She flung open the door just as Marcus was coming through it and full on collided with him. He was like a wall against her flimsy human body and she crashed into him and stumbled backwards.
He reached his hand out and caught her around her lower back, the move serving to not only stop her from tumbling to the ground, but also yanking her flush against him.
“Tread carefully, Miss Armstrong,” he whispered in her ear as he held her there, and she couldn’t ignore the menacing tone to his voice.
“Or what?” she challenged, but Marcus ignored her. He let go and moved past her in a swift and fluid movement, holding the door open so that Wynter could escape like she’d planned.
She wanted to refuse him and stay, but knew she had no other choice than to leave them to it. He knew she was flummoxed, of course, and Marcus simply shut the door in her face with a sly smile, while all she could do was walk away with a huff.
***
Marcus was being petty, he knew it, but couldn’t help himself. The look on her face as Wynter had collided with him had been thoroughly amusing. Her reaction to him shutting the door in her then shocked face, however, had been priceless.
She’d been trying to hide from him ever since their fight, but he wasn’t really the kind to dwell. Yes, he’d lashed out in the moment, but his rage had quickly subsided. After he’d trashed the office it had just been a few minutes before he was setting in motion a plan to have it back up and running again before the night’s end.
The redecorated office would have everything he needed in it and then some, including a properly sectioned off area for Wynter to call home. A place where she could be locked away and stay safe from any and all others during the daytime.
The space was not for the additional managers, of course, but only her. He had offloaded his anger after she’d run from him and had now seen sense. He did want her, he couldn’t fully deny it, and so had perfected a different kind of plan to make her stay with him.
Marcus wasn’t going to let her leave, not even on the days she wasn’t obliged to stay and feed him. She would fight his decision, sure, but he was ready for her this time, and of course he had three thousand years worth of strategies at his disposal. She was no match for him and his superior strengths of both prowess and will. The sooner she accepted it the better.
Wynter had of course admitted defeat, but that wasn’t good enough. Marcus wanted her broken and completely at his disposal. He’d had enough of her evasion tactics, and even more so of her strong and independent woman routine.
She might not say so out loud, but she wanted someone to love her, and Marcus wanted to ensure she never found it. He was also going to make damn sure she never tried to get close enough to ask him again. The comfort and warmth had to go. He was determined not to give her anything else other than his usual attention while administering his bite. Wynter was his slave, not his lover, and it was time she learned that.
And yet, he couldn’t force aside the memory of her body as it’d called to his. Not only with her words, but also with her soul. She had wanted him to make love to her, and not for the first time. Was her soul really his for the taking? No, he reminded himself. She was only there because he had forced her to be. Plus there was that little show with Warren at that table. And then they’d disappeared into the back together? Nope. Not on his time, or under his nose. The boy had been threatened before about touching what wasn’t his, and Marcus wasn’t against issuing him with a polite reminder.
He carried on inside the huge department and then sat with Phoebe and fed her his lies while also using his power over her to ensure she believed everything he said. She was smitten with him in no time and had soon forgotten any questions she might’ve had about her cousin’s untimely demise. She believed it to be an accident. Plain and simple. Case closed.
That task over with, Marcus then turned his attention to Warren. He had spent the afternoon beating the little rabbit to within an inch of his life and then watching as his clients fed from him, and had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Enough that he wanted to toy with him some more. To savour the flavour of the boy’s defeat.
“What fun we’ve had today, you and I,” he told Warren as he entered his small section of private office and closed the door behind him.
Marcus watched as he fought with his conscience about whether to answer him back. Anger flared within him and yet Warren remained calm and collected. He couldn’t deny that he was impressed. “But it seems you need reminding of a few things, little rabbit…”
“I haven’t touched her,” Warren barked, still fighting his urge to properly argue back. “I promise. Wynter came to talk with me and we did, that’s all.”
“All of it?” Marcus replied knowingly and he watched with a satisfied smile as Warren squirmed under his scrutiny. He then took a seat opposite him at the small desk and grinned from ear to ear. “Shall I tell you what happened after I left you in that ring today? What I walked in on when I returned to my office?”
Warren squirmed and fear began oozing out of him. He was terrified of being hurt again, and given by how scared he was, it was a marvel that he was still standing.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll keep my distance. She instigated the kiss,” he eventually answered, and Marcus shook his head. Oh how easily he’d sold her out. Tried to get her in trouble rather than accept it himself.
“That’s not what I was talking about.”
“Then what?” Warren asked, and while he calmed a little he continued to shake with the remnants of his fear. It was utterly delightful.
“David… He loved Wynter. I knew it and she knew it. She tried to let him down gently, but then, she couldn’t help herself. She loved the attention he kept on giving her and lapped it up, even when she knew it was wrong to toy with the poor boy,” Marcus told him with a bogus sad look on his devious face. “When my back was turned she lured him up to my office thinking she could play with his emotions some more. She’d told him to keep their affair secret. To wait and pretend to everyone else that they were just friends, but all the while she’d promised him that when the time came they would be together. That one day they would be free to love one another openly.”
Marcus watched Warren crumble from the inside out. So, he was right. She’d made similar promises to him. She’d reached out and he had believed her when she’d told him they’d find a way to be together. Warren had trusted her, but not any more. Not after what Marcus was telling him. They were utter lies, but the imbecile didn’t know that, and thanks to the hex placed upon him that rendered his emotions never fully his own, he had no choice but to trust his forceful boss’s word.
“No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t love him,” Warren croaked.
“Of course not,” Marcus replied with a deep laugh, “she is incapable of love but is devious and selfish enough to pretend in order to get what she wants. Wynter likes to be adored and will do anything to have men falling at her feet. Women too.”
Warren replied with a groan. He clutched at his chest and shook his head, still struggling with the news, and so Marcus pushed him harder. “David was in turmoil. She had him tied up in so many knots that when she sent him away again he couldn’t stand it. He threw himself down those stairs because he could bear it no longer. It’s Wynter’s fault he’s dead, I saw the poor boy for myself. David’s death was no accident. He committed suicide thanks to what she did to him.”
Seven
Wynter headed straight for her office and threw herself inside in an angry and petulant mood. Marcus was toying with her, Warren was right, and she hated how she was letting him. Why the hell was he being like this? She’d already admitted defeat to him once today, and she was sure as shit not going to do it again.
No sooner had she locked the door behind her that a light cackling sound from behind her made her jump. She turned on her heel and found the Priestess standing over by her window that overlooked the dance floor below. Shrouded and hidden from prying eyes, as always, she was watchin
g the crowd. Wynter went to her, drawn to the powerful lady by not only her magnetism, but also the sense of trust that had already begun to develop between them. The Priestess had cared for her. Protected her. Kept her safe from harm when she had needed it most. The strange woman had earned a place in Wynter’s good graces, and she hoped to one day call her a friend.
“My lady,” Wynter greeted, using the same term Marcus always seemed to. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“My love, I wished to check on you. To make sure all was well, but you are fraught. Why?” she replied, her voice still that strange sound of mixed vocals all meshed into one. It always reminded Wynter of those horror movies where the young victim gets possessed and speaks in a demonic tone. There was nothing right about the sound in the slightest, but she didn’t recoil like she had the first time. She was getting used to it, and to her presence and all-seeing power, or so it seemed.
“Marcus has cruelly toyed with me,” she replied honestly, “he messes with my head and my heart. I can’t stand it.”
“Yes,” was all the powerful witch replied. The Priestess was unequivocally loyal to him, Wynter knew, but she also seemed to understand her plight. She had to know what a pain in the backside he could be, even if she wouldn’t betray him by saying so. “Here, I have a gift for you,” the Priestess then whispered and reached out her hand. Atop her gloved palm was a jewellery box and Wynter frowned down at it. Somehow, it felt like whatever it was inside might be about to make things worse. As if it were a dastardly trick Marcus was having the witch play on her.
“What’s inside?” she asked, but the Priestess shook her head.
“You’ll have to open it and see…”
“Did Marcus put you up to this?” she tried, and felt immediately relieved when the strange woman shook her shrouded head no.
“I made it for you. This token of my affection will keep you safe from harm, Wynter.”
“More so than your locator spell?”
“Yes…”
She could bear the suspense no longer and opened the square box to reveal a white beaded bracelet. She reached forward and stroked the luminescent beads, and found it was made of he lightest and yet sturdiest stone she had ever felt. And the colour! It was like the fullest of moons on a clear, dark night.
It was as if the beads had been carved from some kind of marble, or glass, or… she had no idea. It truly was like nothing she’d seen before. Utterly extraordinary.
She inspected it more and found there was just one solitary black stone at the base, and as she took the bracelet and viewed it in the light, Wynter was sure she saw the blackness within the bead wisp and move, like mist. “My gift to you, my love. Wear it always and none shall be allowed to cause lasting or irreparable harm to you. Not even your master.”
Now then, why hadn’t she led with that? Such a gift would be perfect, as long as it were true.
Wynter did as she’d commanded and slipped her hand through the circle of beads, and felt a strange shudder pass over her when they clasped tightly around her wrist. She figured the bracelet had to have been empowered with some kind of protection spell and, while it was strange to be so used to such things nowadays, she thanked the Priestess.
She then watched the shrouded woman for a moment before looking down on the throbbing sea of partygoers below them. She’d forgotten it was Saturday night and felt a pang of longing as she watched the humans dancing and enjoying themselves at the club. So unaware of whose establishment they were in. So innocent of the danger all around.
Wynter envied them.
“I guess I’d better get some work done,” she told the Priestess, eyeing the clock. It was one-am.
“But you don’t want to, do you?” she replied knowingly, “you still want to rebel against him. To be disobedient and have a little fun.”
“Yes, but I know he won’t allow it,” Wynter replied dejectedly.
“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him…” the Priestess told her, and she could hear that she was smiling thanks to her jovial tone.
Someone then knocked on her office door, and Wynter watched as the witch disappeared from sight in the blink of an eye, rather than be present when she opened it. She almost didn’t, but was glad she’d decided to because on the other side of her office door stood Marcella. She was grinning mischievously and came bounding inside without having to ask for an invitation.
“Hey, what’s up?” Wynter asked, but Marcella just eyed her up and down, her finger tapping her chin thoughtfully.
“Lose the blazer and unbutton your blouse a little,” she ordered, and Wynter did as she asked, her brow furrowed in questioning. “Great, much better. Come on,” Marcella then commanded, taking her by the hand.
“What’s going on?” Wynter asked again, still confused.
“We’re going to have a dance,” Marcella replied, throwing in an eye roll as though it ought to have been obvious. “I’ve suddenly got an urge to be naughty and go enjoy myself. Don’t make me go down there alone…” she added with a pout.
Wynter had to laugh. She got the feeling the Priestess was behind this but wasn’t the least bit angry or upset about it. In fact, an hour of bunking off work was exactly what she could do with, and she nodded to her new friend.
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” she told Marcella as she followed her out into the hallway and then locked the door behind her.
The pair of them sneaked down to the dance floor, where they danced and immersed themselves deeply in the throng of people enjoying their Saturday night out in the old town. Most of the men around them were drunk and a little bit handsy, but they each just batted any wandering hands or wannabe suitors away without a care. They weren’t there to pull, but to simply let off a bit of steam.
Wynter was used to the craziness a Saturday night out on the town brought with it though, and she let herself just be in the moment. She loved being back to her old self again and was under no illusion that she’d be in trouble once Marcus found out, but she didn’t care. She was having fun for the first time in days and was enjoying every second of it. Plus, she had her new friend by her side and couldn’t deny she was enjoying the company. The pair of them had spent those strange but hot few hours fooling around together the previous day but it didn’t seem to have unhinged their friendship in the slightest. All that mattered was how they were two kindred souls who enjoyed their carefree relationship. Wynter trusted her and knew the feeling was mutual.
Once they were finished dancing, Marcella called for a break and led her to the bar, where she ordered herself a glass of water.
“And I’ll have a large gin and tonic,” Wynter added, and the barman gave her a nod before getting to work on her drink.
She then turned to Marcella, thinking of the conversation she had overheard between her and Marcus before she’d left them the previous day. “So, you’re pregnant?”
Marcella practically spat out her drink but managed to gulp it down in time, and Wynter laughed.
“He told you?”
“Nope, I overheard you two talking,” she explained and then gave her a nudge, “it’s okay. Just as long as you’re fine?”
“I am, thank you,” Marcella replied with a soft smile, “it’s only early days, but he knew, of course.”
Wynter nodded. Marcus must have sensed it on her, just like he could their emotions and such. He might’ve known before she had.
“And you’re happy?” she asked.
“Ecstatic,” she answered with a beaming smile, and Wynter believed her. She was glowing, and her eyes were sparkling. Brimming with happiness. The petite redhead was lighting up the room, and in a way, Wynter envied her. Marcella must have a life outside of the club. A world of her own out there and someone who loved her. But then again, she’d said she was single, so maybe not. Maybe she was just pleased that a happy accident had come her way, and why the hell not?
The barman then brought over her drink and Wynter went to pay, but he shooed her away
and walked off without a word. She shook her head. Marcus. He had to know they were there and told them to give her free drinks. How else could the guy have known? Or did he somehow just know they were fellow members of the same slave vampire team? Were the barmen and women in on the charade too? Were they all?
Wynter suddenly felt under the spotlight. One of the bouncers was standing at the end of the bar and she caught his eye. She remembered him from her visits to the club before, but also from her nights spent there since joining the ranks of the Blood Slaves. He knew exactly who she was and Wynter realised as she took a look around at the rest of the staff members, whose eyes darted her and Marcella’s way, that they probably all knew. She was no longer just a face in the crowd, but a known entity. Someone to watch and report back on. Not free in any sense of the word.
She grabbed her drink and took a long pull on the straw poking out the top. It was strong—good. Just what she needed to calm her nerves. Wynter finished the drink in record time and then she jumped down from her stool and took Marcella by the hand, indicating that she ought to go back upstairs. She pouted again but nodded. It was the right thing to do and so Wynter took the lead. All she wanted was to get out of there. Back to the quiet solace of her office.
“Thanks for that,” she told Marcella when they reached the third floor and had come to a stop in the hallway. “I really enjoyed myself.”
“Anytime, babe,” she answered, and then the pair of them headed off in their separate directions to their offices.
By the time Wynter had unlocked the door and shuffled inside, she was feeling lightheaded. She just about managed to lock the door behind her when a wave of nausea hit and she had to quickly lie down on the small couch Marcus had thankfully placed there for her.
Her body suddenly felt heavy, and her arms and legs numb. Her eyesight even began to betray her and she forced herself to focus on the clock above her computer. There were just minutes to spare until it was two-am. Marcus would surely punish her for turning up to feed him while drunk, but Wynter knew it would be ten times worse if she arrived late or not at all.
Round Two Page 6