“And of course you had a great deal of fun with Camilla too, before things turned sour?” she countered, but Marcus didn’t seem surprised at all by her comment. He must've known she was there that night, or discovered so afterwards, and he shrugged it off as though his liaison with Camilla meant nothing at all. Nope, he wasn’t getting away that easily. “For a vampire who professes to sex being sacred, you certainly weren’t holding back with her. While watching you, I learned how you truly felt about me. How you hadn’t been lying all those times when you pushed me away. I really am nothing but a Blood Slave to you, and that’s fine. Tell me when and where and I’ll be at your service, Mr Cole, but please don’t pretend like there's anything else going on between us, and I certainly won’t either.”
Damn, there went her plan to remain timid and calm. Wynter’s heart was pounding and she waited for him to return with a snide comeback or to lunge at her and threaten her, but he didn’t answer. Instead, Marcus continued to scowl down at her as if she’d said nothing at all. And then he left.
Wynter dived out of bed and tried to get to the door before it closed, but she was too slow. She was alone again in a heartbeat and while she welcomed it, there was still that niggling sense of anger and fear at her having been locked away again. Why would he do it? Why bother pretending any longer? She was desperate to find out, but knew she had no chance as long as he kept her captive.
She needed to get out of there. To rest and heal up fast so she could be ready, and so Wynter didn’t scream her head off or kick at the door. She didn’t beg or plead to be released. Nope, she simply pretended to be too weak to fight back and to welcome the solace.
After relieving her bladder and just about being able to move enough to freshen up, she then went back to bed and closed her eyes.
She didn’t sleep right away, but just rested and thought of Jakob. Wynter tried to envision him in her mind’s eye and call out to him, but he simply wasn’t there.
He was gone, but not for long.
Or so she hoped.
Two
Marcus paced up and down outside Wynter’s bedroom for a while in a bid to gather his thoughts before he was due to attend the meeting he’d called of the department heads. His return to Slave had been bittersweet. He’d fed from his ever willing Joanna and regrouped, but had felt Wynter’s absence everywhere. The last few hours without her in attendance had been torture, but having her back and oddly indifferent to him somehow felt worse.
It didn’t matter that she’d been upstairs for the past day resting up, she still felt lost to him. Like a closed book, when once he had been able to read her so well. Everything had changed since his impromptu visit with Camilla and while part of him was relieved that things had cooled off between them a little, he still wanted her the same. Still craved her as much as he had before bedding Camilla one final time. And he’d only done that to keep Wynter safe. To ensure his old flame’s jealous wrath was sated before he planned to take his dear girl away and merge his soul with hers. Just like the Priestess had told him to.
But instead, everything had changed between them. She had come back to him different in many ways, but still the fighter he adored. And now, she was fighting hard. Refusing him even after he’d saved her from those two fiends.
This simply would not do. Wynter was going to have to learn to be grateful for all the luxuries he was affording her, and he would start by reminding her who was boss. Yes, a firm hand was what she needed right now. And a powerful, fearless leader. He could be each of those things, and smiled to himself at the thought of breaking down those walls she’d somehow built so high again.
This was right, he could feel it. She would succumb to him once again and when she did, Wynter would be his forever.
He left her to rest up for a few more days, but then found he secretly enjoyed withholding her freedom and so added a couple more. And then some more. Enough so that she knew her incarceration was about more than just his way of keeping her locked away for her rest and recuperation. She was being punished, and solitary confinement seemed the perfect way of doing it. After all, Wynter never had been one for remaining alone. She was a social creature, and being stuck within the same four walls had to be hell for her.
Marcus observed Wynter via the hidden cameras dotted around her room, and he loved watching her fall apart. So much so that he watched her day and night, suddenly no longer the workaholic he once was. There was a new addiction. A hunger he couldn't ever seem to satisfy. A darkness within him that he knew he couldn't fight, and so was simply learning to enjoy instead. And it was all thanks to her.
He could almost always smell the tangy scent of her despair from anywhere in the club and couldn't help but toy with her more when it came to the many times he went inside her prison to visit with her. Marcus made sure to always be the one who took Wynter her meals and meds, and he stayed just long enough to watch her eat up before he’d then leave again, and all without saying a single word.
She had now been locked away for almost a week in silence and Marcus adored how hard she tried to remain strong in his presence, while always falling apart again the moment he left. But even the strongest fighters had their weaknesses, and she was finally beginning to break.
At first, Wynter would eat quickly. It was as if she’d wanted him to leave again as soon as possible, but after his extension to her captivity, she was slower now. She ate languidly and sometimes asked questions about his day or enquired after her friends downstairs.
Marcus never answered. Not even once. Instead he watched her and took deep breaths of her intoxicating scent. His charming prisoner truly was despondent now and she was growing worse by the day. There was nothing better.
It was time he had her at his mercy again. Time he had his fill of her delectable blood.
Marcus delivered her some breakfast the following morning and then helped her wash. They had developed a gentle back and forth during her clean-up routine, and all her fight was gone in those moments. She was almost childlike. Sweet. Innocent. Susceptible to manipulation.
It was reminiscent of the times he’d cared for his many Priestess’s over the years, but with Wynter he craved her in ways he never had those witches at his command.
It was definitely time he tasted her again.
After finishing up and helping her dress, he climbed behind her on the bed, where he brushed her hair and smoothed the now waist length dark waves into a bun.
Wynter remained silent as he tended to her. She seemed almost comfortable, as though she’d forgotten just how dangerous her protector was, and about his needs. The needs she was there to fulfil.
His mouth was on her neck a second later, and he pressed his tongue against her skin, piercing it with ease. Delicious blood flowed into his mouth and Marcus let out a delighted groan as she relaxed against him and let out a soft hum.
He waited for her to react in her usual way. For her hands to rove across her body or her hips to start arching off the bed, but all Wynter did was lie still. She was euphoric as always, but was somehow resisting the carnal side effects of his bite.
It was the oddest thing. Had she really been turned off after her long and lonely stay? Had she forgotten what it felt like to need him in that way?
Marcus began to wonder if he had pushed her too far. If he’d left her alone for too long and now she really did hate him. But of course, she’d said all those things before and had always come back to him in the end. Always desired him in spite of herself.
He released her and closed the wound he’d drunk from, and then he settled her back on the pillows where he took his place beside her, watching her relax into her bliss with a smile.
God, he still wanted her. He wanted her in every way he could imagine and began to feel that roar within him again. That rush of desire and a need to claim her. To own her.
But first, he needed to feed again.
***
Wynter kept her eyes closed and focused all her strength on not letting Ma
rcus affect her like he’d used to. She’d been so lonely the past week it’d been awful, and while she really hadn’t wanted his attention in a desirous sense, she’d still found herself craving some kind of social interaction. And so, she’d welcomed him in when he’d come with her food. She’d taken her time and tried to converse with him, but Marcus had given her nothing. Not even a teasing smile or a hint at what he had in store for her. He’d stayed well away, until today.
Today, he had come to feed, and so she let him. Wynter let herself enjoy the warmth of his body against hers and the ecstasy of the bite, but nothing more. Those other parts of herself had completely closed off to him now. Her heart wasn’t yearning for anything Marcus had to offer her, nor did she feel desperate and ready to beg for it. No, she belonged to Jak and so held onto her thoughts of him as closely as ever.
She knew, deep down, that Jakob was no better than Marcus. He was a killer. A sociopath. A violent monster. But, with him she had smiled. She had laughed and enjoyed his company, while trusting that he would remain honest at all times, and he had never once fed from her. It had been refreshing and a much needed change from the company she currently kept. Damn, it was no wonder they’d both fallen so hard.
Marcus was never once honest with her. He always played his games and kept her in turmoil, and Wynter knew she would never do anything other than loathe him.
“My sweet,” he groaned, nuzzling her neck as he placed soft kisses along her jaw, “are you still in there my little fighter?” They were his first words in over a week and instead of being nice, he just had to taunt her? To ridicule her, rather than be kind or gentle like she knew he could be. He really was the worst.
Wynter tensed and tried to ignore him, but his soft, gruff laugh let her know he’d sensed it. She was indeed still in there, and she was fighting with every ounce of her being. Her silence was an act of defiance. Her iciness her form of revenge.
He clearly decided to push her harder, so then ran his hand down over her chest and began unbuttoning her pyjama shirt, but Wynter reached for him, her eyes fluttering open.
“No,” she tried, but it was no use. He had it open and her body was quickly exposed without a care for what she wanted. Only for satisfying his needs. She tried to turn away, but Marcus pinned her down and captured her left breast in his palm.
“No what?” he teased as he kneaded her nipple into a hard peak. “No, I can’t touch you any more? Or no, you won’t feed me?”
“No you can’t touch me. I told you before,” she whimpered, and hated that she even had to explain herself. Surely he knew he shouldn’t be touching her without her consent. These were the fundamental laws of her time, and he ought to be adhering to them. “We aren’t doing that any more. You can feed and then you can leave.”
Marcus answered by slicing his razor-sharp tongue against her breast, instantly drawing blood, and then he lapped at it with a smile.
“Then I shall cut everywhere I want while I drink some more,” he groaned against her flesh, “just a drop at a time and against all the places I wish to touch but you’ve decided are now off limits. You still fail to comprehend the complexities of our relationship, don’t you, my sweet? I will always win. I will have things my way. And I will take whatever I wish from you in spite of any and all arguments you can muster.”
And he did.
Marcus kept her at his mercy all day and by the end of it, he’d sliced into her skin more than thirty times to prove his point and have his fill, whether she agreed or not.
The worst part wasn’t that his mouth was all over her, but that his bite brought with it that horrible, eager need. That was the one thing that hadn’t changed between them. Like before, she felt heat bloom between her thighs and tension eventually begin to build there, regardless of not having been touched or so much as writhing against herself to relieve the pressure.
Wynter closed her eyes and tilted her head back, thinking if she wasn’t looking at him or focusing on what was happening she might just be able to block it all out. But of course she was wrong. If anything, with her eyes closed her mind wandered to her lost love, and only spurred her closer to the inevitable release she knew was coming if Marcus didn’t cease his leisurely drinking session.
She opened her eyes again and went to look back at where Marcus was feeding from the vein at her thigh. She needed to remind herself it was him there and not Jak, and let out a garbled croak when she suddenly realised they were not alone.
The Priestess was watching over the pair of them from directly above her. Like some kind of creepy visitor, the strange and, as always, fully cloaked woman was staring down at her while she was pressed up against the ceiling. Just like with David, Wynter could see she was being held there by some kind of strange force, but unlike him, she was there by choice and seemed somehow completely comfortable. She had materialised overhead so she could watch the pair of them during Marcus’s feed, but why?
She tried to call out to her and ask, but the witch pressed her covered finger to her lips. Or at least where her lips would be if the cloak shrouding her face wasn’t covering them. Wynter tried to disregard her command, and yet found she couldn't utter a single word. Not a sound passed her lips, and of course Marcus was too busy still lapping at her vein to notice or care. She could do nothing but stare back as she was held captive by not one but two creatures of darkness, and fell further into her despair.
She tried to block it all out. To think of Jak and neither of her captors, but it was no use.
Her head was a mess and yet still, she bounced back and forth between fighting her urge to strike out and her need to cry. Her body still screamed for Marcus to touch her and finish what he’d started, and yet her heart was stronger and denied him every time. It still won the battle against her head and she was somehow able to hold herself back. To resist him. It wasn’t even that hard. Not now that things had changed so dramatically for her.
The Priestess, on the other hand, was a whole other story. Her presence there with them was disconcerting to say the least, especially as all she did was watch them. She was like some kind of ghostly manifestation, and Wynter suddenly felt afraid of the unknown. Of her power and of the strange woman, especially knowing what she was capable of.
When Marcus suddenly stopped his feeding and climbed up off the bed later that day, she breathed a sigh of relief and sat up with a wince at the pain radiating from her shoulder. The blood loss from her day spent as his personal buffet had taken a lot out of her, and the pain was back with a vengeance too.
The Priestess disappeared in the blink of an eye then, evidently not having wanted their master to know she’d even been there, but Wynter was glad she’d gone. In fact, there was a huge part of her that hoped the odd witch might never come back.
She watched Marcus as he moved, her face a carefully crafted guise that she hoped was hiding her disinterest in what the vampire was going to do next or what he had to say for himself. She just wanted him to leave. As much as she had craved some company these past few days, this hadn’t been what she’d had in mind. Not in the slightest, and so she was ready to be left alone again.
Wynter had lost count of how many more bites he had given her over the last few hours. All she knew was that her skin was tender over every main artery her body had to offer, and then some. He’d kissed and lapped at her flesh in a bid to get a rise out of her, and while it was only a small victory for her not to have succumbed to the spell his bite always seemed to put her under, Wynter was glad she had at least managed that one thing.
One day at a time, she told herself, let him feed, like you promised, but nothing else. He can have your blood but he cannot have your heart, or your soul. They belong to Jak. A smile twitched at her mouth just thinking of her lost love, and Wynter could’ve kicked herself for being so careless.
Of course, Marcus had noticed. He had spotted the change right away, as if he had been studying her, and as he then approached he put out his hand for her to take.
/> “Time for work,” he told her, and Wynter frowned. She’d expected some kind of a challenge from him, and yet instead he was finally letting her out? Letting her go and do her fucking job at long last rather than keeping her locked away? There had to be a catch.
Wynter lifted her only free hand and let Marcus pull her to her feet without a word in argument. She wanted nothing more than to leave and so shuffled along close behind him, and couldn't fight her elated smile when he opened the door and let her go free.
The homely area beyond was a damn sight for sore eyes, and she welcomed the chance to look out the windows at the city beyond the club. It had been too damn long since she’d seen the sky or breathed fresh air.
“What day is it?” she asked him, her voice barely more than a whisper. She truly had no idea and it made her heart ache even more.
“Saturday,” he answered, making her cringe.
“You’ve kept me locked in this room for an entire week?” she bellowed, her rage getting the better of her. “I fucking hate you.”
Wynter moved away from Marcus and made straight for the main bathroom. She wanted a proper shower, not just the strip washes he had been giving her all week, and headed right for the glass cubicle where she’d taken many a long, hot shower since the start of her strange employment. Inside, she ran the hot water and managed to shimmy out of her underwear, but tried in vain to get out of her still open nightshirt. Of course it was thanks to her broken clavicle that was still healing. These things took time, but she still cursed her weak body for not having done it already.
After a few seconds of huffing and puffing, Wynter just went under the cascading water half dressed. She stood under it for a while, pondering how best to try and wash her hair and body, and realised just how little she was capable of doing given the sorry state that vampire soldier’s punch had left her in. Her entire upper right side was still immobile, making every task a chore, and Wynter slapped her left hand against the wet tile with a roar. It was so damn unfair. All of it!
Made of Scars Page 2