Riktor

by Selena Illyria

  Maybe some time at Black Howl would do him some good? Allow him to work through some of this tension and frustration. Yet, the idea didn’t appeal to him. Rather than deal with disappointment, he headed for his office. Once there, work lost its allure. He went to his suite of rooms, where he set his security alarms, undressed, and headed for a cold shower.

  The icy downpour did nothing to cool him off. Not even a bit of masturbation abated it. With a groan, he finished his shower and dried and climbed into bed. Exhaustion hit him at once. He didn’t know where it came from and had never experienced it before but gave in and shut his eyes. Maybe sleep would help him throw off this pheromone-induced horniness.

  He closed his eyes and wondered if he would dream about her, like she’d taunted him…

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Hello lover,” Mickey purred behind him.

  Riktor whirled around at the sound of her voice. Mist billowed up all around him. He growled into the darkness. Overhead, a fat silver moon hung in a starless sky. Steel gray clouds drifted in front of the orb. Unease sat in his stomach like a stone.

  A sharp sting burst in his shoulder.

  He wheeled around and snarled, trying to find his attacker.

  Nothing.

  Mickey’s giggle surrounded him, but he couldn’t spot her.

  “Where are you?” he growled.

  His wolf flowed up to fill every muscle, ligament, and bone but no shift started.

  “Here!” Mickey pressed a soft kiss to the aching point on his shoulder.

  Riktor glanced back.

  Nothing.

  “Show yourself, damn it,” he shouted.

  She giggled. “Why don’t you show yourself?”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Figure it out.” She giggled. Another swat, this time on his right ass cheek.

  She came to him. Gossamer clouds hid her breasts and groin from him. Mist swirled around her.

  The musky, spicy scent of her pheromones floated around him. Once more it became his air. He inhaled more and more until he lost all sense of direction and time. The pain faded away to a slow beat, but the fever remained. It raced across his skin. Droplets of sweat beaded on his brow and slid down his face like the ghost of fingertips, inciting fires wherever they drifted.

  He groaned. “What is this? Where are we? Why are you naked?” There was now a bass in his voice, a deep vibration of a growl that almost hurt to hear.

  “Too many questions.” She waved a hand and a stool appeared out of the dense black. She climbed on it and settled in. The mist still clung to her, creating shadows in the peaks, valleys, and dips of her body. But it couldn’t detract from the allure of her curves.

  He stared at her. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do? Just follow your lead?”

  She had lost her mind. So had he, for that matter.

  Riktor took a moment to study his surroundings. Here and there he saw lights in the distance but couldn’t make out their source. There were no roads, no indications that they were outside or in. He refocused on her.

  “You’re in bed right now, dreaming. Or do you think I could teleport you anywhere I want?” She raised an eyebrow. Mischief and flirtation glinted in those seductive brown eyes.

  “So, are you really here? Or is this just a dream? I can wake up.” With strained mental effort, he tried to do just that.

  Nothing.

  “This won’t go away until you deal with what you’re here to confront.” She let her free leg swing back and forth next to the stool.

  “OK, Yoda.” He threw his arms up and strode toward one of the lights that seemed the closest.

  She giggled. “I always thought of myself as a Leia type, badass, wise, a fighter.”

  “Uh-huh.” Riktor kept going.

  Unfortunately, he noticed that her stool moved with him, floating along the ground with him.

  He stopped. “What the fuck is this? Why are you moving with me?”

  She laughed. “You really are naïve to the ways of the lycan, aren’t you?”

  He frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “You’re so serious, lover wolf. Haven’t you ever heard of mate-induced dreaming?” She grinned at him and slid off of her stool to stand. The wisps of fog dissipated a bit but still kept the mystery going. The glittering clouds hid her nipples and mound from him, but now showed off the curve of her hips, the thickness of her thighs, the divide where her legs connected to her torso.

  An urge to drop to his knees and lick along that crevice and bury his head between her legs gripped him. He tried to shake it off, but it hung at the forefront of his mind.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. What’s it got to do with you and me?” he demanded.

  She rushed toward him.

  He braced himself for impact. Nothing happened. He glanced this way and that. She had disappeared right before his eyes.

  “Fuck!” He whirled around.

  A smack on his left butt cheek had him growling. Next came a deep bite on his right hip. The ghost of Mickey’s lips trailed up his spine. Her tongue, feather light, traced up his nape. She sank her teeth into his shoulder. Deft, soft arms wrapped around his waist and small, graceful hands took hold of the base of his cock and testicles.

  Warmth suffused the organs. With quick, short strokes she worked him from root to tip while massaging the delicate sac. Humid air gusted against his sensitive, flared crown.

  Sharpened claws raked down his back. Fingertips played over his arms. Soft, butterfly kisses covered his face and neck, danced across his chest. Gentle licks, with just a hint of hardness, played over his nipples. Soft palms worked up and down his legs. Her touch covered him everywhere, but his attention centered on his penis.

  She laved the wide head, first with light taps and flicks followed by longer laps. She continued to work his shaft in quick passes then shifted to short, leisurely ones. Never letting him settle on a speed or allowing him to fall into the laziness of expectation.

  Muffled groans of pleasure filtered up to him.

  Fingers ruffled and played in his hair. Massaging his scalp.

  Nerve endings lit up. He couldn’t tell where she would touch him next, what she would do to him. It would be easy to surrender to the pleasure. His wolf pressed and writhed under her unrelenting attentions. It bucked, growled, and snapped at her but didn’t manifest.

  The human part of his mind, wanted to give in, take the pleasure she was giving him to its ultimate conclusion.

  The wolf growled out one word. “No! I must make her submit!” He forced its power into him. The magic of the change flooded his limbs, swirled around his torso, his head and around his brain.

  A low growl sounded.

  If she heard it, Mickey paid it no mind. She enveloped his cockhead into her mouth, pulling it deep into the moist cave. Her tongue traced the thick vein underneath the stem. She worked him slowly at first.

  He groaned but bucked his hips, trying to dislodge her. From his mind’s eye, he watched the wolf take hold of her hair and try to pull her off with all the strength it had, still in human form.

  She nipped at the edge of the thick flesh.

  He yelped but continued to try to dislodge her.

  She increased the suction around his cock, dragging her lip along his sensitized skin. She hummed.

  A wave crested within him, but hung in the distance, not daring to land ashore just yet.

  Nails dug into his back, leaving deep gouges. The tang of blood scented the air.

  He howled and yanked on her hair.

  She refused to let go, continuing his sensual torment.

  Her phantom hands gripped his hips, ankles, and wrists. She wrenched his arms back and held them to his lower back.

  He struggled, but she kept going.

  “Damn it, Mickey, let me go!” he yelled. The growl was more evident now, as rough as a rocky outcrop and just as deep.

  She released him with a pop but continued to work his testi
cles.

  “Do you want me to stop? Hmm? How does an alpha stop another alpha?”

  Riktor yanked his hands free and reached down to grab her.

  She held onto his hips and ankles, but the ghost grip on his wrists faded away.

  He pulled her up to her feet and growled at her, low and deep.

  She responded in kind. Despite her size, she didn’t back down and growled right back at him.

  He brought his head down and got in her face. The rumble came up from the ground, up, up, up through his legs, his stomach, chest, neck, and out came a sound so deep it felt as if the rocks themselves were speaking through him.

  Danger glinted in her eyes, but she responded in kind with a growl just a rich. Her grip on his body tightened.

  If he had been human, his bones would’ve shattered.

  Riktor refused to release her. He brought his lips down to hers and poured all his resistance, his anger, his fury his confusion into a mashing of flesh and tongues and teeth. He pulled back long enough to mutter, “I will not bow!”

  “Neither will I!” she responded and kissed him right back.

  Her phantom hands disappeared. Her body pressed against his, her hands on his shoulders were all that remained of her touch.

  He grabbed her hips and turned her around. With his mind, he caused a wall to materialize in front of them and pushed her against it. Riktor rocked his hips against her ass, dragging his cock over her ass crack, but didn’t penetrate.

  She reached back and wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him closer.

  He dropped his head and gave her another animalistic kiss.

  “Fuck me,” she mouthed in a low grumble.

  “Earn it!” He wedged his hand between her and the wall and slipped it between her legs.

  She pressed her thighs around the invasion and held him still.

  “Make me!” She bit down on his bottom lip and sucked in the bruised, plump flesh. “Prove to me you’re a true alpha or get the fuck out of my dream and let me finish myself off. Fuck. Me.”

  Riktor kissed his way down and around her neck to sink his teeth into her nape. “You haven’t earned it,” he murmured, not letting go.

  “Fine.” Her form went fuzzy around the edges before she disappeared completely. He fell forward and hit the wall.

  Riktor gasped and woke up. He sat up. Sweat and semen soaked his sheets, but his erection continued to pulse. He pushed away the covers and gazed down at the thickened shaft.

  “Damn her,” he groaned. He rolled to the side, opened his nightstand and took out a bottle of lube, popped the top and squirted some into his hand. Riktor replaced the container and settled himself against his pillows, careful not to touch anything with his right hand.

  He took hold of his erection. With gentle tugs and pulls, he began to work his shaft. The wave built up once more.

  Remnants of the dream enveloped his mind, stoking his lust higher.

  He masturbated harder, just a stronger grip and faster strokes until he could feel the desire crest within him. He came on a rough bark. An image of Michaela flashed in his mind, still swathed in sparking clouds, illuminated by silver, seduction in her eyes.

  “Damn her,” he gritted out. Cum dribbled down, coating his hands and seeping over his wrist to drip onto his thigh.

  He fell back onto his pillows. “I will get her back for whatever she did to me. I will dominate her,” he vowed.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Michaela strode through the lobby with purpose. Arousal buzzed through her body. No amount of masturbation or porn could take the edge off.

  Damn him, dragging me into Mate Induced Shared Dreaming. She gritted her teeth. Desperate times called for desperate measures. She walked up to the front desk. “What do I have to do to get into Black Howl?”

  As she tapped her foot and waited for the attendant to respond, she noticed werewolves of both genders coming up to her, sniffing at her and invading her personal space.

  “I’m off the market,” she growled to everyone near.

  “Already? That was fast,” Winthrop drawled behind her.

  “Shut it, asswipe. Why aren’t you gone?” She didn’t bother peeking over her shoulder at him. Just a look from him might incite her to act violently.

  “I am, princess, I am. Did what I came here to do. Just checking out now.”

  “Good, leave now before I rip out your larynx.” A bit of the wolf crept into her tone.

  The concierge handed her a printout. “Thank you,” she murmured. She studied the information. “Can you book me a cart now or do I have to go up to the kiosk and do it?”

  “I can do that for you, Ms. Shaw,” the concierge responded. She tapped a few keys. “Done.”

  Mickey gifted her with a smile. “Thank you.”

  The woman slid a bottle toward her. “You may want to give yourself a spritz. It’s pheromone dampening mist. Helps all shifters go about their day unmolested by others.”

  Heat flooded her face. Her ears tingled with embarrassment. “Thank you.” She accepted the container and gave herself a quick mist. She pushed the bottle back.

  “Keep it. Compliments of the resort.” The woman smiled at her.

  Mickey read the woman’s name tag. “Thank you, Angela.” She turned and headed toward her usual dining spot, not bothering to watch Winthrop leave.

  She spent the rest of the day in the spa or in one of the restaurants. Avoiding everyone at all costs was a main priority. It didn’t help that Ace and Banan continued to hang around, but there was no Riktor in sight. Maybe he too was hiding from her after the intensity of their shared dream.

  Close to the time of her appointment at Black Howl, she showered and dressed in a tight-fitting black leather dress, strappy sandals, and lace-top stockings with a matching garter belt and lingerie. Satisfied that she was dressed for the part, she headed out.

  The trek to the club took her through the gardens. Birds still chirped in the trees. Overhead, streaks of pink, orange, and red painted the sky. The calm of the ocean waves lapping at the shore relaxed her. She followed the sandstone path until she hit a long stretch with no one on it.

  A golf cart sat waiting for her with a driver standing by the vehicle. He opened the door for her. “Your chariot awaits, Ms. Shaw. I’m David. I’ll be your driver.”

  She smiled and slid into the backseat. “How long will it take to get there?”

  “Not long. Ten minutes at the most. The weather is nice, with very little breeze. Also, there’s not a lot of people on the island to begin with, so no traffic.” David slid into the driver’s seat, and they took off.

  The ride showed off the extensive gardens, private cabanas, and staff housing.

  “You don’t live at the resort?” she asked.

  “The Brodys wanted to give us our own space,” David replied. “We own our own houses, have our own gardens and pools and all the luxuries of the resort.”

  This revelation impressed her even more. “And you drive to work?” She smirked.

  “It depends on the weather. We can walk, bike, or take a golf cart to work. No need to freak out over a car payment,” David responded, his tone filled with pride and happiness.

  She marveled. Other resorts had perks for working there, but she hadn’t heard of this.

  “We also are fully covered on all the insurances, paid for by the Brodys. Pretty sweet deal. Not a lot of spots open up. If you work here, it’s a job for life.” David gave her a wide grin. “You can get a glimpse of Black Howl just up ahead.”

  A black edifice appeared ahead of her. They emerged from the path into a courtyard with a fountain in front of it. No one milled around the entrance, and no bouncer could be seen.

  David pulled to a stop at the double doors. He got out quickly and gave her his hand to steady her she climbed out of the cart.

  She glanced at the large, black-stone building with its wide double doors. “Imposing.”

  “It does make an impression,” David repli
ed with a smile. “You just press the buzzer and tell them your name. Easy as pie. Speaking of which, Shepherd’s Pie for dinner. Gotta get back before those animals I work with eat it all. Enjoy your night.”

  She climbed out of the cart and waved at him as he drove off.

  Rather than announce herself, she took a moment to circle the entrance. A few benches around the perimeter allowed people to sit and enjoy the sound of the fountain. A well-maintained sand garden had stones and boulders scattered around the area. The tension in her body subsided. The black stone that formed the front of the building made her feel secure rather than intimidated. Simple script over the doors spelled out the words Black Howl in silver letters. She came to the entrance, noting the cameras on the top and sides of the frame. A speaker over the panel contained a buzzer.

  She pressed the button and waited.

  A deep, gruff voice requested her name. She gave it. A minute went by before she heard a loud click, and then the doors swung open to reveal a tall, bald man wearing suit pants, a button-up shirt, and jacket, no tie. A gold nametag informed her that his name was Jake. He was about six foot five with kind brown eyes and thick black brows, dark eyelashes, and the shadow of a beard. His features were weathered. His gaze swept over her—pausing at her neck, chest, stomach, the insides of her elbows, her wrists and hands, her legs and knees. A quick, impersonal perusal.

  She held out her arms and turned them this way and that. “No drugs of any kind. My last encounter with a vampire was three months ago and the most dangerous thing she did was grin at me. And my last encounter with a witch was last week, and we only had a coffee and discussed business. I know the paranormal community has become very worried about the spike in people under vampiric thrall or bewitched by witches.”

  He nodded. “Good to know. Michaela Shaw, welcome to the Black Howl. I’m Jake, your personal guide.” Jake’s voice matched the one that came over the speakers.