Mastering the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 3

by Tina Donahue

  “No flirting,” Zoe barked, a surge of jealousy fouling her mood even more. “Everyone get to work.”

  Hands raised, Constance approached her. “Just tell me what memories you want me to remove, sweetie, and they’re gone.”

  “Not mine.” Zoe slapped Constance’s hands away and pointed at the vamp. “His. Stefin yanked out his fang. Make him forget it.”

  The vamp fought his restraints. “No one better touch me again.”

  Ignoring him, Constance rested her hand on her chest and cooed to Stefin. “You yanked out his fang all by yourself? Wow, you must be strong.”

  He grinned. “You can’t imagine.”

  “I could try.” Constance oozed lust. “If you’re willing to show—”

  “Don’t write that down,” Zoe warned Taro and Anatol.

  Their pens stopped moving across the paper. They sighed.

  Zoe pulled Constance to the far corner of the room, away from Stefin and the others and kept her voice down. “You’re here for the vamp.”

  “I like our new staff members better.”

  Surprise, surprise. Zoe hated how envious she felt but couldn’t help it. As nutty and exasperating as these demons were, she already liked them far too much. “Please,” she whispered to Constance. “They’re mine. Don’t flirt with them or try to take them away from me. I can’t compete with you.”

  Constance eased back and threw her arms around Zoe.

  She squirmed. “Aw, hell, don’t remove my memories of them.”

  “I’m not. Relax.” Rubbing her back, Constance whispered, “I was just being playful before. Don’t worry, they’re yours. I would never think to interfere in that. I couldn’t. You’re beautiful. You just don’t see it like I do.”

  Zoe sighed. “You need glasses.”

  “My eyesight’s perfect.” She swatted Zoe’s ass. “Show those bad boys what you got. Take no prisoners. Enjoy yourself for a change.”

  She released Zoe. The vamp shrieked when Constance clasped his head, but the sound died within seconds. Suddenly calm, he glanced around the room. “What happened?” He frowned at Constance. “Who are you?”

  She patted the top of his head. “The inspector who makes certain everything in this place meets all legal standards, mortal and supernatural.” Constance turned to Zoe, her expression dead serious. “Your place passes again. From Crud to Stud has the best service and staff I’ve ever seen. I’m suggesting it and you for this year’s award.”

  “Something else to put on your wall,” Stefin said, bumping Zoe’s arm with his. He spoke to Taro and Anatol. “Write that down.”

  As Stefin wrote on his notepad, Constance gave Zoe two thumbs up and hurried out of the room.

  Finished with his entry, Stefin smiled. “What’s next?”

  Zoe felt as if she were in an episode of Demon for the Day, one of the most popular shows in Hell. Suddenly, Stefin, Anatol and Taro seemed eager to follow her orders…for the most part. They were still green about the proper way to do things.

  Minutes earlier, she’d unfastened the vamp’s restraints and told Taro to strap him in again so the creature couldn’t attack anyone.

  “Fuck that,” the vamp said. “I’m outta here.”

  Taro caught him at the door, slung him over his shoulder and slammed him onto the table. It wasn’t pretty, but it was effective, knocking the wind out of the vamp. If there were bruises, Heather could take care of them later.

  Once Taro had the vamp’s arms and legs strapped in, he grabbed more restraints and wrapped them around the creature’s mouth and head.

  “No,” Zoe said. “That’s too much.”

  Taro regarded his work, his expression saying he didn’t think so. “He can’t bite anyone now.”

  “Maybe not, but we don’t do things that way around here. Go on.” She pointed at the vamp. “Unwrap his head.”

  When it was Anatol’s turn, he secured the vamp face down on the table, shoving his notepad in the poor guy’s mouth.

  Zoe shook her head. “The notepad’s too much. It has to go.”

  Anatol looked as if he wanted to argue but finally shrugged. “As you wish, chéri.” He pulled it out.

  “We’re here to help, not hurt,” Zoe explained.

  “Tell that to my attorney,” the vamp snapped.

  Stefin regarded his notes and those of the others before he approached the vamp who’d cowered in a corner away from him. “On the table,” Stefin growled, “or I’ll blast you into so many pieces no one will ever be able to put you together again.”

  Zoe rubbed her temple, hoping to ease the ache from her beginning migraine. “No powers, remember?”

  Stefin bunched his shoulders and breathed hard. A moment later, he turned back to the vamp. “Forgive me. Get on the damn table or I’ll break every bone in your body.”

  “Better,” Zoe said, “but in order to heal his injuries, Heather would have to log overtime. Becca wouldn’t like that. She wants to keep expenses down. Try again.”

  He pushed his fingers through his hair and tugged, as though he wanted to pull it out. Zoe wasn’t about to complain. With his arms raised, Stefin’s shirt stretched across his back, his muscles tense, hard, purely male. The way they’d be when he plowed into her, his cock seeking her depths, his mouth imprisoning her tongue.

  She leaned against the counter, needing it for support. “Go on.”

  Stefin dropped his hands and rotated his shoulders until they popped. Sighing deeply, he spoke to the vamp again. “Screw this.” With his hand on the guy’s throat, he lifted him off his feet and dropped him on the table. While the vamp was still in a fetal position, whimpering away, Stefin was a blur of motion, wrapping the restraints around him.

  At last, he stepped back, gesturing to his work. One of the vamp’s feet was propped on his shoulder, his arms tucked to his chest, his eyes wild.

  “How’s that?” Stefin asked.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter Five

  The music was rough, the food and drink plentiful at the Crucible, a New Orleans hot spot that catered to supernaturals.

  Anatol sagged in his chair too tired to enjoy the wine or his plate of boudin noir, blood sausage. It was an urban myth that demons didn’t eat or drink. Of course they did. Hedonistic by nature, they would hardly forgo such pleasure unless they hadn’t enough energy to chew, much less swallow. “If I never see another vamp again, it will be too—”

  He stopped as a waitress approached their table, her hand batting away the thick smoke that hung over this place like a toxic cloud. Reaching them, she licked her fangs.

  Anatol managed a faint smile for her. Stefin threw back his head, downing another shot of vodka.

  She regarded Stefin’s nearly finished borscht. A gross mixture of beetroot, potatoes and sour cream that Anatol found revolting, as barbaric as Stefin was. “Another bowl?” she asked.

  Stefin ran his fingers over his mouth as he belched. Grinning, she eyed his tat. He in turn cupped her ass, fondling it roughly. “I’m good.”

  “I’ll say,” she cooed.

  Oh, please. Stefin was crude to the extreme and a slow study on how to handle Zoe’s clients. That’s why they’d spent what seemed like forever restraining that damn vampire until Zoe was finally satisfied with their work.

  For that, Anatol had expected a small reward. Perhaps her mouth on his cock, his tongue on her clit, or even vanilla sex, missionary style. Starvation rations when it came to a demon, but better than nothing.

  That’s what they’d gotten—zero, zip, nada. She’d kept her clothes on, ordered them to study their notes in preparation for their next shift and then left the office without as much as a backward glance.

  The waitress grabbed a fistful of Taro’s hair and lifted his head from the table. “Is he okay?”

  �
�Tired,” Anatol said.

  She released him. Taro’s face clunked against the wood and his arms hung loosely at his sides. She smiled conspiratorially. “You bad boys been harvesting souls, huh?”

  That would have been a picnic. When Stefin had talked Anatol into this gig, it had sounded like fun. Not once had he suspected they’d be working with Zoe, or rather for her. No way was she going to relinquish her command.

  The flames in her eyes had burned brightly as she’d barked orders, her skin flushing with excitement, her enchanting fragrance intensifying, the mixture of sulfur and musk making Anatol damn near drunk with need.

  Zoe had known. He’d seen the mounting heat in her eyes and how she fought it even though they’d done every freaking thing she’d asked.

  The waitress giggled at something Stefin said and then rapped her knuckles against the edge of their table. “Holler if you need anything else.”

  Anatol certainly needed a hell of a lot more. Starting with another longing gaze from Zoe like the few she’d given him this evening. A smile would have been nice too. Wild monkey sex would have been the best of all. Frowning, he turned to Stefin. “This can’t go on.”

  Stefin held up his nearly empty bottle of vodka. “You’re right. I need another liter.”

  Anatol pulled Stefin’s arm down before he could signal for the waitress. “I meant with Zoe. Pay attention. Get with the program.”

  Stefin pulled his arm free. “What program is that? The one where you have all the answers when it comes to her?” He pushed his face into Anatol’s. “Or is that your precious finesse?” Stefin eased back. “How’s that working for you?”

  Not good at all. Anatol’s rod was so hard, his skin felt as if it might split, while his balls needed to shoot their wad badly into Zoe’s snug cunt. Of course, there were plenty of females here to see to his needs, many of them dressed to thrill in leather or Spandex with both materials hugging their ample curves.

  Somehow, those outfits didn’t compare to Zoe’s long plaid skirt, prim blouse, anklet socks and saddle oxfords. Anatol frowned at his sudden fetish for that stuff, unless the real allure was Zoe, a demon like no other, her ridiculous morals not quite masking the simmering sensuality underneath. Damn it all, her principles heightened her appeal.

  Just as Gigi’s had so long ago. She was the only woman Anatol had ever loved when he’d been alive, even wanting to change his bad-boy ways for her. The war had ended that, taking her during an Allied bombing. He’d gone crazy with grief, dismissing principles as so much nonsense, seeking nothing but survival and pleasure, with that landing him in Hell and now here.

  He frowned at Stefin. “We did everything Zoe asked. Admittedly, we did it wrong at first, but we gave it our all until we met her standards.” Anatol threw up his hands. “She should be here with us, on our table.” Literally.

  On either side of them demons and weres were going at it with their ladies, babes nude as the day they’d been born, spread eagle and wailing in ecstasy as their guys licked, suckled and fucked them.

  “Screw this,” Stefin said and pulled out his smartphone.

  Curiosity got the better of Anatol. “You’re calling Zoe?” Stefin was actually going to order her to come here? Anatol’s hopes soared and then crashed. No way would Zoe drag her cute little butt to this place simply because Stefin demanded it. She’d probably make their existence worse than Hell because of it. “Don’t call her.”

  Stefin pulled his phone away from Anatol’s grasp and brought the instrument to his ear. “I’m not calling her. I dialed—Becca,” he said suddenly. “Stefin here. I have a question about Zoe. Earlier you said we needed to grow a friendship with her to make this work. How long does that take exactly? Anatol, Taro and I are at the Crucible. Everyone’s getting it on, except for us. Given how we slaved all night, doing everything Zoe wanted, it’s not fair for her to neglect our carnal needs. Even you must know that. So how many more hours will this friendship take before she breaks and caves to what we want?”

  Totally crass, but Anatol still held his breath waiting for Becca’s answer.

  Stefin made a face then brought down his phone.

  “That long?” Anatol asked.

  “What?”

  “Did Becca say it would be days or even weeks?”

  Stefin glared at his phone. “I’m changing service providers. The call dropped off before she’d uttered a word.”

  She’d hung up on him. Great. “So we’re back to square one with Zoe.”

  “Not entirely.” Stefin shoved his phone in his pocket. “I know what I’m going to do from now on.”

  Anatol leaned closer. “What’s that?”

  With a smile, Stefin told him.

  During the following days, Zoe couldn’t get over how docile the guys were, almost to the point of disinterest. At least when it came to her.

  On Halloween, they dressed up as the other staff, donning fake horns and tails for their costumes even though their sulfur scent and flaming eyes gave them away as demons.

  Although Zoe refused to dress up, she did bring in carrion flowers for the silly holiday. The guys ignored them, grinning instead at Heather’s Wonder Woman costume and MJ’s Egyptian priestess getup that was short on fabric and long on skin. With no effort at all, they joined Constance, Daemon, Becca and the others as they boogied to that golden oldie Monster Mash.

  Tired of them ignoring her, Zoe left. No one bothered to say goodbye or even noticed her departure.

  In bed that night, she curled up in a fetal position like that vamp had during Stefin’s threats. Even in her darkest days when her first love had rejected her and she’d been bound for Hell, Zoe had never felt as alone.

  Better get used to it. Again.

  How could she have harbored even a smidge of hope that they’d change and would want her for who she really was? She was light years from beautiful and would need a shitload of magic or plastic surgery to rise above plain. Her personality sucked. She didn’t know how to flirt or loosen up and had never been what any man or demon had desired.

  How do you become a winner when you’ve always failed? You don’t. She had to accept that once and for all.

  Dragging into the office for tonight’s shift, she lifted her hand in greeting to Heather.

  “You okay?” Heather asked.

  Tears suddenly stung Zoe’s eyes. Nodding, she moved down the hall where she and Stefin had enjoyed their first and only kiss, going at it like real lovers. Zoe passed the treatment room where she’d seen him, Anatol and Taro gloriously nude, their thickened cocks seeming to hunger for her. Precious moments that wouldn’t happen again. They’d moved on, as all men did. A stab of sorrow cut so deep it stole her breath. Sagging against the wall, she lowered her head.

  A series of footfalls sounded and then stopped abruptly.

  Not wanting to talk to anyone, Zoe turned into the wall, hiding her face.

  A zombie’s groan floated from the room next to her. Joining it were grunts from a satyr, curses from a were.

  The footfalls started again and then paused next to her.

  No one had to tell Zoe it was Stefin. She recognized his unique scent immediately, not to mention his muffled belch. He must have just finished a late lunch or an early dinner, probably some kind of meat buried beneath sour cream since that was his favorite. Unless he was full from feasting on chocolate syrup slathered over a babe’s cunt.

  Stifling a groan, Zoe sighed. “What?”

  “I need a new notepad. This one’s full.”

  He’d pushed it in her face. Backing away, she looked at the cruddy thing, messy with rings from coffee cups, smears of food, pornographic drawings of him and a woman.

  Stefin flipped past those pages, hiding them.

  Zoe frowned, wanting to look at the drawings again. She could have sworn the naked women in them had facial piercings, un
less those marks were supposed to be zits or were the result of food stains. Clearly, that’s what they had to be. A good-looking dude like Stefin wouldn’t be drawing nude pictures of her. She shuffled down the hall, gesturing for him to follow. “This way.”

  Zoe stopped inside the storage closet. The stack of notepads that should have been on the middle shelf was now on the top. Figures. Most everyone here was tall and could easily reach that stuff, except for her and Heather. Zoe looked for the stepstool but someone had taken it away. Wonderful. Pushing to her toes, she stretched as far as she could to reach the stack.

  “I’ll get it,” Stefin said. Before Zoe could move to the side, he eased into her.

  A wave of heat hit with the force of a two-by-four, desire whizzing from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. He pressed his groin against her ass, his cock nestled between her cheeks. Zoe sagged against the shelving, thankful for its support.

  Stefin moved closer, his scent washing over her, his strength and warmth more than she could resist. The pictures he’d drawn scrolled through Zoe’s mind, fueling her lust, encouraging her to rip off his clothes and see what happened.

  She wiggled her ass against his groin, loving the feel of his rigid shaft, and tried to turn around so she could press her cunt against his cock. Stefin stepped away immediately, depriving her of his big body and marvelous fragrance. Zoe looked over at him. He pulled his attention from her ass and lifted the notepad. “Got it. Thanks.”

  He pivoted and left the closet.

  Panting, she tried to figure out what had just happened. Had that been a come-on from him, or was he truly unaware that his behavior was inappropriate for an office? Zoe replayed the last seconds in her mind. Her fantasies kept intruding until the memory morphed into an X-rated version of Stefin lifting her skirt, yanking down her panties and ramming his cock into her cunt all while he whispered, “I want you. I need you,” in his thick accent.

  Certain that hadn’t happened, Zoe smoothed her clothes and searched for Stefin, finding him at Heather’s desk discussing this evening’s client list. Heather smiled sweetly at Zoe. Stefin kept his attention on the computer screen.