by Talyn Scott
“How… you figure… that?” Dru delivered an are-you-nuts look. “I didn’t get… in one punch… and half my body is… destroyed.”
“You’re still intact.” Bane surveyed the damage. “Leg’s a mess, though. I had half a dozen going at me while trying to get to you.”
Dru’s male pride chaffed. “I’ve fought creatures for centuries.”
“I’m sure you have, but how many were Habalines?” Oycher cocked a mahogany brow.
“I…lost…count,” he lied and everyone knew it.
“It took Vojaks, Species soldiers, three werewolves,” Oycher explained away Dru’s inadequacy, “and our very own Coven Master to end this party.”
“And you were jumped from behind,” Bane said as he pulled his shirt over his head, tearing it into strips so Dru could have a much-needed tourniquet, “which is always a disadvantage.”
“I was… supposed to… Skype Renee tonight,” Dru said with disappointment and maybe a touch of delirium. “She and Arian… were going to put on…” At Bane’s conciliatory look, he continued, “Well, she can’t see me… this way.”
“No way that’s gonna happen,” the Beta agreed.
Dru glanced over at Oycher, watching as he read a text. “I scent your… adrenalin rush. What is… it?”
“As I said earlier,” Oycher explained, stashing his phone, “you did well tonight, Doc. You evened out an ambush, just by your call to Maestru. And get this; the second he misted in, he scented something in this area that may lead us to Sixten’s Blythe.” He turned to Bane. “Qudir, a half dozen of our soldiers, and your guard are wiping the humans and scanning the airport’s computer system as we speak. Flight plans and security footage are priority one. Mind you, Maestru’s going by theory alone, but Blythe may have been brought through here.”
“Left on a plane?” Bane asked incredulously. “Why would shifters…”
“Not Habalines,” Oycher interrupted, shaking his head impatiently. “Our Dynasty’s hunters - the Lovci were definitely here.
“What a fucking mess!” Salk stared from the windows of Spooky’s Halloween Superstore, an open-year-round costume shop fronting his little venture that recently closed due to Anthony Giarusso’s death. His Lovec eyes carefully watching telling chaos unfold at Fort Myers Field. “Fanfuckingtastic the Coven Master took Adam.”
“Saves me from killing him,” Poison said, standing behind him. “He defected the minute he handed over Anthony’s sister. Now he’ll be tortured before he dies. Something he deserved and I didn’t have time for.”
“Everything was going as planned.” Salk had counted on using that damned halfling. The Habaline standing next to him was not any improvement over a half-breed. And even though he had the correct blade to get the job done, he couldn’t kill what he still needed. Salk was many things, but not stupid.
“Now they’re going on without Adam.” Poison shrugged in a very human way, curling his lips at the store. Halloween costumes on one side, exotic dance garments lined the other side.
“He’s going to talk,” Salk said, pulling a handkerchief out and wiping his sweating brow.
Anthony had run the place, and, at this point, they could trust no other human, so it remained closed. And if Sixten put two and two together, he’d come back and snoop around. That couldn’t happen. “I only rounded up one escaped Donor – Amy Hanson.”
“I hear her frantic heartbeat,” Poison said, tilting his head toward the back.
Behind the storeroom was another world, one consisting of technology literally changing human lives as well as Salk’s. Research producing a viable and rewarding product no government or private entity could control with regulations or red-tape policies.
Decades of painstaking research were nothing to a subjugated Lovec; one groveling under a spoiled monarch’s boots learned practical patience. And since the Dynasty never released their rare hunters from duty, he had no other choice but to build a world in which he could disappear. After centuries of service, he had a hefty savings, which wasn't nearly enough. The funds he still needed to complete his venture were astounding.
“Yes,” he said, listening to the Donor cry. “Unlike the others, this is Amy’s first visit here. Rave had an unhealthy attachment to her, spoiling her with compassion.”
“I remember his mistakes with her. She’ll get no such understanding from me,” he laughed cruelly. “Imagine how excited she was to glimpse freedom, thinking her ordeal was over, only to be snatched back into our world by you.”
“She’d better get over it and quickly,” Salk said flatly. “Until I hunt the others, she’s all I have in this country.”
“Speaking of countries, when are you carting our delicious Blythe back to Italy.”
Salk turned slowly; finding it disturbing Poison was keeping up with her. “How do you know I haven’t?”
“For me to know.” Poison’s lips curved. “Making sure she gets out of the country safely and soon.”
“I do not need your assistance for that.”
“You would if you knew that pint I stole from her sweet body before handing her over is worth far more than its weight in gold,” Poison said with a smirk, “in today’s market.”
“I told you not to touch this one.” He bared his fangs. “Why break our agreement, showing me such disrespect? I provide the Donors you need, and we capitalize on them. There are limits here. Lines you should not cross.”
“So similar to lines you should have never crossed with Rave’s brother.” He taunted. “Sixten Kovac is a fuming monster foaming at the mouth.”
Salk sighed. “And?”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out yet,” he said in barely more than a whisper, his voice teasing in delight. “His intelligence is growing at an alarming rate since he killed Rave. It won’t be long before the madness sets upon him, and this realm will not contain such power.”
“Such a waste on something I’ll end up killing.”
“You think you can kill him?” Poison blinked, laughing low.
“If I don’t,” Salk hissed, not caring that he spilled too many vampire secrets to the Habaline. “Our law will claim him the minute he lays hands on Marchii Gianni, killing a royal is an unthinkable atrocity.”
Poison glared at Salk. “I could kill the Marchii the same way I killed Anthony. Afterwards, none of the Species could revive that greedy human bastard. His pieces scattered this earth and his soul went to hell, where it belonged. Gianni can follow him, forever in death.”
“You’ve suddenly found religion?” Salk asked, scanning their surroundings again.
The Habaline pursed his lips, considering a moment before he answered. “I’ll tell you when I see the scroll, and the king’s bastard decides to man up.”
“You place your dreams on ancient fairytales instead of reality,” Salk said. “If that indeed happens then feel free to go home and give my best to your true king.”
“Fairy tales?” he asked with a faraway look. “The humans believe foolishness is the sister to wickedness, though the foolish are readily ignored. In the immortal world, foolishness will get you killed.”
Chapter Ten
A Room Without A View
“Remove your clothes.”
“You do it.”
Gianni curled lips born of the darkest sensual fantasies, but Blythe couldn’t say he formed a smile.
He circled Blythe once, twice, stopping directly behind her on the third go around. Soft breath fanned her hair, heady with eroticism, swirling it over her shoulder. Now, his walking, talking, dress-up doll wore a bronze, strapless, Dior gown. It fanned at her knees in a billowing mermaid train.
“All dressed and nowhere to go,” she snapped, holding her hands out in grand gesture. She quickly found out that if she didn’t dress herself, someone else would do it for her. So she got with that program rather quickly.
He chose to ignore her sarcasm, instead, he explained, “It is time for you to feed from me. For that, I want you undressed.”
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“Only feed?” She doubted that. What she did know? He wanted a show, a striptease.
The back of a cool and silky claw caressed her shoulder before it trailed down her arm. “I love the way your skin pebbles under my touch. Your beautiful breasts do this, too, only by my staring at them. And your sex? A flick of this tongue,” he murmured, skimming the tip inside her ear, “perks your sweet clit right up. It begs for me always. So playing coy is a waste of our time better spent in bed.” He stepped back, circling her until they faced one another. “Certainly patience has no place in my world, and I am tired of pretending that it does.”
She could get a neck ache just staring up at him, his size frightening. “Wouldn’t it be easier for you to push another memory in my head and go at it like you did earlier on the chaise? I mean,” she continued taunting him, crossing her arms under her heavy breasts, “talk about romantic. And then following up with jewelry?” She flashed the ring he pushed on her finger. “You’ve got me all sorted out, haven’t you?”
“I do not care for this new attitude.” He raised a powerful arm, holding out his palm. “Hand me your clothes or choose your punishment.”
“Either way, you win.” She jutted her chin, hands splayed wide on her hips. “But I refuse to feed from you while naked, so grease your sadistic gears and give it your best shot.”
“Love me.”
“Nope.”
“Your body always submits, Blythe.” He dropped his coat on the back of a slipper chair. “I only want more. Everything.” Next went the buttons on his crisp, white shirt, his smooth skin peeking through inch by inch. “I will give you anything that you want. Anything.” He could have stripped in vampiric speed, but he wanted to seduce her. “I know you love me, somehow, I know.”
Gianni stood bare from the waist up. Blythe’s eyes dropped, an image of her licking that ebony trail lost beneath his zipper flooded her mind. She brought her fingertips up, rubbing her temples. “I don’t want to marry or mate or whatever with you. You say you want what you want. So do I, and it’s not you.”
“I smell your arousal.”
What? “That’s impossible.”
“You say you don’t want me to touch you. You say you don’t want my mouth on you again. We will negotiate.”
Again, another win-win for him, but she asked anyway, “Negotiate?”
“So it seems.” He unzipped his pants, his crown rising above the tight black underwear, the light catching a drop of pre-come. “After professing my love, something I’ve never done with any other female, not once did I think I would bring you back to that room.”
His special freaky-fun-playhouse with wall-to-wall mirrors she spent many days and nights in. That much, she remembered. “And?”
His hand shot out, his palm cupping her shoulder. “Negotiations begin and end with give and take. You do not want me inside you, though I can make you orgasm better than your Sixten.” He pulled her through the bathroom, his hand waving over a panel she never paid any attention to, and voila, a small dungeon-like room stared back at her. And just as she thought, it had no doors or windows. “Tonight, pet, your condition I will grant.”
“But?”
“You will obey.” He whipped off his belt, bringing the ends together and snapping them. “Yes, Blythe, you will obey.” A shiver shook her, running over her skin, until she pebbled the way he wanted. Her ankle leash scattered on the floor. “Now,” he stated calmly, “I asked you to remove your clothes.” He walked to black leather table and positioned himself on the edge, tossing his belt from hand to hand. “I’m waiting.”
Yeah, the no-touch thing was really going to work out for her. “And if I want no touch and no nudity?”
“I will not take another female,” he replied, sliding blue-black hair across his shoulder. “If that’s what you expect. I only rely on our bond now, but my bite will speed things along. Make you want things dark and nasty. The things only I can do to you.”
“No,” she croaked.
“No?” His golden eyes landed on her cleavage, her breasts shelving over the dress. “Well, then, we’ve reached the end of our negotiations.” He sucked air between his teeth, his fangs lowering. “Slowly lose that. I want to see those lush mounds, mold them with my eyes if I cannot with my hands.” His cock pushed up until it reached his navel. His thumb stroked the tip. “Do it now.”
She untied the front of her gown, the bronze silk sliding over her seashell-inspired bra, the pearls glowing red under the fiery lights. Below, a simple cream thong with a working bow barely covered her most private place. Lower still, nude laced-top thigh highs covered three-quarters of her legs. Their lighter sheen contrasted Blythe’s deeper complexion. Topped off by heels - always the highest heels imaginable - she still couldn’t reach his chin with the top of her head. Those silver pupils dilated, his eyes taking a walk all over her, not missing a thing. “In all my days, I have never witnessed anything more incredible than your body.”
Wonderful, what she always wanted to hear from the lips of the deranged.
He inclined his head imperially. “Bra.”
A simple clasp joined the front, and she fought the trembling of her fingers, willing her hands not to betray her. Not because she was proud, Blythe simply refused to fall apart. She wasn’t wired that way. And although she knew she could never take on a creature as powerful as Gianni hand-to-hand, she wasn’t flailing around in her mind, waiting for her rescuer. She needed time to figure this out, was smart enough to do it. And hopefully, playing games with Gianni would buy her that time. The bra fell; the beads hit the floor as though she dropped a medicine bottle. Cool air hit her nipples. Unfortunately, they puckered beautifully.
Gianni inhaled sharply, his irises bleeding into the whites. He stood again, trailing the hard floor with his belt, the buckle scarping loudly in the otherwise quiet room. His cock bobbed against his open zipper, his pants clinging to tight hips covering a perfect ass.
She wanted none of him.
But that bond betrayed her, and she dampened unbearably at his imposing maleness, his unbearable beauty. And she could cry from want. Her mouth watered for the taste of him, and then going dry, even for his blood. Gianni stopped in front of her, closing his eyes on another severe inhale. “Why do you fight this?” He sounded weary, almost defeated, but she knew better. His hand tightened on that belt and she understood what was coming.
She was.
When he was good and ready.
And that would be the first of many punishments for tonight.
His free hand wound her hair, pulling tightly before releasing her. “You smell as though you need my touch. Last chance.”
She stood silently.
A heartbeat passed, and then he fingered the bow topping the thin strip that divided her ass. The epitome of thongs, no doubt, this one would serve a unique purpose. Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid the thin ribbon from its knot. She felt the fabric give way, caressing her folds as he cleverly worked his hand.
She couldn’t stop her gasp, her knees nearly buckling.
He brought her hands to the front, his chest closing in on her back. His thick thigh went between her legs, catching her weight. The heat of Gianni’s body warming what was already heated, needy. “Wrists together, my Blythe.” She pressed one inner wrist to its mate, watching as he twirled the silk around her, drawing it tight.
Lips touched her ear, his words inducing another uncontrollable shiver. “No matter how much you plead, I will not take you this night. From this, you will learn my version of patience.”
He lowered his thigh, easing her body down while holding her wrists above her head. Staying stationary, his cock slid over her spine, the tip rolling over each vertebra, leaving a trail of precome in its wake. Blythe straddled a saddle-like seat, her knees touching carefully placed pads. A cuff fastened over each ankle. One-inch silver balls lined the peculiar device, threaded through the center, right where her soaking core sat.
Reaching over her,
Gianni hooked her tied wrists overhead, the velvet skin of his erection brushing her cheek. “If you climax before I tell you.” He pulled back, circled her. Coming to the front again, he pointed at her face with his imposing cock. “Well...you’ll see.”
With his toed boot, he nudged a lever on the front and her strange seat became a machine. The beads spun in all directions, barely touching her though feeding her need, fueling her fire. Without warning, she neared that unavoidable crest, hanging there. “Oh, no!” She’d give anything to plunge two fingers inside her.
“You are all wet for me, Blythe.” He slid the belt across one of her shoulders, the leather sliding over the sheen of sweat drenching her body, the tip tickling one nipple before moving on the next. “Not him.”
Blythe longed to put her hands over her ears, blocking him out. She needed to come. To touch her clit, do whatever was necessary to leave the razorblade’s edge she currently walked. “Please.”
“What a pretty pussy you have, pet. Please me.” Back in front of her, he wrapped his belt around her waist, pulling her down to further the friction on those torturous, spinning balls. They brushed over her clitoris, her drenched lips, and the line of her ass. “Your little clit is so red, hard as stone. Are you sure I cannot suckle it…for hours. I would do this for you. Ask me.”
Blythe bit her tongue until she tasted blood. A hiss left him as he clenched the base of his cock and squeezed until it nearly blackened. “I have never been afraid. Until you.” He closed his eyes, dropping to his knees in front of her, a bloodthirsty savage parading as a sacrificial offering.
A slow moan brushed her panting lips. No way could she last another minute. Her inner elevator neared the penthouse, hitting the roof, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stop it.
“I will never lose you again,” he threatened darkly, stroking his cock while watching her tremors.
His tongue speared her lips, seeking inside, rolling over the fronts of her teeth and ferreting out her traces of blood. With deft fingers, he pinched one nipple and she shouted out, whimpering in between screaming outbursts until she couldn’t see. She had no idea what she was saying, but he groaned in her mouth. Through their bond, Blythe could feel his satisfaction.
