by Darcy Abriel
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Amber Quill Press
www.amberquill.com
Copyright ©2008 by Darcy Abriel
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Also By Darcy Abriel
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
Darcy Abriel
Amber Quill's Rewards Program
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BEHIND THE BLACK DOOR
By
DARCY ABRIEL
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Amber Quill Press, LLC
www.amberquill.com
Also By Darcy Abriel
Siren's Nocturne
Vampires of Noctra: Blood Bounty
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER 1
Satyr's Court, Reate, Italy
The wide braided red leather collars were a striking improvement over the boring black of her father's court. The father of whom she'd only recently learned the identity.
Red marked the members of her newly-appointed attendants. Gulietta rose from the green vine-entangled cedar throne. She pulled a succulent purple grape from the wooden tray and popped it into her mouth. As she bit down, sweet juice flooded her mouth. Gulietta's gaze drifted around the courtyard as she stepped off the dais. Dancing stopped. Flute music and drums ceased as all eyes turned to her. Who would have thought this was where she would end up? Who could have known that her curiosity about the big black door in the photograph would lead to her destiny? This was certainly not what she had envisioned for herself.
She brushed a hand down the curve of her naked hip. She pushed her long black hair over her shoulder. In this land, behind the black door, clothing was optional. An afterthought.
"Continue with the music,” she said as she strode across the garden, elves and fairies and lesser satyrs of the court making a path. Immediately the sound of music filled the courtyard once again. The fauns and nymphs began to dance, twirling and swaying to the light, cheerful music.
"Take care, Gulietta. You push me too far."
The smile was wiped from her lush lips. Her horns tingled. A rack of antlers, feminine, yet deadly. She whirled around to face the tall Roman who shadowed her every move.
"Your duty is finished, Quintus. You have returned me to my supposedly rightful place. You have done your duty to my father. Why are you still here?"
Without warning he fastened his hand to her slender hips and yanked her toward him. Too close for her to drop forward and use her horns. She beat her hands against his iron-hard chest.
"Let me go. I've let you bully me as much as I'm going to."
He shoved her backward until her back was against a stone wall. Only then did he remove one hand from her waist and fist it into her hair, effectively stilling her movements.
"Bullied you? I've protected you. I've guided you.” He leaned closer until his hot breath brushed across her ear. “I've claimed you. And now you belong to me, Sabine woman. Your father promised you to me if I brought you back safely."
She struggled against him to no avail. That was the whole problem. Gulietta was a duty and nothing more. A means to an end for Quintus. More than a thousand years had passed since Sabine women had first been the coin of prosperity for Romulus, nothing but a way to populate Rome.
Gulietta beat her fists against Quintus's chest, he arched her head to the side, exposing her neck, taut and bare. His mouth fastened onto her flesh, fangs scraping across and then piercing her skin. She felt the rush of hot connection as he quelled her anger, forcing her to submit.
His tongue licked across the aching wounds as she felt her resistance ebb away. And yet the blood rushed hotly through her veins. When he finally raised his head and forced her to look at him, his eyes burned like molten steel newly forged in fire. His expression dark and lusty. This man—no, this immortal Roman guardian—a servant to her father—dug deep into her heart. And she hated that she could not find the strength to resist him. She would give anything to not want him—to not need him—as badly as she did.
She felt the familiar pain, a tug of lust that shot straight down to her vulva. She throbbed with desire, a need that thus far she had been unable to deny. And that only Quintus could ease.
"Quintus.” His name, an ache of longing. The smell of him. She leaned forward and licked at a nipple, tasting him, then suddenly drove her teeth into his flesh. His blood filled her mouth. She drew deeply of his essence, swirling her tongue over the erect nipple.
He lifted her effortlessly and slammed her back against the wall. She wrapped her long legs around his waist, locked her cloven feet behind his back. His cock drove into her. Splitting her, burying deep inside her, and then pistoning in and out, splintering her again and again. His stamina was superhuman as he rocked her against the hard stone wall, pummeling her with his fierce rigid prick.
She held onto him, a pillar in a storm as she climaxed again and again, shuddering with emotion, driven to the edge of her sanity.
"Quintus,” she screamed. Her fingernails dug into his back, dragging great furrows down his flesh, but it was as though he didn't feel a thing as he continued to fuck her.
"Quintus.” Her jaw went slack, her head lolled back as her passionate delirium consumed her, forcing her submission. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close as his hot seed poured into her womb.
Antius would be pleased. Her father had already informed her that he had chosen her mate for her. She was the first of her kind in Antius's region. Satyress. And her mate must be strong. Strong enough to control her.
Bastard.
Quintus pulled from inside her and lifted her into his arms. She had no strength left and fell across his arms like a rag doll whose stuffing had been ripped out. Even her newly-formed antlers seemed to want to droop with fatigue and now felt like a heavy weight. And only Quintus was able to render her to this state.
He carried her inside the manor and up the stone staircase to the bedchamber above. He tossed her onto the carved oak bed.
"You may have power here as Antius's daughter. But you belong to me. The nymphs, the fauns, the other satyrs may bow to you, Gulietta. But I am of Roman blood, not Sabine."
He towered above her. She leaned up on her elbows, glaring up at him. After what had transpired she was still weak, the punctures throbbed, her antlers itched. He was hard and never gave an inch. She wanted to tear into him to make him feel her anger.
The weakness claimed her and she fell back onto the bed, too weary to fight him. Her pussy still pulsed from the aftermath of his possession.
He looked past her to the other side of the room.
"Assist your mistress."
She turned her head and saw the Sabine women who served her at her father's command. A shapely woman with long flame-colored hair disentangled herself from the arms of one of the lesser satyrs who had trailed the women from her father's castle, and stepped forward. Gulietta couldn't help noticing that the woman's pussy mound glistened and the scent of sex permeated the air in the room. There were a number of things she was more aware of now that she had never noticed before. Things that heightened her arousal and kept her at the pinnacle of sexual need.
&n
bsp; She turned back to Quintus. “Where are you going?"
His steely charcoal gaze arrowed back to her. “I have a duty to Antius. There are things I must attend to. I will return later."
"You don't need to bother. I'm quite fine without you around. If my father has something for you to do, don't feel you must return here."
Quintus smiled coldly, making it look more like a grimace. He reached out to trace the pale scar that ran from breast to hip. “My full duty will soon be my devotion to you, sweeting. Never fear. Soon you will have my complete attention."
She remembered well the confrontation back in Kansas City. Before she knew who her father was. Before she knew what she was. If it hadn't been for Quintus she might have gone on through life quite happily oblivious and thinking she was human.
Well, except for the pain that haunted her. And the need for constant sex.
Suddenly, he wheeled around and headed toward the door.
"Quintus."
He halted with his hand on the door handle, but he didn't turn to look at her.
"When will you be returning?” She could already feel her womb beginning to cramp at the thought of him leaving her.
He didn't answer and she knew he was going to make her beg. He enjoyed her vulnerability. Sometimes she hated him for making her realize how susceptible she was around him. It was this place. At least that's what she tried to tell herself.
"Please, Quintus.” Damn him for making her beg.
Only then did he turn his head to look at her. His stony expression revealed nothing of his thoughts. The man had not an ounce of emotion in his body.
"When my tasks are completed, Satyress."
And then he was gone.
"It's hard to believe Antius paired you with the Roman,” Lydia said as she moved toward the bed carrying a wet cloth.
"I've already learned to understand my father. He's at a game of some sort. I just wish I knew what it was. The only reason he brought me back here was to entertain him."
She rolled over and stared at the door. She reached up to touch the sharp tip of an antler. Then looked down at the lush tan fur of a calf. She curled her legs close. A satyress. No one back in her home town would ever believe this. She had trouble believing it herself.
It was curiosity that had gotten her into this mess. The photograph of her mother in front of the huge black door. And the desire to find out who her father really was.
She should have said no. She should have burned the photograph and just let the past stay buried as her mother had begged her to do upon her deathbed.
A soft hand on her thigh rolled her onto her back. The warm, wet cloth was pressed between her legs. She spread her thighs wider and the cloth slipped between her lips. She looked up at Lydia. The woman was focused on Gulietta's pussy, pressing the cloth against her clit. Her gaze heavy, her hand working its own form of magic on Gulietta's body.
She saw a pair of dark hands curl around Lydia's waist and fasten onto the woman's lush hips. Lydia gasped, her eyelids fluttered, and then she bit her lip as the lusty satyr thrust his immense prick into her pussy. Lydia dropped forward, digging her cloth-covered fingers into Gulietta's slit. The satyr rose up behind Lydia, a lascivious expression on his face as he pumped into her.
Gulietta fell back onto the bed, thrusting against Lydia's hand, the climax claiming her quickly.
Sex, lust, and fornication was what this place between worlds seemed to be all about.
But what about love?
The vision of Quintus emerged before her eyes. She moaned as another climax claimed her.
Damn him for finding her. Damn Titus for trying to take what wasn't his. That night in Kansas City had started out like any other, with the familiar pain grabbing hold of her until she couldn't even see straight. It was not a night she would ever forget.
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CHAPTER 2
Kansas City, Six Months Before
Quintus watched her from the darkening shadows of a damp, garbage-infested alley, having only just arrived in Kansas City on orders from Antius. To approach the woman too quickly would send her running like a doe sighting its murderer. He glanced up at the black sky. No, the moon would drive her to him. He slowed the breaths in his huge body, and his cock surged as he watched her pass slowly along the dark, wet pavement.
"She's beautiful,” the man standing next to him murmured.
"She won't be happy when she discovers what Antius has planned for her. You should go to her apartment and wait there. I will bring her along when she is more ... agreeable."
Within moments the other man had shifted to wolf form and loped off, swallowed by the darkness. Quintus turned back to watch Gulietta as she made her way down the deserted street.
She was not what he'd expected for the daughter of a Sabine woman and a powerful, lusty satyr. Although, as far as Quintus knew, she was not aware of her heritage and perhaps that was the reason for her easy grace. She didn't look the predator. She looked human. Thus, his purpose for being there—to make her aware of her ancient lineage. To return her to her proper place at the side of her father, Antius.
She was ... striking. A fitting mate for a man of Roman blood. She walked with purpose, her strides measured yet graceful, shoulders back, forcing her firm, young breasts up. Temptingly full. Lean hips, strong flanks. Perfect proportions. Not as tall as some of the women of Antius's court. Many of them were almost Amazonian in their lusty proportions. Strong, fierce women.
Not this wench. She intrigued him. More dangerous than the others. Her sexual energy, a gift from her sire, undulated, crackling the night air, surrounding her, calling lovers to her side. No problem for this female to assuage her sexual hunger.
Man after man passed her, giving her hungry looks that she scorned. She could take her pick of the lot. Humans unable to resist her. Quintus could tell she had not yet peaked. He had chosen the time with care. The only way to bring a female like her to heel was to take her at her most vulnerable moment.
She rode the edge carefully. Quintus had never seen such self-control in a Sabine of the satyr court. They usually gave in to their instincts quickly and effortlessly. This one fought the natural order.
She staggered and clutched at the hard edge of the brick building, hunched over in pain. Her knees started to buckle, but she didn't drop. It was the satyr blood—it had to be what kept her on her feet. Most of the women of his acquaintance would have shed their clothes long before this, flat on their backs, legs spread, welcoming man after man to quench the lust.
He smelled the earthy cinnamon scent of her and dragged the smell deeply into his lungs, entrenching her aroma inside him.
Another man passed by. Quintus saw her clench her fist. She fought valiantly against her sexual nature. He was impressed by her control. But he knew that eventually she would have no choice. She would give in to the lust. The need for that connection only fucking would provide. Straightening her shoulders, she staggered forward. Two steps and another attack claimed her. Her natural-born instincts would win out.
Quintus heard the soft groan. The breathless siren's call spun through him. Her need was desperate. Twenty feet more and she would reach where he stood in the shadows. And the full moon would drive her passion. It would be her most vulnerable moment. And then he would take her. Binding her to him in the most elemental way of their immortal kind. Only then would he take her back to Antius. The old satyr would not cheat him of the prize. Not this time.
His cock pulled hard, demanding surcease. His muscles knotted as he readied himself to pounce. A deep growl rolled from his throat. Fangs bared, he gathered strength, calling from his animal core. There would be time for explanations later.
Would she fight him? Or would the need be too fierce? Would she spread her thighs for him without a battle? Did she cry out when she climaxed? Would the juices of her quim taste of honeyed mead, sweet enough to quench his millennia of thirst?
The night reeked of danger, cutti
ng through the scent of her. Could she smell it as well? Did her mother's warrior blood flow hot and heavy through her veins? Or was she too far gone to be able to detect the danger, her drive now only to appease the lust burning her up?
How soft would the female petals between her legs be? How tightly would her cunt grip him? By the gods, her strength crackled through the air. The need to mate her ruined his mind. Quintus studied the light and shadow of the street.
His preternatural awareness heightened, honed in and caught the scent of immortal attack. But who?
And then he saw what he had missed. A portion of the mist solidified into form.
"Fuck."
As soon as he formed, the man rushed at Gulietta, shoving her to the pavement. One who would usurp his right to her. Quintus shifted to his wolf form and leaped at the attacker, fangs bared, a growling rage erupting from his throat as he fastened his teeth onto the thick wrist of the satyr.
The satyr howled and struggled to free himself. These lesser satyrs were by no means fighters. The woman was no victim. She curled her fingers and scratched at her attacker's face, causing him to yelp even louder with pain. Tracks of blood decorated his dark skin.
Quintus used his large furry body to shove him off Gulietta and onto his back. A human corner of his brain warned him not to kill the fool beneath him. Too many questions if his kind where discovered on human soil. Quintus shifted back to human form.
"Leave now, Titus, before I forget Antius's law and kill you right here. You will not claim what does not belong to you."
"Damn you, Quintus. You can't have it all. She doesn't have a speck of Roman blood."
"She is not for you. Try it again and the next time you will die and your satyr's horns will hold a place of honor on my mantel. Now get out."
He cautiously lifted off the blood-streaked satyr.
"One of these days, Roman, you will pay.” He flung the words at Quintus.
"She's Antius's daughter. Do you really think he'd let her mate with you? All you want is the power you think she has or will have. I am here to safeguard her from the likes of you."
