by C. R. Moss
“But tonight?” Elinor paled. “Oh, I am not sure about this. Going into the Hoher Bergwald, the high mountain forest, after dusk…” She wrung her hands together.
“Dear,” the mistress replied, placing her long fingers upon the maiden’s shoulder. “You must not refuse. No one ever declines an invitation from the elves nor denies them ought.”
Though the girl appeared worried, she returned the smile and nodded. “I shall prepare to go with them and do so with joy in my heart.”
The scene flashed. Dusk had arrived, and Elinor, dressed in probably her one and only good outfit (apparently crafted from her master and mistress’s leftover clothing material) walked with three little people.
“Hello there,” Kristina called out to them as she stepped onto the path in front of them.
The small group paid her no mind and walked right through her.
Of course they wouldn’t notice me. This is my vision. They can’t see or hear me. She fell in step behind them and followed.
For some reason the three elves, whose heads came to just below her breasts, seemed familiar. The trio was much taller than the tribe she came from at the North Pole, but then she was a giant compared to her counterparts there. Santa, her adopted father, always hinted she was special, yet would never share what made her so different. He was the only other tall elf she knew, aside from herself. Many times over the years, she’d begged him to tell her of her origins. He never had. All Santa would say was, “I can’t be the one to tell you. You have to realize it on your own.” Then he’d walk away. The lack of disclosure and information frustrated her to no end.
Kristina jogged around them to get a look at their faces. They had the sparkly eyes, pointed ears and pale skin like her friends back at the Pole. Definitely elven. She floated backwards as they walked forward so she could study Elinor. The young woman was actually pretty stunning. Her hair, thick and golden with mysterious copper highlights, hung well past her waist in a wide braid intertwined with daisies. Her gold and red dress suited her complexion and complimented her petite frame.
An envious streak blazed through Kristina. How was it fair that this woman was blessed with such a feminine frame, flawless creamy skin and delicate voice? Elinor seemed to be the complete opposite of her. Though she couldn’t complain. Jack loved what he called her Amazon’s stature and the husky way her voice sounded at times.
The troupe worked their way through the forest to the middle of a high mountain where a waterfall cascaded over a cliff. They walked toward a wall of rock, to a section covered by hanging ivy. One of the elves swept the long vines to the side, revealing an opening. He motioned for them to go in.
Beyond the hole, and the chasm they traversed through, appeared a beautiful meadow bordered by tall oaks and pines, graced with colorful flowers and home to a village. All the buildings were small in size, save for one up on a knoll at the far end of the elven town. That one looked to be the size of the larger homes in the town they just came from.
A mansion to the elves, Kristina thought. It was there they finished their travels.
Kristina couldn’t believe the elegance with which everything was created—from the elaborate woodwork of the structures, to the gilded furniture, down to the how the straw was laid out in front of the doors. In the great hall of the mansion, the mother of the child lay in a canopy bed made from ebony. The bed coverings were fashioned from the finest lace. Beside her in an ivory cradle was the newborn, swaddled in the same bedding as the mother’s.
Time sped up in Kristina’s dream world. The elves of the village, decked out in all their finery, came in bearing gifts and food. A string quartet played music. There was laughing, dancing and much merriment. The maid became godmother to the child, and the elves begged her to stay for a few days more. She consented, and the party continued.
At one point during the festivities, a dark shadow appeared behind Elinor as she stood near the dance floor. It wrapped around the maiden, then gathered and morphed into a night elf in front of her.
Kristina’s breath whooshed from her body upon seeing the handsome elf. His stature was taller than Kristina’s, and he was thin and lithe. He wore dark armor with a cloak made of black fur and feathers. His gorgeous full mane of hair flowed down to his shoulders in waves of silver, onyx and snow white.
Elinor appeared not to be fazed by him. In fact, she seemed more enthralled than anything. He offered a hand covered in skintight black leather, which she accepted, and led her out to the dance floor. Everyone in the hall paused to watch the couple glide around the area. At the end of the song, he bowed low, then whispered in her ear.
Father. Kristina gasped. Why had that particular word popped into her head at the exact moment he whispered in the maid’s ear? Did the dark one have something to do with her real family? With her?
She squeezed her eyes shut. Where were the memories of her past? Why wouldn’t they come? Kristina tried to turn from the scene, but she couldn’t.
She opened her eyes and found herself naked and trussed up in a cage. Her arms stretched above her head and clamps secured her wrists to the top. Leather straps encased her head and held a bit in her mouth. Her legs dangled outside of the cage, but she couldn’t move very much, due to the ends of metal poles fed through the slats of the cage that pressed against her.
How’d I end up here? She concentrated on the events of the past few days. Oh yeah. The club. The hot dancer. I agreed to participate in his playroom, but then tried to escape. Silly me.
Surveying the area, she noticed the man. Kol, that’s what he said his name was. Maybe he’s here to let me out. The handsome man, who’d set her blood to lustful boiling more than once since she’d met him, turned, and as he did so, morphed into the most hideous monster she’d ever seen. Kristina screamed. The bit drowned out the sound. An awful smile graced what was his face.
Kristina fainted.
Chapter Three
This is it.
Darkness shrouded the industrial area and the row of derelict warehouses. Glancing at the paper in his hand, Jack cursed the lack of street lamps or headlights from passing traffic. No light filtered down from the sky either. Heavy smoke from fires in California had cast a shroud over the valley, blocking out the stars and muting the light of the moon.
He neared the warehouse’s steel door, which was illuminated by a lone light bulb, scrutinizing what he could of the one-story building. An ugly dark window, missing a chunk of glass in the upper corner, sat over the door. White hunks of stucco littered the ground at the base of the cinder block wall. Save for a train and its whistle nearing a crossing a few blocks away, all was quiet.
Jack ground his teeth in irritation. Silence, in this case, was not golden. The letter he’d received from the driver, listing the club’s location, crumpled in his tightening fist.
A horn blared and hot air rushed over the dirt lot between the building and the tracks as the boxcar train roared by. He held his hand over his mouth and nose to protect them from the dust-strewn air and tried the door. Locked. He pressed his ear to the steel, but the train’s passing overrode his hearing.
“Shit.” Turning and propping his back against the door, he waited for the train to pass. A few moments later, the caboose went by and the soundless night returned. Frustrated, sweaty and tired, Jack ran his fingers through his hair and stepped away from the building.
Am I in the right place? The chance to save his love from whatever trouble she was in was too important to screw up. Jack scanned the vicinity again. No other entryways. No camera or buzzer at the door. No cars. He’d taken a cab as directed to the city’s seedy, rundown section and the warehouse. The letter was blunt, stating exactly where he should go, but he still had a hard time believing he was in the correct spot. How am I supposed to enter the club? He toyed with the rose he’d pinned to his rust and black graphic t-shirt.
As if reading his thoughts, the door swung inward, revealing a coal colored void. Thoughts of fire code violations
came to mind. No presence stepped forward in greeting. No hand held the door open.
With a deep breath, he swept his fingers over his face and gathered his resolve. His future, his Kristina with her beautiful forest green eyes and red hair, lay within that well of blackness. His cock throbbed hard at the single thought of delving into her hot center as her legs wrapped around him. But he pushed the lusty idea aside. There was work to do.
He stepped forward, shoving the letter into his jeans’ pocket. A humid, putrid-smelling blast of air swept by him. Though the odor lasted under a second, memories of homicide calls, especially those where he had to view the dead during hot summers, played out in vivid recall.
“Please enter. We promise we won’t bite … hard.”
The familiar voice followed by the lilt of female laughter within the darkness caressed his hearing. Her words encompassed him, drew him into the darkness. Soft touches gripped his arms though no one was near. Sensual impressions of many hands stroking his back and shoulders enticed his body. His cock tightened, strained for release. Temptation to give in to the erotic touches, allow his body to revel in the pleasure, seized him, but he couldn’t give up control. If he did, he realized all he yearned for in life would be lost.
The door slammed behind him, leaving him in a pit of black. Its steel thwang resonated, then wavered away. The warehouse smelled like a warehouse—moldy, musty, neglected.
He turned around, took a couple steps with arms and hands he couldn’t see stretched out toward the door, and encountered nothing. No glow shone through where the window should be, and he assumed there was a cover over it on the inside or it’d been painted. Jack pivoted, wondering how far he’d walked in.
A loud click echoed in the void. One long, cylindrical fluorescent bulb fluttered to life. Under the humming white glow stood a stunning woman with long black hair and large blue eyes. She wore a trench coat over a black and red corset and black leather mini skirt. Black stockings and red high heels finished off the outfit. His gaze traveled to the tops of her breasts where they rounded into two pretty mounds from the tight top. Despite the biting statement and sense of evil emitting from her, desire kicked in. The lustful need to unleash her from her bodice and suck on her tits, run his hands over her body, taste every portion, enveloped him. His cock pulsed and pushed against his jeans again, wanting release and relief.
She cleared her throat, and his gaze shot up to her face. A smirk creased her lips. “Hello handsome,” her voice was low, dangerous. She strolled over to him, hips swaying seductively. The light over her head came with her. “Welcome to Hexenringe where your deepest, darkest desires are fulfilled. My name is Sidero. I’m the hostess.”
Sidero reached out and trailed a long, blood red fingernail around the bulge in his jeans. Thick silver rings adorned her thumb and middle finger.
“Mmm, nice. I may have to claim you for myself despite what Kol wants.”
Regardless of his raging libido and impulse to take her up on the offer, logic won. He grabbed her wrist. “I don’t think so,” his voice came out deep, almost like a growl.
Sidero narrowed her eyes and for a brief moment sneered, showing a glint of a sharp white tooth.
Was that a real fang or one of those fake teeth? In the lack of light, he couldn’t tell for sure and released her.
She rubbed where he’d gripped her and grinned, acting as if the flash of contempt hadn’t happened. Her gaze traveled up and down his six foot height. “I like big and rough. Keep that in mind, gorgeous, if you’re looking for a little fun later on.” Her tongue darted out and licked her crimson lips.
Raising an eyebrow, a low guttural rumble rolled from his throat. A warning. He just wanted to get in, get Kristina and get out. He wasn’t in the mood for games. “I’ll do that, but I’m here to meet someone.”
Her smile turned into a frown. She tilted her head. “Oh, I know who you’re here for, Mr. Jack Vorst. I’m the one who gave you the instructions today. Kol’s been expecting you.” Sidero tossed her hair off her shoulder and seemed to listen to something only she could hear. “Do you have anything to check?” She waved a hand and a small bulb lit a coat closet a few feet away.
Jack studied Sidero and the area. The individual lights illuminating her and the closet reminded him of off Broadway plays where a single spotlight would only highlight the person talking and one prop while all around them lay darkness. As for the woman… There was something wrong with her on closer inspection. It took him a moment to process the thought. Pale skinned, she appeared beautiful at first glance, but there was an underlying aspect of decay and dilapidation, like an old house someone tried to make look new with a fresh coat of paint, but no one bothered to make repairs.
She turned and appeared to glide toward the closet. The fluorescent light traveled with her. No one stood behind the half-open Dutch doorway in the coat check area. No strings or wires seemed to be attached to her or the lights. Special effects to create illusions of magic? In a club?
The woman placed a hand on the lower half of the door and looked over her shoulder. “Well?”
“Nothing.” He held up his hands, palms out. Processing everything he had encountered, the sights, the smells, her statements, one thought replayed in his head. Where deepest, darkest desires are fulfilled… Wonder what she meant by that.
He could possibly attribute the lights and the way she sailed along the floor to infrared sensors and hidden wires. But, on the other hand, there was the potential for supernatural forces to be at work in the building, too, if Lory and her gang of paranormal investigators were to be believed.
“Very well,” Sidero interrupted his thoughts. She waved her hand again, the closet light turned off, then she snapped her fingers and a green light came on over a pair of elevator doors. “This way.” When she neared the elevator bank, the light above her head flicked off.
The lime colored glow cast an eerie pallor on her skin, as if he viewed her through night vision goggles. She motioned for him to join her.
Where does the elevator go? They were in a one-story building, and basements were rare in Las Vegas.
“Come. You want to meet Kol and see your love, don’t you?” She cocked her head and wiggled her ring-laden fingers.
Jack walked over and entered the strange radiance.
Sidero palmed a panel, and the doors slid open. “After you.” In hostess fashion, she gestured for him to move ahead of her.
With caution and his senses on high alert, he stepped into the small, brightly lit tube elevator, which to his eye might only fit three average sized people at a time. He glanced around, touched the curved walls, then moved to the side to allow room for Sidero.
She shook her head. “Not yet handsome. I’ll be there later. For now, enjoy the ride.” Sidero slapped the wall, and the doors swooshed shut on her impish chuckle.
Machinery engaged, parts clicked and whirred to life. The tube shook. Bracing his hands on the sides, he made sure his booted feet were firmly planted. Small holes opened in the floor and the light dimmed, turned azure. Cloudy gas tendrils floated up from the openings, wrapped around his legs like long searching fingers. The shaking grew worse. The blue light turned red then green then yellow. The colors circled the tube, creating an illusion of rotation. The spinning increased until his head swam. Remembering he was never happy on amusement rides, Jack squeezed his eyes shut, no longer knowing if the movement was real or not. The air pressure changed, sank heavy around him, like the unit was descending too fast. His stomach lurched. The Mexican food he’d had for lunch after the meeting with Sidero repeated and backwashed into his esophagus.
He sank to his knees, the flats of his fists against the sides of his head, wondering if the ride was the beginning of the end for him.
Chapter Four
The shaking stopped. Jack peered through his fingers at the metallic floor. White light surrounded him. Gone was the fog clouding the bottom of the elevator. He placed his hands on the cool ground, waited for
the last wave of nausea to subside. Stomach stable once more, he stood and brushed his hands over his thighs and knees, then through his hair. Behind him, the doors swooshed open. He glanced over his shoulder. Laser and strobe lights flashed and flickered at the end of a long and narrow, black and white hallway. The colors’ dancing brilliance flared along the walls revealing two doors on either side.
He turned and surveyed the unit. The elevator, if that’s what it could be called, hadn’t gone up or down. The special effects had simulated movement, Jack surmised, when in fact the tube had only spun around to open into the rest of the building. Nice trick. He stared out into the dark hall, waiting for the sweep of light to illuminate his way.
During the brief break in darkness, he stepped out and a ray of light swathed him. A solitary bulb had brightened over his head, like the one had over Sidero’s at the entrance. He took another step forward, and the bulb moved with him. Welcome to Kol’s House of Fun. Joking with himself, he shrugged a shoulder and continued on.
Muffled moans hummed through the first door on the right. Jack paused to listen, rested his ear on the door. It wasn’t eavesdropping, at least not to his way of thinking. Intensive training had taught him any conversation, any sounds, could contain clues to a perp’s whereabouts or supply answers to questions.
A man grunted, not in pain from what he could discern but pleasure.
“That’s right. Make noise for your man. Let me know you enjoy my cock inside you,” another man answered to the first’s guttural bliss.
Against his will, his ass cheeks tightened in instinctual reaction. His dick throbbed. Why had hearing two men going at it turned him on? He straightened from the door and shoved his hands into his pockets. The erection Jack sported under his jeans became close to painful. In a swift move born of years of practice, he reseated his balls. The adjustment didn’t help. His cock pulsed harder. He’d have to obtain some release and soon. There was no way he wanted to continue with the aching, persistent need when he had a job to do.
