by Rebecca Main
“Of course,” I agree step back. Valdora does so as well and gives me a cordial nod. I watch her walk off, the male eyes of the room following the swish of her hips. My eyes find themselves glued to the large wolf tattoo on her back—a tribute to her father no doubt.
Valdora could be a heartbreaker; it’s too bad she’s already smitten with the worst one of all. On the other hand… Valdora seems more than capable of keeping Jax in his place.
I smirk at the thought, then quickly make my escape. The sound of my stilettos clicking against the marble floor clear a path for me amongst the thinning crowd. I wind through the underground palace, relieved to find myself alone and unwatched. I don’t knock when I see the correct door, but give the bust of the mustached man placed near it a dubious look.
The heavy door slams behind me. I hold back a flinch and step confidently into the room, scanning it for Sebastian’s mysterious acquaintance. The room flickers in shadows, dozens of candelabras cast their warm glow about the room to reveal a lone bed with Sebastian's “acquaintance” lounging on top it. For a moment, all I can see are long, pale legs and a bust proudly thrust into the air, back arched sensuously.
“Finally,” the woman coos. She leans up on her elbows, her green eyes laced with the vampyric silver stare at me with patronizing amusement. “I was wondering what was taking you so long.”
“You’re Sebastian’s acquaintance?” I ask.
Briar wears an emerald green corset and matching panties, with nude thigh-high stockings kept up with delicate golden garters.
“Surprised?” Her long lashes flutter against the tops of her cheeks, bringing my attention briefly to her beauty mark before I watch her slide to the edge of the bed. She perches there proudly, chest out and legs crossed at the ankles. I give her breasts an unimpressed look—they seem ready to topple out.
I shrug to answer her question and circle the room toward a table covered in objects: long, thin candlesticks, clamps connected by a delicate chain, silk ropes, a set of silver balls, feathers, a multitude of paddles and whips, a gag, handcuffs, a blindfold, and a collection of small razor blades….
“This is quite the display. Sebastian said you would help me become more comfortable in my skin, but I didn’t realize that included a personal demonstration.”
“Oh no,” she purrs. “We don’t have time for that. I just thought it prudent to make sure you were acquainted with some of the courts' favorite toys.”
“What a pleasant variety,” I droll.
She laughs, the husky notes crawling up the skin of my back. The wolf does not like the position we find ourselves in—alone with a vampyré we don’t know, let alone trust. I can't help but agree.
“I couldn’t manage to bring the bigger instruments without causing a stir. If someone thought I was planning a secret rendezvous or party of my own, our little meeting would have been ruined. Thankfully, everyone is in a tizzy because of the masquerade.” Her eyes suddenly flash with interest. “Tell me, how did you find your journey here?”
Slowly I turn to face her, resting my palms on the table's edge behind me. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I suppose.”
Briar laughs at my nonchalance. The throaty sound more vibrant and thicker than before. “Oh dear, you really are quite a stick in the mud, aren’t you?”
I feel myself flush, and for once, am thankful for the full bodysuit I wear. Unsure of what information Briar is privy too, I square my shoulders and decide to stick to our story. “I’m sure Sebastian wouldn’t agree,” I say, unable to keep the smugness from my voice. Briar’s gaze hardens, her jaw clicking shut as she raises a brow in challenge.
“Apparently he does if you’re here.”
I wear a patient smile. “The point of our rendezvous is for you to help me feel more comfortable amongst the other courtiers. It's their wandering hands that draw out my more… basic instincts,” I tell her. “I assure you, Sebastian and my relationship needs no such managing.”
The silence stretches on for a long moment. Briar could be a statue for the way she holds herself so still. Her eyes narrow as they study my face. “Shall we begin?”
I nod and watch as she slips from the bed with unearthly grace. Her legs cross in front of her like some model on a runway. The movement swings her hips from side to side until she is before me. “Tell me. What did you really think of the display in the corridors and the gathering rooms?”
Briar reaches out and takes the zipper at my neck in hand. She smirks at my noticeable gulp, her painted ruby lips glistening in the candlelight. Between her forefinger and thumb, she pulls down the zipper until it rests just below my breasts, and right above the strings of the corseted waist.
“It was… explicit.”
Icy fingers whisper across the insides of my breasts, taking a lazy path up to my collarbone and over to my carotid artery. This close and the silver in her eyes is threatening. She is old. Older than Sebastian, but not older than Jakob. I tilt my chin up, eyeing her with barely concealed disdain as she clicks her tongue at me.
“Relax, Irina,” she says, letting her fingers trail back down the path of my sternum, the sharpened tips of her fingernails scratching softly at my puckered flesh. “I’m not going to hurt you, and neither is anyone else.”
“Tell that to the demons who attacked me little more than a week ago.”
There is a softening around her hard grin. “No vampyré here will harm you,” she corrects. “The demons here aren’t well behaved, I’m afraid. They rarely ever are.” A sneer begins to curl her upper lip, revealing her fangs. “They choose to ignore certain household decrees, even those of the Royal Households. Why we permit them in our court is a mystery to me, but one needs only to put them in their place to avoid their penchant for anarchy and bedlam. At least for a time. Your head of household, Jakob, has made it quite clear that his little lone wolf isn’t to be harmed.”
“Jakob?”
Briar’s features smooth over, a calculating gleam stirring in her eyes. She lets her hand fall to her side. “Upset it wasn’t your dear Sebastian?”
The wolf doesn’t appreciate her taunt. Neither do I. “Who do you think requested leniency in the first place?”
“Of course, how silly of me.” Briar lowers her lashes to half-mast. “I only heard the note of surprise in your voice and—”
“You must have heard wrong.”
Briar releases a noise that sounds very much like a purr and leans in closer. “My mistake,” she concedes, though the flutter of her lashes and the slant of her ruby-red lips dispel any hint of true remorse. “Let us continue, shall we?”
She entwines her fingers with mine and passes me a smoldering look as she leads me to the bed’s end. With a small nudge, she urges me to sit. The silence grows thick around us. It draws my body uptight as I wait for Briar to begin. The seconds tick by, and with each passage of time, I find my ire growing. All the while Briar’s amusement grows. Her emerald eyes sparkle with glee at my restless energy. I open my mouth to speak, but she’s quick to hold up a hand and stall my response.
Another minute goes by. I glare at Briar from the edge of the bed, fingers curling into the comforter. The smile she’s been restraining steals upward.
“If you’re going to waste my time just standing there all night, I’ll happily go,” I announce hotly.
Briar uses her vampyric speed and strength to push me back down when I go to stand. A growl tears from my throat at the act, but she leaves me no room to retort, zipping back to her previous position. Briar plants her hands on her hips and levels me with a smile so cutting in its haughtiness I must curb the urge to tear her limb from limb.
“Such a temper,” she says.
“What is the point of me being here if you aren’t going to teach me anything?” I snarl. “We don’t have time—”
“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, little wolf,” she interrupts, looking far too satisfied with my reaction. “You might not
have all the time in the world, but I do. All vampyrés do, and that’s what you must learn first. Vampyrés prefer to take their time. Sometimes foreplay last decades, so you must have patience.”
“Decades?” I scoff, unable to believe her words.
“Decades. The build-up is absolute torture.” Briar fans her hands across her abdomen, raising them until they cup her breasts. “The relentless chase. The thrill of the hunt.” She issues a breathy moan, her gaze pinning me in place as her lashes bat languidly at her delicate cheekbones. My heartbeat picks up its pace. “The sweet release of surrender.”
I struggle to swallow down my consternation. Briar’s words rekindle my yearning. She watches as I shift under her relentless gaze, my thighs pressing together to ease the dull ache mounting between them. I crane my neck to look down my nose at her, feigning nonchalance as I lean back on my forearm.
“I’m quite familiar with the thrill of the hunt.”
Her cat-like eyes narrow. “Perhaps the hunt you are familiar with… but the surrender?” She clicks her tongue in disapproval. I ready myself to protest, heartbeat loud in my ear when she is suddenly above me. My breath releases in a whoosh with the weight of her body flush against mine. Briar flashes me her fangs, her smile too wide and wild.
“I’m perfectly capable of surrendering,” I tell her through gritted teeth.
“Aren’t we all?” she says, eyebrow arching as she reaches out to toy with my long ponytail. I lie rigid beneath her, waiting for her next move with undo anticipation. Likewise, the wolf is unsure how to react. Our position is unnerving in its vulnerability, yet… exciting. “But you, little wolf, you hold yourself so high above everyone else, don’t you? It’s the wrong hand to play in front of the courtiers. It only makes them want you more. Makes them want to break you.”
“And if I acted as one of the thralls? They’d still be chasing after me to get a piece of Vrana’s lone wolf.”
Briar shares with me a secret smile, biting her bottom lip as she slides slowly off my body. I feel a tug at my scalp and catch her wrist as it trails away from me, the end of my ponytail caught in her fist. She continues moving back, pulling me with her until I am back in my original seated position at the end of the bed.
“You’re right,” she says, uncoiling my hair from her clutches. “You’re fucked either way. Everyone wants a piece of you, and there’s nothing you can do that will change that.”
“Wonderful,” I say, my bitterness cutting my response short. “So I’m just supposed to be okay with being… molested by them?”
Briar rolls her eyes toward the ceiling and scoffs. “I’ve already told you. No one is going to harm you. No one will touch you. Not without Sebastian’s express permission, which I’m sure he would garner from you first.” Her eyes tilt heavenward again. “You really have to learn to relax. Let go of all your suffocating inhibitions. You might even find you enjoy the attention.”
This time it is my scoff that taints the air. “I hardly think I would enjoy that kind of attention.”
A scarlet brow arches. “You certainly seemed to enjoy the attention during your bloodletting… once you let go, that is. I knew you would be vocal because of the last full moon, but really, Irina. You surprised everyone.” I color, and Briar proceeds to cut me with her smile again. The look of sardonic glee is hard to stomach, but it is the brief flicker of hurt behind her sharp gaze that keeps me grounded. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of here. Voyeurism is one of the Dark Court’s favorite pastimes.”
“Among other things,” I say and cross my arms over my chest. “Let’s not forget humiliating its courtiers.”
“You’re not implying that you felt humiliated by your and Sebastian’s display, are you? What on earth could be humiliating about an act you engage in with someone you love, no matter the audience?”
My leather encasement rubs me all wrong as I shift my seat on the bed. The challenge in Briar’s eyes is clear as day. I know I cannot back down.
“Of course not. I’m talking about the people who are collared and leashed, walking around on all fours. The ones begging on their knees and forced to say the most degrading things.”
Briar walks confidently toward the table, running her fingertips across the wooden surface as she prowls its length. She comes to a stop before the parade of whips and crops and tosses me a casual look over her shoulder.
“You fail to grasp the concept of pain and pleasure or the freedom found in submission.”
My eyes dart to her fingers as they curl around the base of a worn leather crop. My own tighten their hold on the comforter before I think better of my body language and smooth my hands against my thighs instead.
“Letting go of control can be so gratifying when done in the right hands. Knowing that your partner’s goal is to only bring you the utmost pleasure possible, by whatever means they see fit." Briar pauses to bite her lip, a tenderness creeping into her eyes momentarily before she continues. "The people you saw begging and crawling are those who relish in the intimate intricacies of punishment and humiliation. But you must know that such devotion to one's master or mistress is a two-way street. They adore their pets, for they’re getting exactly what they need out of the relationship too. Absolute control.”
She turns to face me fully. The crop gripped tightly in both hands. A strike of envy hits me as I study her posture. Feet spread shoulder-width apart. Lingerie hugging her curves and her hair perfectly styled like an old Hollywood actress. Like Maureen O’Hara or Susan Hayward. Everything about her drips with self-confidence. With a growing smirk that dimples her left cheek, she gives a playful slap of the crop against her palm.
“Vampyrés do seem to have control issues,” I quip, happy to feel myself in control again, though the dull throbbing in my core has yet to subside during Briar’s lesson. “Not to mention their possessive streaks.”
The same flash of hurt from before clouds her gaze, but she covers it swiftly with one of brattish contempt. “When eternity is yours, you tend to view things differently. Not that you would understand,” she says, her smirk turning cruel.
“Perhaps not now….” My shoulders rise and fall with a nonchalance I do not feel. But the gradual understanding and renewed hurt in Briar’s eyes is enough to confirm the suspicions I have. She has feelings for Sebastian and him for her. Or could it be something more? “Sebastian and I have spoken about our future before—about my future, to be exact.”
The leather crop in her hand lets out a creak as her knuckles turn white. “Your future here at the court will be nonexistent if you can’t learn to—”
I wave a hand dismissively at her taunt words. “I’ll be sure to discuss everything we’ve talked about with Sebastian when he returns tonight. I’m confident together we can work on my ability to ‘let go,’ as you so aptly put it. And I’ll be able to find the so-called ‘freedom’ that comes with submission. Perhaps we will even put on another show.”
Briar visibly bristles, then puts on a counterfeit smile. “If anyone teaches you the art of submission, it will be Bash.” Her smile kicks up a notch. “He’s an excellent teacher.”
Her heels click with determination back toward the table, where she sets down the crop. Briar's shoulder blades are held stiffly as she keeps her back toward me. I stand, watching her with narrowed eyes. Something more indeed, if Briar calls Sebastian by his nickname.
“I can’t help but wonder why Sebastian would send me to you. Is it because of your… history?”
The muscles in her upper back contract, hold, then release as she straightens. Several moments pass, my heart beginning to canter at her prolonged silence. Will she take my bait? Or have I misinterpreted her and Sebastian’s exchanges?
Briar lets out a breathy laugh, turning to face me with a relaxed expression. “Oh dear, he told you about that, did he?”
“No,” I say, giving her a small, almost sympathetic smile in response to her fallen features. “But if I’ve learn
ed anything from being here, it’s that very few others call Sebastian 'Bash.' In fact, I dare say only those closest to him use that name. Which begs the question, why do you? What exactly is your relationship with him?”
Her chin juts out defensively. “Jealous? Or are you afraid that I might still have a hold over him?”
“I think we both know that Sebastian is the kind of man who takes what he wants when he wants it. And seeing that I’m the one with him….”
Briar’s control snaps. With a snarl, she uses her vampyric speed and strength to shove me against the nearest wall. Her manicured nails dig into the sides of my neck. I suck in a breath, halted halfway as her grip tightens.
“Enough,” she says, voice thick with emotion. The look in her eyes is dangerously similar to the one her sister wears when she looks my way. With effort, I force myself to relax against her stranglehold. Provoking her further is clearly not the path to take. “If you think for a second he is yours, then you are sorely mistaken. I’m well aware of your arrangement with him, but if you strive for something more, I will not hesitate to spill your blood here and now.”
“I’m not,” I manage to spit out, one hand reaching out to grasp the arm that holds me prisoner. I take a shallow gasp, glaring at her all the while.
“Is that so?” she purrs, the edge of danger not gone from her voice. She releases me a beat later, a sneer painting her lips as she glowers at my coughing form. “What exactly is your relationship with Bash, hmm? After all, you haven’t called him Bash once.”
“He’s… family, as I’m sure he’s told you,” I say, not daring to look at her as I rub at the bruises forming on my neck. What had Sebastian told Briar? “Unfortunately for me, he hasn’t been forthcoming about information regarding the two of you.” I chance a glance at Briar to see her glower remain. “Or what information he has shared with you about our arrangement.”
“And why should he? I hardly see it as any of your business.”
My jaw falls open. “Why? Perhaps, so this scenario wouldn’t happen.” Briar gives a careless shrug. “What has Sebastian told you?”
