Bijou's Bonds

by Anh Leod

  “Liar. Don’t you think I can tell the difference? It will be better for you if I’m free.”

  He was right. Her pussy had moistened, opened. But that wasn’t part of the plan. She was simply enjoying her power, that was all. “No, this is the only way to make you docile.”

  His voice sank to a purr. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  “I don’t think you could.”

  His voice harshened instantly. “I won’t rip your brother from limb to limb if you untie me. You know I’ll be free soon.”

  “You don’t scare me, moon boy. I’m in control.” To make her point, she squeezed his balls until he gasped.

  When she had his attention, she bent down and licked the tip of his spicy hot cock. Its warmth instantly brought a gush of saliva to her mouth…and another rush of sticky heat to her pussy. But this was about control, not sex, she reminded herself. The one way to completely weaken a shape-shifter was to make him come. They needed him weak if they were going to brand him.

  Her hair was blocking his view of her attention to his cock, so she loosened her hands from his balls long enough to braid it back. Then she trailed both hands up his massive thighs and gripped his cock.

  Even in human form, he was long enough for a two-handed grip. She glanced up playfully and waggled her eyebrows at him, before taking him deep into her throat.

  He let out a moan that was closer to a cry as she took him back again. The sky was dark now and the teenagers had banked the fire. She knew Pompey could see somewhat in the dark, so she made sure to put on a show, both visually and audibly.

  First he relaxed in his bonds, then tensed as he crept closer to completion. She felt his muscles begin to strain, heard him swallow hard as his hips began to thrust his cock into her willing mouth.

  She swirled her tongue around him, coaxing salty sweet drops of cum from his slit.

  “Yum,” she said, then hummed around his cock.

  Her focus on him deepened. The heated scent of his body excited her as much as his growing musk as he strained against her. She used the hand that wasn’t controlling his cock to massage his buttocks. He jerked when she danced a claw too close to his anus.

  She bit his cock head lightly to remind him who was in charge.

  He writhed and thrust harder. She grabbed his hips to maintain control as she took him deep. Almost too soon he began to shudder against her, then cum shot into her throat. She swallowed it down, wondering absently why he smelled and tasted so good when the only thing they had in common was their shape-shifter heritage.

  Then, as he sagged in repletion, she took his softening cock back into her hands and let him slip out of her mouth.

  “Now,” she called.

  She heard a low howl as her brother’s transformation was complete, and he padded to the cross. Backing away, she saw Duke raise his claws. The wolf slashed Pompey’s left butt cheek, leaving four thick claw marks in the tender human skin.

  The man didn’t make a sound, though it must have hurt.

  Wincing, she examined the bonds, wondering how she was going to get him down without a knife. Then she was distracted from the ropes as lights flashed in the distance. She turned, blinking, as a set of headlights came toward them.

  Feeling a sudden urge to cover the limp figure, she put her arms around him. Her fingers slipped as they touched the blood on his butt.

  With the lights making it nearly as bright as day, she was able to examine her hand. There were teardrop-shaped marks on her fingers. She pulled his skin toward the light. Duke’s claw marks had healed. They were still visible, but looked more like a raised tattoo than anything else.

  The marks matched those on her fingers.

  She growled instinctively. What magic was this?

  A low chuckle sounded above her. She moved back a step. Normally sure-footed, she stumbled in a chunk of wood from the scattered fire. Her head jerked up, and she found herself gazing into Pompey’s ice blue eyes.

  His thin, mobile lips curved into a vicious smile. “An alpha cannot be touched without consequences.”

  “I was trying to help you,” she hissed.

  “You were trying to shame me,” he retorted. “And while you may have succeeded, you bear the same mark now.”

  “How is it possible?” She heard a door slamming and whirled around. Her mind raced. What if humans were upon them and her naked in a field? The boys had run. She was alone with Pompey. At the very least he would have her arrested. Thank Zeus they were still in Centralia and therefore away from Pompey’s power base.

  In the light of the headlights, two figures became visible. She relaxed slightly when she saw who they were. King, her alpha, and Barkley, his advisor. Still, she trembled slightly and it couldn’t be from the cold, since the July night was warm.

  “What do we have here?” asked King. His tall form made even a statuesque woman like Bijou nervous.

  “A shaming,” she said, holding her hands behind her back.

  “You shamed your own mate?” Barkley said. His lean face was slack with shock.

  Bijou knew the men were related in some way, which was evident in their height and lean bone structure, but she wasn’t sure how.

  “What are you talking about?” she said. “Pompey isn’t my mate. He’s Legion.”

  “I can see your auras,” Barkley said. “They match.”

  She released her tight grip and held up her left hand. “Look! He used some magic to transfer his shame to me. That’s what you are seeing, Advisor.”

  King stepped forward and grasped her by the wrist. “What is this?”

  She could feel the smirk radiating from Pompey.

  “Cut him down,” King ordered, still holding her.

  Barkley pulled out a knife and sawed at Pompey’s bonds until he fell, none too gently, to the ground.

  Pompey was a picture of masculine grace, even on the ground rubbing the circulation back into his extremities. Bijou turned away.

  “Is it possible?” King asked his advisor. “Could he have used some Legion trick to change his aura?”

  “No,” Barkley said. “They are mates.”

  “You can’t give me to him,” Bijou said in a low voice, hoping Pompey wouldn’t hear.

  Of course he heard every word.

  “If he doesn’t it’s a death sentence for both of us. I’ll use my time wisely in destroying the Brotherhood.” Pompey’s tone was calm, the voice of a leader.

  “I’d rather die,” she announced, “than mate with the Legion clan.”

  He pointed at her. “I’m not thrilled with the idea of mating with a Brotherhood bitch myself, but it will have to be done.”

  “Alpha,” she begged, turning to King.

  “Perhaps we have grown too inbred,” the shape-shifter mused, running his hand through his silvery, copper-tipped hair. “Zeus’ cock, that our young would do something so foolish as shame a rival alpha.”

  Pompey stood. Bijou took an involuntary step back, then stopped herself. What was she going to do, hide behind King? She gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders. Her skills were too important for King to discard. She was the historian.

  “Alpha?” she said again.

  “Bijou.” King’s eyes were tired. “Your blood speaks.”

  She wanted to spit at Barkley’s feet, but the advisor had never been wrong before. Surely this was some bloody Roman trick, though. Of all people, a historian knew the clans had once known great magic, now thought forgotten except in tantalizing hints. Why was it impossible that a Roman alpha might still know a trick or two?

  “How about a cooling-off period?” she suggested.

  “You take one step away from me,” Pompey warned, “and I’ll have all your cubs arrested, including your brother.”

  “A coward’s approach,” she sneered.

  “A legal one.”

  “You would shame yourself in the eyes of not just the clans but the humans too? Admit a group of teenagers could take you?”


  He smiled that vicious smile again. “If it would weaken the Brotherhood of the óêõëß, yes.” He used the Greek word for dog, the full name of her clan being Brotherhood of the Dog. “It would be worth a shaming to imprison your young, your future.”

  “I’m not sure you’ll keep your position long with that attitude,” King said mildly.

  “Is the woman mine or not?”

  “I’ve heard you are a hothead and I see nothing to change that opinion,” King said. “An alpha can’t afford to be rash.”

  “Your point?” he sneered.

  “Let her go home. You have a year to mate. She is worthy of courtship.”

  Bijou watched Pompey’s eyes lose their focus for a moment, as if he considered King’s suggestion. Then he shook his head. “I think not. Unfortunately, as the seer senses, my loins cry out for the bitch.”

  Bijou gasped, her sense of outrage growing. Was she to be mated to a shape-shifter so controlled by his lusts that he’d let a sworn enemy into his midst for no more consideration than sex?

  She found him as physically attractive as he found her and it didn’t make her want to go through the mating, to bind herself to a Roman! One who kept his brains in his crotch, at that.

  Absently, she rubbed her hand over her eyes. The gesture only served to remind her of the new tattoos on her fingers courtesy of mate magic.

  “Come,” Pompey ordered, holding his hand out to her.

  “Bite me,” she snarled, and shifted. Her wolf mind came to the forefront, with only one thought. Run!

  Chapter Two

  She dashed across the field, prey before the hunter. How quickly their relative status had changed. If she had given her human mind a moment for thought, she’d have known the gesture useless, her disobedience to King dangerous. But after a lifetime of obedience to the clan, the thought that she was suddenly no better than a throwaway uterus was too much to bear.

  She plunged on, the wind in her ears, her only distraction the smell of food. If she could scent out Duke and his companions, they might be able to hide her with the thick hormonal scents of youth. Who could sniff out one female among so many young people?

  For a moment, she even wondered if she could perform the mating ceremony with one of them, forestall this insanity. Would the magic take if the incantation were said between two mismatched shape-shifters?

  She paused, sniffing the breeze for a hint of her brother. She was at the edge of a parking lot now, so it was hard to smell wolf above or beneath the tar, gas and trash scents of civilization.

  A sound in the brush behind her made her turn. A pair of eyes made her shiver until she recognized Asta, her older brother.

  He padded toward her. “Duke called me. He heard Barkley’s words as he ran.” His copper-tipped reddish fur rubbed against her. She leaned her body against him for a moment.

  “Can you hide me?”

  “You know I cannot.”

  “No, I don’t know that,” she hissed. “We are family.”

  “You have a mate now.” His large eyes were sad. “I am sorry, Bijou, sorry to see you go.”

  “But my children will be Legion,” she said. “Please.”

  He rested his head on her neck. “I am sorry.”

  She folded herself to the ground in defeat, then shifted back to human form. If they came on her as a wolf she knew she would fight and it wouldn’t do to face off with King. Even wronged, she wouldn’t be suicidal, even if this were the end of her hopes, her dreams of translating the clan scrolls. The tarot had been right. She was doomed.

  Distantly, she heard the howls, then voices, of those who had come to collect her. Finally, her limp, unresisting body was slung over a strong shoulder, then tossed into a car that had driven up.

  He is weak, she thought with a sneer. Too hurt by my brother and his friends to carry me across the park. What other weaknesses might she exploit in the days to come?

  The rhythm of the car lulled her to sleep as someone drove her the several miles to Cherry Blossom. She wondered if anyone would think to fetch her personal possessions from her home, but decided not to care. It was all she could do to stiffen her resolve, to keep the tears from flowing, to ignore her situation.

  * * * * *

  She came awake to the sound of a metallic creaking, a garage door opening. The car paused, then pulled smoothly into a cool, dark space. She relaxed back against the seat cushion. After all, she had nothing to look forward to.

  Eventually, the door opened, and she heard Pompey’s detestable voice. “Come, my dove.”

  She ignored his foul attempt at humor.

  “If I drag you out of there you’re going to be as banged up as I am.”

  She sighed. “Isn’t this far enough for one night?”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you were the type to sulk, given your reputation.”

  She was mildly interested by this idea. “I have a reputation?”

  Could you actually hear a grin? “Yes and I’ll tell you what it is if you come into the house with me.”

  “You’re too hurt to force me out, aren’t you?” she said with satisfaction. “Otherwise you wouldn’t bother coaxing me.”

  She was mildly surprised with herself for speaking, but the darkness of the garage made her feel safe, gave her a little of her own power back.

  “Do you really want to find out what kind of shape I’m in?” he asked. “I might surprise you.”

  His tone set her nerves on edge. Did she really want to see if he would drag her bodily out of the car? She could shift back into wolf form and tear him to pieces. He wouldn’t be able to fight her then, unless he had a gun handy.

  But killing him was a death sentence for her too. That was the problem with true mates. She swung her legs to the carpeted floor of the car. Once she was sitting up she put her hands to her head.

  She heard his voice closer and turned to see he had crouched in the doorway of the car. “Come in, Bijou. I don’t bite.”

  “Not tonight,” she said nastily, thinking of the many days to the full moon.

  “Not tonight,” he agreed. “Let’s get this over with. Stop pouting.”

  “I’m not pouting!”

  “Then what do you call it?”

  “Considering my options.”

  “You don’t have any, except sitting in the garage alone or coming inside. I admit the temperature isn’t bad in here, but still, it isn’t exactly comfortable.”

  “I don’t need comfort.”

  “I’ve had a long night and I prefer comfort under most circumstances anyway. So I’m going in.”

  She heard him walk away. A door opened and shut. Perhaps she was being childish. Sweat from the heat of the night was making her stick uncomfortably to the car seat. The sensation was not a pleasant one. What had been pleasant-tasting was his penis in her mouth, his smooth, spicy flesh so hard and warm against her tongue. Moisture pooled between her thighs, and she jumped out of the car hastily before that too could adhere to the car seat.

  The garage door opened into his kitchen, a warm, pleasant room with Roman red backsplashes around the appliances. Curious, she opened his refrigerator. His tastes ran to Italian salami and gourmet cheeses, along with a lot of different greens and peppers.

  Off in the distance she heard water running. He must be taking a shower. She stretched. A shower sounded good, actually. She closed the refrigerator and leaned against it, thinking.

  Why not leave? He was tired and she might get a night at home alone, or even could run quite far before he came looking. She had a sneaking suspicion that he’d find her though, eventually. Plus, his arrogance might send him after her tonight, even wounded. What if he were killed looking for her?

  Neither plan would help her achieve her goal. She wanted to be back in the Brotherhood archives, and neither one final night alone nor a furtive escape would help her achieve that. Would staying with Pompey get her what she wanted? Was there any hope of persuading King that a Legion mate could be trusted to
continue translating the archives? Most likely not, especially with Council opposition to any translation of ancient documents strong in the first place.

  The water stopped. Instinctively, she tensed, pressed herself against the refrigerator. She closed her eyes, realizing she sensed Pompey’s heat even from a distance. How could her body have betrayed her so? Didn’t it realize her intellect had a higher calling?

  Without thought, she crossed the house toward the shower, noting rooms with hardwood floors and leather furniture. No softness, no female presence. Perhaps she would at least escape the embarrassment of fighting a current girlfriend for Pompey.

  At an archway leading to a hall, she found a marble goddess statue, quite worn, quite old. Minerva, she believed. She was slightly comforted to see the Goddess of Wisdom in his home, instead the Goddess of Love. Perhaps she could reason with the man. Of course, Minerva could be there as the Goddess of War. That would suit the alpha of the Legion better, perhaps.

  Outside the bathroom door, she paused.

  “Come in,” Pompey said impatiently. “I know you’re there and I can use your help.”

  Bijou let her eyes fall closed for a moment. Of course he could sense her. Any adult shape-shifter could do that.

  She pushed open the unlocked bathroom door and saw delight.

  Not just the powerfully built man, naked except for a slip of thin towel at his waist, leaning over his bare leg, which was propped up on a campaign stool. The bathroom itself was a sybaritic delight.

  A large square, the room had soft lighting and softer jazz playing from hidden speakers. The mosaic walls were decorated with dancing fish. In the center was an enormous tiled bathtub. Bijou’s sore body yearned to dip itself in the tub’s depths.

  At the far end of the room was an opening with a darker shell and crab pattern peeking out on the floor. She saw a line of wet footsteps leading from that to where Pompey stood.

  “It’s a spiral shower,” he said, dismissing the enticing space. “It circles around itself like a shell until you reach the towels and controls in the center. Come and help me with this bandage.”

  She frowned and took the butterfly bandage. “You were cut badly enough to need medical care?”