Taken By Storm

by L. J. Vickery

  I must have done something wrong. He could hear the uncertainty in her thoughts, and it nearly broke him in two.

  It wasn’t you, Lenore, it was me. Please, believe me. It kills me to stop, but we mustn’t go any further. He stared down, willing her to see that she was not at fault.

  Lenore pushed on his chest and made him back off a few steps. She hopped of the table and straightened her clothes. Damn Anshar to hell. Secrets were an integral part of Lenore’s life, and she recognized a big-ass secret when she was cock-blocked by one. It took some time, looking deep into his eyes, but she finally calmed herself.

  “Give me time, big man. I’ll find out what you’re hiding.” She barely kept the quiver from her voice. “In the meantime, keep your distance, because this has not put me in a good mood.”

  Better a bad mood, than dead. The thought, though inadvertent, made its way directly into Lenore’s head.

  That brought her to attention. Well, fuck you too! She didn’t know what the hell Anshar meant by that remark, but she didn’t like it one bit. You want to kill me? Just give it a try and see what happens.

  She sent him a graphic picture of how she’d cause him some stunning pain and her lip twitched up as he winced. Got that? She sneered. Just keep your distance, asshole.

  Lenore watched him docilely adjust his enormous erection, then intuited that he followed her up the stairs and out, into what, for all intents and purposes, should be freedom to him…but she knew that it wasn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  “Anshar!”

  Hands he could not feel on his invisible self, clapped him on the back, welcoming him home. Anshar had to admit that being corporeal for the last few days certainly had its benefits—food and touch being the two that came to mind (after he discounted sexual stroking)—and he already missed it. Because he had shared his amulet with another, he could now become corporeal whenever he wanted. But even though Dagon had left him the option, he wasn’t ready to tell his brothers about his mating yet. Would they understand what had happened? Would they accept Lenore?

  The gods surrounding him looked Anshar over for lingering signs of coercion or torture. Seeing none, which was not unusual because gods healed very quickly, Marduk started in with the questions.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Anshar had his story ready. Because he felt mortified that he had been forced into the amulet procedure with Lenore, he couldn’t yet relive the shame of that, and he hadn’t glowed yet, perhaps because his “thing” with Lenore had not yet been fully consummated by physical mating. That was disconcerting, as all gods had to light for their Chosen. He had concocted a story for his brothers that neared the truth, to give himself a little more time before revealing all.

  “The day of your meeting, I left the house to get my memories straight about…you know, about the stuff in Merrymount, like you had asked.” He wasn’t going to get any deeper into that one now. “I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings and…Dagon got the drop on me.” Anshar heard a disbelieving snort in his head. Who got the drop on you, big boy?

  Lenore! Keep quiet for a few minutes, will you? Thank the gods she’d learned to talk on his frequency only.

  The immortals exchanged looks, not privy to his inner dialogue, clearly troubled for Anshar as well as furious that Dagon had dared tread so close to their home.

  “He has another collar, like the one he put on Marduk,” Anshar said, in answer to the raised eyebrows that questioned how Dagon had prevailed. “This one has a combination lock so he doesn’t need our key.” Bad news.

  Marduk had taken the collar Dagon had used to control him, hoping it was the last. And his brothers thought they had unearthed the only key in existence, therefore controlling any other collar outcomes. Wrong on both counts.

  “He threw me in a cell that he constructed using osmium…”

  Dead, grim silence from the room. Anshar and the gods were all aware that Dagon had osmium, but a room of it? They were in big trouble.

  “…and pumped me for information,”

  That’s not the kind of pumping you got.

  Anshar nearly growled. Damn her! This uncensored link to Lenore was annoying as hell. He tried to ignore it.

  “Luckily I didn’t know anything he hadn’t already figured out, so his questioning did no good.” Anshar continued. “Dagon knows that the women we seek descend from our group in a direct, maternal line.” He was careful not to mention Lenore’s blood connection with Dagon. “He must have received his information from our Underworld King, Nergal.” Anshar sneered at the royal moniker. Nergal, husband to Ereshkigal, was no one’s favorite right now.

  Marduk nodded. “While you were gone, Shamash was able to dig a little more into Tess’s ancestral history and as you’ve found out, apart from Tess’s mother, each woman in her line only gave birth to one girl. Shamash is busy working on one of Absu’s fonder memories to see if he can substantiate another accession, although it’s a lot more difficult working from the 1600s forward than tracing ancestry present to past. He—”

  The door to the room burst open.

  “She’s in Chicago!” Huxley shouted, unable to contain his excitement. “She was flipped out to get me on the phone, but I talked to Holly and she’s okay!”

  Tess gave a squeal over the information regarding their sister. She ran forward to give her brother a hug. “Really? Hux! I’m so relieved. What else did she say?”

  “Stop!” Anshar was fully aware that Lenore heard everything; she was now in possession of Holly’s whereabouts and would be reporting back to Dagon immediately. He didn’t want to inadvertently pass on any more.

  Everyone turned to look at him. He hadn’t thought a scenario like this through. He had to come up with a plausible lie, quickly.

  “Dagon implanted a bug in me!” The words popped out and, as ridiculous as it sounded, he’d have to stick with it.

  Nice one, Pinocchio!

  “I don’t know where it is in my body because he knocked me unconscious, but I know it’s there.” Anshar looked around, and everyone seemed to be buying it except Lahar who, damn him for his logical genius, seemed skeptical.

  “Hux,” Marduk took control of the situation. “Say no more until Anshar has left the room,” he said cautiously.

  “There’s not much more to tell, but…” Huxley looked pointedly at Anshar, who wafted away without another word, so anxious to stop Lenore that he didn’t even pretend to be polite. The boys would finish their meeting without him.

  Anshar materialized right behind his Chosen.

  “Ooh! You surprised me.” His mate jumped when he gripped her shoulder. She had been busy talking on her cell.

  “Using the phone?” Anshar growled.

  “You guessed it,” Lenore smirked. “Ten-mile limit on the cranium channel with anyone but an amulet-sharer, remember?” She tapped the side of her head, then gasped when Anshar snatched her phone and crushed it in his hand.

  “What did you do that for?” She wasn’t happy.

  He read her anger and found he had destroyed a new pink bling-bling case she’d just purchased.

  Aw shucks. My bad. He didn’t even bother to sound apologetic.

  “Anshar,” she said, as if speaking to a hideous yet pesky bug. “You know I can just dust out of here anytime I want and talk to Dagon,” she taunted, then ground her teeth and stared at her mangled phone.

  “Perhaps you’re wrong!” Anshar’s lips curled in a cocky grin. He grabbed Lenore’s arm and, without a moment’s hesitation, misted them both into the deepest bowels of the large house. Another plus for the amulet. An immortal couldn’t “acquire” a human, but one could abscond with his Chosen. Lenore would do well to take note.

  Dungeon number two, he thought gleefully. Located farther underground than dungeon number one and more than 100 yards from where his brothers now met, they wouldn’t sense Lenore’s presence. None of the gods had frequented the second dungeon in years. Perfect for his sweet
bride and a little honeymoon retribution. Hadn’t he warned her that she would pay for her truncated hand job back in his jail cell? And now that she’d been bad…Anshar’s gut tightened with anticipation. But Lenore wasn’t submitting without a fight which excited him even more. She was strong, but he was stronger and determined to have his own way.

  Anshar dragged his mate, squirming and swearing, ever closer to a box of chains in the corner of the cement cell, chains stashed there long ago, and made from the same “magicked” material as Dagon’s collars. Grappling with Lenore reminded him of the last challenge he’d watched on that TV show, where one player dragged another toward a goal. Anshar laughed. He was determined to win this challenge, because…hell, yes…this one was for “reward.”

  Lenore fought, kicked, and bit with all of her new-found power. Anshar only grinned. Charmed and amused when her little teeth marks showed up red on his skin and then became replicated on her own. How fitting when it just pissed her off even more.

  Lenore would clearly be able to see the chains in his head and know he wanted to bind her, but he was keeping his mind blank so she wouldn’t be privy to what he planned after that. She was trying unsuccessfully to pry the lid off of his control, but he’d played this game with his brothers before. He blanked his mind by thinking of sphagnum moss. Yeah. That was innocuous enough. Let her try to figure that one out.

  Lenore struggled harder against him, perhaps remembering last time when he’d been thinking of dead demons. His Chosen had to know that this was not going to be good. She tried every trick in her book to get away—limp body, elbow jab, sweep kick—but he anticipated all her moves because of the freakingly helpful mind connection and thwarted every attempt.

  Anshar made it to the chains and picked up several feet of links with one hand. While Lenore struggled, he wrapped the length around her upper arms and chest just below her heaving breasts, rendering her helpless. His hand held the links together, leaving his thumb free to explore upward, where it flicked across her right nipple. She thrashed even harder.

  “Stop struggling.” Anshar’s command shut her down, and she was helpless to do anything but twitch as he continued scribing lazy strokes around her sensitive bud.

  “Don’t, Anshar. Please.”

  She could beg all she wanted. It wasn’t going to stop him. Had she ceased playing with him when he’d begged her? No. This was going to be thoroughly enjoyable payback.

  Anshar put a few inches between their bodies while maintaining his grip on the chains which, minus the key, was the only way to keep Lenore within their bounds. Time for fun with mind control.

  “Take off your skirt.” Anshar ordered her while keeping the rest of his agenda out of his brain. One step at a time, one step at a time.

  Lenore heard him. “What are you going to—”

  No distractions. “Skirt, Lenore!” He allowed no warmth to enter his voice. He watched as her bound arms struggled to reach the side zipper and, once lowered, she dropped the material to the floor.

  His breath caught. Underwear. Yup, pink. He muscled her around to view her from behind. Gods! He hadn’t imagined a thong. Her ass was perfection—smooth and creamy and lush enough to overflow his big hands. He turned her back around.

  “Now the panties.” His voice had grown rough, not quite so remote and, although she looked daggers at him, she could not stop herself from hooking her thumbs into the small bit of material and tracing it down her legs. When she stood, she was bare for him from the waist down, and her partial nudity had him stiffer than any full on frontal porn he’d ever seen. His cock was weeping with joy.

  “So you’re going to report to Dagon every time you have a new piece of information?”

  Lenore couldn’t lie, so she nodded in the affirmative.

  “Then that’s infraction number two on your part.” He got his mean on. “Infraction number one was a few days ago.”

  Lenore looked puzzled.

  “Manipulating me in Plymouth…” Anshar sent a picture of his orgasm to her. “You had no regard for how I felt being used so helplessly, did you, Lenore?” He tugged the chains and moved her close, so close that her loose shirt brushed against him, but not close enough for her to lean into the jeans-clad erection between his legs. “Did you?”

  “Yes…no…” she murmured huskily, clearly unable to think.

  Anshar breathed in her musk. Ahh. She was aroused by his proximity. Good. He felt her mind darting in many different directions but she couldn’t hide her titillation.

  “What happens to bad girls, my lovely Lenore? Can you tell me? Do they get rewarded?” He leaned forward and brushed his lips softly against hers. “Or do they get chastened?” he purred inquiringly, raising his head. He brought his free hand down to stroke one smooth thigh then circle her generous ass.

  “They get…chastened?” Lenore’s breath was coming fast, and her heart beat rapidly in unison with his.

  “Yes, they do. They get punished.” His lips were so close, and his hand trembled in anticipation as it caressed one glorious cheek.

  “So tell me, Lenore. I want to hear you say it,” he paused, nipping at her lower lip. “Tell me you need to be disciplined.” He moved his hand sharply, giving a resounding slap to her bare ass.

  She emitted a surprised yelp.

  Even though he’d known it was coming—even anticipated the sting—he had no idea that the spank would cause his sex to swell even harder. He’d seen this exact scene in a number of porn flicks that the gods kept in their library, but he was unprepared for how erotic it was in real life…especially being able to feel all that his partner was feeling.

  “Tell me,” he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

  “I need to be…”

  “Yes? Say it, Lenore!”

  “I need to be punished.” Her eyes widened with what Anshar discerned as apprehension, and he briefly heard her silent concern that his had darkened in response. That wasn’t good. He needed to get himself back under control. He thought about her connection with Dagon. That did the trick before he returned to the punishment at hand.

  “It will be my pleasure.” Anshar urged her toward a bench near the wall while maintaining his hold on the chains. He sat, legs splayed, forcing her to stand between them.

  “Turn now,” he said, barely getting the words through his tightened throat.

  Lenore was compelled to move, bringing her soft thigh into contact with his groin.

  He stifled a groan. One swift pull, and she was over his knee, her luscious ass now trembling before him. What a sight to behold. His mouth went dry.

  “Anshar,” Lenore’s voice held…arousal? He tapped into her brain.

  Will I like it? She was thinking. Will it hurt, or will it be good? Oh, gods, am I really so hot to find out?

  Anshar listened in, knowing that she had forgotten their mind connection.

  Maybe afterward, he’ll touch me to see if I liked it. There was an edge to her that turned him on. Nothing before—in his limited experience—had ever come close.

  I will! he roared. I will plunge my fingers into your hot pussy until you beg me to make you come!

  Lenore stilled, instantly reminded by his declaration that he could “hear” her every word.

  He felt her hold her breath.

  Anshar smoothed his hand over the delicate skin beneath his palm. He knew, having watched those instructive DVDs, where best to spank to induce maximum pain and where for pleasure. He went for pleasure.

  “I’m going to feel this every bit as much as you,” he warned, although for her benefit or his, he wasn’t sure.

  His hand came down with a whack and, with her small cry, his body surged. He looked at the red blush rising on her tender flesh and thrilled to the imprint of his hand. He continued his lashes as she writhed beneath him. Was this spanking the most erotic experience of his life? He felt as if he never wanted it to end. Five…six…seven…ten, that should do it. His own muscled ass was on fire, and he stopped, re
lentlessly forcing her legs apart and tipping her even more for a better view of her sweet pussy.

  Ah! Here was what he wanted to see. Her swollen cunt glistened with excitement, and the staccato exhalations from his blows had now turned to inflamed moans. As he gazed upon her pretty dark pink sex, she wiggled on his knee, spreading her legs even wider. He could deny himself no longer. Anshar reached down and swept a finger gently over her folds. She quivered in reaction. His second pass went deeper, but still sweeping from top to bottom; a mere brush through her drenched slit. He knew she wanted penetration, but he purposely denied her.

  Anshar rested his whole hand against her straining pussy and explored with his index finger, looking for the sweet spot between her blonde curls. He knew exactly when he reached her clit. Her body went rigid, and she ground downward to increase the pressure. He’d never experienced anything so fucking hot in his entire long life.

  “Anshar, please!” she begged him.

  He dropped the chains, knowing she was too far gone to think of escape. His hand moved instead to one breast, pinching through the material of her shirt while his opposite finger still worked her swollen nub.

  “Too much!” Lenore was panting loudly now. “Too good!” She writhed beneath his touch, growing hotter, wetter, if that was possible.

  He obligingly moved his hand and gave her a few light spanks on her heated sex. When she wailed and arched back toward him, he couldn’t hold back. He plunged a finger into her warmth.

  She mewled and went stiff. He felt pain in his gut. Shit! What was this? Had he hurt her? It sure felt like it. Why was her channel so tight…his finger impeded on the journey it wanted to take?

  The answer suddenly hit him. My gods!

  Virgin? he questioned, appalled that he hadn’t even thought it a possibility.

  Yes.

  Anshar heard the tentative word in his head and swiftly, as if his hand were an offending viper, he withdrew his assaulting digit.