The Beginning

by Eden Wildblood

  “Good morning, Wynter,” he told her with a smile.

  “Morning, Marcus,” she replied, looking everywhere but at him, and her coyness made him smile. She’d listened to his recording and clearly didn’t know how to handle what she felt about his demands. Did she think he was bluffing? Marcus hoped so. It was going to be fun playing with her.

  Joanna, Warren and Marcella were next to arrive, and like the others, they each took their seats and sat in silence while they waited for the remaining few to arrive and for Marcus to get started. The lift brought the last four department heads and they took their seats as well, and with a smile Marcus stood and surveyed his motley little group.

  He sent out a silent wave of power, exerting his sway over each of them to ensure they did exactly as he commanded, and then lapped up their looks of adoration and desire. Each one was his, through and through, but still the same one stood out in defiance. She was looking up at him like the others, but he wasn’t sensing the same affection as them.

  Wynter was steeling herself. Holding onto her strength because, as Marcus presumed, she was planning to defy him yet again. She was going to attempt to leave on time and he simply could not allow it. He had to be the victor in their new game and he would have his spoils, even if he had to play dirty to get them.

  Fifteen

  “I have called you all here to reveal my plans to open some new nightclubs,” Marcus began, and Wynter watched in horror as the faces of his department heads all lit up, as though they wanted this. Wanted more locations, meaning more new employees, and more slaves for his friends to feed from. The sheer idea made her sick. “We have this club as well as the London establishments, plus two upcoming clubs in York. I’m thinking Dublin, Edinburgh and Cardiff. What are your thoughts?”

  Each of the department heads and managers then painstakingly gave their input and Wynter found herself watching the clock, willing them to hurry it along, but it was no use. The time was rapidly passing and as two-am approached, it didn’t seem as if the meeting were remotely over with. Marcus had clearly timed his get-together so that she was stuck there. His captive and, therefore, his new Friday blood bag. But there was another caveat to his request. He wanted her to do the unthinkable, and fear suddenly raged within her.

  Wynter didn’t want any kind of public show, and all she could do to settle her fraught mind was to look around the table at those he had invited along. To scrutinise his obvious choices.

  His words from the recording were echoing around in her head. The others had been chosen to attend not only for their advice on the proposed new clubs, but also for her to choose a fuck buddy for the morning from. Marcus had told her so, and now it was all she could think about. The group continued discussing the plans for this newest endeavour, of which Wynter had the sneaking suspicion was already in the pipeline anyway so the meeting was nothing but a ruse, and she continued to watch them all in silence.

  “London has been an incredibly successful venture and there is plenty of hype around the new club in York. I don’t see why creating more would be an issue,” Marcella was saying, “create a national branding. Do you have any premises in mind, Mr Cole?”

  Wynter wanted to throttle her. She’d just opened up the conversation further and Marcus jumped right in. He began projecting photographs onto the far wall with the help of a device on the desktop and every head turned to look as a slideshow began to play.

  It was like they were mesmerised or something, because every one of them were silent and still, doing nothing but stare at the point on the wall where Marcus demanded.

  Wynter wondered why, but then quickly got her answer when he took his seat and leaned close, his lips just an inch or so from her ear.

  “Ten minutes to go, Wynter,” he whispered. She followed his gaze to the clock on the wall and saw that he was right. In just ten minutes she would be his once again. She knew, deep down, that she didn’t want to stay. She wanted her freedom and felt anger and anxiety spear in her gut just thinking about being forced into submission yet again by her strange new employer. Wynter also wanted to stand up and slap Patrick for being so old and feeble. How come he was getting off the hook? She glared at him but could see for herself how he was diminishing. Patrick had to be dying. That was the only explanation.

  “And what happens then?” she enquired instead of lashing out.

  “I shall begin to feed,” Marcus answered, as though it was obvious, “and they shall watch.”

  Wynter shuddered and shook her head no. She turned to peer into his icy blue eyes.

  “No, please,” she begged, but could see Marcus wasn’t going to budge. He had trapped her there and forced her to comply with his first wish, but then he was going to add to that defeat by making her entertain him with one of her colleagues. The sheer thought of it made Wynter want to be sick.

  “Then choose quickly,” he replied with a sinister smile.

  “I don’t want any of them,” Wynter told him, shaking her head. “Please, I can’t do it.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  He was right. All she could think about was Warren. How she wanted him to be the one to take care of her like he had promised. She couldn’t deny finding him attractive and had been spending more time down in the IT department because of that pull. Wynter had hoped that one day they’d reach a point where things might’ve moved forward between them, but that wasn’t the only reason she felt drawn to Warren now. Regardless of her true feelings towards him, he was the only one she trusted not to take advantage of her when she was vulnerable. The only person there who wasn’t a vulture, as he’d called them.

  Like always, Marcus could tell what she was thinking and seemed to know she did in fact have someone in mind. With a wide smile he then turned back to the team and garnered their attention once again. “Very well,” he told them. “I will visit these locations in due course and choose accordingly. Thank you for your input.”

  Wynter listened, thinking how he hadn’t actually taken any real advice from them. She’d been right, he had made up his mind already. His conclusion further confirmed her suspicions that the meeting had been a trick just to get her in his office for when two-am arrived.

  She stared at the clock while he spoke, watching the seconds count up to the change of hour. When two-am came, she let out a defeated sigh as she slumped back in her chair. The deal was done. Marcus had won. No matter what she’d said or done, he had won. She had to accept her third day of overtime no matter her reluctances. And it wasn’t about to end there.

  He didn’t even look at her as he reached down and plucked her closest hand from where she’d cradled them in her lap. “Before you all leave, I have one last order of business.”

  As if he had mesmerised them again, the room fell silent and all of his chosen minions watched intently as he began to drink from her. As if it were nothing at all out of the ordinary.

  Wynter’s heart was pounding in her chest and she had to look away as she felt her body flush with heat and desire as he began to drink. She rubbed her thighs together uncontrollably and let out a moan when he drew in a deep gulp. The world was spinning, but he stopped before she could get too lightheaded and then closed the wound, offering Wynter her wrist back with a wink.

  Marcus then took a look around the room, surveying each of them, as if he were reading them in the same way she often felt he was reading her. “Tell me, which of you would like to stay behind and help Wynter to better serve my needs?” he asked them, and she watched as whatever spell he’d put them under waned and they were allowed to respond.

  “Master, they should not be allowed to feed you. If she’s not adequate enough then you should call upon one of us, not them,” Joanna demanded, pointing to the others with nothing but contempt. In fact, she was staring at Wynter in just the same way and she felt like getting up and throttling her.

  “Come now, Joanna. I’ve warned you against petty jealousy already this past week,” Marcus replied casually, but Wynter could t
ell he was seething. “Don’t make me have to teach you another of my lessons.” She paled and sat back in her chair, looking flustered. “In fact, you three may leave. This doesn’t involve you,” he added, and then shooed them away. Begrudgingly, Jack, Patrick and a very sour looking Joanna all got up and left, leaving the rest of them behind.

  Wynter watched them as the remaining few waited with achingly painful patience for him to reveal his intentions, but instead he turned to her and a broad, devious smile spread across his lips.

  Before she could ask him what he wanted of her, she was moving. Climbing up out of her seat and onto the table against her own will. She knew it was Marcus doing it to her, but also that she had no other choice but to comply. His power over her was growing stronger, or at least it felt like it.

  The vampire surveyed her as she moved into a seated position before him, just like she had on his desk before, and then he pushed back in his chair so that Wynter’s legs could dangle open in front of him. Her heels slipped off her feet and onto the floor, but he didn’t seem to care.

  She could see him looking up her skirt hungrily and felt herself flush with heat again. Something inside of her wished he were looking at her that way because he wanted her physically. Desire for him burned brighter than ever and even though Wynter knew he only wanted the blood coursing through her veins, not the rest of the packaging, she still yearned for him in ways that shocked her. She was no fool. In the back of her mind she still knew those feelings were the work of the curse and nothing more, and yet, something made her wonder if she was beginning to cave. To love him, just like he and the others had warned she would.

  “Marcus,” she hummed, “I want you, and you alone.” Wynter’s voice was quiet and soft, but full of yearning, and she watched as his eyes flashed with something. Some kind of emotion or comprehension, she couldn’t be sure, but her words had seemed to surprise him. He shook it off almost immediately and let his cool and calm iciness fall back into place.

  “I invite one of you to stay behind and see to it that Wynter is given her fill of orgasms,” he told the others, having ignored her plea. “Who would like to volunteer?” Marcus then added, and Wynter saw each and every one of her colleagues’ hands go up.

  She was about to turn around so she could speak to them and apologise, to explain that this wasn’t her doing, but it appeared Marcus had other ideas. He stood and grabbed her by the knees she’d had open in front of her, and then yanked them skywards. The move forced Wynter to fall back on the table, and she lifted her head just in time to stop it from crashing against the hard wood.

  She went to cry out and give Marcus what for, when he parted her legs further and pushed her skirt up around her waist. He was so quick that by the time she went to react to each of his movements, he was already onto the next, and so all Wynter could do was lie back and let him do as he pleased. She got the feeling that was precisely the point. He was giving the others a show to lure them in, but also making it clear that Wynter herself had no sway over his actions, or how their day together was going to go.

  Wynter locked eyes with Warren just as Marcus unclipped the stocking from her left thigh and began to remove it. “Choose,” he told her before pressing his lips to her exposed flesh. She kept her eyes on Warren’s even as Marcus cut into her skin and began to drink.

  She let out a mewling sort of cry when the first wave of pleasure overtook her, and opened her mouth, ready to say Warren’s name.

  Humiliation overwhelmed her when he frowned and shook his head no before she could choose him. Wynter was mortified beyond anything she had felt before and knew Marcus could sense it. He let out a deep, rumbling growl and gulped harder from her vein, and she knew he was enjoying her moment of utter shame and despair.

  She turned her face away from Warren and instead peered up at the ceiling, wracking her brains with whom to choose next, when she felt someone take her hand on the opposite side. Wynter looked for the culprit, and found Marcella watching her with a gentle, innocent smile. Far from the friendly and relaxed way she’d had when they’d spent time together the few occasions Wynter had gone to her office.

  It was a relief to find someone willing, and she trusted Marcella, like she thought she had trusted Warren. She was genuinely pleased to have her friend come through for her in the end. Wynter even began to wonder just how much Warren had meant it when he’d made her his promises, and found herself recoiling from his direction on the table. She arched towards Marcella and smiled back at her, her body roaring with ecstasy and desire, but not for Marcus this time.

  “I’ve chosen,” she whimpered, and felt it as he closed the cut he had made before releasing her from his steady hold.

  Free from his grasp, she clambered up onto the table and settled herself in front of Marcella, who had kept a firm grasp of her hand and was now holding it to her lips.

  She didn’t know about her new friend, but Wynter had never been with a woman before. She figured it would be just the same as with a man though, minus the obvious, and was more than ready to give it a go. Her hormones were in frenzy and Wynter didn’t hesitate to kiss Marcella when she turned her sweet face up towards hers. It was a gentle kiss, but also one of mutual acceptance and respect. Anything seemed possible with her, and even felt right. Far from the forced choice their entire encounter had initially seemed.

  Wynter felt ready to indulge in a fantasy she’d not humoured before, and was pleased to sense the same emotions emanating from Marcella via their kiss. They were both eager, yet willing to be led by the other. And, of course, by the dictator who had instigated the entire thing.

  ***

  Marcus licked his lips, watching the two women with a salacious smile.

  “Everybody out, bar Marcella,” he commanded, and his order was obeyed immediately and without question. Just the way he liked it. The team of department heads moved for the lift as a collective, each emanating the same sense of disappointment, but one of them was giving off regret and despair in droves. It was calling to Marcus’s senses and he decided it was time to play one more game before indulging his new pet and her fantasies.

  He left Wynter and Marcella to collect themselves and chased the disparaged IT guy down. Marcus held Warren back as he tried to follow the others into the elevator and then thrust him against the wall so that he would have a full view of the two women on a mission to satisfy both him and themselves once they were all alone.

  Warren tried to fight against him, and Marcus had to smile at the foolish boy’s attempt to defy him. He almost respected him for it.

  “Please, Mr Cole. Let me go. I have to work my overtime today,” he demanded, as if that would sway him.

  “They can wait,” Marcus answered without a care for the vampires who had booked Warren’s services and would be waiting for him downstairs. They were going to be angry, but it would be Warren who would have to deal with it, not him.

  And then he remembered just why this little minion in particular was so popular. “Although, that’s exactly what they want, isn’t it? To be allowed to punish you. To watch you suffer and pay for keeping them waiting.”

  Warren groaned and fought against Marcus again, and he surprised the old vampire with the display of strength he had when faced with the very creature who owned his body and soul.

  He and Wynter were kindred spirits indeed, and it suddenly dawned on Marcus what his Priestess had told him just nights before. Wynter was going to fall in love with another if he didn’t stop her. She was going to break his curse and blood would spill by the next full moon.

  Well, Marcus was determined to make sure that didn’t happen. He could feel for himself how Warren was indeed torn. He needed to leave and yet had wanted to stay, so why had he refused her?

  “Please,” was all he replied, and Marcus found himself letting go.

  “You’re a fighter, Warren,” he told him, “so fight.”

  “Fight who, sir?” he replied, and all Marcus had to do was nod his head in Wynter
’s direction to give him his answer.

  “If you touch her, I will end you,” he threatened through gritted teeth. “I will gut you and skin you alive, little rabbit, simply because I can. And then I’ll serve you up in pieces to all of my friends.”

  Warren shuddered but then took a deep breath and stood taller, as though desperately trying to show dominance rather than cave beneath Marcus’s threat.

  “We’re just colleagues. I promised I’d look after her whenever you’re done lapping at her veins and I meant it,” he then replied, but Marcus could still sense the despair oozing out of him. And the lust. He was watching the two women kiss and fondle one another intently, desperate to go and join them. Warren couldn’t tear his eyes away and Marcus knew it was because he regretted his decision to refuse her.

  “You had your chance and you blew it. The next time she comes to see you, I suggest you tell her straight away that you’re not interested in being her friend or her lover, or whatever the hell she wants you to be. She belongs to me and I say who and where and how. Got it, little rabbit?”

  Warren saw red and Marcus revelled in the rage coming off him in droves. He’d taunted him on purpose and was delighted by the foolish man’s reaction.

  “Call me a fucking rabbit one more time and I swear to God I will find a way to hurt you,” he growled, and Marcus simply burst out laughing.

  In one fluid and controlled move, he then grabbed Warren by the back of the head and slammed it off the closed elevator doors. He fell to the ground, leaving a smear of blood in his wake, and clutched at his face as his nose began to pour with blood. Marcus contemplated taking a taste, but then recoiled. The fool was tainted and ruined. His blood marked by all those who had fed on him before.