by Helena Novak
“You belong to me.”
Her eyes fall closed and her breath whooshes out of her, shivers running unchecked down her back.
“Are you going to kill me?” she murmurs, head still bowed, but her voice has thickened. With fear, yes. But the heat is undeniable.
“Why would I do that?” I ask, walking around to face her again.
When she offers no explanation, I tip her jaw up with my knuckles, waiting for her to meet my eyes. She catches her breath, her pupils overtaking her irises, terrified and aroused all at once. It’s a beautiful look on her.
“Orsa,” I ask again, “why would I kill you?”
She swallows. “There are a million reasons why I deserve it.”
A surge of unwarranted protective nature tightens my chest, and I draw in a breath to hold in a string of swears. She’s a soft young lady, last thing I need to do is frighten her.
“I’d like you to listen to me,” I say.
And wait.
She nods without prompting after a prolonged moment.
I smile, stroking her jaw with my fingers as a form of praise. She leans into it, much like an unloved kitten feeling affection for the first time, and it warms me from the inside out. This is mine—she will never feel this safe with anyone else if I have anything to say about it.
And, by some twist of fate, I certainly do.
“No one will dare harm what is mine,” I promise her. “That also applies to you. So let’s work on how we treat my pet. Starting now.”
“I don’t understand,” she admits.
“Good,” I say. I trail my hand from her jaw down the front of her body, smirking when she leans forward quickly. Her blush is down to her collarbone now, the tips of her ears shining red. “That’s alright. You’re allowed to not know everything. You are allowed to be imperfect.”
Then my hand is snaking down her pants. Her scoff cuts into an abrupt gasp, and she tries to pivot her hips away. I step into her until the wall hits her back and she has nowhere left to run, and continue my descent, scraping my nails through the coarse hair at her base before dipping my fingers lower. Her lips are slick already, and I giggle against her neck, teasing her heated skin with slow, cool fingers.
She’s panting in an instant, her grip on my upper arm leaving bruises in the shape of her hands, marking me with her shape. I press a kiss to her neck, breathing out a blizzard on her skin, leaving a violet bruise in the shape of my lips just above her collarbone. She hisses, but moans when my tongue soothes the wound, leaning heavier and heavier into the wall at her back.
“Ivy,” she whines, sounding unsure, even as her hips buck into my touch.
Bitter dread coats my tongue. I don’t like that. I want her saying my name, my true name.
I can almost hear my sister screaming at me for how stupid it is to even think of doing such a thing.
I swallow it down.
“Are you allowed to be imperfect?” I ask.
She bites her lip, forcing a breath, shaking her head just a little. I find her swollen clit with ease, reveling in the deep groan that starts from her toes for a moment before pinching my fingers around it, tightening until her pleasure turns into a plea.
“Ow, Ivy. Ah,“ she cries out, pathetically, pushing at my hand. “Easy—“
“Are you allowed?” I ask again.
“Yes, yes, I’m allowed,” she whimpers. “Please.”
“Good girl.”
I release her and she chokes on her moans, hiding her face in my shoulder. I use two fingers to calm the nerves, coaxing her lust into my touch until she’s shamelessly thrusting against me.
I draw back, sliding past the nub and pushing my fingers inside her. She clenches around me, a broken moan bubbling over her tongue as she desperately grinds down into the sensation, chasing her climax with vigor.
“God, you’re a beautiful fucking mess,” I growl.
I curl my fingers inside her, seeking the rough patch of nerves that make her knees buckle, that puts her entire body weight into my grasp. She can hardly move into me now, the jerking of her body involuntary and reactionary now. Her body bows and cowers from me all at once, equal parts eager for release and anxious for the relief of the end.
“And what about this?” I ask. “Who’s allowed to touch you? Who can have you in this distress, who else can see you in such a state?”
“You.” She responds without hesitation this time, her eyes on mine, all her need and vulnerability bared before me to do with as I please. “I belong to you.”
Fuck, what a good little bear she is.
I’m so tempted to give her what she wants, to break her to shards and kiss her back together right here and now. I want to whisk her away from her sterile concrete walls, break through the opening in the corner and show her what freedom tastes like.
She’s mine, and I want to take advantage of that. I want to show her what that truly means.
But she’s not ready for that yet.
“Very good, my pet, that’s right,” I whisper. She keens at the praise and arches as close as she can, hanging on to my neck for dear life as I lean in close and kiss down her jaw. She whimpers when I let out a steadying breath into her ear, steeling myself for what comes next.
“Ivy,” she begs, right on the edge, ready to fall.
“Wake up.”
Orsa
Everything happens at once. The dank, cold halls of my mind disappear, and the sun beats down on me from above. Ivy’s frigid hands are gone from inside of me, around me, the wall she had me pressed against is replaced by the floatation device.
The sound of water splashing drags me further back to reality. I jerk, kicking my legs out for balance, like when you’re woken from sleep by that feeling of falling.
Shit. Was that even real?
I clench my legs together, my core aching from the abuse, desire still a ton weight in my stomach. My knees are jelly, my heart caught somewhere between my throat and my tongue.
Ugh. Definitely real. The feelings are, anyhow.
My Ivy.
Suffocating, consuming, beautiful Ivy.
She may not be a vampire after all, but it’s the only thing that made sense, so I’ll keep telling myself these lies. In spite of her not coming out at the scent of blood, what other monster is so arrogant and glib? Who else would play dumb in the face of such power?
Who else would flirt with death like she had?
Reapers, maybe. But no, there’s a smell to those things, a hunger you can’t conceal.
A faery, she said. She even had wings… soft, brittle, like they could be torn with one swift motion… but no. That can’t be true. Faeries are dormant, something my mother only shows concern over when other people talk about it. She’s never had a problem with the bug eyed creatures, but everyone else in the paranormal community seems terrified of them, of their impending return.
But if they’re dormant, Ivy shouldn’t be showing up. In my sight and especially not in my head.
Then again, if they’re dormant, I suppose that demon shouldn’t have a dryad cooped up in his bar, either.
I wrack my memory, scrambling for some common ground. She only made herself known when I was alone in the hospital bed, and she vanished before Beren came inside at the house. He must have passed her in the hallway, right?
I have to ask him. I have to make this make sense. I’ve got to get that chilly little dominatrix out of my head.
The thought of doing exactly that, of banishing her from my world, actually hurts. The allure of her feels like knives in my throat, draining me of sense and resistance, but I need it.
I want her body under mine next time, her pulse thundering against my fingers, her jewel eyes watering as I hold her life in my hands.
Maybe she’s an angel?
Or maybe vampires can twist what you think, what you feel, what you see. That makes most sense, doesn’t it? That half of what I just saw in my own head was false? If I can twist what people see in their dream
s, surely a vampire could do the same, just to throw me off her trail?
Fuck, would this be so complicated if she didn’t tie me in knots?
“Mommy…”
Ursula. Right, crap. I’m not in the privacy of my own room where I can take care of this problem between my legs.
“Yeah, baby?” I push my sunglasses back into my hair and look up, my heart lurching. Ursula is sitting on the side of the pool, blood streaking from her hairline down her cherubic face. There’s a scrape on her arm, which she cradles into her body, and her eye is squinted closed. The little merfolk friend of hers is pacing wildly underneath her, popping their head up and hissing up at her, but is ignored.
“Ursie,” I say, dropping my feet in the water to kick off and swim to her aid. Something latches around my ankle at the same time my flotation chair pops with a snap against my back. I’m dragged into the stagnant darkness by my feet, my scream drowned out as water floods my throat and nose.
I hear Ursula start wailing just before I’m pulled too far down and the noise is replaced by the music and bustling crowd in the casino. I crack my head against the glass before I realize I’ve been taken all the way to the floor, the density of the waves holding me within the exhibit.
I try to keep myself hidden from prying eyes, but the monster fighting me, pushing me down doesn’t give two fucks about that.
The little merfolk my daughter was just playing with gasps, their voice more lyrical beneath the water. They fly after us and look around fervently, grappling to draw boulders off the ground and carry them back to the surface, but fall short in their struggle. They scream for attention, then disappear around a corner.
I lash out at the gigantic beast on top of me, digging my claws into his furry waist. He’s fully shifted, his massive grizzly bear form taut with rage, sharp teeth snapping for my face.
His eyes are familiar…and my stomach knots.
No. No, it can’t be. He wouldn’t try and kill me.
I curl closer to him, hiding in his neck so he can’t reach me, scrambling to free my feet from his claws.
I have to get to Ursula.
The bear smacks his paw against the back of my head, catching my hair in his claws and throwing me into the glass of the aquarium. My top is ripped in the struggle, yellow scraps floating back to the surface as he scratches into my back, nearly slicing me in half. I wail in pain, the acidic water burning all the way down into my chest.
Calm down, damn it. I can’t let him win. I can’t let him get to my babies.
I force my body to go limp, my head lulling back towards his body. His wet growl in my ear is horrifying, his hot tongue pressing against my throat. For a minute, I think he’ll sink his teeth down, rip my throat clean out.
Please, I beg internally, to anyone listening.
The water temperature drops considerably. It’s a comfort to me, slowing my racing nerves, but the bear howls and lurches away from me. I watch him in the reflection of the glass as he covers his face with his paws, kicking uselessly and shaking the frost from his face. He sneezes and pierces me with another snarling glare.
Contemplative.
He decides against fucking with the ice and instead snatches a coral centerpiece off the floor, chucking it at me with impressive force. I try to drop deeper, but can’t move quick enough, and the coelenterate smacks into my spine, burrowing into the wounds he left.
I shriek again, unable to hold it back, tears burning my eyes as I’m pinned to the floor. The bear ignores the noise and instead swims to the surface, using his massive webbed paws to propel himself forward.
“NO!” I scream after him, hoping he’ll turn around, come back and finish the job. But he doesn’t even glance my way.
Black dots dance in my eyes as consciousness ebbs away. I fight it. I cover my mouth and nose with one hand and struggle to push the monster anemone off my body with the other. I try and shift to my own ursine form, use my size and paws to free myself, but it’s no use. The pain is too great, the terror too strong to find that kind of focus.
He’s going to kill my daughter while I drown.
Ursula’s mercreature bullets back nearby, crying out to someone behind them. They grab on to the coral and yank with all their might, but it’s not until the shark appears and surveys the area that I’m freed. I swear I see the shark huff his disapproval before he circles back around and bumps the hydroid off me.
The mercreature caws triumphantly and takes my free hand, helping me straighten and rise back to the surface of the water. I kick best I can with my numb legs, but in truth, I’m helpless.
I’m left to rely on the frantic child until my head is above water again.
Ursula is still crying when I emerge, her soft whimpers barely audible over my hacking. I swipe furiously at my eyes, struggling to see her through the blur, when a cold wind blows back at me. Snowflakes crystalize on my lashes, and a cloud slips out of my mouth. My lungs are soothed, my stomach only slightly better. But I’ll take it.
Kill him, Ivy demands, her voice clear as crystal.
“Ivy?” I grunt, looking around for her. But she’s nowhere. Her voice is the same as when she beckoned me to play with her, lured me into a sound sleep and edged me to bliss. It sounds like she’s coming from the darkest corners of my own mind.
Fuck, Orsa, focus.
“Ursie,” I say, clawing my way out of the pool. “Ursula, baby?”
A thick hand fists around my neck and pulls me to my feet, shoving me into the glass panel surrounding the rooftop. He pinches the arteries at the back of my head and my eyes cross from the pain, determined he’s about to knock me out and throw me off the ledge, but he holds me there instead, letting me fester in my panic.
Ivy’s voice sings through my head again. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
“If I weren’t taking care of your wounded daughter, I’d kill you with my bare hands.”
My heart plummets, adrenaline giving me the strength to drive my knee into his balls. He gasps, dropping me in his surprise to cradle his crotch.
“Oh, you stupid bitch.”
Ursula, tucked securely in his other arm, sniffs her disapproval. “That’s a bad word.”
“Give her back,” I snarl. “Give me my baby, right now.”
He’s solidly in my way, even in his injured state. His broad shoulders are flexed, arms ready to snap out and deck me before I can get my daughter away from him. His brow is furrowed, but his eyes are intent on my body, waiting for me to make a move.
Like he had all those months ago, with a wicked indifference and searing hunger. His touch bruising and just as unforgiving, dragging me outside to the back of The Magpie and fucking me against the filthy brick wall, using my body until my knees gave out and he left me there, dazed and satisfied by a man for the first time in all my life.
“D’Andres,” I snarl, proud to find my voice even and cold. “Give. Me. My. Daughter.”
Ursula looks back at me, concern shining in her eyes. She can hear the anger, the anxiety in my voice. She knows something’s wrong. “Mommy hurt.”
I force a smile, trying to calm her, even though by all means, she should be scared. “I’m here, Ursie,” I say. “Mommy’s right here, you’re okay.”
I haven’t seen him since that night. Since he kissed me and chuckled in satiated triumph at the lustrous tears on my face, my lipstick on his mouth when he thanked me for the good time. We each put our wedding bands back on and went about our lives as if nothing happened.
Clearly it was too much to hope he’d gone back to his wife and hadn’t known who he was fucking with.
Literally.
“Lost top,” Ursula notes, shaking her head at me. “Mommy always say, no lose top. Bad things happen when you lose your top, and Mommy go, and Mommy lose top.”
Suddenly remembering the remains of my shirt are somewhere in that water, I cross my arms over my chest, shielding my breasts best I can from both my impressionable kid, the fucking monster holding her
, and whatever other prying eyes might be looking up at the rooftops.
This is fucking Vegas, and I’m standing here shirtless.
“She’s just fine,” D’Andres manages, finally righting himself again. He brushes Ursula’s hair out of her face, studying the jagged gash on her forehead. “She hit the side of the pool.”
“Don’t touch her.”
He meets my eyes, a dangerous flame dancing behind them. “I wouldn’t hurt a child.”
“Bull,” I growl back. “What’re you doing here? What do you want?”
“You’re not a stupid woman, dear,” he says, a hint of disbelief in his tone. “Take a wild guess.”
The condescending term of endearment grates on my nerves more than it should.
Ursula hunches her shoulders, growling impressively at him. She swipes the blood from under her nose before pointing an accusatory finger in his face. “Bad word,” she chides him. “No say stupid.”
Her eyes are red and tearful, but slowly her ire grows and she stares him down, waiting for an apology.
“You’re right,” D’Andres says, in an entirely different tone. It’s placating and gentle, like he’s dealt with wild children every day of his life. “I’m sorry. That is a very mean word.”
Ursula nods, satisfied for now.
“Sweetheart, go check in on your sister,” D’Andres instructs, setting her down between his feet without taking his eyes off me. “We’ll get you a bandage soon.”
“A pink one?” she challenges.
He smiles, and it’s so soft on his handsome face it knocks me off my feet for a moment. “Of course, what else?”
She hums again, and crawls her way over to Keyona. The mercreature pops up again, whimpering and chortling to get Ursula’s attention. She reaches a hand out to them and they touch fingers, a silent apology passing between the two of them.
I dare a glance over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the children rather than him. “She’s not yours,” I hiss.
D’Andres laughs, wicked once again, fixing a dark look on me and forcing a deep breath. “Your husband might believe that. I know better.”
