Vargr

by Cari Silverwood

  Orm had tamed a nanodog he called Toother, which was large enough to ride, and while Vargr was off scouting, he’d succeeded in doing so—riding it. That fucking big?

  Vargr leaned down to whisper: “I told you there were monsters. At the very end, in desperation, it’s rumored nanites were given to more than humans, even more than dogs.”

  “Shite,” she whispered back.

  “Mmm.”

  Hence the nanodogs.

  On the spot they proposed calling beasters like Orm, those who could communicate with and potentially command animals, dog riders.

  Though amused, Orm agreed wholeheartedly. Grinning, he banged the table with his fist. More laughing ensued. At least they’d forgotten her.

  Boaz sat forward. “Back to the agenda.”

  Damn. More introductions.

  She forgot most of the names after that.

  Except for Rutger, the final one. He was the visitor who came from the Worshipper quadrant. From memory that meant he didn’t believe in humans regaining their supremacy. Surely an evil attitude? She decided she hated him. A pity as he looked so… Cyn searched for the right descriptors… intriguing and formidable, yes… with horns that curled and swooped above his head like ram horns on psychedelic drugs. A head taller than Vargr, she approximated. Parts of him were so blue she failed to see any skin color. He was a foot-soldier.

  Those blue parts were old wounds, she was told. He could heal any wound he suffered, except it came back utterly blue. One eye socket was blue and one hand. He’d fallen in battle during a top floor attack, fallen many stories, been crushed, and had risen alive after a week.

  Some thought he’d died.

  Well fuck. And I am strange?

  “And now, tell us about your Cyn.” Boaz beamed at them.

  She wriggled a little lower in her chair.

  “And such a pretty sin she is too,” Vargr said.

  And so it begins. With her wanting to eyeroll and smack Vargr.

  Chapter 11

  Vargr stood to the left of where Cyn sat and considered his audience. Tough bunch. For once, he had butterflies, which surprised him. As if this was a moment of pivotal importance. As if failing had awful consequences he could not bear to endure. After all, he’d known her for only a few days.

  Except they had bond-mated, and even if she seemed skeptical, it was done.

  It was that she represented hope for him. Hope with a big H. A possible key to a good future.

  He needed that. They all did.

  He straightened, told his wings to shut the fuck up and not flutter, and he began to tell her story.

  Leaving out the bad bits, though.

  The problem was, the deeper he delved into the story, the more his butterflies danced, the more he saw a wall looming where he’d transgress too far.

  He hated lying.

  And so he’d said how he’d found her several stories below the top, injured but not badly. How he’d immediately seen the red motes in her eyes—there was no way to avoid saying that part, it was too obvious.

  That he proposed they keep her and help her discover who she was, her past, since she’d forgotten much of it.

  Then, because he felt he should say more he added the obvious: she must have gone through some terrible times to have forgotten her past. And… he had bond-mated with her while the Lure affected her.

  The room fell silent, and Boaz shifted forward, clasped his big hands atop the table.

  “How do you think she came to be in that place so close to the top? How do you think she avoided the Lure all this time?”

  Those questions sank into him, thumping about like unwelcome guests. He opened his mouth and found himself uncomfortably at a standstill. He did not want to lie to these men.

  Yet he didn’t feel sure he could trust their decision if he told them everything.

  “Well.” He shuffled in his boots, looked around at each of them.

  What to say?

  Cyn thrust herself to her feet on the other side of her chair. The chair wobbled and almost fell. She swayed her ass and hips, under that black dress. In sympathy, the dress swayed bewitchingly.

  “I will answer this.”

  “Cyn—” He shot her a stern glare.

  After a glance at him and a twist of her lips, she continued.

  “I fell from the top floor after escaping from a Ghoul Lord who was trying to eat me.”

  That pulled their attention up to her face, and not her legs, where her thighs showed beneath that ultra-short flared skirt.

  “I broke off a tentacle—they have these white disgusting tentacles, revolting things.” She shuddered. “That seemed to bother it enough that I could run for the edge. Their guards shot at me, but when I fell Vargr scooped me out of the air and took me away to a safe place. I owe my life to him, even if he cannot lie to save his life, or mine.”

  She inhaled, slowly, dramatically, squeezing more of her tits above the neckline.

  “I can’t remember anything much at all of my time above, but I’m told five years has gone by since they invaded Earth. As Vargr said, I have nanomachines in me like you do. Perhaps that helped me survive? I really don’t know, but I do know I am one of you. I can even see in the dark, the same as you can. I figure, given time I will find out more about these nanites inside me. Though I’d prefer not to grow horns.”

  She gifted them a secretive smile that made Vargr think of a cat viewing a congregation of mice. Not the best look. He thought about facepalming but only pressed his lips together.

  “Anyway, Vargr and I have bonded. I am his and he is mine. You know? Love in the apocalypse etcetera.”

  She cocked her head, and he decided he’d never heard a less sincere declaration of love, ever. He wanted to reach over and shake her, growl at her, then fuck her on the table. Such bare-ass, bare-knuckle courage. He kind of envied her balls.

  “So. I want to find out who I am. To do that I will need your help.” She clasped her hands beneath her chin and peered out at them. “Please help me. You’re my only hope.”

  Obi wan-Kenobi, his cynical mind filled in. What next, a hologram popping from somewhere?

  She bowed to them, then demurely sat.

  Jesus H.

  After a stunned silence, Boaz cleared his throat then raised his eyebrows at Vargr. “Is this the truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you for that clarification, and Cyn, thank you for your honesty.” He blinked a few times. “You are the only human known to have escaped the Ghoul Lords, ever. A significant event. What you have said is stunning. What you are, that is a whole other matter. We will have to consider this information without either of you present. Vargr.”

  “Yes?”

  “Take her to where we have the Lure-affected humans. It’s in the hotel gym. Chain her there, securely. Make sure the guards know she is to be watched.” He rose to his feet and the others followed. Once they were all standing, Boaz added, “Thank you, again. Whatever we decide, we know you have done what you thought best.”

  They hadn’t even asked to see her eyes more closely.

  “Thank you.” He nodded to Boaz then to all them, put his hand to the small of Cyn’s back and ushered her out. “I have words for you.”

  “Promises, promises.” She graced him with that infuriating smirk. It was a combo of cute, sexy, and teasing, all at once.

  The things he was going to do to her ass, once he figured out what he was most upset about. Her telling the truth when he knew he was going to have to anyway?

  Or the way she seemed to mock love and bondmating?

  Or that she might have just doomed herself? That was the worst of it. Though he wasn’t sure what else he could’ve done, except for using a more factual tone and a less patronizing—

  She was waltzing up the stairs in front of him, as if she could make him forget his annoyance because her bottom was in front of him doing that female saunter, that tantalizing switch of hip from side to side.

/>   As if.

  He held it in until they’d reached the room and he’d stripped off in front of her, walked into the shower and switched it on. Warm water, which was nice for a change. It cascaded over him and his cock, which she’d definitely stirred erect.

  He heard her do something before she followed him in.

  She smirked at him with an incredibly superior smirk, that twist of mouth she’d adopted lately. Then she perched her sexy, hot, and annoying butt on the lip of the wash basin, bent her leg up and clasped her knee.

  Vargr raised a brow. She’d stripped off the black leggings, then sat up there knowing what her pose would reveal. The skirt had flipped up so he could see all the way to her translucent panties, revealing the exotic details of her pussy.

  Exotic because he’d not seen many for fucking years. Apart from hers.

  Vargr sighed, then he reached out around the glass, grabbed her by the neck, and dragged her into the shower and under the water.

  Her spluttering scream was the best thing he’d heard all day.

  “What else did you expect?” He didn’t expect or want an answer as he held her to the wall and beneath the water, with his hand sideways and inserted into her mouth, pushing her back to the wall.

  Her tongue poked at his hand then her teeth bit, lightly.

  “Bite me and suffer the consequences.”

  “Mmm!”

  “Dreadful ones,” he drawled, as he yanked the bodice of her dress down to expose her breasts and those mouth-watering pink nipples. Thank god for no bra. When he thumbed across them and cupped her breasts, her nipples crinkled into hard buttons. “You have been so fucking bad.”

  She wriggled as if to get away, or maybe she wanted something else, then she moaned and seemed to say some word he couldn’t make out. It might’ve been fuck.

  Vargr put his other hand between her legs and lifted her up the wet tiled wall by her pussy. Then he removed his hand from her mouth and pinned her by her neck with the V of his thumb and fingers.

  “Was that a word? Was it fuck?” He opened his wings and they formed a perfect barricade, trapping her even more obviously in the shower. The water roared in the confined space.

  She nodded.

  “Tell me what you meant by that. Make it good or I will fuck your ass without lube. Or worse.” He smiled. “Not sure I can find any lube, anyway.”

  Her eyes went wide and stayed open. Patiently, he waited for her answer. He was in a happy place. Half-naked, wet girl caught in the shower, and his hand on her cunt. His dick wanted in, but waiting would only make fucking her all the more fun.

  “You are…” he stated with relish, his tone low and evil, “… such a fucking tease.”

  Chapter 12

  She swallowed, wishing her arousal wasn’t so obvious.

  She might be strong and fast, but Vargr was stronger.

  And she’d discovered she liked it that way. Or she did when he had her like this.

  Angry at her, but not too much, intending to fuck her no matter what she did, and pinned in place—that was the cream on the top.

  His hand on her neck was her weakness, her kryptonite. She tried to wriggle to test his hold and couldn’t move. Being manhandled, god, yes, fucking yes.

  Weak at the knees, wishing he’d do something nastier without asking, she eyed him.

  He stared her down. Due to her weight, his fingers below were sinking between her pussy lips, but he also curled them deliberately, penetrating her most intimate place.

  Finally, unable to stop herself, she let her eyes close and exhaled shakily.

  So aware of him already being inside her.

  “Going to answer?” His thumb dug in beneath her jaw, forcing up her chin.

  The water poured over them from the side wall, down the dress and her legs. She was soaked, and she wanted him to turn her around her fuck her hard, standing up. She didn’t want to have to beg.

  What had that fuck meant when she said it?

  It’d meant fuck, you just blew me away. Take me I’m yours, so long as she didn’t have to explain how she went from badass bitch to whimpering whore in under three seconds. Those wings he’d unfurled rendered this a scene from some dark web porno where angels did obscenely wrong things in all the right ways to their female captives.

  “Meant that I…” She couldn’t help herself, had to say this. “Hate you.” Taunting him was a sport. She licked her tongue over her mouth. The more she riled him, the nastier he might get.

  “Hah. Hah.” He didn’t look too convinced, so she raspberried him.

  Immediately, he pushed her higher up the wall and lowered his head, his mouth, to her breast, where he licked and sucked, devotedly, long enough to make her brain go bye-byes and her throat seize up. He played with her with his glorious tongue, slurped, sucked, bit, while his fingers tunneled further into her pussy, shoving aside the soft resistance of her flesh.

  Thrusting there in little jabs… Arching forward, she grabbed at him and found his slippery muscled shoulder. She was drowning, and he was all that kept her above the surface.

  Soon, she was writhing, gasping, clutching at his head where his hair was stiff arrow-peaks.

  The shower poured over them from the side, wetting them both, curling down her body in torrents. A waste. She didn’t give one fuck, not while his mouth had become her personal heaven. This beaster had her at his mercy.

  Then he slid her even higher, and she barely had time to wonder where the ceiling was before he suctioned his hot mouth onto her clit. “Fuck!”

  His palm on her belly fastened her to the wall.

  Cyn stiffened, thighs squeezing onto his head. She was going to come, and she choked out a garbled sound.

  He stopped licking, lowered her to her feet, and not until she had focused on him, did he speak.

  “Soap me up, bitch. Earn it.”

  Bitch? Panting, with a shaking arm, she swiped away hair that had plastered to her face. She studied him. He meant it. Fuck, this was hot.

  Vargr placed a cake of soap on her palm, closed her hand over it, and she felt the slick of her own wetness on his fingers.

  Wings still opened and pressing to the glass either side, feet planted shoulder width apart, he waited. His cock was standing up proud and, she’d swear, it was hungry looking.

  He’d bewildered her. Mouth open, she shook her head at herself and decided there was nothing more she’d rather do than this. The reward was worth it. Did this debase her? She didn’t care. Hot, just plain hot. He’d made her horny enough to want to kiss his feet and all the way up him while he called her a slut, a bitch, or whatever.

  She kneeled on the wet shower floor and began at his feet, soaping up his legs, absorbed by the feel of the hard sweeps and ridges of muscle and bone beneath her fingers. Having washed off the soap, she tempted herself and made him growl by nibbling on his knee. Tasting him, this clean man that still was quintessentially Vargr, it made her pussy squeeze in.

  The scent of him… She put her nose to him and breathed in then raised her head and, with full eye-contact, licked up his as yet only water-rinsed thigh.

  “Soap me. Not lick.” But there was a coarseness to his tone that had not been there.

  Her soaping went up his body, covering thighs, belly, and chest. Until finally she smoothed suds over his balls and cock, washing them and noting how he’d ceased to breathe as her hand slid over him. Maybe she could end this by—

  “No.” Before her mouth engulfed his cock, he caught her with a painfully tight grip on her hair. “Not unless I say. You want a red ass?” His smile was grim, threatening, burning through her.

  Cyn blinked, surprised at how that’d turned her on. Him, spanking her, would be incredibly wrong. She gathered her composure and continued with her task.

  She kept going until the soap and her palms had travelled all of his front, over the corrugated ridges of muscle, his nipples, and over his beautiful, thick neck.

  She paused, wondering if his wings
should be soaped.

  “Leave them.” He grunted. “They’re fine.”

  They did seem to be perfectly formed and free of any grime. She ran a hand down the edge of one wing then applied herself to admiring and soaping his back and buttocks.

  He was a work of art made into flesh, bone, and wings.

  Done, with his back rinsed and the last bubbles having been swept away in a rivulet that poured between the cheeks of his ass, she placed the soap in the wall holder and waited.

  He turned, studied her, with a smile widening. “On your knees and open your mouth.”

  Wait. What? Eyes narrowing, she wondered what he intended. “You wouldn’t?” Not after he turned her on so badly.

  But already he was leaning in and whispering to her, “The raspberry was a bad idea” as his hand was winding into her wet hair, and he was tugging her down with a steady force she could not resist—because she didn’t quite want to. She bent at the knees then went to the floor with them, clawing ineffectually at his legs until he grabbed both wrists and fastened them with one great fist above and against the wall.

  Then he twisted her hair in the other fist again and brought his cock to her mouth.

  “Open, unless you prefer the other hole and no lube?”

  This was crazy hot, and she was almost appalled at her own reaction as he put his cock to her mouth while she opened and let him commence the fucking.

  The heat of this ran through her, reverberating, tingling, making her open her thighs as if to welcome cock there too, only to realize squeezing them together in pulses was more fun, more pleasurable. When he pulled out for a second, she stayed in position, mouth open, and was vaguely shocked at her moan, at how she met his gaze, past that glistening cock and basically how she begged for more with her eyes.

  She could do with real fucking afterward, but this alone was enough to make her whimper. She gurgled as he plunged in again, slipping, thrusting over tongue and teeth to the very back.

  Eyes shut, she let him fuck her mouth, let him roughly come at the climax while deep within, and she swallowed even though he was already telling her to. She simply did it. Besides it had Lure benefits. But she really should not have loved that so much.