by Calin, Ana
“Your men followed him?”
“No, but my men are everywhere in Venice. And all of them recognize Conan Wolf when they see him, the carrier of The Reaper’s weapon.”
“The Reaper’s weapon.” I lick my parched lips, trying hard to pull myself together. “What is this weapon?”
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”
“You’ve already shared so many secrets with me. Why not this one?”
“Because it’s a terrible one.”
“As terrible as his cannibalizing people?”
“Yes.”
He takes distance from me, my back now cold in the breeze of the Venice night.
“Think about my proposition, Janine,” Lorenzo says from the door. “Oh, and it might help to know that Conan Wolf has been removed from your service—I instructed my guards not to let him back into the palazzo no matter what.”
“What?” I turn around. “Don’t you dare, Lorenzo Piovra.”
“You have until tomorrow morning to make your decision, Janine—let me imprint on you and help me build an army that will free Darkwood Falls and the entire world from the serpents forever.”
“I don’t need until tomorrow—it’s a freaking no!”
“Don’t rush. Take into consideration that, in case you refuse, I will have no more use for you than I do for Conan Wolf.” He pauses enough for me to understand the death threat. “By the way, if he does make it back to you past the barriers I set up for him, it would be advisable to turn him away. It is very possible that he’ll try to imprint on you and therefore render you useless to me. Know that, if this happens, I will kill you on sight. Besides, don’t forget he’d be doing it for his own selfish purposes.” He waves the tablet at me. “Mask and tits under a red light. What was that you said about the warmth you felt from him?”
With that he exits my room, his men trailing after him. The door falls shut and I stare at it for moments. When I finally grasp what just happened, everything playing like a rapid movie before my eyes, I collapse on the floor, crying hard. Many people have tried to break me in my life, but I’m afraid Lorenzo Piovra might just succeed.
Janine
MY EYES HURT AS I STARE out into the dawn. I haven’t looked into the mirror, because what’s the point, but I know I must look like shit. I’m wearing the same night robe as yesterday, and I don’t plan on changing. I can already hear the echo of Lorenzo’s men up the stairs, and I know he’s coming for my decision.
I’ve spent the night imagining all the ways his proposition would destroy me. I’ve met forced prostitutes in my life, and many came to feel so worthless they became suicidal. I’m sure it wouldn’t be any different for me.
Lorenzo appears in the doorway. I can only see his shape from the corner of my eye, my mouth distorting as I swallow my disgust. He waits there for a few moments, expecting my decision. I finally turn, glaring at him with all the hatred I’m capable of, but I don’t say anything.
“So it’s a no after all,” he says, feigning disappointment. He steps inside the room, hands behind his back like a pondering wise man. “You know what’s funny, Janine, that you actually thought you had a choice.”
“Don’t I?” I cried so much my voice sounds like a crow’s. Lorenzo faces me with those pale blue eyes, a slight smile on his face that doesn’t do anything to hide his readiness to hurt me if he has to.
“I need you Janine,” he says. “I won’t be able to do this without you, so I can’t really afford to offer you a choice.”
“I’d rather die than sleep with a whole army of men.”
“Come on, would it really be so different from what you were doing in secret on your nights outside of Darkwood Falls?”
I fill my stare with all the contempt I feel for him. “I slept with a few guys over the course of ten years, and you think that means I could sleep with just anybody?”
“Come on, Janine, you make it sound a lot worse than it is. First of all, after the imprinting ceremony you’ll be loved beyond your wildest dreams. I will give you my heart, I’ll love you completely and madly. Building the army is going to be as devastating to me as it will be to you.”
“You don’t have a heart to give, you son of a bitch.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, please, my mother doesn’t have anything to do with this.” He approaches me, lifting my chin up so that we look into each other’s eyes. “This means more to me than you know, and I’ll prove it. I’ll make our first experience together special.”
I spit in his face, right here in front of his men. “If this is gonna cost me my soul,” I say under my breath, “then I’ll make sure it costs you your image, you narcissistic bastard.”
Lorenzo’s pretty boy features harden, showing his anger, and I half expect him to slap me. But he just turns his back to me, commanding his people something in Italian.
A couple of women enter the room, both from the fashion industry from the look of them. I struggle, determined to resist and not let them make me look appealing to that monster Lorenzo, but one of his men slings me over his shoulder, carrying me to the bathroom and dropping me into the bathtub. My screams and struggles are met with blank faces and a hard grip on my jaw and hands. By the time I exit the room in a long white silk dress, and smelling like a rose as if it were my wedding day, I have bruises around my wrists and on my neck. I guess it’s not gonna bother Lorenzo, though.
He’s crazy if he thinks I’ll give in without a fight. As they escort me down to the canal underneath the palazzo and to the gondola I make plans in my head, picturing all the ways I can make Lorenzo’s life a living hell after he imprints on me. It’s only a little while after my gondola has taken a turn and drifted onto a dark canal that I realize that something’s wrong.
I turn around, looking up at the gondolier, a female with olive complexion. Italian, I would say. She’s young, not wearing any make-up, but a hood over her head, her dark eyes fixed on a point in front of her.
A chill enwraps me as I look around at the decaying palazzos. We must be in a less frequented part of Venice. The waters seem colder, and the walls retain more chill, because they’re unrenovated, and in ruin. I recognize the corner with the red light, but when I turn to ask the woman for an explanation it’s no longer her that I see. It’s Conan. The gondola has reached a set of stone stairs, and he’s reaching out to help me.
“Come on,” he whispers, and I take his hand, forgetting all my grievances with him and happy beyond belief that he saved me from Lorenzo.
The first thing he does when I’m up on the dock is touch a finger to my lips, hushing me before I can open my mouth to speak, placing the other hand on the small of my back. I let him guide me inside what seems to be a bustling renaissance pub, or more like a brothel. Half-naked men and women with masks on their faces and drinks in their hands mingle with each other, their laughter mixing with the music.
Conan guides me to a small room at the very back of the establishment, a room that hookers must use with their clients, judging by the bed with silks and velvets, cushions, and side table with oils and perfumes. He closes the door and turns around, pushing the hood off his head.
Relief drains the blood from my head and I collapse to the floor, covering my face with my palms and sobbing hard. The floorboards shake under Conan’s steps as he walks to me, clasping my shoulders and pulling me up into his arms.
“What the hell, Conan.” I beat his chest. “Why the fuck did you leave me alone at Lorenzo’s palazzo, why did you leave me behind in that monster’s claws?”
“I can explain.” His deep voice vibrates against my hands as I unclasp my fists and splay my fingers over his boulder-hard pectorals, greedy for the reassurance that he is really here.
“You.” I sniffle. “You left me in order to go and fuck a hooker. But Lorenzo took the chance and came to my room, said things, did things.”
He clasps my arms, bringing me up on my toes, forcing me to look into his reddish eyes. The scar running down his face
makes him look like a killer who’s just spotted his target. “Did things? What did he do to you?”
Crying like crazy I tell him all about last night with Lorenzo, the things he said and what he planned to do with me. When I’m finished I’m sitting on the bed, wretched and sniffling, Conan standing in front of me, looking like he could tear Lorenzo’s head off his shoulders.
“And you couldn’t protect me,” I cry out. “You weren’t there. You were here, with a hooker, and his men saw you and took pictures.”
He roars and punches the wall, making me flinch and lift my knees up to protect myself. My mouth pops open as I look at the hole he just left in the wall. Jesus Christ, his fist actually broke through the bricks into the next room.
“Jesus,” I whisper.
Conan kneels in front of me, grabbing my waist and pulling me close. God, his fist is bloody.
“Lorenzo just tried to come between us. It was not what it looked like with that woman. But that bastard will stop at nothing to imprint on you, Janine. He’ll hunt you down your entire life if he has to, you won’t be safe from him till the day you die.”
“And what do you suggest that I do? Because, I’d rather die than ever be with that bastard.”
He presses his eyes shut as if the idea hurts him. “Don’t say that, please. For as long as he stalks you I will be shadowing you, shielding you from him. But that will have to come at a price.”
I give him a bitter smile. “Of course. Letting you imprint on me, isn’t it, that’s the price? He said you might try something like this.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I think I do. Now that you know what I’m worth, you’re reconsidering your decision of never imprinting. All for your own selfish reasons, just as Lorenzo predicted.”
“Janine, I don’t have to imprint on you. But I will have to protect you from him at all times, meaning that this time you’ll have absolutely no privacy left. I’ll never let what happened yesterday happen again.”
“It wouldn’t have happened yesterday either if you’d been there,” I snap at him, ready to cry and put more blame on him, but he cups my face with his big rough palm, looking deeply into my eyes as if he can feel my pain.
“I had to leave, and I had to do what I’ve done. It was part of the plan.”
“Argh,” I cry out in frustration, trying to slap his hand from my face but it doesn’t move him at all. “Part of the plan, seeing a hooker under a red light? You can’t fool me, Conan, because I saw the pictures. I saw you standing close to her, your chest touching her naked tits.” I bring my face to his, the heat of rage radiating off my skin. “You say you’ll be my bodyguard forever? I’m afraid I have to disappoint you on that one, because I made a different decision. As soon as I meet another werewolf, one who isn’t Lorenzo Piovra, one of his men, or one of your brothers, I’m gonna let him imprint on me. I’ll give myself to someone else, Conan, so neither you nor Piovra will win this war.”
Conan’s hand hardens, his rough palm scraping my cheek as it slides to the back of my head, sinking into my hair and grabbing a fistful.
“And how long do you think your new werewolf lover would survive after he’s tasted you?”
“If you killed him, I’d die too, wouldn’t I? Imprinting makes the female love so binding that she’d die for her mate, Arianna and Princess told me that.”
“Oh, but I wouldn’t let you die, you see. I’d tie you up in a cottage deep in the woods where no one would find us. Where no one could ever take you away from me.”
He tugs my hair just a little, but I can feel all the strength that he’s holding back. The hole in the wall stands witness to just how much damage the hand fisted in my hair can do. But then Conan takes over my mouth, and I stop thinking.
He lays me back on the bed, his hand cupping my head as he pushes his tongue into my mouth, forcing my lips apart. Oh, God, is he trying to imprint on me against my will?
I struggle under him and he lifts his body off me, looking me in the eyes. He’s between my legs, his rock hard manhood pushing against my folds through his jeans and the flowing fabric of my almost-wedding-dress.
“Conan, look at me. If you make me yours, it will be against my will.”
He pushes his cock harder against me, my legs parting more, my knees emerging from under the folds of my gown.
“I wouldn’t dream of taking you against your will,” he breathes. “I will make you beg for it.”
He claims my mouth in a deep kiss, his fingers splaying in my hair.
“Your hair is so silky,” he says gruffly.
“Conan, stop.” I try not to pant, but as he goes down, kissing my neck, then trailing down my chest, my judgement clouds. He parts the sides of my dress with his fingers, then cups my breasts with those big rough palms that could crush rocks.
“Ah,” he breathes, his eyes closed as he takes in the sensation of my flesh filling the palms of his hands.
“Don’t you touch me like that after you had your hands on that hooker,” I protest, pushing him away and starting to kick my legs. He grabs my wrists, doing nothing but accept my rage, but his now blood-red irises betray the dangerous thoughts in his head.
“If you think that I betrayed you,” he says, “punish me.” He pulls my wrists to the side, my naked chest bumping into his abs, rock-hard under the black hoodie.
“Use me,” he says in a gruff voice that works like a drug in my head. He goes down, still keeping his grip on my wrists, and buries his head between my legs.
All I can see is the dark hood over his head as his muscular shoulders slip under my thighs and his hard mouth touches me between my legs. The sensation courses through me and I moan, trying to pull away, but he pushes his face harder into my pussy.
There’s nowhere I can go, now at the mercy of his lips and his tongue as his hands keep me pinned down to the bed. He slides his tongue between my folds, right over my clit. My thighs clench, which tells him he’s just hit the sweet spot. I groan, expecting him to go down on me viciously, forcing the pleasure on me, but then surprise.
He goes slowly, teasing, making me push myself to his mouth and plead for more with my whole body.
“Do you want me to stop now?” he says against my creamed folds.
“You know I don’t.”
He kisses my pussy passionately, as if fueled by my words, and I arch from my waist, giving myself to him. “Ah, please let me cum, and get it over with.”
“Janine.” He moves up my body until his face is right above mine. God, he drives me crazy with his looks, a mercenary with a scarred face and blood-red eyes. Determined to make me his. He pins my wrists beside my head as his need-filled gaze pierces me. “Back in Nice you promised me something. You offered to do whatever I asked of you when we came here, to Venice, remember that?”
“What are you getting at?”
“The time has come for you to deliver on that bargain. And this is what I’ll have of you—use me for your pleasure. Take from me what you want, make me your slave. But make me your slave forever.”
“What the hell are you saying?” I breathe, searching his eyes, the eyes of a madman.
“I won’t be your bonded mate, if you don’t want that. But through our union, I’ll become your bonded servant. In all ways. Think about it. I’ll do your every bidding, I’ll even kill for you.”
“I would never command you to kill anyone—”
“No? Not even Lorenzo, for what he did to you?”
I can’t deny I’d love to see Conan’s huge fist shattering Lorenzo’s psycho face.
“That would still mean that you imprint on me.”
His knuckles go white as his grip tightens on my wrists. “You don’t understand, Janine. You will never be with another man anyway. You either accept me, or you’ll remain single forever, because I’ll kill any man who ever gets close to you.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t, not when he’s got this look on his face. He will follow
through with his promise, I can see it.
“I don’t know what you’ve done to me, Janine,” he whispers. He bends down to my cheek and kisses me right under my ear, the soft touch sending delicious prickles all over my skin. “I didn’t imprint on you in France, and yet my feelings are spinning out of control.” He keeps kissing my jaw and neck gently as he talks, but I can feel that he’s holding back ardent desire to do more. “I could stare at you for hours, days, weeks, a lifetime without getting tired of it.”
“You don’t mean that. Nobody ever means that.” I whisper.
“My brothers feel that way about your friends. They are the living proof, wouldn’t you say?” He face hovers over mine. God, how can I resist him when he looks at me like that?
“I will take you, Janine.” His breath touches my face as he begins grinding his big hard cock against my folds. He brings my wrists together above my head, pinning them in one hand, while the other lifts my gown, searching for my nakedness.
“Ah, you’re so smooth.” His fingers stroke over my naked creamed flesh, his moves harder, more urgent. “And all mine.”
I pant as he pumps me without entering me, my most private parts exposed to him while his jeans are still on. It makes me feel so vulnerable, at the whims of a beast.
“I’ll have you deliver on our bargain from Nice now, Janine. You’ll let me enter you, and use me for your pleasure.”
I don’t find it in myself to protest when he frees his erection. I look down at the engorged purple head of his manhood before he pushes it inside of me, causing me to arch my back and my mouth to open.
Ache and pleasure mix, butterflies exploding in my stomach. Conan Wolf’s big hard cock slides between my slick walls, filling me. Someone pinch me, because I can’t believe this is actually happening, at least not until the door flies open and a giggling couple stumbles in.
My head snaps to the side towards them, but I still can’t emerge from the euphoric state I’m in. Conan pumps me harder and harder as if nothing happened, as if he doesn’t even perceive them. The woman’s tits hang out of her cleavage like the woman’s I saw in the picture with Conan, and the man is wearing a mask that covers only his eyes, so the expression of their faces is fully exposed to me.