A Mermaid's Ransom

by Joey W. Hill

  Slowly, some of the tension left the arm beneath her grip. He held his gaze on Clara's pale face another second before he turned his attention back to Lex. "I want her to leave," he said.

  "She's my friend. She wants to be sure I'm okay, and safe."

  "I will protect you."

  "Yeah, that's definitely the impression I just got. You can't control what's in you," Clara retorted. "She just told me Dark One blood is hard to contain. How do you know for sure you won't hurt her? What's stopping you?"

  "Clara," Alexis said sharply. "Don't." Goddess, why was Clara goading him?

  "This." He tapped the steel on his neck with a short, jerky movement. "A collar to contain the beast's madness, until she decides I am useless and they kill me. That is why her motives are important to me."

  "Please look at me, then. Let me answer you." Alexis held her breath until he stared down into her face. Those eyes could laser right through her flesh, open her up, but she held his gaze. "You have a right to live here, not to be trapped in a Dark One world. The collar is for your protection."

  "I need no protection," he snarled, and Clara jumped. "I need nothing. I got here--"

  "Because I risked my life to pull you through," she shot back. "Because I believe you have a right to live. Why isn't that enough of a reason for you?"

  "Because no one risks their life like that. No one."

  "You did. For your mother."

  He went still then, his body turning into a rigid statue. In contrast, the energy building around him eased off enough that Lex dared to look at Clara. "I'm all right," she said calmly. "I'll call you tomorrow if I can. Okay?"

  Please don't argue, she thought, not sure if she could talk Dante down from that ledge when he was still standing so close to it. "Okay," her friend responded after a tense pause. "But I'm close by if you need me."

  "I know." Alexis sent her a distracted smile. She held her focus on Dante as Clara left the room, and they heard the door close.

  "You know nothing of that," he said.

  "Yes, I do. I felt it, when you spoke of her, when you said you killed her. Feelings are a map, Dante. Even though yours are pretty tangled, a few of them come through so strong they practically come with pictures. They chained her, you said. She kept you alive by letting you feed on her. They tortured her, used her. And one day, despite the fact you knew you would be punished for it, you couldn't bear it any longer. Her mind was gone, broken, and so you ended her life. They hurt you badly for it, but they didn't kill you, though you wished they had, for a while. You had nothing to gain for yourself by taking her life."

  "You are wrong. I did not like the way her pain made me feel. So I killed her, and felt better." But Dante shifted his glance back to the stuffed animals. Toys. Things given to children and even adults for amusement, comfort. Earlier, he'd heard Lex's thoughts, wondering how to teach him about emotions he'd never experienced. Some of them were apparently imprinted on the soul at birth, because coming in contact with them now was like the return of sensation in extremities long ago frozen, burned or even amputated. The thawing of this memory brought sharp agony, almost worse than physical torment.

  He hadn't wanted to remember the reasons he took his mother's life. He'd blocked out everything but the actual deed, that savage thrust into his mother's heart with the blackwood stake he'd sharpened. He'd hacked off her head as well, using his fangs as needed, so there was no way they could revive her. They'd likely eaten her, but he never knew. They were removing her chains when he was first beaten to unconsciousness, the last escape he experienced from pain for a long time after that.

  She hadn't been lucid in months, his mother. The last time she'd spoken to him, recognized him as her son and not one of the Dark Ones, she'd said little. Simply shuddered with pain and repeated the name he'd chosen for himself, over and over. He'd curled up at her feet, laying his head against her bare thigh. She never minded him staying close, though most times the Dark Ones drove him away from her. They only let him feed off her blood while they violated her, and they made sure he was so ravenous he couldn't refuse his own hunger. He'd had to shut his ears to her cries of pain as he was drinking, the grunting of the Dark One and rapid flap of leathery wings. She would speak in his mind, the one thing they couldn't take from them, and tell him it was all right, to take his fill, even though her thoughts were broken into halting pieces by her own agony.

  Why had she never given him a name herself? Or had she, and she just refused to tell him, not wanting to give him something else they could take away?

  "Dante."

  Somehow he'd gone back to the stuffed animals. Alexis was kneeling next to him. He gripped one of the toys, the yellow bear with a red shirt and a bewildered expression.

  "I'm hungry," he said without inflection. It was the only certain thing.

  Taking the bear from him with gentle hands, she rose to her feet and drew him with her. Sitting down on the bed, she moved her lustrous fall of brown hair over her right shoulder, baring the left to him as she pulled her shirt off of it.

  Instead of accepting that offer, he put a knee on the bed and took her to her back. He curved a hand over her throat, holding her down and feeling the pulse of her life beneath his palm as she stared up at him. She didn't know what he was going to do, and that worried her a little, but she was choosing to trust him, a decision that angered and aroused him at once.

  "Lift your skirt so I can see your cunt," he said crudely. Her flush, the way she moistened her lips, goaded him further.

  "I like your touch," she whispered against his hold.

  "Do as I say."

  Gathering up the hem of her skirt, she worked it up until he saw the swatch of panties covering the plump line of her sex. As he watched, a drop of moisture bloomed on the silken crotch.

  It inflamed him, her trust, her desire. He bent, increasing his grip at her throat as he closed his mouth over the filmy cloth, tasting her through it. Emitting one of those gasps that rippled through him, hardened his cock, she arched up into his face. He rubbed his cheek along the tender flesh of her inner thigh, pressed the points of his canines into softness, hearing the rush of the femoral artery.

  Spread your legs wider for me.

  She trembled, but complied. Savage monsters rose from the darkness of his subconscious, but they didn't intend to harm or kill. They simply wanted, with an avarice concentrated on this moment only, this room. They wanted to drain not only her blood, but the life energy that swirled through her, warming him, confusing him.

  Lack of control made him vulnerable to attack from any direction; his wildness blinded him, so he'd learned never to give full rein to his desires. Until he'd mastered such iron control, there were times he'd gone mad trying to hold the reins on himself that tightly. For days he might caper around the Dark One world like a rabid creature, half remembering everything he did or experienced. The Dark Ones had found that amusing, taunting him but doing less damage than when he was self-possessed.

  She'd spread herself wide for him, her arms out to her sides, fingers clutched into the coverlet. "Will this hurt?"

  "Yes," he said, "But only for a moment."

  He bit, and she sucked a cry in through her teeth as he found the bloodsource he wanted. The heat of her sex was throbbing against his face as he suckled and licked, his head moving in slow, rhythmic motions that rubbed his temple over her swollen clit behind the tight, damp fabric. She moaned each time he did it, lifted and dropped.

  When he was done, he pressed his mouth upon the puncture, laving it with his tongue until he'd stopped the blood flow, then he turned his mouth to other hungers. She almost came off the bed as he sealed the wet heat of his mouth over her, marking the fabric with her blood as he flicked his tongue over the soaked panel, inhaled her deep through flared nostrils. She quivered, hard and deep in her belly. She was so close, he could see it in the spiraling, chaotic tumble of thoughts, images and sensations. It overwhelmed him.

  Turning her in an effort
less move, he brought her up on her hands and knees. Pulling open the pants he wore, shoving the skirt to the small of her back and tearing off that swatch of silk, he entered her from behind. The way Dark Ones did it. He despised the visceral satisfaction, even as his body didn't care, surging into hers, claiming, needing.

  Your wings. I want to see your wings. He tore the shirt down the middle just as her wings came forth, spreading wide and then angling up, as if he were pressed against a butterfly, her soft feathers brushing his skin as he thrust into her, hard, greedy, feeling her spasm and writhe, so close, milking him deeply. The legs transformed at the same time, increasing that divine tightness, her tail sliding off the bed as he adjusted to straddle it.

  She screamed, her climax galvanized by the different sensations, and he released as well, that quickly. Her blood coursing through his system, his seed jetting into her, was a painful yet pleasurable finish that had his face pressed into her nape, lips in her hair, while her wings trembled out to either side of him. As she slowly came down from her pinnacle, wracked with tiny convulsions, the wings went to a half fold, brushing his shoulders and hips, tips tickling his calves.

  Gradually, she transformed so he was holding a human woman again. Still drained from her time in his world, something such as this could rob her of strength as quickly as the climax itself. His knowledge of her exhaustion had him turning her onto her side on the bed. Loathe to let go of her, he fitted his body behind her. Making a noise of contentment, she closed her hand with an intriguing possessiveness on his forearm, nestling her head into her pillow and under his jaw.

  WHY are you helping me, Alexis?

  She was asleep already, he knew. She'd answered the same question earlier, but he could neither believe her words nor comprehend the emotions in her mind when she spoke them. Too many unfamiliar impressions and feelings.

  She'd had no male in her life, no sexual experiences before him, so it could be explained by that. It was plausible for one so young. The first time he'd had an actual orgasm, forced as it was by his tormentors, the pleasure of it had been addicting. A way to escape everything for a few seconds.

  He'd told her he was ready to go from her cottage to this location. He'd been partly wrong about that. All those images he'd dissected a thousand times in his head were nothing next to experiencing them firsthand. Alexis had described this world as busy, always moving. He was used to that in the Dark One world, but the variety of activities here were different, often not violent or dangerous, but disconcertingly unpredictable. In the Dark One world, all activities came with danger or violence. Base needs--lust, hunger, thirst, fights for dominance.

  Sequestered in this snug, warm bedroom, thinking of the love and devotion of her parents and those who served them, he had a hard time thinking she sought escape through sexual passion as he had. But his presence in her life could very well be riding on the goodwill of her youth and sexual self-discovery. When that passed, she would have no use for him and the others would try to kill him, as he expected.

  They could try. And she could tire of him all she wished, but he would let her go only when he was ready.

  Seventeen

  SHE woke famished. She was going to have to start keeping Red Cross blood donation supplies in her nightstand. Cookies, juice, crackers. Then she realized Dante was not in the room with her. Amusement turned to panic. It hadn't occurred to her he would go somewhere without her. They hadn't really set any ground rules, or even established how he would react to ground rules.

  Scrambling out of the bed, she ignored her growling stomach and wobbly knees, made it halfway to the door and realized he was in her kitchen. Either that or she had a very large rat emitting multiple sonar pings of curiosity. He was likely going through cabinets, examining each kitchen utensil.

  Determined to start today halfway decently dressed and put together, she resolutely about-faced and headed to the shower. The bite area on the inside of her thigh was healed but still tender. As she passed her fingers over it, the memory made her shiver, the heel of her hand brushing her sex. Goddess, he'd been so urgent. So hungry. Rather than her being dismayed by his violence, her own hunger had almost eclipsed his.

  That thought put a damper on her recollection. She'd let her own lust take precedence over the possibly destructive state of his mind, and that wasn't good. Hadn't she confessed such a worry to Anna? But it was harder than she'd expected. Even with her empathy, she'd always been an outside observer to the emotional fluctuations of young women who'd experienced sex for the first time. That mad flush where physical reaction was confused with emotional because of the intensity of the experience. Of course, it was hard to compare what occurred in candlelit dorm rooms, a sock hung on the door-knob to warn away intrusive roommates, with a seduction that began in her dreams and was consummated in a fiery world where her life had hung in the balance.

  However, she was aware of what might be the same as some of those women's experiences. It might have meant something far different to him. She was honestly too swept away by her own feelings at the time to register his. But he had felt something. She would have sensed a physical reaction devoid of feeling.

  Goddess, the truth was she was in over her head and afraid to admit it to anyone who could help her, because she was certain about one thing--right now, she was the only true ally he had, and he couldn't afford to have her taken away from him.

  The water was running hot, so she stepped in, letting it wash away her uneasy thoughts for now. Hopefully Dante was too busy discovering the delights of cookware to have tuned in to her dilemma.

  At least it wasn't too difficult to focus on this instead. Though her mother had bathed her, it was of course not the same as a full scrubbing. Plus, the washing brought the musk of their lovemaking to her as she cleaned those private crevices. She shuddered anew, remembering how he'd taken her over. If nothing else, she could be sure she was anatomically more pleasing than what he'd had before.

  "Infinitely."

  She yelped, opening her eyes, and found him standing at the shower door. He was still naked, the same way he'd slept with her. The sight of his tall, muscular body, so imposing and appealing at once, the cock semierect already, made her libido stomp out her attempts at self-control and rationales like a lumberjack with size sixteen boots.

  It didn't help that he was studying the way the soap slid down her wet body with intense interest. He lifted a candy bar. "This was in your mind when you woke. Along with many other food items I couldn't match to what is here."

  As she watched, he peeled back the wrapper and tossed it away, then extended it toward her mouth. "Eat, before you fall down."

  Chocolate with the flavor of water running over her face had a sensual appeal, particularly with him feeding it to her. Her body vibrated. They had things to do. They . . .

  "It does not have to take long," he noted, his eyes darkening in their flames. Before she could think of a protest, or whether she even wanted to try, he'd stepped into the shower and caught her under the arms, holding her up against the shower wall. The chocolate melted in her mouth as his closed over it. She clung to him as water poured over them both and he entered her again, cock now ready for her such that she gasped as his fullness invaded. Her legs wrapped around his back, welcoming him eagerly.

  SEX with Dante was exhausting, but it was nothing next to teaching someone who'd only had a bird's-eye view of the earth everything that could be crammed into one afternoon. He never ran out of questions. They started with her kitchen, and the various assortment of things he'd taken out of her refrigerator and lined up on the counter. With some amusement and dismay, she noted he'd dismantled a bunch of items. He'd ripped the seams out of one of the couch cushions to touch the filling, opened the cover of her movie player to study the wiring. Unscrewed lightbulbs, even tested the rarely used dead bolt on the door, but thank goodness he hadn't tested its strength or she suspected she'd have been calling a carpenter to replace the frame. Or repair the drywall that would
have been ripped loose by the force.

  She didn't turn on the TV yet. That would be a good choice for later tonight, when she could lie on the couch, nurse her tiredness and yet keep answering the endless array of questions she expected cable programming to incite.

  Plus, as much as he liked to ask questions, she noted he was increasingly restless, wanting to get out of the confines of four walls. When he took her organic eggs out of the carton and arranged them on a plate in an amazingly balanced pyramid, it reminded her of his garden and gave her an idea of where to take him.

  Getting him into the car was smoother than the first time. At the cottage, he'd circled it, studied it from all sides. He'd had Alexis roll down the windows, not liking the closed feeling. Cars had been new to his mother when she was taken, but not entirely unfamiliar. He'd seen them through those rifts before Mina closed them, as well, but being close to them of course was different.

  This time, she was the one who needed an additional steadying breath, standing in the open car door. This would be the first time she'd be taking him out in public, around others. After the past twenty-four hours, she was very aware she was more a guide than a guardian. Did she really know what she was doing? How had she convinced her father and Mina of this madness? Maybe it was best for them to go back inside, and . . .

  He stood on the opposite side, gazing steadily at her. Fortunately, there was no anger in his gaze. "What do you fear, Alexis?"

  "You know. That you'll think someone's attacking me or you and incinerate a city block. Then my father and Mina will come and take you away . . ." From me. She bit it off, realizing anew how possibly counterproductive her own motives were. "Dante, I'm not sure if I was right. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this without a couple of the angels along."

  "You were sure last night. It is only your fear making you doubt yourself." His straight hair, loose on his shoulders, lifted and swept across his face, his sensual lips. She wished she could see his eyes, and he accommodated her, removing the glasses so she could meet them. He was eager to get out, see this whole new world. And why wouldn't he be? He didn't want to kill and maim. He wanted to see how a car worked, walk amid people who wore different-colored clothing, smelled of different fragrances. See the sun shine, even if it was from the safety of a table umbrella at a sidewalk cafe.