As she tried to sit up, another thought struck her. She’d only had one drink. A double or perhaps a tad stronger, but certainly not a skin-full. Not enough to have her drunk and disorderly so fast.
Had she been poisoned? No, it couldn’t be. But it was feasible that she’d been drugged. The barman. It had to be him, the bastard.
She somehow hoisted herself off the chair and to her feet, and left her shoes where she’d kicked them off on her way in. Wynter could barely stand as it was, let alone try to negotiate her way around with heels on too. They could stay behind, no big deal.
She told herself over and over to move. To work on autopilot. To just get upstairs and prove Marcus wrong. He couldn’t have one of his minions drug her just so he could punish her for being late. Nope. Wasn’t going to happen.
Wynter just about managed to lock her office door closed behind her and then she stumbled across the hall to the lift, having to feel the wall for the call button as her eyes were now hardly working at all.
Once inside, she pressed the number four and then slumped to her knees. By the grace of God she still hadn’t passed out, but it didn’t feel as if it’d be long. Sleep was calling to her and her body ached for it. But no, she had to move. Wynter told herself to just stay awake a little longer, and when the doors opened to reveal a freshly kitted out office ahead, she was forced to crawl out of the lift on her hands and knees.
“I like you this way,” Marcus’s voice spoke from somewhere ahead of her, but she couldn’t see him. All she could see was the ground a couple of feet away as she clambered in the direction of his voice. “On your knees and at my command.”
Wynter couldn’t answer. She simply slumped to the ground and then curled in on herself protectively. What was happening? She hated every second and wanted to cry.
She tried to plead with him not to punish her, but her words were nothing but garbled groans, just making Marcus laugh. She then wanted to shout at him not to be so rude, but had nothing left. No fight. No voice. Not even her last string of consciousness.
Drowsiness took her and Wynter let herself succumb to it, but somehow even when she was beneath that veil, she was still aware of herself and of her surroundings. She wasn’t completely gone, but was in no way in charge of her body. It betrayed every command she gave it to move or to fight and she wanted so desperately to scream, but could do nothing even remotely close.
It was like she was trapped inside her own skin. Just another sort of prison Marcus had created for her…
***
Marcus chuckled to himself as he watched her slip under, and he leaned down, scooping Wynter into his arms like a baby. She was utterly limp and her body was splayed around him, his hold the only thing keeping her in place. He knew that should he drop her she would tumble to the ground like a broken doll, and he contemplated doing so, just to show her what he was capable of. Pain was the best form of punishment after all, but as he peered down into her face, he knew that wasn’t the right approach for his little fighter. He didn’t want her to be in any physical pain. Only in emotional turmoil and anguish.
That wasn’t so much to ask, was it?
But for now, he would enjoy her this way. She was gone from her body and yet still lucid. Trapped inside her mind thanks to the spell Marcella had cast upon her like he had requested. Wynter was so trusting. So sweet and innocent at times. The Priestess wanted her as a friend and for her to join the pair of them as an eternal ally, he could tell, but that couldn’t happen. Marcus had told her so no end of times already. But, he’d still allowed the two of them some time together to show his loyal witch that her needs had meant something to him.
First though, she had of course delivered her with the gift their new Jinn friend had provided to bind Wynter and her new protector. She’d remained shrouded and had chosen to carry on maintaining her secret identity, and Marcus knew it was partly because the Priestess enjoyed being her friend too much to reveal herself yet. She’d also played Wynter using both sides of her relevant personas and Marcus had rejoiced in her devious tactics. She’d learned from the best after all.
Wynter sighed against him and he felt her innermost desires rise to the surface. He sensed her fear, but also her longing to feel safe. To have him keep her close in her hour of need and protect her while she was vulnerable. Damn, that was new.
Marcus had never been the saviour in the story before and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
He leaned down to place a soft kiss against her forehead and could smell the club on her. Smell the other men whose scents had marked her. Detect the tang of alcohol on her breath and in her pores. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he told her, heading for the bathroom.
On the way, Marcus took a second to admire his new surroundings. Gone was the glass partition and in its place was an actual wall. He had to open a door in the centre and walk through it to get to the area on the other side, adding some privacy to the otherwise huge open space.
In there sat a new pair of sofas that were deeper set and more comfortable than his previous ones, or so his interior designer had told him. They were to become his location for feeding during the week, as well as a place for quiet contemplation should his slave of the day require it. Unlike with Wynter, he usually dismissed Jack or Joanna once he’d fed and they would sleep it off in their offices, hence the couches each of them had and the necessity for locked doors. But all of that was going to change. The dynamics of their arrangement was going to be vastly different soon and Marcus wanted to be ready for when he announced that change.
He continued on through the large space and passed the freshly remodelled kitchenette to the fully equipped bathroom still on the left side of the second room. Next to that was a new set of drawers, but only the one. And only for his things.
Wynter’s clothes were now located elsewhere—in the third new room situated on the opposite side of the room where nothing but the floor-to-ceiling windows had once been. They had now been blacked out and glued shut, giving her total privacy as well as no chance of escape.
Two more new walls now blocked that same corner off and made a bedroom just big enough to house a double bed, an en-suite and a small selection of furnishings. Inside of the drawers there were simple garments for Wynter to wear for him. Not the old fashioned nightdresses he’d used to insist on, but more modern clothing. The tea dresses she liked and replacement pyjamas with warm, fluffy socks. She was going to become his captive now as well as his slave, but that didn’t mean she had to wear rags or go cold.
But first, he needed her fresh and cleaned up. He wanted her body free from dirt, makeup and perfume. Just with her natural look and freshly washed scent. She was his gift to himself, after all, and he wanted her to stay perfect.
Marcus ran a warm bath and peeled away her clothes, being gentle with her in spite of his urgency. He desired her incredibly and his eyes kept going to the vein at her neck, but he forced himself to wait. To be patient.
He would have his fill in due course and the anticipation only made it better.
Wynter sighed and her eyes fluttered open when he lowered her into the deep water, but she was still completely at his command. So at his mercy that he even had to slip his arm underneath her shoulders to lift her up from behind and stop her from inhaling the fragrant water. He then washed her with his other hand and he took his time, slowly running just a simple bar of soap across her naked flesh while caressing her skin and cleaning every inch.
Her eyes followed him and Marcus knew she was slowly coming out the other side of the spell. He didn’t have long before she would find some motion again. Some feeling in her hands and feet, and eventually all over. And he had a feeling she wasn’t going to be happy about it.
The Priestess had warned him her listlessness would be temporary. A slow building stun that would reach a climax and then ease off again, which Marcus could tell had already begun. And so he moved slightly faster.
He finished up, pulled the plug and dried Wynter
off before wrapping her in a towel and then clutching her to him again. He then carried her out to the living area but did not dwell there. Instead, he unlocked the new bedroom and took her inside.
Wynter fit perfectly in the centre of the bed. Her dark hair was back off her face and her limp, naked body looked beautifully pale in the dim light streaming in from just the open doorway.
She opened her mouth and tried to speak, her eyes wide. Her lips then pressed together and Marcus knew she was trying to say his name. “It’s okay, my sweet,” he told her as he climbed onto the bed alongside her. “I’m here. I won’t hurt you, and I won’t drink until you’re better.”
Her body convulsed ever so slightly and Wynter sucked in a deep breath. She then peeled back her lips and whispered three small words with as much venom as she could apparently muster.
“You. Did. This.”
Marcus leaned down over her and pressed his nose to her cheek, where he inhaled the sweet, bitter taste of her rage. He willed the spell to wear off quicker. To lessen its hold over her some more so she could continue to defy him, and tried not to smile. Not to give the game away, but he couldn’t do it. The ancient vampire grinned down at her and captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
“What are you going to do about it?” he whispered, challenging her, and then planted a deep, hard kiss against her trembling lips. He then kept his mouth against hers but let his hand rove over her body, caressing her breasts and mound while feeling as she responded at last and was finally able to start moving against him.
Wynter initially tried to pull away, but Marcus just gripped her tighter, and he pushed one knee between her thighs to pin her down. He kept on kissing her, even when she found the strength return to her hands and pushed at his chest and tried to fight herself free. Like he’d promised, he’d waited, but now that she was no longer captive in her own body, he unsheathed the razor sharp edge to his tongue and let it slice through the tip of hers.
She had fought her way out of Marcella’s spell, but within a second she was under his. The power of the bite was no match for even the strongest of humans and Wynter did a complete one-eighty. Just moments before she was fighting him in a bid to get away, but now she was holding him to her and kissing him back like a woman possessed.
She gripped his thigh with her own and squeezed, and Marcus knew what she needed. What it was she was craving.
What she was always bloody craving. She certainly wasn’t afraid of her sexuality.
But he wasn’t going to give into her needs.
Not today.
Eight
Wynter was trying so hard not to let him make her feel this way, but it was no use. Marcus was in her head, in charge of her body, and invading every one of her senses thanks to his explosive kiss and his roving hands. She’d laid in that bath confused, scared, and then seething. He had done this to her, she knew it for sure now, and he’d clearly loved having her at his complete and utter mercy. It didn’t matter that he’d been gentle and tentative with her bath, the fact remained that he had drugged her.
She closed her eyes and tried to think of Warren. To imagine he was the one doing this to her, and it worked for all of a few seconds until Marcus’s voice was ringing in her ears, their kiss having finally broken.
“I’m waiting, little fighter. I expected more from my favourite little pet…”
Oh hell no, she thought. There was no way she was standing for being called that.
Wynter knew it might be exactly what Marcus expected of her, but she did as he asked and fought back. She pushed him away and clambered from the bed, charging for the door regardless of her nakedness. There would be clothes somewhere for her to grab, surely. Or at least a towel or a new throw from on the sofa outside.
She reached the door and put her hand down in search of the handle, but there wasn’t one there. The door was flat to the touch and no amount of pushing on it or searching for a handle made the damn thing budge.
The sound of mirthful laughter from behind her made Wynter’s blood boil. She turned on her heel and glowered at Marcus, who was lounging on the bed where she’d left him as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
“That door,” he then told her with that wide smile she’d come to hate, “only opens if you have the key. And I have the only one.”
“You can’t keep me locked in here, Marcus,” Wynter demanded, “we made a deal.”
“Yes I know,” he replied nonchalantly, and she let out a huffed sigh. He was incorrigible!
“Marcus, will you please just speak to me?” she begged, and then she started looking around the room, checking the drawers in the hope she might find some clothes to wear so she could at least cover her modesty. Each one was empty and it wasn’t long before the cold began to creep in, so it was clear she had no other choice than to climb back on the bed and under the heavy covers to get warm.
Marcus scooted aside but remained atop them, and Wynter was glad. She wanted him as far away from her as possible, even if that was just the other side of a duvet.
“What would you like to talk about, Wynter?” he then asked in a gentle, eloquent tone, “shall we discuss how you’ve betrayed my trust no less than three times in the past twelve hours? Perhaps you’d care to start by explaining why you left my office during the day and then invited David back up here with you?”
“What?” Wynter cried, shaking her head. That was not what’d happened and he knew it. “He followed me up here against my will and tried to force himself on me. That was not by invitation!”
“And then you sat back while my Priestess was forced to step in and take his life because of your ineptitude, before finding solace in the arms of another vampire. And, let’s not forget that embarrassing moment when you dared try and seduce me again,” Marcus added with a roll of his eyes.
God, she hated him. Hated all the ways he made her feel so inadequate and unlovable, and even more so because even with all of that, he still wouldn’t leave her be.
“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met. Do you know that?” Wynter croaked, but Marcus didn’t seem to hear her. He clearly hadn’t finished berating her and wasn’t going to be interrupted until he’d completed his chiding.
“You then ran to him, Wynter. You ran to Warren and told him all about your evil master. Told him you wanted to escape me. Let him make you believe you two could become something more than what I have allowed you to be.”
Marcus leaned closer and tried to cup her face with his hand, but Wynter pulled away. She didn’t want him to touch her, but he gave her no choice. He reached around and grabbed her damp hair, fisting it roughly in the same palm that just a second before had been so gentle. “After all that I have done for you, how is it I’m still the monster?
“You are a monster, Marcus. You drugged me and locked me in here against my will,” she seethed.
“You decided to go partying rather than do your job. That’s grounds for punishment if ever there was one,” he replied with a dark, knowing stare. Marcus then dipped his head and pressed his mouth to Wynter’s neck over her vein.
“I won’t be your prisoner. You can’t do this to me,” she groaned.
“When all of this is over, you won’t have to be a prisoner,” Marcus corrected her, “because you’ll follow me anywhere. Do anything I tell you. Be anything I want you to be…” his razor-sharp tongue then cut her flesh and he began to drink.
This time, Marcus took deep gulps, rendering Wynter immobile in just a couple of mouthfuls, and she hated that he was right. She was lost to him within seconds and was indeed his. No doubt about that.
Something told her getting away wasn’t going to be quite as easy as she’d once thought.
***
Marcus had his fill of Wynter’s delectable blood and stopped a little too close to being dangerously short of draining her dry. Unlike the last times though, he didn’t rush to tend to her or replenish her valuable blood stores with an IV bag. He simply sat back a
nd admired the young woman who had him so smitten he wanted to scream.
The girl who made him want everything and nothing all at the same time.
Marcus knew the best thing to do would be to send her away. To be rid of her temptress ways and be free of her presence that lured him to her with every breath she took. Wynter was indeed like a drug to him. She was the perfect taste when he was in one of his sunnier moods, but also the right elixir to calm his fraught mind whenever the desire to murder or maim overwhelmed him.
The main problem, as it currently stood, was that she was the cause of a lot of such hungers. Her disobedience irked him to no end and yet he egged her on, while her coy ways enamoured him and he welcomed that sweeter side she used to toy with him.
He adored being with her, and yet she loved to defy him and rile him up. She enjoyed playing with the fire within him and Marcus knew she did it on purpose. The Priestess had led Wynter into temptation without much more than a nudge of her rebellious side and had told him so too, but he’d already known. Wynter had been nothing but trouble since the moment she’d walked into that interview room, and yet, he simply couldn’t be without her.
Desire swelled within him again and he knew there was no denying it this time. He demanded satisfaction no matter how close his soul might come to merging with hers, and so he whipped back the covers and let his eyes rove over Wynter’s naked flesh. She was so pale. So delicate. So beautiful.
Marcus leaned down and sucked on one nipple, relishing in both the clean taste of her skin and the natural sweetness her womanly pores seemed to ooze with.
He unbuttoned his fly and began to touch himself, just like he had when in the shower with Wynter and Marcella. He then built his climax in no time at all, thanks to the model on show for him, and before he knew it he was covering her in his release.
Round Two Page 7