Because of their bond, he sensed her pain at the initial intrusion, signifying the removal of her innocence. But she remained silent, and Marcus watched as she let her instincts guide her through the rest of their encounter. He kept her lover in place while the Priestess rode him, being careful not to drink from him too much as Jack climbed the wave of ecstasy, because of course, he was finally going to be allowed to unleash it.
His minion cried out when it happened, but the Priestess did not slow or put an end to their lovemaking. She carried on and on, taking more than another few orgasms from him as well as having many of her own. It took all Marcus’s strength not to drain Jack dry each time, but the wants of his Priestess outweighed his own craving for blood and so he remained calm. He took slow, languid laps at the vein and focussed on her needs rather than his own.
When she was finally satisfied and her body open to his offerings, not a word was spoken as she climbed up, dropped her skirts, and then dematerialised into thin air.
Jack was ready to pass out with exhaustion, and so Marcus simply helped him lie down and then he wrapped the covers up around him, tucking the man in like a father might do his son. He then went back to his desk and stared out the window at the night’s sky.
It was as though the Priestess had never even been there for her visit at all, but Marcus felt her absence strongly and wondered why. He’d never felt lonely in his entire existence before.
But then it dawned on him how he didn’t miss her, but another. The woman he’d been forewarned was going to try and make him love her.
Wynter…
Twelve
The alarm clock was already on its third lot of snooze time and Wynter knew she was cutting it way too fine. Why on earth had she thought she’d be able to cope with juggling two jobs? She felt like she’d had around two hours’ decent sleep and was somehow now expecting to head out for an eight hour day job. It was insane. Already too much and she wasn’t even out of bed yet.
Wynter dragged herself anyway and tried desperately to function. She opted for topping herself up with copious amounts of coffee and hiding away as much as she could, but it wasn’t long before her boss noticed something was up.
“Not being funny, but you look like shit,” he told her, and all Wynter could do was nod.
“I feel like it,” she answered with a yawn.
“Go home and get some rest. You’re clearly coming down with something,” he then told her, and Wynter wanted to kiss him. The thought of going home and getting some more sleep was heaven, and so she leapt at the chance and promised to come back the moment she felt well enough. It was a lie. Wynter already knew she would be quitting and working solely for Marcus. It was inevitable, so she decided to get a resignation email typed up and ready to go for when she got back from the club the following morning.
She was home less than half an hour later and dived right into bed. Her head had barely even hit the pillow and she was out like a light, and thanked god she’d set a second alarm ready to alert her at five-pm, otherwise she had a feeling she might’ve slept in, and she didn’t even want to know how much trouble she would be in if that were the case.
Wynter got to the club with plenty of time to spare and she headed straight for her office, where she bumped into a very pale and sour-faced Jack coming out of his own one. He looked the way she herself had felt earlier that morning and Wynter was pretty sure she knew why. Marcus had spent the day feeding on him after all.
“Everything okay?” she asked, receiving just a nod from her fellow manager, so she let him be. Not everyone wanted to talk about it. Not even her to some extent.
Wynter just wanted to get on and work. She wanted to do the job she’d been employed to do and nothing more. That wasn’t going to happen when Saturday morning rolled around again, though. This new job had its perks, sure, but then there was the other side to the work. The part she hated and yet strangely wasn’t in a rush to give up. At least now she knew exactly where she’d be spending her weekends for the foreseeable future. Not partying in the club, but behind the closed and tightly locked doors of it.
What about the probationary period and the clause? her inner voice reminded her. You can get out of this, all you have to do is send that letter of resignation to Marcus instead. Be strong. Fight the curse and you can be free again…
In her heart, she knew it was what she wanted. The weekend hadn’t been terrible and she had made some good connections at Slave, but Wynter still wanted to be free to control her own life again. And so tried her hardest to do it. She actually wrote the resignation letter out in full to her other employer and then changed the addressee to Marcus Cole at the last minute without a hitch. That part was easy, but then it took her until the tenth copy before she could actually sign her name at the bottom properly thanks to her hand shaking so badly. This curse certainly wasn’t making it easy on her. But, there it finally was. Her resignation. Ready and waiting for her to hand it over to Marcus whenever she was ready to invoke the power the clause gave her.
Wynter stashed the letter in her briefcase and then stood, figuring she’d head down to IT and see the team for a while before burning her bridges and leaving them all behind. But then she began to doubt herself. Was she really going to do it? Could she actually walk away just because of a curse, which had given her so much while only taking very little? It wasn’t so bad there, was it? She had herself in knots all over again and let out an anxious moan.
Could she really go back to Marsden and Carmichael and continue the way she was? The answer was no. Wynter knew she needed more from life, but she also wasn’t entirely sure Marcus was the man to give her it.
With a huff, she grabbed her laptop and headed for the door, and found Marcella on the other side with her hand raised, like she was about to knock on it.
“Oh,” she cried, and they both laughed at how they’d made one another jump. “Hey, Wynter. I was just coming to see how things are going? I wondered if you’d like to come grab a coffee and we could talk some more about the autumn campaigns?”
“That’d actually be great,” she answered, and put her laptop down again. Hers sounded like a much better alternative to finding solace in the basement with the IT guys again.
“Were you going somewhere? Don’t let me keep you,” Marcella asked as she watched her, and Wynter thought it sweet how she hadn’t wanted to intrude. It was a kind gesture to even say so and her sweet nature made Wynter like her even more.
“No, I was just going down to IT. I still need to go through some of the system management options but it can wait,” she told her with a nonchalant wave of her hand, dismissing the idea entirely. Wynter then joined Marcella in the hallway and, after locking her office door shut behind her, they were soon off towards the main open-plan area to where the small corner office awaited them.
She and Marcella chatted for far longer than Wynter had anticipated, and two coffees later they had covered all the work stuff as well as some of the personal. Wynter felt like she could really open up to her and even felt comfortable enough to ask some more questions about Marcus and his kind. But when it came to the harder stuff, Wynter fidgeted and hesitated. She wanted to believe she was safe to ask the questions raging within but still wasn’t sure she could without raising any suspicion.
“Ask me anything, sweetie. I’ll always tell you the truth,” Marcella told her, clearly having noticed her unease.
“Well, I was just wondering… Has anyone ever broken the curse?”
Marcella was understandably surprised, but then a sly smile crept over her face and she leaned closer, dropping her voice.
“As far as I know? Nope. Not a single soul.” She shuffled closer. “Why, do you want to try? Do you believe you have the strength of will needed to be allowed to walk away?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, “but I guess I have another few days to figure it out.”
“Don’t be too hasty,” Marcella then warned, surprising her. “You’re in
a wonderful position here, one any of the men and women around you would fight tooth and nail to get to. You have the attention of the most powerful man I’ve ever known and he won’t share you. That’s a blessing in this business, not a curse.”
Wynter got it. She could see it from Marcella’s point of view, but when presented with the chance at escaping her new life and having back her freedom, it was just too big of a deal to then let it go simply because, in the eyes of his other employees at least, she was Marcus’s new favourite and ought to be grateful. She would find happiness elsewhere. Not in her old job. Perhaps not even in this same city.
Wynter figured she could start anew. Go back to basics and begin again. Reinvent herself.
Marcella seemed to understand things from her side, and she didn’t want to keep talking about it, so was glad when the conversation then naturally moved on. They were soon laughing and joking again, and it wasn’t long before another hour had whiled itself away.
Wynter then jumped when the telephone on the desk began to chime and was still giggling when Marcella plucked it up and answered. “Yes, she’s here. Of course, I’ll send her up, Mr Cole,” she said, looking at Wynter with a frown. “Yes, sir.”
She replaced the receiver and dropped her voice back to a whisper. “He wants to see you in his office.”
“Oh, God. You don’t think he’s been listening in do you…”
“No, of course not,” Marcella answered, but then they both looked around the room as though they might spot the glaring presence of a camera or a bug. “No. Definitely not.”
“I’d better go find out,” Wynter answered, and she felt a surge of anxiety echo through her at having to go up to Marcus’s office alone. She made quick work of getting on her way though and was in the elevator within minutes of Marcella having ended the call.
She half expected to find Marcus waiting for her at the lift doors like he had before, but instead she found his assistant Bryn there. He was shuffling awkwardly, as if he didn’t quite know what to say or do, and his demeanour put Wynter even more on edge.
“Please, take a seat and Mr Cole will be right with you,” he said as he ushered her inside and to the chair opposite Marcus’s at the desk. Wynter thanked him and took it, and was then left alone when Bryn disappeared back down in the lift.
She waited and waited, and began to grow impatient. What was taking Marcus so long? In fact, where was he? Wynter looked around and she listened, hoping to hear him in the back room or something, but heard nothing at all. Not a peep.
She eventually stood and took a few tentative steps towards the glass wall, and was about to peer through it when she decided against snooping and turned away, figuring she would have to wait it out in the chair. Whatever Marcus was playing at, he seemed to want to unnerve her, and she was determined not to get too riled up.
“Miss Armstrong, please take a seat,” Marcus’s deep baritone echoed through the room when she turned, and Wynter jumped as she found him sitting at his desk, as if he’d been there all along.
“You… you kept me waiting a long time,” she said as she approached and nestled back into the hard-backed chair.
Wynter had tried to sound authoritative, but instead she cringed at how cowardly she had come across. She knew she was going to have to grow some serious balls if she had any hope of getting anywhere within his company. And certainly if she hoped to gather enough strength to ensure she got away from him before the weeks’ end.
“The delay was unavoidable,” he answered without even a hint of an apology. “Wynter, I called you here because I would like you to work an extra overtime day of each week,” Marcus then told her, getting right to the point. “Patrick has been struggling for a long while to feed and although I’m rather fond of the old fellow, I simply cannot drink from him any longer. You’re the youngest of my manager’s and with the freshest blood. It stands to reason you should be my first choice.”
“How flattering,” she mumbled, hating how coldly he had worded his request, and thinking how she wanted desperately to refuse him. To deny Marcus a third day with her and save herself the hassle of enduring him another sixteen hours of overtime each week. She steeled herself and took a deep breath, fighting every urge within her to tell Marcus yes. To please him and do everything he commanded. To be his willing slave.
No, if he wanted it, he would have to take it. “I’m afraid I shall have to decline,” Wynter then told him through gritted teeth. “I have my other work, as you know.”
“Ah, yes,” Marcus replied, looking totally unperturbed. “The same job you have resigned from this evening?” he then added, as he plucked a piece of paper from a closed file on his desk. It was her letter of resignation. The one she had printed, signed, and then left in her locked office downstairs. Wynter gulped. In the same briefcase was the amended one to Marcus. He had to have seen it. Whether he’d listened in on her conversation with Marcella or not, he knew she was planning on leaving him. And yet, he didn’t seem to care.
“I haven’t sent it yet,” she answered.
“I took the liberty of doing it for you,” he replied with that smug grin of his. “You will not be expected to return, not even to clear out your desk. I’ve sent someone to do so on your behalf.”
“Such a fucking gentleman,” she scoffed and turned her face away.
Wynter was filled with the urge to lash out at him for invading her personal space. For trying to force her to stay with him. For daring request that she give him one more precious day.
No. Enough was enough. She was going to do it. “And of course, you must have seen how there were actually two letters of resignation in that folder?”
“Sure,” he replied with an air of arrogance that only served to make her angrier. “But unless you physically hand that to me and explain your reasons why, I shan’t accept. A piece of paper serves nothing more in your attempt to break your curse than a wooden steak would in endeavouring to smite me.” Marcus then took out the second resignation letter Wynter wasn’t surprised to find he’d taken along with the other, and balled it up in his fist.
He then offered her another smile before throwing it into the fireplace behind him, where the flames disintegrated it within seconds. “So, Friday. Come to me at two-am and I’ll make sure you’re rewarded handsomely for the overtime,” he told her, as if the matter was settled and she’d accepted. “You may go,” Marcus then said, adding insult to injury.
Wynter stood, and not because he had dismissed her, but because she couldn’t wait to leave. She glowered at Marcus for a moment, rage boiling her blood.
His satisfied inhale made her want to throw something. Preferably something heavy and expensive.
He was getting off on making her angry. Enjoying every second of it.
Well, she figured, two could play at that game.
“I’m busy Friday,” she demanded. Marcus didn’t react. He focused on the papers in front of him and began jotting down notes as if she weren’t even there. He might be ignoring her, but there was one thing Wynter was acutely aware of and was going to use to her advantage. He wasn’t commanding her like he had during their days together the weekend before. Marcus was simply her boss, hex or no hex, and tonight he wasn’t seducing her using his lure or controlling her with his bite. “I’m not staying Friday, Marcus. And that’s that. Are you listening to me?”
He said and did a whole sum of nothing in response, and Wynter had no choice but to walk away. She was beginning to feel like a fool standing there shouting when he wasn’t even acknowledging her existence. Shame crept in around the edges of her rage and she stormed out, hoping Marcus couldn’t sense it. That he wasn’t enjoying her even more now that she had given him exactly what he’d evidently wanted.
Thirteen
Wynter’s scent lingered long after she was gone and Marcus savoured every morsel of it. Damn, that girl really was delectable. He’d had to play it cool when she’d been shouting and demanding her freedom, because it really had ta
ken every ounce of strength he’d had not to pounce on her and drink his fill. Jack’s blood hadn’t been enough. Joanna’s wouldn’t be either. The sheer idea of drinking from Patrick again turned his stomach and Marcus smiled to himself.
Friday couldn’t come fast enough. He would have her when he said so, not when she deemed it convenient, and he was going to show Wynter just how much power he had over her and her measly little life.
Marcus then turned and glared into the flames where he had thrown her resignation letter. She was stronger than he’d thought for being able to so much as garner the strength to write that, and there was a part of him that felt afraid. He had put the probationary period into the contract for the fun of it, and not a single human had ever been able to break his spell and claim their freedom. Was she going to be the first? If so, Marcus knew he would not allow it. Not her. Of all the humans he could acceptably lose, it would never be her.
He called out with his mind to his Priestess and she had appeared by the time he’d turned his head away from the flames. She was enrobed as always, but he sensed her trepidation and knew she was still in a great deal of pain.
“I shall summon Jack for you again, my lady,” he told her, and she offered him a simple nod. “And this time, I shall not let him stop until the deed is done.”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice like a wisp on the wind. “And I’ve found the act itself eases my suffering as well as delivers his seed unto my belly.”
Marcus smiled at her. His precious young witch was a woman now. A man had taken her body and, after remaining pure her entire life just as her obligation to her coven had dictated, she knew the sexual gratification the act of love could bring. She wanted more, he could tell. Wanted to explore her body.
The thought made Marcus hard at the waist. He imagined himself being reckless and letting Wynter ride him the way his Priestess had taken Jack upon that sofa the day previous. She had commanded his body and elicited moans and pleasure from him like a woman who’d known what she was doing, rather than a virgin he’d kept under lock and key since the moment she was born.
The Beginning Page 11