by Cynthia Dane
“When this is over,” it was like he read her mind, “I’ll be your Master.”
His hand gently landed on top of the collar, fingering the pendant before stroking the underside of her chin. Deep inside, I am already in love with this man. But right now I need to fall in love with him all over again. He would have to claim her. And she would have to put up a rough fight.
It was all part of the script. Something Nala had fantasized about time and again. Yet now that they were at this pivotal moment? A tiny bit of fear gripped Nala’s heart, as if she really had something to be afraid of. I trust you, Vincent. I trust you to give me exactly what I want, and to liberate yourself in the process as well. This wasn’t just for her. This elaborate role-play, the culmination of their relationship so far, was as much for him as it was for her.
“I don’t need a Master,” Nala insisted, speaking on Nightingale’s behalf. “I cannot be tamed, and I cannot be made to submit!” In truth, Nightingale probably would have spat on this brute – but Nala figured that was taking things a bit too far.
“You say that now, but eventually you will give in to the desires lurking within you. I will have you, Nightingale. You will be my bride from this night until the end of our lives. You think I give you nothing in return? You’re beyond wrong. I will give you protection beyond your wildest imagination. You will never live in fear of being hunted or exposed. You will never have to worry about having a place to live or sustenance to consume. By becoming my bride, you can feed off my energy – as I will take from yours. We will spare the innocent and only go after the guilty. You’re being given a gift, Nightingale. Fight me all you want, but in the end, you will see what I mean.”
She felt like a bird now, desperately flapping her wings in a bid to get the fuck out of there. She needed to escape this beast before he consumed her – before he turned her into his thrall. Every story Nala heard of an incubus taking a fellow creature as a bride ended with the death of her free will. To a siren? Free will was everything. It was better to die, to be exorcised to the other plains, than to lose free will to any man, mortal or not. At least if she were a torn demon between realms, she would still be free, and still be herself.
“You will make a stunning bride,” Vincent said, casting his shirt aside. He untied her ankles and caught them both in his hands before she could flail about. He wrapped them tightly around his waist, her thighs brushing against the erection growing in his trousers. “When I’m done placating and taming you, you’ll see. Our shared power will change our fates.”
Nala did not let him have her easily. She strained against her binds, moving her hips erratically in an effort to outsmart him. If nothing else, she would go down knowing she did everything in her power, exerting the last of her free-will.
“Hold still!” Vincent lay upon her, and Nala knew she was in trouble now. Everyone, even the most common layperson, knew that an incubus had you when he lay upon your body and began his feast. “For God’s sake, Nala, don’t overdo it. I don’t want to actually hurt you.”
His break from character stalled her. Nala sucked in her breath, feeling his lips press heavily upon hers as Vincent claimed the bounty of his long and arduous hunt.
For Nightingale, the long-lived entity who knew a thing or two about seducing men, this was the worst part. Because the moment Vincent kissed her, she felt her energy suck from her. No, not her energy. Her essence. Her free-will. He took it from her, one penetrating kiss at a time as his hands roamed the length of her body, stopping to massage her breasts before yanking up her skirt. Perhaps it was his real strength. Perhaps it was something else, but Vincent managed to tear away her lingerie in one move, and promised to tear more of her clothing if she continued to misbehave.
This was what it meant to be seduced by an incubus. Except Nala was probably the first living being in history to not readily succumb. I won’t go down without a fight. I will prove him worthy of me. Nevertheless, she moaned against his mouth, feeling her legs willingly open around his waist and her body release what was the first of many waves of arousal flooding her loins.
No, no, no! Don’t fall for it! Euphoria. A distanced detachment. Floating on air that was not really there. If mortal women suffered like this, then how did a siren like Nala fare? Was it worse? Better? Did she moan louder or make the meekest sounds known to man? How quickly did she make Vincent hard compared to the other women? I better make him the hardest the quickest. She already knew that he was making her the wettest she had ever been. With so little effort, too!
She was succumbing. She was losing herself to the thrills of sex. Only there was so much to lose in this situation. It wasn’t about swapping energies and sustaining herself for another hundred years. It was about losing herself in the process.
Or so she thought when she went into this. Now that Nala accepted her fate as a beast’s bride, she had to work it to her advantage. How could she prove to herself and to the universe that this was truly a good thing? How could she make Vincent prove that he was worthy of having her body, her soul, and her heart? How could she show herself that it was worth all those parts of herself to submit to this man? For him to become her Master?
“I bet you can’t do it,” she snarled against his lips. “I bet you can’t get it in me.”
“Is that a challenge? Because I will do it.” Vincent sat up, his hands still on her breasts as he thrust his hips forward. He still wore his pants, yet the fabric rubbed against her inner thighs, his cock hard against her slit. Fuck that zipper. That was both an exclamation and a demand. She hated it. She hated that her body craved sex, let alone with this handsome beast who was going to take a piece of her spirit for himself. All so he could make her his bride. What a night.
“You’re gonna be shocked, sir,” Nala spat. “It’s not as easy as you’re hoping.”
“I like a good challenge. It would be boring if this were over in ten minutes.”
He could be fucking me in two minutes. Maybe fewer. Nala trembled at the thought. When she realized it was a tremble of desire, she nearly fainted. “Tell you what.” Her thighs were wet by the time Vincent finished tearing away the last of the fabric covering her slit and center. “If you can get it in my cunt and actually fuck me, I’ll give in. I won’t have a choice at that point, will I? I’ll be so in lust with you that all common sense will fly out the window.”
“You promise, huh? What good is a siren’s promise, anyway?”
“As good as I can make it… but I promise. You’ve gotta get it in me, though.”
Her grin would be menacing to most men, but not to Vincent, who probably anticipated this streak within her. That’s part of the reason he chose her, right? “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“You might be surprised.”
He kissed her, wiping the grin off her face as she pulled and pulled against the elaborate ceremonial binds keeping her tied to the headboard. I’m his for the taking. Would he be able to do it? Or would Nala prove herself to be the most worthy opponent in love and lust?
She didn’t mean to moan so loudly when his tip met her spread opening. Am I falling this quickly? According to the script, she would fall eventually, but even Nala didn’t anticipate feeling so damn good when Vincent tried to enter her the first time.
Tried being the operative word.
“Damnit,” he cursed, ignoring Nala’s knowing chuckles. “Would you sit still? You’ve got to give a man a fighting chance.”
“Who said you got any breaks? You either do it or you don’t.” Nala narrowed her eyes the moment he looked at her visage. “If you want me that badly, if you want me to submit, you’ll have to make me.” Wink, wink.
Thank goodness Vincent wasn’t stupid. He knew what she meant right away. And, fueled by crazed lust as he was, he was quick to pull her hips into his hands and bring her upon his cock instead of trying to impale her.
“I made you, now didn’t I?”
Oh, he sure did.
Nala wailed in the sudden bliss ove
rtaking her, like Vincent overtook her body. He was halfway inside her, fighting to know her, own her. Nala wanted so badly to succumb like any mortal woman would. Why wouldn’t she? This man was gorgeous. He was the king of the alphas in any realm they spoke of. He would ensure she felt this good for the rest of her life.
So what if her brain turned to mush in the process? Perhaps it was an existence worth experiencing. Nala had done things for herself for far too long. It was time to let go.
“Holy shit!” Whether or not Nightingale would say that, those words came from Nala’s mouth and echoed with Vincent’s determined grunts. He was not gentle. He was not forgiving. The challenge was set before him, and unless Nala uttered her safe word, he would continue to pursue what he really wanted.
All of her.
Nala cried out, every part of her giving in to the lust and carnal pleasures surging through her. This man wasn’t just a beast. He was a professional. Nala wasn’t the first siren he tamed, but she would be the last. The one he chose to be his bride, the shadow lurking in every corner wherever he went. There was a lot of honor in that. What had she been so concerned about?
“Fuck me!” Her hips thrust against his, desperately trying to take him into her depths. “Fuck me!”
Once he found his hold on her, Vincent did not hold back in doing so.
Nala’s eyes slammed shut, fending back the exuberant sensations filling her every crevice. It was a ton to take in at once. How had the mortals done it? Or was it in Nala’s nature to feel everything more intently? Especially with a beast like Vincent?
“I’m fucking you, Nightingale.” Vincent pulled on her leash, forcing her torso up with her arms still splayed behind her, hips digging into the bed as he thrust into her below. It hurts. It’s amazing. I don’t care how it feels. It’s what I want. “You’re mine, now. You must give yourself to me in every way I demand.”
“Yes!” Whatever energy he injected into her, it was working. No wonder he was the best. Even Nala had fallen easier than a tower of cards. Now she was at this man’s whims. No, her Master’s whims. “I’ll do whatever you want! Please!”
“Please what?” He stilled within her, taunting her with how he filled her. He’s going to kill me, I swear. Nala’s legs remained spread in the air, any shame she felt about this situation completely obliterated. What shame? Ha! Who had time for shame?
Vincent, that was whom.
In all her fun, Nala had almost forgotten what Vincent got out of this. I made sure to write it in. In fact, she was more focused on his growth than her own. Easy to say when she was begging him to fuck her harder than he ever had before. “Don’t show any mercy on me tonight.” Those were her parting words to him earlier. “And I love you.”
Yet now she could see in Vincent’s terrible eyes that plenty of shame still lurked within. Sure, they could make up fanciful stories about how he was raised to be ashamed of his birthright as a taker of essence, a lover of women. But even after all their weeks together, Nala still knew that deep inside Vincent Lane felt guilty about loving her.
With any luck, he wouldn’t after tonight.
“Please use me however you want, Master,” Nala finally said. “Use me freely. You’ve already hunted me down and speared me where it counts. Now reap your reward and show me what it’s like to see nothing but the beautiful darkness you offer.”
Vincent kissed her throat, bruising her flesh as his hand mauled her breast. “You already demand so much of me,” he growled. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re trying to take over me instead, succubus.”
“No way. I’m yours now. Now make me really feel like I am.”
He pulled out, leaving behind an emptiness that only he could fill now. Vincent released Nala from her binds – she did not struggle or try to escape. Like she said, why would she? Every part of her body, her being belonged to this entity flipping her over and retying her to the headboard. It was so wonderfully familiar. Nala’s heart alit in anticipation as she remembered the first night her hunter came and tamed the demon inside of her.
Yet she knew that this would be incredibly different.
“Use me,” she whispered, her face pushed into the pillow and her ass pulled up. Vincent practically bit her there, his red blood running hot in his veins – Nala was certain he had never felt so feral in bed before. “Use me until your whole being is purged.”
He nipped her ear, his tongue snaking deep within and tantalizing the last of Nala’s sanity. “You too, darling.”
After that, Nala was at his complete mercy.
She screamed, as loudly as she could, into her pillow, knowing that it would muffle her voice. But not too much. She wanted Vincent to hear her scream in surprise, in pleasure, in sheer jubilation the moment he thrust into her, taking her body as coarsely as he dared. Pain mixed with pleasure. Need burned with desire. There were no walls between them. Nala loved him, and she knew that Vincent loved her in turn. This was it. This was everything they wanted and more from a partnership.
Pain.
Pleasure.
There was no difference.
Just like there was no difference between Vincent making gentle love to her or treating her like an exquisite princess in need of the greatest pounding of her life. Nala’s throat conveyed a mixture of delighted moans and anguished groans. Vincent, in turn, continued to growl as he clawed her back, bit her shoulder, and pried her thighs apart so he could fuck her harder and deeper. When his hand grabbed the scruff of her neck and held her down, his hips thrusting so hard that she cried out in amazing agony, Nala finally saw the empty darkness she begged to experience.
If Vincent needed to let go of his grief, his guilt, and even the pieces of shame still plaguing his soul, then Nala needed to expel the rage holding her back. That black cancer eating away at her spirit. That toxic disease clouding her mind, her judgment. She needed to remember that she had reasons to live, to experience a full life long before her. It’s right here. My first reason is right here. Vincent might be the only man in the world who could fuck the rage and complete disregard for reason out of her.
Nala had never known what it was like to have a clear head. To see nothing. To experience everything at once. She didn’t know what people meant when they said they “didn’t think about anything.” She was always thinking about something. Her father. Her sister. Her deplorable economic situation and her even more deplorable future if things kept going the way they were. The fact she had lived in someone’s filthy closet and couldn’t make a living sorting through the equivalent of dirty laundry.
Most of that was over now, but even if Vincent could eliminate the financial burdens, he could not sew her heart back together after the world had broken it so many times. Only she could do that.
Seeing that blessed darkness was the first step.
In all her research, she discovered a blissful state known as subspace. Scores of people told of forgetting who they were, where they were from, and even their biggest ailments. All they recognized was the vast love and care of their Doms. Men – and women – who took their partners’ lives into their hands and promised more than the moon. Nala didn’t want the moon. She wanted the expanse of space to open before her. She wanted her brain to start over. An elusive reset button was in her grasp. All she had to do was reach out and touch it.
“Who do you belong to?” Vincent grabbed her hair, pulling it with the leash. Nala came up for air, then disappeared back into her pillow. The pressure from Vincent’s hand was even more damning as he surged into her, expanding her body, making her crave that delectable release. “Whose bride are you?”
Nala had to find the words buried deep within her throat before she could answer. “Yours!”
“Who do you love?”
Her heart beamed. “You!”
He said other things. Asked her other questions. Each was dirtier than the last, stirring up more carnal yearnings that would take her to another dimension if he kept this up. Maybe he was banis
hing her to another realm. Maybe all that stuff about becoming his bride was hogwash, meant to make her feel more comfortable about her fate. Nala didn’t believe it. This man loved her. This man would be with her for the rest of her life. It didn’t matter what he called her body parts. It didn’t matter what he called her or the acts performed upon her. All she knew, felt, and heard were promises of release.
Nala was already detaching from the world by the time Vincent stilled himself within her, his groans turning into a loud, deafening roar.
By then, she was long gone.
Chapter 16
Splendor was the word of choice as Nala lay in bed, exhausted, her eyes glued – albeit hazily – to the ceiling as Vincent gently kissed her skin and rubbed her aching muscles.
No pain mattered. Not even the words entering one ear and leaving the other. Sometimes Vincent would wrap his body around hers, fondle her hips and breasts, and ease her legs open so he could lazily take her from behind. She didn’t care. She barely registered anything happening, even though she was there, she felt it, and every time she connected to his heart again.
“You’re beautiful,” he said more than once. “I love you. Do you love me? Everything will be okay, I promise. You were amazing. That was better than I thought it could be. Maybe next time I’ll write the script and you’ll see the depths of my own fantasies.”
The man would not shut up. Eventually, Nala pushed him off her, out of her, and rolled over until her mouth met his reemerging hardness. She could taste herself on him, and yet she still could barely register what she did or what was going on. The haze she traversed was laced in self-administering opiates.
Was this it? Was this the darkness she craved, manifested in untold ways? Her thighs were sore. Her core ached for more of what Vincent offered, but knew she should hold off. Her breasts tingled for him. Her mouth called to his, wanting a million kisses that lingered on her lips and plunged deep into her throat. When she finished rubbing herself against his hardness, Vincent rolled on top of her and made slow love while his tongue claimed the depths of her demeanor.
