Captiva Capitulation (Six Feet Under Vampire Werewolf Menage Series Book Three)

by Scott, Talyn

  Stopping near the smaller dance floor bar, Kash turned to her. “The dungeon, you got a problem with it?”

  “I trust you.” Sheila tugged him even closer, her hair reflecting an unnatural green under the alternating lights.

  Shrugging off her hand, Kash grabbed her throat, his thumbs tilting her chin. “You still aren’t claimed?” he asked, dropping his hands as soon as he checked.

  “Not yet,” she replied with faux confidence, her heart kicking up with her true response to such a personal touch. With her extraordinary senses, she detected his anger rolling off in radioactive waves. One after the other they crashed, which was the very reason he wasn’t feeding from humans tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this dangerous.

  The smell of Shelia’s adrenalin was just what he wanted, and he inhaled her until his lungs burned. Right then, deep in his bones, Kash knew that the only thing that could distract him was the taste of another’s fear in his mouth. Placing a hand on her lower back, he ushered her past a second bouncer, a vampire. Then they walked through the entrance to Hell. “Shelia, I will feed from you.”

  “My honor, Vojak.”

  “My way.”

  Wisely, she kept her mouth closed as they reached a main corridor in what was truly a dungeon. Cement slabs, rusty chains, and low-lit sconces flickered in time with alternative grunge, showcasing bondage elements the likes the human world has never known.

  Raw, unquenchable hunger called from every corner, though blood flowed freely, covering the floors on which Kash walked.

  “A private room?” An attendant asked, her body devoid of any clothing apart from knee-high boots and a bloodied whip she held tightly in one white-knuckled fist.

  “No.” That one word bounced around the corridor, and even Kash could hear the lethalness honing it. He didn’t want private. Private meant intimate. Intimate was too personal.

  Sheila pouted at his answer, her eyes taking a slow visual over his body. So he gave it right back to her. With a deliberate eye-fuck, he took in every aspect an extraordinary vampiress, such as Sheila, had to offer. Undeniably, she was perfect on the outside, not a flaw in sight. Sculptured, refined, and strong, even her blood smelled delicious. In response, his fangs lowered and dripped, lubricating themselves in anticipation. All primordial senses alerted his Species for feeding, and feeding alone. However, he expected Sheila to try changing his mind.

  “The arena, then?” Miss Whip and Boots held out her hand, motioning towards the sounds of group-fueled grunting and groaning.

  Exactly where they needed to go, a wide-open space full of rutting freaks, though, it was certainly the mildest room in this place. “Fine. Your whip, I want it.” She handed it over without question. From there Kash veered left, skirting Shelia around dozens of vampires in various stages of feeding and fucking. Centered on stage, was a female working five males: one in each fist, one in her ass, one in her pussy, and one in her mouth. A sixth stood to the side, feeding from her throat while another female sucked him off.

  Unimpressed, Kash remained flaccid. Since only one woman could make him hard, he would have to force blood to his dick if he wanted to use it on anyone other than Blythe.

  Finding a distinct spot where no other could come up behind him, he bared fangs at the closest males. Meaning he didn’t want to be touched in any way whatsoever. For that matter, Kash didn’t want his dinner touched until he was finished with her. When Shelia reached for his zipper, he flipped her around, her back facing his chest.

  “But you’re not mated, either,” she grumbled.

  “Who’s in charge here?”

  “You.”

  “Remember that.” Wrapping the whip around her upper arms, he left her unrestricted below the elbows. She hissed soundly and grew immediately wet when tiny spikes hidden in the leather embedded themselves into her skin. As expected, there went another adrenalin spike, spicing her blood, just the punch to tip him over.

  Though she was far taller than human females, he still had to bend his knees to accommodate their height difference. Without preamble, he bit down. When the first swallow drenched his throat, he almost felt bad about making her flinch. A vampiress handled more pain than a human did, so he must have been quite rough upon entry. And he would have apologized later, if her desire hadn’t wafted suddenly to his nose.

  Confirming what he already heard, she loved pain.

  Most vampires inflicted and fed from pain. During feeding, he enjoyed the added flavor. During sex, he’d rather deliver pleasure. Shelia’s mild whimpers grew to moans, so he cut back on his endorphins and tightened the whip. When she meant to turn her head, he cupped her jaw, holding her face firmly towards the escalating sight in front of her. A stage filled with immortal fucking was what she needed to concentrate on, not him. He had other matters to concentrate on, and he was discretely doing so. Still, her fingertips walked the fronts of his thighs, aiming around the whip’s confines to cup his package. Pissed, Kash emitted a warning hiss without stopping his intake.

  She stilled those roaming fingers, understanding his dominion over her.

  Good, because he needn’t be distracted. Since he’d walked into the arena, something didn’t smell right. On the heels of that thought, liquid dripped on his shoulder, splatting against his pristine leather.

  Blood.

  His eyes flipped up, taking in the darkly stoned structure. Essentially, this working cellar shouldn’t be here. Built way below sea level, in Florida of all places, it defied the laws of architectural engineering. But that was magic, magic blended with ethereal power. All harnessed and maintained by ravenous vampires.

  When he caught a glimpse of what was hanging above, he couldn’t believe it. Oddly, Kash hadn’t scented her, so he used his trained eye and deduced that the female who swayed from chains was at least half werewolf. Below her, a vampire youngling no older than twenty was whipping her ass until her flesh bled. His odor peculiar, Kash realized the vampire was cloaking the girl’s scent. At the rarity of it all, Kash nearly choked on Shelia’s blood. He couldn’t imagine such a young vampire having that astonishing ability, one only a Master should have.

  His eyes searched every corner, his body feeling for any other higher power. Nothing. Kash glanced up again. And to his satisfaction, she didn’t appear to be under any enthrallment. In her ignorance, she seemed to be enjoying herself.

  Few, if any, werewolves stepped foot in this place. If they did, they paid an exorbitant cover charge: blood rights. Risky chances some Beasts got off on, but dangerous. Why would anyone want a vampire on her trail? And after a feed, any vampire could trace their blood host for quite some time.

  A fact most did not realize, however, all vampires counted on obliviousness.

  And she couldn’t be older than twenty years of age herself.

  Quickly licking Shelia closed; he released her arms before turning toward the strangely scented civilian delivering intensifying lashes. Before he had a chance to lunge, an angry hand crushed his throat. Another flew around the back of his head, fisting his hair.

  “Sixten,” Kash snarled.

  Sixten eyed him coolly, his chin pointing upward. A silent order issued for them to mist out and speak privately. Vojaks were the law. Vojaks were to remain calm in every situation, asserting complete authority without causing any unfortunate scenes. Sixten didn’t want a scene.

  However, Kash stayed put. “Why would you leave Blythe to come here?”

  “Asking about Blythe in this place?” Sixten released him, stepping back before walking a slow circle around Kash. “You stink of female.”

  “That would be me, Sixten,” Sheila hissed, her hands resting on her hips.

  “Sally, go elsewhere. Anywhere.” Without a glance in her direction, Sixten dismissed her. “Playtime with Kash is over.”

  “For God’s sake, Sixten, you know my name’s Shelia.” Her painted lips popped open, her hands now clenching into fists. “We spent a weekend together in Prague!” />
  Sixten refused to dignify that claim. Even Kash could see that his friend had no recollection of any intimacies with the vampiress. Kash couldn’t blame him there. Blythe would make anyone forget about past liaisons. Even the hopes of being with Blythe had turned Kash away from others. Yeah, he’d held out for Blythe as his mate, wishing the trio could make a family after she came home. And tonight, in walked her werewolf complete with his chest thumping.

  Things had become far more complicated.

  When Kash opened his mouth, he stopped because he’d lost Sixten’s attention. Warily, Kash watched on as Sixten’s alien irises kicked in, glittering with challenge. Kash followed his line of vision directly to the female werewolf, the one he was just about to pull down from the chains.

  Sixten growled, “You, with the whip.”

  Around twenty males stopped what they were doing, eyed Sixten cagily, and dropped their leather strips to the ground. With a roll of his eyes, Sixten jabbed his finger towards the civilian still holding his and spoke slowly, “Just. This. One.”

  “Vojak,” the vampire addressed him boldly, “I’ve done nothing to warrant your interest.”

  “Get her down,” Sixten ordered, snapping his fingers for at two dungeon masters, “or I will.” He stepped toe-to-toe with the civilian youngling, pulling the whip from his hand and dropping it pointedly on the floor. “And if I have to do it, you’re coming with me.” Sixten pointed at him. “You really wouldn’t want to come with me. Often I’m unreasonable.” A push of power left Sixten’s body, his shifter side stroking the civilian in a peculiar way, giving Kash the creeps. “I see you get your kicks from toying darkly with rare things. Better hope the Beta doesn’t find out about your tastes. He takes your kind personally.”

  On that Sixten turned, his green glare penetrating Kash to his very bones. Kash finished shooting a text over to Bane and dissolved, only to reform on Six Feet Under’s rooftop.

  Sixten’s boots scraped the roof, bits of loose gravel sticking to his blood covered soles. He moved to stand in front of him. One booted toe came up, hooking Kash behind the knee and then effectively flooring him. In his next breath, Sixten straddled him.

  Baring his fangs in challenge, Kash roared, “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “Enjoy your dinner?”

  Kash brought his leg up, twisting it around the front of Sixten’s throat and tossing him backwards. “You dick, what’s it to you?” He stood up from the deep impression they’d made in the rooftop, shaking bits of concrete from his hair.

  With a bewildered expression, Sixten thundered, “How can I be the only sane vampire in this conversation?” He brought both thumbs to his chest, pointing. “I’m supposed to be the crazy one!”

  Only Sixten would think a serious conversation constituted a fight, but Kash would be the last one to point out his delusional misconception. Going one-on-one on a night like this was just what he needed. “You are crazy! How could you leave her with a werewolf just to chase me down? And you couldn’t just walk away when you found me, could you?”

  “Pissed at me over my cock-blocking?”

  “Cock-blocking? You were fang blocking, pal! And I sure as hell take it personally!” Kash hissed in the way of incensed vampires, his Species wanting to fight and to gorge itself into oblivion. Instead, he was stuck on the roof readying to smash up pretty-boy Kovac. He’d receive some distracting pain. Kash would welcome any fun way of cutting off wandering thoughts of his friend welcoming another lover in Blythe’s bed. All the while, Sixten expected Kash to stay outside, pressing his nose against the glass of their budding relationship.

  Fuck that.

  He whirled, going high enough to wrap his ankles around Sixten’s neck. But Sixten half-misted and mimicked a sidekick that actually ended with a well-placed elbow punch against Kash’s sensitive ear. Just like that, ringing resounded like a motherfucker. “Real males don’t mist while fighting!”

  “Real males?” Sixten opened his arms wide with a come and get me stance that Kash wouldn’t fall for. “I’m thinking you need a reminder lesson. So let’s talk about real males, shall we?”

  Kash wiped the blood from his ear and snarled, “Let’s.”

  Sixten counted off one finger. “Real males don’t sprout pussies by running away from any challenges regarding females.”

  At that, Kash gaped. “I’m the pussy?”

  “Have I rendered you deaf?” Sixten turned fluidly. “Yeah, I called you a pussy. In fact, I think a red lacy thong would cover you nicely.”

  Kash slammed both palms against Sixten. Instead of pushing him off the ledge, surprisingly, Kash dug his claws into Sixten’s chest. “I was biding my time, allowing her to assimilate after every disgusting thing that had happened to her. Not that I wasn’t sick and tired of waiting, Six, sick and tired of your refusals. And you know what? If that werewolf shares your bed, than so will I! Whether you liked it or not, Blythe was going to hear from me by dawn. By dawn, Six, I would have admitted everything to her.”

  “Everything, you say, but what are you willing to give up?”

  “I would give up anything to gain everything!” Kash looked down, his hands dripping with Sixten’s blood. And he realized spilling his best friend’s essence wasn’t so gratifying. In an effort to put some much-needed distance between them, Kash glided above the roof, magically dispersing air beneath his feet.

  Sixten jumped high, following him, their knees touching. In the next second, an immortal dance ensued, fueled by lightning speed. Punches countered punches, some making contact, others not so much. But if they had truly tried, one would die, and neither wanted that. And since Sixten didn’t release his Habaline, they managed to keep it low-key. Yet strangely, every movement felt like a prelude to the battle of his life. Any rising blows contrasted his deliberate will not to kill Sixten.

  All over a female.

  Dare he realize they were embarking on a territorial battle?

  Did Sixten understand this, as well?

  Kash’s Species climbed higher and higher, a peculiar euphoria rolling through his body. “She’s MINE!”

  “By choice or by fate, maybe she is,” Sixten growled, stopping and pointing an I-told-you so finger at Kash’s face. “You talk me up over wanting my Blythe, loving her like nobody’s business. And not five minutes ago, you were lighting the fire under a worthless, bathroom fuck while eyeballing the lamest orgy I’ve ever seen.”

  “I went to Ryan's dungeon at Bane’s request,” Kash contested. “Call him if you don’t believe your best friend. Go ahead.”

  “Explain yourself.”

  He shouldn’t have to. “A student vanished from the university. She should have been under Pack protection since the female is a mixed blood, but she flew under their radar. Bane got intel from one of Ryan’s dungeon masters, said a female Were was playing bottom-side, where no werewolves should be. Ryan would have lost his regular crowd for weeks if the Beta walked the dungeon, so he asked me, in my Vojak capacity, to investigate. I phoned Sheila before I arrived at the club. She’s a strong vampiress, trained, knew the score, and wanted to help me find the girl. We went in fronting as a couple.”

  “That female hanging from the chains was a halfling.” Sixten’s frown was dark, disconcerted.

  “Well, whoever she is, I texted Bane,” Kash clarified, feeling like crap. “Go back to Blythe. Go home, Six.”

  “Come home with me,” he argued angrily. “Let the Pack take care of theirs. And if you’re hungry, I’d rather you feed from me than that whore, Kash.”

  “You think I was going to top off the night by nailing Sheila.” Kash shook his head. “I haven’t had any grind since I fell for Blythe, man. Seriously, you have to know that. After I swallowed my fill, I was going to pass Shelia off to another vampire. She’s a Vojak groupie, one of many, none of them care which one of us fucks them.”

  “Kash, I was watching for a while, and from where I was standing, things were getting intense.”

&
nbsp; “Six, you’re a walking contradiction. You want me to heal Blythe, protect her, and comfort her when you need me to do so. Only at your convenience, you permit me to touch her. Platonically, that is. Do I expect reciprocation for good deeds? No. But what about my needs, huh? Have you ever stopped to think about how much I need her? I love her.” His ire cooled on a sudden breeze, the fight leaving his body, replaced by a harsh desperation. “If you had your choice, Sixten Kovac,” he rasped, “you would expect me to stay away indefinitely while you, Rock, and Blythe ride off into the sunset.”

  A deep line formed between Sixten’s brows, both hands dropping at his sides. “Who the hell rides off into the sunset?”

  “Some humans do.”

  “Old westerns, huh, with the horses?” Sixten’s lips lifted at the corners. “I find horses repugnant and somewhat smelly.”

  Kash wanted to pull his hair out. “Think metaphorically, you raving lunatic!”

  “Ah, Kash, the romantic,” Sixten gagged dramatically. “I’ve found my replacement for chick flick night. Blythe will adore your romantic edge. I don’t see Rock doing that shit, so lucky you.”

  Was he hearing things? Had he received Sixten’s acceptance? “You don’t enjoy watching movies with her?”

  “Well, if you must know, the last one contained wall-to-wall strippers.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  Sixten tossed his hair from his eyes. “Male strippers.”

  Kash snorted. “You let her watch that?”

  “Let her?” Sixten stared at him as if he’d grown two heads. “If she accepts you, and you expect to let her do things, you won’t last long in Blythe’s house.”

  Finally. “I really do love her, Six, you know?”

  “Then you’d better follow me home.” Sixten said as he dematerialized, heading toward Captiva Island. “Blythe’s pissed. Rock’s waiting on us. And I have a feeling it’ll take the better part of the night to hammer this all out between us.”

  Wasting no time trailing Sixten, Kash whispered, “I’m already there.”