Puppy

by R. Phoenix

  Puppy

  (Tamed & Trained #1)

  r. phoenix

  Puppy

  Copyright July 2016 by R. Phoenix

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This book is meant for sale to adult audiences only. It contains sexually explicit scenes and language which may be considered offensive. All sexually active characters in this work are eighteen (18) years of age or older.

  Table of Contents

  Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  About R. Phoenix

  Other Books by R. Phoenix

  puppy

  noun

  a young dog

  a young foxhound

  an arrogant young man

  informal (plural)

  a person or thing

  Author’s Note

  Though Puppy is set in the Fate of the Fallen / Status Quo world, this is a standalone work.

  Acknowledgments

  Bonnie, Belinda, Brandyjo, Miranda, Pati, and Sharon – all of you are rock stars for offering not only feedback, but also moral support.

  Next time, we might want to add some morals in with that support. Just saying.

  Chapter One

  Liam

  After the Takeover, hunting had become utterly dull.

  Some might have been content to casually grab a human from the street and feed then and there, but Liam had always enjoyed the thrill of stalking his prey. He didn’t have much to keep him occupied anymore, and he had to constantly seek out new ways to entertain himself that were separate from feeding.

  At his age, that was getting tedious.

  There weren’t many solutions offered by the status quo — not unless he wanted to pay an obscene sum to chase a human or condemned supernatural through an organized arena like Tartarus. He was much, much too good to waste his time in what amounted to a killbox.

  As he looked at the veritable smorgasbord of humans before him, his nose wrinkled. A human milled around for every occasion and every taste: men and women, young and old, with skin as pale as his last pet to darker than his own. They gathered at the edge of the slums to try to catch the attention of any supernatural who might want to claim them.

  Or at the very least provide them with a few moments of relief from the world that had utterly turned on them the decade before.

  You do not want me to be the one to take you home, little morsels.

  Ignoring the stench of filth that seemed to infuse the air of the human sector of the city, Liam strode past the easy marks. He could have any of them, and that was the problem. He didn’t want someone who would be promptly broken, who would easily give in to his games. He wanted a bit of fight to keep him entertained. After nearly five hundred years of life and beyond, few things could hold his attention for long.

  The ramshackle homes with boarded-up windows next to pothole-filled streets didn’t manage it.

  Blood beaded on his bottom lip as one of his fangs brushed it, and he licked it away. Had it been that long since he’d fed? His body certainly seemed to think so, but then, human blood hardly seemed to sustain him now. Isaiah had said that he would need stronger blood — blood from witches, werewolves, or their own kind — as he grew older, but he hadn’t thought time would pass so swiftly.

  He hadn’t thought he’d grow so bored, either.

  Other vampires dealt with it on occasion, and they voluntarily drained themselves so that they’d sleep for years instead of only the day. It was a way to pass the time and to escape the ennui that threatened to overwhelm them. Yet, to sleep in this day and age seemed like a foolish choice. He would put his life in no one’s hands but Isaiah’s, and his sire would not approve of him sacrificing all he had worked for to take what amounted to a nap.

  A very lengthy nap, but a nap nonetheless.

  A woman boldly stepped in front of him, and his eyes slid over the breasts barely covered by her shirt and the skirt covering her waist and little more. She smiled up at him. “You don’t have to go any further into this hellhole,” she purred, leaning in closer and tilting her head to expose more of her throat.

  Blood whore.

  Addict.

  Liam paused, considering her for a moment. He could give her what she wanted and feed on her, letting the bliss that came with a vampire bite overwhelm her otherwise pathetic existence. He could walk away, leaving her sated. He could snap her neck or drain her, too, leaving her corpse behind.

  No one cared, but it would be wasteful.

  As it was, supes’ casual killings ran the risk of driving humans to extinction if they weren’t careful. Those who had begun to breed humans like cattle understood as much, but there weren’t enough of them. Mortals bred too slowly — and matured more slowly still.

  He rested his hands on the woman’s shoulders, and she shivered beneath his touch as he stepped into her personal space. His fingertips slid down her arms, and he counted each stuttered heartbeat as his hands traveled to her waist. He considered it, but this wasn’t what he wanted. This was boring, and she’d only slake his thirst for an hour or three. Instead of feeding, he lifted her, ignoring her indignant squawk as he cast her to the side to continue on his hunt.

  This walk wasn’t aimless. Nothing about this careful exploration of the slums was. Liam had heard of gang lords who promised protection to those who served, but even the humans knew they had no hope of defending themselves against the supernatural beings who ruled them.

  No, the gang lords had risen in power because they could protect humans against humans.

  How delightfully savage.

  Liam headed deeper into the heart of the human neighborhoods, where the houses went from bearing paper-thin walls and rickety stairs to those fortified with brick and stone. Here, they showed what passed for wealth among humans. They were clean.

  He snorted, starting down the long driveway to one of the largest homes he could see. The humans thought themselves safe here. They thought his kind would not deign to meander so deep within their domain.

  This wouldn’t challenge him, but it might amuse him for a few moments.

  A human studiously staring at the road startled when she noticed him, nearly dropping the wickedly curved knife in her hand. It was illegal, of course, and he could ensure she had a miserable remainder of her existence for it if he so desired.

  She quickly struggled to hide it behind her back, but if he’d cared, it would’ve been too little, too late. Still, she’d probably purchased it from one of his distributors, and he didn’t want to negatively impact his own business.

  “Tsk, tsk, little one,” Liam chided her, his voice cutting through the dead silence of the night. Few dared meander through the city unless they were looking to be chosen as prey when vampires roamed, after all, and in this sector… it was hardly the fate of choice.

  Dark red ringlets fell into her face as she looked up at him, and he reveled in the way her heartbeat thudded in his ears. It was a pity she was no true challenge to anyone but perhaps her own kind. Loveliness like tha
t had once been a beacon, but now, he could have that if he wished any night of the week.

  “I-I’m not… I w-wasn’t—”

  “Wielding a weapon,” he mused, interrupting her. “Shoo, before I tell one of the Enforcers that the humans in this sector are being naughty.”

  As though he couldn’t simply deal with the problem himself.

  The redhead didn’t hesitate. She bolted, and her footsteps echoed throughout the otherwise empty streets. There. Security — such as it was — for this particular home was gone.

  A moment’s distraction. Nothing more.

  He paused several paces away from the front door of the intriguing house and regarded it, clucking his tongue at the sheer idiocy of the setup. Did they think the gate surrounding the property would protect them? Did they think showing off their wealth by keeping their home pristine in this sort of world was a good idea?

  The owner of this particular home had a set of brass balls, and Liam could hardly wait to squeeze them to see just how firm they truly were.

  Testing the doorknob, Liam found it locked. Locks are for honest people. Wasn’t that how the saying went? He rolled his eyes, shouldering it open with the effort it might’ve taken an eager human to tear through tissue paper.

  The sight of three humans in tactical gear made him quirk a brow. The knife outside had been bad enough. The gear and guns in this room would be enough for an especially brutal run through Tartarus.

  They opened fire, but their bullets found only empty air as he moved from the front door. He grabbed the first one, tilting the human’s neck to the side. Before his friends could register what had happened, he was fang-deep in his meat shield. They hesitated, fingers on triggers they no longer pulled, though they swiveled around to follow the vampire’s path. Oh, they could shoot through their friend, but it wouldn’t do anything more than annoy Liam.

  What had they been thinking in the first place?

  Reflexes, he supposed; they’d have had to know what he was by the way he’d entered — with dramatic flair, of course — and that the chances of hurting him were slim to none. The one he’d snatched dropped his gun, moaning as Liam took in gulp after gulp of the thin blood that did little more than whet his appetite. At least the human was enjoying himself, even if Liam was disappointed.

  The other two set down their weapons, holding out their hands with their palms facing him. Surrender, then. Laughable. At least they were intelligent enough to understand that running would only make them more appealing targets. If he wanted them dead, they would be dead.

  He drew back, sighing.

  Seconds. Mere seconds. To kill them because they’d irritated him would be wasteful and annoy his sire.

  “Where is the one you protect so strongly?” he inquired, dropping the human in his grasp unceremoniously onto the floor.

  “Up the stairs,” one of the men said, taking a step back. “Down the hall, to the right.” He didn’t beg.

  Good. Liam appreciated that.

  Liam left the two standing behind him without so much as a look back. He heard footsteps, then the door closed and left silence lingering in the wake of the fleeing humans. He started silently up the stairs, curious to find who had managed to acquire such things. In this world where the status quo did their best to deny them weaponry and armor, those who acquired them were interesting enough to waste a few moments on.

  It wasn’t likely that these men were members of the Rebellion. No, they were attempting to protect their own turf. Against other humans, they might have succeeded, but they hadn’t anticipated him.

  Careless. Lazy.

  But then, he was utterly out of their league.

  He stalked down to the doorway, and he entered as unceremoniously as he had the last time… only to come face to face with a fucking flamethrower.

  The click of the trigger threatened to deafen him. If his heart had still beat, Liam was sure it would have stopped, but the initial sound was followed by nothing but smoke.

  Well, he had to admire the human’s creativity, if not his intelligence.

  But later. There was no sense in wasting time when the device might start to function properly.

  He had the damn thing out of the man’s hand and out of reach in a flash. He’d been lucky the weapon had malfunctioned, or Liam would have only had enough time to regret his carelessness before he’d gone up in flames.

  Sunlight.

  Shifted werewolves.

  Fire.

  Those were the only things he feared. Humans were largely irrelevant. They would not be able to stake him, and there were few enough ways to take him on directly.

  But the light of day bathing the land? The poisonous teeth of a werewolf? The rush of flame against his skin? Those things could kill him.

  Liam snatched the human up by his throat and slammed him against the wall. “No,” he said firmly, his fingers flexing.

  Alarm flickered across the human’s expression, and the impossibly fast beat of the mortal’s heart was as enticing as that fear.

  Liam reveled in it only briefly before he sank his fangs into the human’s throat, and he bit down…

  Only to taste ambrosia.

  He couldn’t put words to the taste. It was exquisite in inexplicable ways, like the finest wine he’d ever tasted. He was the one to moan, and he ignored the erection pressing against his thigh as he pinned the man with his body instead of his hand.

  He used that to expose more of the human’s neck, and he gulped it down without a care for anything else until his thoughts caught up to his thirst. He slowed down, remembering that he’d only tasted blood like this once before. But the girl had belonged to one of his brood mates, and Isaiah didn’t take kindly to his progeny warring amongst themselves — especially over prey.

  Wastefulness. It always came back to wastefulness.

  Liam wasn’t going to waste this man, and if anyone tried to take his prey away from him, he would rip their throats out. “Mine,” he snarled at the mere thought, and his hands slid down the man’s sides as he possessively explored his new property…

  His new property, who would regret pulling a flamethrower on him.

  Chapter Two

  Caleb

  Caleb wasn’t the sort of person to risk being taken by surprise, and he’d seen the creature as soon as it had come through the door. Those who served him had known better than to engage. They were there to protect him against humans, not to stupidly sacrifice their lives in a misguided attempt to protect him against supes.

  They couldn’t.

  He could see and hear everything happening through the security cameras, and he couldn’t keep the wry chuckle from his lips as he heard one of his own tell the bloodsucker exactly where to find him. Fine. He would be prepared. These days, he was mostly equipped to deal with the werewolves who kept encroaching upon his territory, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

  He grabbed the flamethrower from his weapons cache, sorting it out from between the silver blades and bullets and the more mundane weaponry. He’d never tried it before, but if there was one thing guaranteed to take down a fanger before it could sink its teeth into you, that was it.

  Of course, that had been assuming the damn thing would work.

  Caleb didn’t have time to get pissed off about the defective weapon — or his carelessness in not having tested it — before the vampire was upon him. He would have cursed if he’d been able to draw breath. But in the split second between the press of his finger on the trigger and the lack of reaction from the weapon, the vampire yanked him into his arms and threw his only chance of getting through this alive aside.

  Struggling against the creature was akin to fighting to bend steel with his bare hands. It was never going to happen, but he fought all the same… For the space of about three seconds.

  As soon as those sharp fangs pierced his throat, he swayed on his feet, sure his impending orgasm would sweep over him at any moment. He only stayed upright because of the str
ong arm supporting him, and even that was a near thing. He didn’t remember it feeling this good the last time he’d been bitten.

  The vampire’s moan was muffled against his skin, but Caleb’s rang out, echoing throughout the sparsely furnished room. As wary as he was about a fanger touching him, he couldn’t deny that the man’s touch had prompted the greatest pleasure he’d ever experienced.

  His steadily leaking cock was evidence of that.

  An eternity might have passed or an instant. All he knew was that it ended too soon. He heard himself mewling in protest, trying to thrust his throat back up against the vampire’s mouth. The man’s rich chuckle sounded in response, and it took his eyes a moment to focus as he blinked back to the present.

  Face to face with a dark-skinned vampire whose smirk made Caleb want to get the damn flamethrower working — even though he was now reasonably sure it had been sold to him like it was on purpose. Fucking supes.

  Greatest pleasure he’d ever experienced or not, he didn’t want to play juice box without being damn sure he was with a good master. He’d escaped that once, and he wasn’t going there again that easily. Not then, not ever.

  Never say never, Caleb. His mind’s warning wasn’t so easily cast aside. He grimaced. His eyes locked onto the fanger’s, and he found himself unable to look away. He was still hard, his pants feeling entirely too small, and it was all he could do not to grind himself against the man.

  He’s a fucking leech.

  His cock, apparently, didn’t care. The bite had gone straight to his groin, and now he didn’t want to be let go. If the fanger was going to kill him, this was how he wanted it to happen: under the influence of so much pleasure that he couldn’t even think through the intensity of it.

  He’d thought he’d go down in flames, in an onslaught of violence and terror. Now he wasn’t sure.