Bound to Night

by Nina Croft

  Jesus, she’d only been thirteen. He wondered if Sebastian was aware there was a werewolf going around attacking children on his turf. “Trying how?” he asked.

  “Different things. But nothing works.” She glanced away. “They’re not very pleased with me.”

  Obviously, they didn’t know what was needed. Thank God. Jack made a vow then that he wouldn’t reveal it, even to her. “So you’re also a telepath?”

  “I suppose.”

  Clearly, something else she wasn’t happy to talk about. “What’s your name?”

  “Tasha.”

  “I’m Jack. Come here, Tasha.”

  She glanced from him to the camera high on the wall.

  “It’s broken,” he said. Something else he’d convinced them was down to his vampiric powers—he didn’t like to be watched.

  Her gaze flicked back to him, and he allowed his hunger to show. Her eyes widened, but she took the final step toward him. He slid his hands down her arms, then scooped her up and crossed to the small cot. Sinking down with her in his lap, he silently cursed his erection, which refused to subside despite the fact that sex was now off the menu.

  For a few seconds, she was rigid in his arms, every muscle tense.

  Jack stroked her hair and she sighed, the stiffness seeping from her. Then as if giving in, she settled against him without comment, like a cat happy to be there, almost snuggling. He reckoned she hadn’t been held much in her short life, and a fierce anger rose in him at the people who had kept here, shown her no kindness.

  Her lashes flicked open and she stared up at him with those strange golden eyes. “Are you sure it won’t hurt? You weren’t lying? You know—lulling me into a false sense of security?”

  “It won’t hurt. You might even enjoy it.”

  She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Okay. Go ahead then.” And she raised her chin, baring the long line of her throat.

  He shifted her slightly so he could reach, then lapped at the pulse with his tongue. A shiver ran through her. Then he bit down. She went instantly still but didn’t fight, and he relaxed and savored the sensation as the warm, sweet blood filled his mouth, and he tasted the magic in her.

  Her body went soft and pliant in his arms. He glanced down. Her fists were clenched at her side, but her nipples were hard little points clearly visible and her hips lifted slightly as if straining toward him.

  “Holy crap,” she murmured. “You weren’t lying.”

  Chapter Two

  “Get your paws off me, pervert.”

  Johnson let go of her as though she were something nasty and wiped his hands down the sides of his pants.

  “You know, Johnson, if I was the sensitive sort, I’d think you didn’t like me.”

  Johnson ignored the comment. All the guards hated her but especially Johnson. When Tasha had first arrived—before the shielding technology had been developed—she’d been able to read all their minds. And Johnson’s was a cesspit. But obviously, he didn’t want the rest of the world to know that, so he’d been just a little bit peeved when she’d shared a few of his more bizarre personal fantasies with the rest of the guards.

  He was sick, but at least after that, she hadn’t been part of his fantasies. Not his sexual ones anyway. Though there had been a few things he’d thought about doing to her.

  She shuddered. She was glad she could no longer read their minds.

  Johnson turned to go, but paused at the door. “Did it hurt?” His voice took on a gloating quality.

  For a moment, she didn’t know what he was referring to. Then she realized he meant the vampire. Her hand went to her throat where she could still feel the wound, though it was closing unnaturally fast.

  God, but it had felt good.

  Who would have believed it? Weird or what? She reckoned she must be one sad, repressed woman. And was it any wonder? She’d hardly led a normal life.

  Johnson was still loitering, waiting for his answer. Probably looking for some details to add to his lurid torture fantasies.

  Best not let him see she’d actually enjoyed being bitten by the vampire or he’d make sure she never went near Jack again. “What do you think?” she snarled. “Of course it hurt.”

  Well, at least that made Johnson happy.

  “Maybe one day soon, they’ll finally recognize what a waste of space you are and they’ll let that monster suck you dry.”

  Charming. She supposed it wasn’t bad for a parting comment, and she didn’t bother trying to come up with a clever answer. She just wanted him gone.

  Once he’d left, slamming the cell door behind him, Tasha collapsed on her narrow bed. She stared up at what had been her home for the last eight years.

  Ten feet by ten feet.

  Bare white walls.

  The room was empty but for the cot and a single shelf with her meager pile of books. She only had those because a few years back she’d faked a couple of suicide attempts. They’d taken her to see a shrink and she’d persuaded the woman that she needed some mental stimulation or she would go seriously insane.

  In truth, she hadn’t wanted to die then. She still didn’t. Most of the time. Occasionally, despair and loneliness would threaten to swamp her. Or they’d think of some new and generally unpleasant way to try and make her shift. But usually she managed to stay optimistic.

  One day she would get out of here and go home. She had to believe it.

  And now, at least she had something to look forward to.

  Jack.

  With his long, lithe body, pale skin, and silky black hair, Jack was, without doubt, the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She hugged her knees to her chest at the memory of the pleasure.

  He’d told her it wouldn’t hurt, and she’d been so shocked she’d given in without a fight. No one had ever said something wouldn’t hurt before. And besides, he was so beautiful, she wasn’t sure she could have denied him anything. Like some besotted teenager.

  But he’d been right. There had been no pain, just a rhythmic tugging, that had pulled at unknown places deep within her body. His mouth at her throat had woken all sorts of sensations; she could still feel the pulse throbbing between her thighs.

  But more than that; it had felt so good just to be held.

  Yup. It was official. She was one sad case.

  The cell door was in front of them. If she was going to make a move, it had to be now. Tasha cast a quick sideways glance Johnson. He was a foot taller than her and more than twice her weight.

  Still, she took a deep breath, twisted out of his grasp, and launched herself at his throat. Moments later, she hung limp from one huge, meaty hand.

  “Goddamn freak,” Johnson snarled.

  Tasha could see the loathing in his eyes as he raised his fist and punched her in the face. Lightning exploded in her brain, and her mouth flooded with the warm, coppery taste of blood. Wincing at the sharp stab of pain, she swallowed and licked her lip. Time to change tactics.

  “Please,” she begged. “Don’t put me in there. Not with him. Not again.”

  He smirked as he unlocked the cell door. Tasha started to struggle, was still struggling as he thrust her into the dimly lit cell. She fell to her knees just inside the door.

  “Dinner is served,” Johnson announced. His sadistic laughter echoed in her ears as the lock clicked shut behind her.

  She closed her eyes and breathed in the dark power saturating the room. After a moment, she opened them and peered into the darkness. A pair of emerald eyes glowed in the shadows.

  “Is he gone?” she murmured.

  “Yes,” a soft voice answered, and the hairs rose on the back of her neck. She’d known Jack for over a month now, and he still had the same overwhelming effect on her.

  She scrambled to her feet, rubbing her arm where Johnson’s thick fingers had bitten into the flesh. Then she grinned. “I was good, wasn’t I?”

  “Maybe just a little over the top.”

  “Come on, Jack,” she said as his tall figure
materialized out of the shadows. “I have to be convincing. You know Johnson would never bring me here if he actually thought I wanted to come. He hates me.”

  Jack stared down at her, then reached out and stroked the blood from her lip with the pad of his thumb. Tasha’s whole body quivered at the touch and she stared mesmerized as he raised it to his mouth and slowly licked it clean.

  “Would you like me to kill him for you?” he asked gently.

  “Yeah, I would. And, if possible, very, very, slowly.” Then she sighed. “The problem is, Jack, you’re as much a prisoner here as I am, so excuse me if I don’t hold my breath.”

  He shrugged. “Then maybe, for the moment, you should try not to wind him up quite so much.”

  “You’re right,” Tasha agreed, “I know you’re right. Unfortunately, winding up Johnson is just about the only fun I get to have in this place. Still, I should have been a bit more careful today.”

  “What’s different about today?”

  “There’s a full moon tomorrow night.” Tasha shivered. “They always try extra hard when there’s a full moon.”

  He studied her for a moment. “Have you thought that things might be easier for you if you turned?”

  “No, I haven’t. And you’re forgetting one important thing—I can’t turn. I don’t do this to annoy Johnson—that’s just a happy side effect. The fact is I don’t know how to turn. Most of the time, I’m not even convinced I am a werewolf.”

  He shook his head. “You are,” he said. “I can taste it in your blood. Besides, even before the attack you were far from normal.”

  “Yeah, well, a girl can dream.” She peered at him through her lashes. “You do know why I can’t turn, don’t you? I know you do.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Come on, Jack, you know everything. Why won’t you tell me?”

  He was silent for a moment, and Tasha couldn’t resist reaching out with her mind. She came up against the usual solid wall of his defenses and scowled.

  Jack smiled, and she knew he’d sensed her attempt. Then he shrugged. “There is a…” he paused as if unsure of the right word to use, “a ritual which must be performed before you can come into your powers. But, Tasha, you know they’ve been using mind drugs on you, if you don’t want to turn, you’re better off not knowing. Now come here.” He held out one hand to her. “I must feed before your friend Johnson comes back for you.”

  She went to him eagerly, sliding her fingers against the coolness of his palm and lifting her chin to tease him with the smooth flesh of her throat.

  He laughed softly with a flash of fangs then pulled her to him, turned her, and backed her toward the small cot in one fluid move. As his fangs pierced her vein, she gave herself up to the sweet sensation of his mouth at her throat, the throbbing at her breasts, between her thighs, the heat pooling at the base of her belly.

  Finally, he drew back, licking the last drops of blood from her throat, stroking his tongue across the wound to quicken the healing. He lay back with a sigh, pulling her close, holding her against his hard body. Tasha lay beside him, restless.

  “Stop wriggling,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s distracting, and I don’t need it.”

  She wriggled some more, rubbing her small breasts across his chest, shivering at the delicious friction on her sensitive nipples. Jack lay still, but she knew he wasn’t immune to her advances because she could feel his huge erection pressed against her stomach. She’d been thinking about this for weeks now. Some part of her suspected that she would never leave this place alive, and she wanted to experience as much as she could of life while she had the chance. So far, Jack wasn’t assisting her plan.

  “Jack, why won’t you make love to me?”

  He stared down at her, a frown on his face. “You’re too young.”

  “I’m twenty-one and all grown up.”

  “Too immature, then.”

  “Well, duh! Even you’d be immature if you’d been stuck in this dump for the last eight years.”

  She looked at him, head tilted to one side. “You know, Jack, you could think of this as an opportunity to help me grow.”

  He continued to stare at her in that annoying, inscrutable manner.

  “It’s because I’m scrawny, isn’t it?” she said, glancing down at her body. “You can tell me. I can take criticism. It’s because I have small breasts and no hips, isn’t it?”

  His eyes roamed over her body. “You just need to eat a little more,” he said. “You’re actually quite beautiful.”

  “Yeah, of course I am. I guess that’s why you can’t keep your hands off me. Look,” she said. “I promise I’ll still respect you in the morning.”

  He laughed, and she scowled. Why wouldn’t he just give in and do it? It wasn’t as if it was going to hurt him. She was twenty-one, well over the age of consent. She was lying on a bed with the most gorgeous man she could ever imagine, and he refused to cooperate. She propped herself up on her elbows and stared him right in the face.

  “You know, Jack,” she said, injecting as much pathos into her voice as possible. “It’s a full moon tomorrow night. I may not survive. I’ll die a virgin, never knowing what a man feels like.”

  He stared back, his eyes half-closed and there was something she couldn’t define in his expression.

  “I won’t take your virginity,” he said.

  She opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it again. He was telling her what he wouldn’t do, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything. His eyes were hot on her, and her stomach muscles tightened with a shiver of anticipation.

  “Take off your clothes,” he ordered.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You said you wanted this, so take them off.”

  Tasha scrambled to her feet. His face had gone blank, but beneath his half-closed lids, his green eyes gleamed. A flicker of nervousness ran through her. She yanked her T-shirt over her head, before he could change his mind, then kicked off her sweatpants to stand before him naked. She couldn’t look at him but could feel his gaze running, like fire, over her body.

  “Come here.” He took her hand and tugged her to the bed, pulling her down alongside him. Tasha let him do whatever he wanted, her whole body trembling as he took her wrists in his large hands, stretched them upward, and wrapped her fingers around the bars at the head of the bed. “Hold on,” he said.

  The position thrust her small breasts upwards, and he trailed one long finger over them. A small smile played across his lips as her nipples sprang to instant hardness, straining up toward him. He teased her with his fingers, stroking light patterns over the underside of her breasts. The strangest sensations ran through her, sinking deep into her belly, and the flesh between her legs felt hot and swollen. She needed him to touch her there. Would he?

  “Please, Jack,” she whispered.

  He heard her, his fingers moving to her stiff little nipples. He caught one between finger and thumb, twisting gently, tugging and pulling. She couldn’t hold back a whimper of pleasure. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. She peered up through the haze of pleasure to find him watching her, a look of intense concentration on his face. He leaned over her, taking the other nipple between his lips. Electric shocks ran from her breasts to her groin, and her hips rose from the bed.

  “Let go and I stop,” he murmured against her breasts, and she tightened her grip on the bars.

  He spread wet kisses over her skin as his fingers continued to play with her nipples, his teeth nipping her flesh, his fangs grazing the soft swell of her breasts. Then his head moved lower. He licked and kissed his way down over her flat belly, leaving a trail of fire. His tongue dipped into her navel then moved even lower. She needed something, and she pressed her thighs together, her hips coming off the bed at the sensations running through her.

  “Open your legs, Tasha.”

  She let them fall apart and groaned when he moved so his head ho
vered above the parting of her thighs. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She would die if he stopped. She might die if he continued. She didn’t care. His breath ruffled the curls of her pubic hair, and she melted, moisture oozing from her. He was taking too long. “Jack!”

  Her eyes fluttered closed at the first long, slow lick of his tongue and behind her closed lids, explosions of color burst in her mind. His tongue probed between the folds of her sex, tasting her, slipping inside her, and then gliding wetly up toward her clit. He stopped short, and she bucked against him. He repeated the movement, and she had to bite back a scream of frustration. His hands moved down, slid beneath her to cup her bottom, his thumbs sliding between her legs to part the lips of her sex so she lay open before him. He paused.

  “Please, Jack.” She moaned the words over and over, her hands still gripping onto the bars. At last, he touched her, teasing her tight little bud with the tip of his tongue. He stroked lightly across her, and she whimpered. Flames flashed through her, concentrating fire on that one small spot between her legs. He stroked harder, and she went mindless, her head rolling from side to side, her hips bucking against his firm hold. Then he sucked her clit into his mouth, bit down. Without warning, her climax exploded through her. He continued to suckle and waves of pleasure washed over her, dragging her under until she blacked out.

  When she came to, Jack was lying beside her. She could feel his rhythmic movements. Letting go of the bars, she rolled onto her side. He was on his back, his pants open, his fist wrapped round his rock hard erection. It was beautiful, arching thick and powerful from a nest of midnight dark curls. Tasha couldn’t look away as he thrust his rigid shaft into his own palm. His movements were fierce, and she reached out a trembling hand.

  “Don’t touch me,” he growled.

  She lowered her hand and watched, fascinated as he pleasured himself. He was huge, his large hand hardly covering his shaft. The skin was silky pale, the head, purple, swollen, already oozing. The heat rose again in her belly. She licked her lips, and heard him groan. Tearing her gaze away, she peered into his face; his eyes were jewel green slits, intent upon her as he thrust himself into his palm. Her body ached for his touch. Without conscious thought, her hand drifted across her breasts, still damp from his kisses.