Sage

by Talyn Scott

  “Yet you can drink from Isladora,” Dax pointed out, “and still be sane.”

  “I the mating bond covers that.” Oycher pulled out his phone, becoming distracted. “I never indulge past normal feedings.”

  “What is it, Commander?”

  Oycher held up his finger and took the call, speaking to Sixten Kovac about Nolan and Edik. He stood up and gestured for them to get their weapons together. “You know how Sixten’s been training Nolan, our resident male Donor and future bait?”

  “Yeah, but Doc Holt says Nolan’s a long way from playing bait.”

  “Apparently, Sixten and Nolan had a weird sort of success tonight.”

  Dax blew out a breath. “Nolan was pretty fucked up when he was brought in here. And he hightails it when anyone sporting fangs looks his way.”

  “Which is exactly how Sixten operates and gets the job done,” Oycher insisted. “Here’s the first leg of your tour, boys.” He sent them a group text, their phones buzzing against their asses all at once.

  Sage pulled out his phone, gaping. “You don’t mean it.”

  “Edik’s been spotted in Volos’ court.” Oycher met eyes with each of them. “Looking lonely. So where’s the first place you would go if you were a bastard with a penchant for hedonistic dominance that you couldn’t get away with inside the Dynasty’s miasma?”

  Sage scrubbed his face. “Around here? Six Feet Under.”

  In a flash, Oycher had his phone against his ear. “Listen Ryan, I need a favor.”

  Prince Volos’ Castle

  “So this is everyday nightlife in court.” Scarlett pressed her hands down the front of her gown, or half of a gown, depending on how you looked at it.

  “Technically,” Master Fedor corrected, “this is not court. You’re currently inside Price Volos’ personal wing of the main castle structure.”

  “I really cannot do this.” They stood in an echoing hall just outside a gilded and glorified parlor. “I was so desperate to see my males before they left.” Tears scalded her eyes. “I would have agreed to just about anything. Considering what’s going on in there, I did agree to just about anything.”

  “Also considering our sire’s tastes, I’d say he’s going easy on you.” Fedor stared down at her for a long moment. His hair matched his topaz eyes. Both gleamed beneath the spiraling, golden chandelier hanging high above. The effect was striking and oddly bewitching on the backdrop of his black velvet wings. “Our sire’s tastes change by the night.” He looked half disgusted, half horny. “Count yourself lucky to be participating on a tame one.”

  “I think you and I have serious differences regarding what’s tame and what’s not.” Scarlett adjusted the corset acting as her bodice, trying to keep it from digging into her ample breasts, but it was four sizes too small. On purpose, she assumed. And with every step she took in her teetering heels, she experienced a double nip slip. “But if I can’t get out of this — ”

  “You cannot.” His face tightened gravely. “Please, you don’t need anything else happening to you.”

  “You almost act as though you care.”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Do you really think I’m asked to attend these events, Scarlett?”

  “Then why are you here?”

  Fedor said nothing, just kept on looking at her, waiting for her to get his meaning.

  And then… “Sage and Roman asked you to watch over me.”

  “I owe them nothing.” He put his hand on her lower back and ushered Scarlett inside the parlor.

  “Well, we don’t even know each other, so you can’t owe me.”

  Then it dawned on her. “Did you know my mother?”

  “Absolutely not, but I’m sorry for what happened to her while she lived here.”

  His hand left her lower back, and he took Scarlett’s white gloved hand, twirling her dramatically before a gathering of around thirty vampires. A mixture of males and females, she realized, feeling a little better that she wasn’t the only woman in the room.

  “This is Scarlett,” Fedor boomed, his left wing stretching out to tuck her into his side. “Tonight, she is mine. You may look. But if you touch,” he emphasized, “you will deal with my wrath.”

  By the looks on their faces… “Did you just threaten to kill them, if they touch me?” she whispered as he led her to a low-back chair that would accommodate his wings.

  “Why ever would I do that? I am a male of honor.” He pinched the tip of her index finger, getting ahold of her glove. “If you cannot trust anyone’s opinion on the subject, here in court. I understand completely.” He yanked it down slowly, letting the fabric glide down her arm, her wrist, and then her fingers. Knuckle by knuckle. “So when you leave our miasma, ask any faction you’d like about me — even the werewolves and shifters, Scarlett Rudavin.”

  By the time he was done, half of her body was left tingling.

  With her glove gripped in his hand, he addressed the gathering again. “Scarlett agreed to a light spanking.”

  “Light?” someone shot back, the voice familiar. “What are we, Master Fedor, newbies?”

  Fedor’s sudden laughter was as fake as his smile. “Consider this your appetizer for what’s to come later when our experienced entertainment joins you.”

  “As long as that little morsel comes, too.”

  “Keep your distance, Edik.”

  Scarlett felt a sudden blast of heat coming off Fedor, the filaments in his wings slightly twitching. “We all know what’s going on between you and Scarlett’s ex-males, but this is a party and she also needs some cheering up.” He looked at her, his fangs sliding over his lower lip. “So let’s keep the atmosphere conducive to that. Shall we?”

  He leaned down and took her mouth in a bittersweet kiss, heart achingly slow and sad. Then, it truly hit her. “Oycher put you up to this,” she whispered as he nuzzled the side of her throat.

  “For two reasons,” he said, his fangs scraping her tender skin. His wings came around and created a cocoon. “Males tend to take females as bargaining chips, so we’ll eliminate that by presenting you as unattached.” He started spreading them out again, appearing to merely brush her skin with his feathers.

  “And the second?” she asked before he revealed her again.

  “Everyone knows Edik cheats on his chosen mate, that he never loved anyone after Elissa’s death. So if he has these horrific needs as your males have said, then he’ll get aroused enough by the time he leaves here, to seek out what he needs.”

  She almost jumped up and down. “You’re tipping off my males, if he does?”

  “An associate of your males.”

  “But how do you know Edik won’t stay right here, and take one of these women?”

  “We’re keeping it tame tonight, Scarlett,” Fedor reminded. “And by the time Edik finishes watching me redden your lovely ass, he’ll seek the sick release I’m told he needs.”

  She thrust her fingers through his hair, whispering against his lips while giving him bedroom eyes. “Does Volos know you’re doing this?”

  “No.”

  He sank onto the chair, his wings folding on either side. “Unfasten your dress, Scarlett.”

  There wasn’t any way she was getting naked like half of the people in the room… but. She untied the silk string from around her waist, watching the floor as she let the bottom half of her dress fall. This left her in heels, the too-small corset, and a lacy see through pair of underwear not classified as a thong. But anyone could see what she had going on back there without straining his or her eyes too much.

  “Lay across my lap.” Fedor’s eyes heated, the topaz a swirling vortex of lust.

  Slowly she lowered herself, and he adjusted Scarlett just the way he wanted her. With one thigh stretched off his lap, her ass pretty much faced the crowd. And even though his lap was bigger than any human’s, could hold her easily without her head hanging off, Fedor positioned her so her breasts were outside of his thigh.

  This,
of course, sent them flying right out of the corset. Her nipples pebbled from the sudden exposure and poked southward.

  Even though Fedor was beautiful and virile — and sizable, considering the thick cock rising against her stomach — all she wanted was to be in Roman and Sage’s arms again.

  His hot hands roamed her ass, his fingers curling beneath the corsets edge before tracing the sheer lace of her panties. Though practically naked, Scarlett kept getting warmer and warmer with each swipe of his hand.

  Smack!

  She bit her tongue, holding back her cry.

  Fedor smoothed his hand not on her burning ass, but over the crown of her head to the end of her hair, as the heat began to spread out and simmer in her pussy.

  Smack!

  Even on Scarlett’s sizable ass, his hands were big! She wiggled, trying to get away from the consuming fire. But he gave her no chance before he smacked her four times in firing succession.

  Unaware she was crying out, moaning from the wetness gathering between her legs and soaking her panties, Scarlett stopped herself just short of screaming out her males names. So she bit the inside of her jaw, holding back cries of need only her males should hear.

  Another smack!

  This one on the left side.

  Whack!

  This one on the upper right.

  She didn’t know where he was going to end up, or when he was going to stop. He kept her squirming, and breathless. In fact, Scarlett was panting by the time the final blow thundered across her flaming cheeks, his single hand covering both sides with ease.

  Then, she could no longer hold her scream. It was blood-curdling, but not from any pain inflicted by Fedor. Scarlett’s body and mind released the fear and tension she’d been forced to endure upon entering the vampire world. And it felt so damn good to scream like that, to let it out!

  When Fedor started rubbing her ass lovingly, keeping her skin fired up even though he was no longer spanking her, she wanted to kiss his palm for the way she felt.

  But that thought blew in and out of her mind like a breeze. Out of the corner of Scarlett eye, she spotted Volos gliding into the room, while wiping the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief. His eyes met hers briefly, before they turned to an empty chair. Edik had left! And she realized that’s why Fedor had finally stopped her spanking. He had a message to deliver for Roman and Sage.

  “You are wet enough.” Fedor flipped her over on his lap, making her sit on her sensitive cheeks. “And I am thirsty enough.”

  The tension in his body changed considerably, the static humming beneath his skin a live wire. This, she realized even though Fedor had a timber sized hard-on, was a clearly predatory feeding and nothing more.

  She amped it up for Volos, though, making sure the prince thought Fedor had given it to her good. Because there was no way she would repeat this performance with another from this crowd. So she wiggled on Fedor’s thighs, wincing, making a show of her sore bottom.

  He placed a heavy hand on her chest, snuggling it against her cleavage. With the other, he secured her between the shoulder blades.

  A violent hiss left him, as though someone shot out a tire, and he brought his mouth to her throat. Fedor worked her skin, drawing it between his fangs and sucking, nipping and nicking.

  Tasting her as if he were a cat toying with prey.

  When Scarlett thought she could no longer stand it, he bit down. A hot rush of endorphins blasted the bite, working its way through her artery, and the last thing she remembered for a long time was simple peace.

  Chapter 21

  “Everyone knows you’re mated.” Ryan shut the backdoor and stepped into the alley behind his club, where Sixten Kovac stood next to the Donor he’d been secretly training for months. “Showing up with a lover is unbelievable.”

  Sixten looked at Ryan like he was an idiot. “Well, everyone thinks I’m crazy anyway, so what’s the difference if I don’t care about the ole ball and chain waiting for me at home?”

  “The ole ball and chain you’re referring to, is the hottest — ”

  “Watch it.” Sixten’s eyes glittered like green ice. “You know how I get when you profess your undying love slash lust for my wife. Besides, like all good little Vojaks, I have a plan.”

  A frantic sound rushed from the Nolan’s mouth, his tense gaze bouncing between Ryan and Sixten.

  “Plan or not, I don’t see this working.” Ryan scratched his chin. “The second another female puts her hands on you, your shifter half will go into nutify-mode and wipe out half of my dungeon. Maybe even the entire place… Who knows what’ll happen after that thing is unleashed? You have a tendency of turning into one sick fuck.”

  Sixten blinked. “Nutify-mode?”

  “It’s something I came up with,” Ryan said, clapping him on the back, “just for you. It’s kind of a nicer way of describing what I really think of you.”

  Sixten nodded, mulling it over. “So I own a word now.”

  “It’s taking off, but only in the circles of those who know you, or know of you.”

  “He really is crazy.” Nolan backed away with widened eyes. “Doc Holt and Haley told me to watch my step. I thought they were exaggerating.” He pointed at Sixten’s face. “But I didn’t get out from underneath a blood club only to serve myself up” — he brought his other hand up in a helpless gesture— “to complete insanity… with fangs.”

  Sixten pulled out an antler hilted blade. But on closer inspection, Ryan thought it might be carved from the rib of a vampire. “I resent that.” He started cleaning his nails with the sharp tip. “Partial insanity jabs, I can let those slide.” He lifted the blade, waving it around as he spoke. “But complete insanity? That’s rude.”

  Nolan started rubbing his arms, like his skin was crawling, but Ryan didn’t think the new moves had anything to do with Sixten. “Maybe I - ”

  “Maybe you don’t trust me.” Sixten’s eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “To keep you safe.”

  Nolan’s eye started twitching, his body shaking like he was jonesing. “That’s one thing I was assured of… that you’d keep me safe.”

  Astonished to see what the Donor was about, that he obviously hadn’t picked up on it as quick as Sixten. Ryan didn’t catch the move before Sixten slashed his wrist. “What the fuck, Six?”

  Nolan moved nearly in the way of vampires, and latched onto Ryan’s bleeding wrist with the intensity of a starving, two-hundred pound leech.

  “I don’t know if he can handle shifter blood, so you were the closest blood bank.” Sixten wiped his blade on his thigh, cleaning off Ryan’s blood, then slid it in the top of his boot. “If I could burn every blood club to the ground — ”

  “A hundred more would crop up in each spot.” Ryan pulled his wrist away before Nolan became glutted and sluggish, only allowing him just enough to take off the edge.

  “I need more.”

  “You can’t go into my club like you’ve already been satisfied,” Ryan explained. Or any vampire onlooker would sniff out a heap of trouble. “Six, Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know myself until Nolan started vibrating over there.” Sixten shoved his hair back, the platinum streaks a telltale sign of his other half, his Vojak lineage. “Dru must have been weening him all this time. Possibly he thought Nolan had enough before sending him out tonight. How the hell do I know? I don’t hang around the infirmary.” He surveyed Nolan’s freshly relaxed stance. “And this is our first real gig together.”

  “I’m sorry.” The Donor swiped at his mouth.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “But it’s not my fault, what your kind did to me.”

  “I know that, too.”

  Ryan addressed Sixten, “If Nolan had started that shit downstairs…” But suddenly Sixten wasn’t paying any attention. Ryan followed his line of vision, straight into the darkened sky. But even with his vampiric sight, he couldn’t spot a damn thing out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

  “Incom
ing.” Sixten’s eyes flicked to Ryan. “I sense a certain change in the air.” He shot out a text with blinding speed, even for a vampire. “Looks like we smoked a birdie from its nest.”

  “I hate them.” Nolan was still swiping Ryan’s blood from his mouth, acting as though he’d murdered someone and couldn’t wash the blood from his hands fast enough. “Hate everything with fangs,” he admitted, “and especially wings.”

  Sixten’s eyes shot to Nolan. “Particularly wings, as in velvet black… spanning up to twenty feet while attached to a prideful and entirely assoholic male?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm,” was Sixten’s reply, “interesting company you’ve kept.” Since Gryphs and Lovci rarely frequented blood clubs, because they had enough harems at their fingertips within the monarchy, spotting Santa Claus inside an illegal blood club was more likely.

  “Not by choice,” Nolan gritted.

  “So that’s why you’re fighting back,” Sixten pointed out. “You’ve been through my Vojak bootcamp. And if you didn’t wear Ryan’s blood on your teeth, I’d say you’re nearly cured of bloodlust. There’s no time like the present to put your skills to the test than inside the safe” — he almost looked like he meant every word — “and family like atmosphere of Ryan’s dungeon.”

  Ryan shoved his hands in his pockets, wishing he were anywhere else. But suddenly something fascinating caught his attention, a reminder of the powerhouse behind Sixten Kovac —the true prince of the Habaline race.

  The outline of Sixten’s body wavered in and out, his eyes flicking color from ice green to deep brown, his hair growing longer and darker, his cheekbones smoothing from their sharp angles to a softer, human shape. Not to Ryan’s surprise, however, Sixten didn’t whittle down his warrior’s body into the size more suitable for a Species vampire.

  Ryan appraised Sixten from the tips of his Chucks to the top of his dark mop of hair. “If you dropped a hundred pounds and fluffed your hair, you’d look like one of those eighties boybands.”