinerary while Wynter turned her face away from Joanna. Why wouldn’t she just leave her alone? Why the hostility?
She instead looked to the faces she hoped would be wearing kind and gentle smiles for her.
As she looked up from the pad of paper and pen by her hands she found that Marcella was indeed surveying her with concern, and it warmed her heart to know her friend still cared.
Their eyes met and Wynter gave her a half smile, but then grinned when she saw Marcella wink and slip Joanna a sly middle finger in the ruse of her scratching her nose. Wynter loved how she could just know what was eating her. How Marcella seemed to be able to read her without having to ask. It was refreshing to have found such a nice friend so quickly, and her gesture cheered her up tremendously.
“Sir this project no longer involves the IT department,” Warren’s deep voice suddenly cut through Bryn’s introduction without apology. The young guy was talking about how there was an upcoming takeover of a second club in their city, which had apparently been in the pipeline for quite some time, however Warren was clearly uninterested. He actually seemed almost agitated. “May I leave?”
The entire group turned to him and Wynter was pleased to see they were each as shocked as she was to hear Warren speak out of turn. She tried to catch his eye in a bid to get a read on his mood, but he seemed to be making a point of not looking at her. It was almost as if he was doing more than keeping his distance like they had promised one another, but avoiding her entirely.
And then it dawned on her. Marcus had known what they’d said to one another while having their moment of solace in the closet. He’d taunted her about how she’d promised Warren they could be together. Wynter had presumed it was down to him having installed a sly camera or two inside of their hideout, but then she had to wonder if it wasn’t that at all.
Maybe Warren was the one who’d told him those things. Could he really have betrayed her trust like that? She couldn’t be sure, but knew she had to get him alone and figure out if so. And if he had, then that meant she couldn’t trust him after all, in spite of what he’d told her about being his own person away from the curse and the bites. He’d told her he was a fighter and encouraged her to be one too, and Wynter had to wonder if everything truly was as it’d seemed these past few days.
She then turned her gaze back to Marcella and frowned. Was she deceiving her too? Were they all just puppets in Marcus’s game and he was utilising them to confuse her and break her down? He was certainly capable of being so dastardly.
Wynter felt him shift beside her and knew Marcus was so tuned into her emotions he had felt them flip and change so quickly. He pressed a hand over her thigh to
draw her attention to him and Wynter’s head snapped around. She was about to demand he take his hands off of her, but then realised that was exactly what he was after. He wanted to know why she was suddenly so paranoid and had clearly hoped she’d give the game away by snapping at him, so she bit her tongue.
Two could play this game.
Marcus looked Wynter over, his eyes roving all around her face as if he were taking a mental picture. She quietly seethed, but knew he adored that, so forced herself to calm back down. To not give him the satisfaction of fighting back.
“Don’t interrupt the meeting again, Warren,” he then barked, still staring at Wynter, “in fact, I’d like you to stick around after it’s over so I can have a word.”
Warren didn’t answer. He just sat back in his chair with a huff and folded his arms.
Wynter couldn’t quite believe his behaviour. He was acting out without a care for his punishment, but why? What was he playing at?
Bryn then piped back up and began running through the details again before handing over to Marcus, who led the rest of the meeting with his hand still clutching Wynter’s thigh. He squeezed here and there, but didn’t move away once, not even when she tried folding her legs and squeezing him back as tight as she could manage.
Ten
When the meeting was finally over, Wynter and the others were released and they headed for the lift as a collective. She was eager to get away but still ended up holding back so as not to overcrowd the small space, and was joined by Joanna, much to her annoyance. Wynter tried to look busy as she fussed over her notes and made a point not to look at her fellow manager, but Joanna simply couldn’t seem to let her out of yet another of her jealous taunts.
“You know, he was the same with me when I first started,” she told her, “couldn’t get enough of me. Always keeping me back for extra overtime and giving me gifts as well as his personal time. He even took to touching me inappropriately in meetings, just like with you…”
Round Two Page 8
