by L. A. Boruff
“I’m heavy. Sorry,” she mumbled. She inched up his thigh. Gripping his impressive arm muscles, and grabbing hold of one of his extended wings, she hoisted herself up and onto his back. His back was wide enough for her to lie prone, her head by the back of his neck. His ears were pointed and for the first time she saw horns protruding from his head. His long pointed goatee beard was the only hair on his head, his scalp was bald and smooth.
Hold on, Mildred. We’re coming.
She jerked, almost slipping off. Someone had spoken, but she had no idea who. It wasn’t team moron, they didn’t know her name. Besides, no one called her that.
Moron A appeared at the edge and hoisted himself up. “Jesus, girl, you’ve led us on a merry chase. Your fat arse better be worth it.”
She peered over the top of Mr G’s head and threw a stone at him, but fear had her hands shaking and she missed.
He got to his feet, and she saw he was tall. All he had to do was lift his hands and drag her off.
Why had she thought climbing up was safer?
She threw the stones she had remaining at him, but all he did was protect his face with his arms, and when she threw the last one, he lowered his arms and smirked at her.
A groaning sound made the tomb shake, and she realised their combined weights were getting too much for the roof to hold.
“You have to get down,” she cried out.
“After you, princess.”
“I am not your princess, jerk.”
Hands grabbed her ankles and she was tugged backwards. She shrieked and managed to grab Mr G’s wings. One of the boys started to climb onto her, and she kicked and struggled.
He was wrenched off her with a high-pitched scream. “It moved! It fuckin’ moved!”
“Yeah, no shit, Sherlock, the roof is giving way.” Moron A held out his hand to her. “C’mon, if you stay here you’ll die. C’mon, we didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a bit of fun.”
The roof shifted again, and his face contorted in terror. His grip on her hold was broken, and she threw her arms around Mr G’s neck. If she could hang on she might get lucky enough to survive it.
But it wasn’t the roof that was moving. Moron A was kicking his feet several inches from the ground.
What the hell was she seeing?
A large, grey stone hand was wrapped around his throat. Mr G’s hand to be precise. Her gargoyle had come alive and was strangling the moron.
She blinked. Nope, still being strangled. Was she hallucinating? Had she hit her head at some point?
Mr G held the boy over the edge and let go. His scream was cut off, but she didn’t hear him land.
Terrified she was next for the hammer throw, she slid from his back and inched towards the side. He’d turned his head, watching her with red, glittering eyes. Shit. She was dead.
“Mildred.” He spoke her name, and her heart stopped. Another step back and she was free falling into air.
She didn’t have time to process anything until a set of strong arms caught her before she could slam into the ground.
“Hello, Mildred. It’s been far too long.”
She looked up into the darkest brown eyes she’d ever seen and fainted.
The softness under her was definitely a bed. Too comfy to be her own or a hospital bed. She tried to think past the fog that was swirling in her head.
“Mildred.”
Her name was enough to bring her memories rushing back. Where was she?
It was dark, and it took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. There were no windows; the only light in the room was from dozens of candles on a dresser at the end of the bed. The darkness in the corners of the room seemed to move as the flames cast flickering shadows. It was warm, and she had that strange closed in sensation she got from when she was below street level on the underground.
With a shudder of revulsion, she realised she was below the crypt. At least she was clothed and not running from team moron. And that was because Mr G had saved her life.
Mr G, the gargoyle. The stone gargoyle that shouldn’t have been able to talk let alone move.
“Aldrich. His name is Aldrich, but you’ll be able to remember soon.”
She gave a cry of fright and was off the bed and pressed against the wall as two men stepped from the shadows.
“What the fuck?”
“Mildred Brown! Your language.” Icy blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight. His hair was dirty blonde and long around his ears. He wore a ripped t-shirt and jeans.
The dark-haired man beside him was taller. Long strands of hair fell around his face, the rest caught back behind his head. He wore a leather motorcycle jacket that had seen better days and a pair of faded black jeans.
There was no denying they were gorgeous. But gorgeous didn’t rule out dangerous.
“How do you know my name?” she muttered, eyeing them carefully.
“We’ve always known your name.”
“We know more than your name, Mildred. We know when you were born. We can tell you every single birth date and every single death date.” His hair was dark red with strands of burnt orange and white. It was the oddest combination, but it worked for him. He was watching her intently, an expression in his amber eyes that she couldn’t work out.
The man beside him brought his fingers to his lips, and she caught her breath. He was bald and very muscled, as if he’d spent his entire life in the gym. His pointed goatee was salt and pepper coloured, but he didn’t look any more than forty. None of them did.
“Have some chocolate, Mildred. All things will become clear then.” The dark-haired one was holding a plastic bag that she’d missed. “We brought you snacks as well. We know how much you love sweet things.”
“Okay. Who are you? Where am I? And can I leave now?”
“Always leaving us.” The man with dirty blonde hair and icy eyes tutted, the smirk not leaving his face.
“Allow us to answer your questions.” The bald one pushed through the others and her stomach dropped into her boots. He was the gargoyle. He was Mr G.
“Yeah, that’s me, although you know me more as Aldrich.”
“I didn’t say a thing. I didn’t speak! How do you know my thoughts? What is this?”
“Later. First, this is Tristan.” Aldrich pointed at the blonde one. “Raphe is the dark-haired one, and Fredrick is the redhead.”
“Thank you for saving me earlier,” Fredrick spoke up.
“Saving you?”
He winked at her and his amber eyes flashed with mischief. “I was stupid to get caught so easily, but I’m a sucker for chicken and they’d had a KFC.” He laughed. “But my tail and I thank you.”
Of course. No, not of course. There was no of course in this. Fredrick was the fox caught in the bag. He was a fox. Aldrich was a gargoyle, and she was mentally unstable.
“You’re not mad, Mildred. You just don’t remember us yet.” Tristan drew out a cigarette as he spoke.
“Nope! Put that out in an enclosed area. If you wish to kill yourself, go ahead. But I refuse to get cancer from second-hand smoke,” she demanded. Even if she was losing her sanity, she wasn’t going to inhale death as well.
“Yeah, that’s our Mildred.” Fredrick sniggered with laughter.
Tristan put the unlit smoke behind his ear and tilted his head to regard her. “How far do we need to go this time?
“Pardon?”
“Have something to eat,” Raphe stepped forward with a bag. “Have the chocolate. It was probably more exciting last time. You hadn’t seen chocolate for a few years, ‘cause of rationing.”
“What the hell are you lot on?” Anger started to stir. “Is this some sort of fuck with Milly day? Bad enough I had team moron thinking I was giving out, and now you’re acting like you just escaped your padded cells. I’m going to leave and forget this ever happened.”
“Why?” Raphe flung the bag down, but it wasn’t anger on his face, it was frustrated despair. “Why is it every time
we find you, it takes us days to convince you, and when we finally do convince you, you refuse us? Every single time we find you, Mildred Brown, every time, you do this. How many damn times do we have to watch you die on us? How many lives do we have to live without you until you stop being so damn stubborn?”
“Raphe, chill man.” Tristan put his hand on Raphe’s shoulder. “You know she won’t remember straight away.”
“Yeah?” Raphe was holding her gaze. “Well, I’m fed up waiting.”
Fear drenched her. They weren’t just mental, they were round the maypole, over the cuckoo nest, bang up insane.
“No, we aren’t!” Raphe shrugged Tristan’s hand from his shoulder and in the time it took her to blink he was right in front of her.
“Raphe!”
She heard the others shout, but her gaze was caught by his. His eyes weren’t dark brown, they were black, like ink or incredibly deep water. And they were so familiar. She shook her head. What was wrong with her? This must be a nightmare, no way could they read her thoughts otherwise.
“We can read your thoughts because you belong to us, and we belong to you. You started to remember; it felt familiar. I felt familiar. Maybe this will help.”
His lips were on hers before she could think. She jerked and started to push him away, but his hands on her shoulders held her in place against the wall. His tongue swept over her lips and her head went back. Not from fear, or disgust, but because it was familiar. He was familiar.
Yes, open your mind, baby.
His lips crushed against hers and her hands found his shoulders, clinging to him. He nipped her bottom lip, and she gasped at the sensation. His tongue invaded her mouth, plundering her, and something weird happened. She was spinning, her head was spinning, her feet no longer on the floor. Colours, images, a muddled mess, pictures within a million other pictures. None of them clear, except for the four men and herself always with them.
The agony of loss flooded her: crushing emotions of despair, regret, loneliness, and pain. So much pain. She was crying, and Raphe was holding her against him, her head tucked under his chin as he rocked her from side to side.
“I don’t understand,” she mumbled. “Tristan? Fredrick? Aldrich?”
“Here, baby, we’re here.”
They crowded around her, stroking her hair, her back, and everything slotted into place. This was right, this was where she should be. With them.
She turned her head, desperate to kiss them, one of them, all of them.
“Fuck, yes.” Fredrick grunted as her lips found his. She was drowning; they were all drowning, the connection lost. They needed to save each other.
The rush of lust was so strong that she bit his lip, her hands buried in his hair. He growled into her mouth, and she was on her back on the bed. He buried his face into her neck, nipping, biting and licking her skin.
She reached out for the others, calling for them.
“Here, baby, we’re here,” Tristan murmured. He leant over her from above and kissed her, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance that she’d long-forgotten.
Aldrich found the buttons of her coat and groaned when they dragged it off. She reached up and gripped the Aldrich’s t-shirt. “Off,” she demanded, looking around at them.
Tristan grinned at her and she saw the flash of pointed canines. A tendril of uncertainty slipped back in, and he put his mouth by her ear.
“We’ve waited for you for centuries. We’ll continue to wait for as long as you need. We won’t bite you until you ask for it.”
The words were echoes of times past and it all slotted into place. She ran her fingers through his hair and brought his mouth to hers. His tongue was cool, and a flash of memory made her moan. He lifted his head, smirking at her.
“Your memories are my hopes.” He kissed her before sliding down the bed, letting Raphe get to her again.
“You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?” Raphe whispered, holding her gaze. “We’re going to fuck you until you pass out.”
“Oh, lord.” His words made her breathing hitch and her head go back. “Please.”
They stripped her with a speed that was preternatural. She watched them remove their clothes, and with every exposed inch of flesh her need rose higher and higher. Unable to wait any longer, she went to her knees, and pushing Fredrick’s fingers away, she undid his zip. His head went back, and a guttural groan left his lips. Pushing his jeans and boxers down she took a second to admire the view before taking him into her mouth. She went for broke, taking him as deep as she could, his tip hitting the back of her throat. Roaring her name, his hands went into her hair, and he bucked, making her gag. Hands smoothed over her ass and she pulled from Fredrick long enough to see Tristan smirking at her. Raphe and Aldrich’s lips closed around her nipples and she cried out around Fredrick’s cock. He groaned; his hold in her hair tightened.
She was losing it and it’d only just started. Tristan’s fingers were delving into the valley of her ass. Gently opening her ass cheeks he blew cool air on her heated core. Moaning, she held onto Fredrick’s hips with one hand and found his balls with the other. Giving herself over to his control, she let him direct the pace, thrusting into her mouth. She remembered this, craved it, demanded it. He liked to do all the work, to stroke her hair as he found his climax in her mouth.
Tristan’s cold tongue plunged deep into her core, and she cried out again. She sucked hard on Fredrick and heard him stutter. He was close, so close, but if Tristan kept that up with his tongue it would be game over for her too, and she wanted them to fuck her so bad.
Raphe moved from her breast and started to kiss down her back. His fingers slid down over her ass crease and Aldrich slid further underneath her. Tristan pulled back, and she knew he was watching them. She knew what Raphe and Aldrich would do next, knew that Tristan would watch until her climax hit her. How many times had they played this out? How could she have forgotten this? Forgotten them? They were the parts of her heart and soul that were missing.
Aldrich’s tongue found her clit as Raphe pushed two fingers into her and began to thrust. Toe-curling ecstasy poured through her, bringing her to the edge just to pull her back again. Over and over they worked her, and knowing Tristan was watching dragged her closer each time.
“Shit, shit, shit, gonna come, Mil.” Fredrick’s thrusts became erratic as he drew near, but she knew how to do it for him. She massaged his balls, licked his cock from root to tip, and tongued his head. She used her lips to push back his foreskin, found his sensitive spot and rubbed it with the tip of her tongue. He roared his release, and she took it all.
“I love you, Mildred,” he breathed as he slid from her lips, his fingers stroking through her hair.
She tried to lift her head to see his face, but Aldrich tongued her clit as Raphe pulled out his fingers and Tristan thrust into her. Fire consumed her as Tristan took over from them. He slammed into her over and over, her face buried into Fredrick’s neck as he crouched by the bed, holding her up. He was whispering in her ear, but none of it made sense as she fought to think through the extreme pleasure. Aldrich toyed with her clit at the same time as Tristan shouted out his release, and she cascaded with him. Free-falling into a white-hot fire of pleasure.
They gave her no quarter and flipped her onto her back. Raphe was over her, kissing her as he edged his cock into her entrance. She cried out his name as he pushed through her still clenching muscles. It was a pleasure that bordered on pain and had her legs around his waist as she thrust up to meet him. His mouth was clinging to hers, and she felt his fangs descend. She knew what he wanted, but knew he’d keep his promise. She ground against him, knowing that she wouldn’t come again. She never did. She was one of those women who didn’t manage to get off time and again, unfortunately. But this was more than sex, this was more than a climax of total pleasure. This was a bonding, a union. They were pack and they were claiming her into the pack.
“Mildred.” He breathed her name like a prayer in
her ear as he slowed his thrusts right down.
His mouth found the skin on her shoulder, and she felt his fangs grazing her skin. It was such a turn-on, and she recalled the number of times she’d come close to letting him turn her. Why on earth had she refused so many times? How could she had said goodbye to them so many times?
“Come for me, Mildred.” He lifted himself, sped up his thrusts and found her clit with his fingertips.
She was about to fake it when he pressed hard and her climax took her by surprise. His eyes flashed red as his own release overtook him, and then he was clinging to her, his face in her neck and his arms around her.
“Please, this time, Mildred, please. I can’t lose you again.”
She was panting, covered in sweat, and her heart was hammering a thousand beats a second. Raphe kissed her gently and moved from her to curl up around Tristan and Fredrick. They were watching her with sleepy eyes, but love for her shone from their depths.
“I can wait,” Aldrich whispered.
“I can’t. I need you.”
She expected him to sink into her, but he bent over her and mouthed her breasts. His teeth tugged her nipples and tingles slid down to her core. He worked his fingers over her belly and down her hips. He pulled her legs over his arms and her pelvis lifted in the air.
“Look at me,” he growled.
She opened her eyes and he thrust into her as her gaze met his. She arched up as fire rose and collided inside her. The last connection made, it all tumbled around her and she let him sweep her along.
He brought them both to the edge and then drew out the ripples of white-hot pleasure until she was begging. Finally, unable to take anymore he pushed her over the edge, falling with her.
They curled around her, sliding and winding around each other until there were entwined, a tangle of limbs.
“Don’t leave us again,” Raphe murmured.
She tried to tell them she wasn’t going anywhere but exhaustion dragged her into oblivion.
It was how it always was. Every time they found her, they lost her again.
