by Ana Calin
“Use me, Isolde.”
With a moan she leans back and pushes her hips up, offering herself to be pleasured. She touches my hand and pushes it from her butt cheek towards the crack.
“Stick your finger inside,” she commands.
God, what she’s doing to me! She drives me crazy with her scent, her words, her moans, the way she rolls her hips to meet my mouth. I slide a finger through her arousal, then push it inside her pucker, gently. She hisses and arches from her waist, gripping with both hands to the desk. Her veins show, her knuckles white. She’s loving this, and her low moans of pleasure drive me wild.
Mark’s voice turns louder outside, like a sword dangling above our heads, threatening to drop and cut us any second. But it doesn’t seem to bother Isolde at all. She’s lost in the pleasure, and I’m afraid she’ll lose control over the volume of her voice soon. That would mean doom.
I come slowly up to my feet, bending over her, kissing her belly, then her breasts. I intended to do something else, convince her to let us take this someplace else, but I lose my head, and scoop her breasts out of her bra.
“What are you doing, I didn’t say you could—”
“Shhhh.” Just for a moment, I stare into her face, taking in all her features, my hands sinking slowly into her hair. “I want to enjoy every inch of you.” Hell, I’m losing control, speaking my mind like that. This woman is going to be the end of me, I’d rather die than not take her.
I open my fly with one hand, whip out my cock, and push inside of her. Fuck, the way those tight muscles clench around me, sucking me in greedily.
“Fuck woman, you’re so tight, you’re driving me crazy.”
I need this sweet little pussy so badly. I drive harder into her, making way, until I can thrust, sliding more easily against her tight walls, my hands fisting in that thick, silky hair. Her eyes flutter, and she loses control over her voice, moaning. I cup a hand over her mouth, and her eyes blast wide.
“Yes that’s it, look at me while I fill you with my cum.”
We fuck each other hard, staring into each other’s eyes, her legs wrapped around my waist. I take her like a beast while Mark talks to Timur outside. It feels so wrong and yet so right, banging his wife, ravishing her under me. She’s completely naked except for her mid-thigh stockings, her breasts swaying with each one of my thrusts as I claim her as mine.
I keep my hand over her mouth, but I can see it in her eyes when she comes, her brows tight, her eyes reddening. Her jugular swells in her throat, her scent filling my senses. We come at the same time, Isolde’s moans muffled under my hand, mine stifled by my fangs that pierce into my lower lip. I spill myself inside of her, the sweetness of her pussy and the scent of her blood driving me crazy.
We breathe hard, our faces close to each other as I remove my hand slowly from her mouth. It’s misted with her breath, and she’s bitten into my fingers, but my skin is too hard for her to pierce unless I allow it.
God. I want to kiss her, so bad, but blood trickles from my mouth, which would affect her body chemistry.
“Kiss me,” she whispers, and I almost give in.
But I force myself to step back, taking in the sight of her spread eagled in front of me, her pussy still dripping. I swallow hard, my fists balling.
“Believe me, I’m so tempted that my head swims. But it’ll turn you into a vampire, and that’s no life, trust me.”
“It will give me the power to protect myself against that bastard Mark,” she demands. She gets off the desk, picks up her cloak and whips it around until it lands on her shoulders, shielding her body away from my still burning eyes. “You’re leaving me here with him for two weeks, maybe more. I could use the power to protect myself.”
“If you turn into a vampire, Mark will know that something happened between the two of us. It’ll take days until you fully transform, but he’ll notice you’re changing. And even if you manage to stay out of his way those three days until you’re strong enough, a newborn vampire’s got nothing on the ancient henchman of the Devil’s Son.”
Isolde ponders, chewing the inside of her cheek, then she heads to the door she came in through. She stops there, looking at me over her shoulder, cold as a queen. I wonder, did she come here with the intention of using me? My cock hardens all over again when she confirms.
“Even though I know you’ll be screwing Soraya for the next two weeks, at least I’ve used you like a slave. That’s what you deserve. You don’t deserve my love, you only deserve that I use you. Think of that while you fuck Soraya.” With that she disappears in the tunnel she came through, the door sliding back shut.
Her words sting like a poisoned arrow through my heart, but I don’t get to contemplate the feeling for long. Almost as soon as the secret door closes with a small thud, the main study door opens. I spin around. Soraya stands across from me, looking like an alien woman in the doorframe.
“Isolde said you wanted me to meet you here at midday.” She glances at the clock on the wall. “Thought I’d come early, in case you were already waiting.”
Hell, Isolde planned everything in detail. She got Mark out of the study, arranging for an exact time frame, and she didn’t care at all about risks. I wonder if she left fifteen minutes early as a precaution.
Soraya sniffs the air that smells of sex.
“You were here with someone?” She demands as she walks in. There’s an edge to her voice that I haven’t heard before. She’s losing control over the façade she’s displayed so far. She inspects the desk, and I know she’s caught the scent.
My senses spike, extending to the outside area around the house to gauge where Mark could be, because I don’t hear him outside the study anymore. Damn, he’s walking into the villa. Soraya looks daggers at me, standing right by his boss chair. I need a good explanation, and I need it fast.
CHAPTER VIII – The Mission
Tristan
MARK IS STANDING BEHIND me in the doorway, Soraya in front of me. His stare bores into my back, while hers drills into my forehead. They can both smell the sex no doubt, Isolde’s juice still on the edge of Mark’s desk. How the hell didn’t I think of this? Falling for Isolde must have scrambled my brain. I didn’t think about the consequences for one second while I banged that sweet angel like a madman.
Okay. I haven’t done this in a while, and it’s a double-edged sword, but it’s my only chance. Isolde would be in mortal danger if Mark and Soraya discovered she and I had sex, right here, in her Mark’s study.
My pupils shift like the micro lenses of a camera as I direct my power of hypnosis towards Soraya. It helps that she has a crush on me, it makes her more willing to believe the explanation I induce into her mind. Her mind is like butter in my power, easily penetrated.
“I’m sorry, Mark,” I say evenly, my eyes on her, my back at him. “Soraya and I... We shouldn’t have done this, but.... I’m sorry, it’s all I can say.”
Mark steps in, walking slowly, sniffing around, stopping by his desk where I made love to his wife only minutes ago. He must be wondering how come Soraya’s sex smells so much like his wife’s, but he doesn’t say it yet. He just looks hard at her.
“Soraya?”
She sways a little on her feet, her eyelids heavy as if she’s turning sleepy. “I’m sorry, Mark.”
Astonishment lengthens his face, his slimy lips parting. He can’t believe she just admitted to something he wouldn’t have believed in a million years. Of course, the smell is strong to his fine serpent senses, and yet he knows Soraya should look completely ravished. Instead, she stands there by his chair in her spotless two-piece suit, the black skirt and jacket hugging her long, willowy frame, her red lipstick perfect on her thin lips. Not a spot on her, not a smear. This isn’t a woman who’s just had sex, but then again, why would she lie to him? He trusts her completely, and now he’s confused as fuck.
“Soraya, are you sure you just—”
She turns her head to look at him, and it’s enough to make h
im stop. “Yes, I’m sure. The truth is Tristan and I have been sleeping with each other in secret for days. And, even though it’s very soon, I think I want to make our liaison official.”
“Mark,” I say calmly, “You did say I could take her—” I don’t say ‘test drive’, but I see that he understands.
“Well, I sure hope you had your fucking fun.” It’s almost amusing, seeing him lose it like this. I’m glad that, during my stay here, I had the chance to see how my henchman of old ticks, what gets him on edge, what his threshold is before he lashes out in fury. And he’s pretty damn close to lashing out right now, not because he believes I fucked Soraya, but because he doesn’t.
“And we’ll have more of it while we’re on the mission together, won’t we?” Soraya says, walking over to my side, and hooking her arm around mine. She’s a powerful serpent, and she’s getting a grip on herself, even though my influence is still inside her mind. That will make her play along, but when she regains enough control she’ll want something in return.
Still, I must say that, if Isolde wanted some kind of revenge, it was genius of her to get Soraya here before Mark came back, explaining the smell of sex that way. But she didn’t think about Soraya catching the scent, too—or, wait a minute, did she want the woman to know? Did she want to hurt her?
“Whatever,” Mark says, heading out of the study. “Just send the cleaning woman to wipe the smell of your fucking from my fucking desk.”
As soon as he’s out, Soraya unhooks her arm from mine, and turns to look at me.
“Listen, and listen carefully. I will go through with this lie—which is pretty damn obvious, if you ask me—but this is my price.” She stares at me from under her eyebrows, trying to be seductive, her forked tongue slipping between her lips. “You’ll marry me for real, Tristan DeKnight.”
I keep cool and detached. “Why would you even want to have me? I’m a vampire, you’re a serpent. We’re natural enemies, it would be an odd pairing to say the least.”
“Yes, but it would make a fantastic alliance between serpents and vampires, and I think such an alliance is in Mark’s best interest. He knows that, too, he won’t be opposed.” Her tone goes lower, her eyes becoming more intense. “And I’d really love to have you between my legs.”
I press my lips together. She’s almost as repulsive as Mark. I can’t imagine having sex with a serpent—unless it involves humiliating and debasing her, like I did with all women before Isolde.
“All right.” I keep my tone even, detached, making sure that my face doesn’t show the repulsion I feel. “When this mission is over, we’ll make this official. And we’ll share a bed. But until then I need to focus and, for that, I need to refrain. What happened just now with—” No, I can’t say her name, “—with her, it was the last release before I put all my focus into the mission.”
“I don’t know that it has to be a bed.” She grins her large grin with the big teeth that I know would drip slime in her shifter form. Only imagining having that mouth on mine makes my stomach turn. “And I don’t know that it has to be after the wedding.”
I lean to her, making sure she can smell Isolde on my mouth. “It is important to me. I don’t sleep with women I respect before I make it official in some way.”
“Oh, you only give pleasure to women you don’t respect, probably don’t even like.”
“I have a strange fetish. I use women like dirty whores. It’s the only thing that turns me on.”
She laughs. Now that she shows her true face I can tell she loves using and humiliating people, too, so I won her over with what I just said. “All right. But I have one special request.”
“And that is.”
Her gaze darkens and, for a moment, all of her vile nature shows in it. I could sense that nature from the start behind her reserved façade.
“On our wedding day,” she continues like an evil incantation, “As I’m wearing a glamorous wedding gown, I’ll have you make Isolde kneel in front of us. Then I want you to fuck her mouth like she means nothing, like she’s trash, filling her throat with your cum. I want her still wiping it off her chin along with her tears while we say our vows.”
The hairs on my arms stand on end. I could slit her throat right now, but this evil woman deserves much worse. I’ve been a people observer for too long, it’s my job to understand their thinking, their motivations, and Soraya now is an open book to me.
She has a fetish for humiliating women. Good women, loving mothers, women who nurse children. She likes fucking men other women have crushes on, having the women watch or, like in this case, the other way around.
I’m afraid I won’t be able to control my face anymore, showing that I saw right through her, displaying the contempt I feel. But then the door opens, and the alligator announces it’s time to get ready. I turn around on my heels, avoiding that Soraya sees my face, and storm out of Mark Serpaint’s study.
I can feel the alligator’s jealous stare behind me as I walk down the hallway. I know Soraya has been sleeping with him, probably in the absence of something better, but to him, their liaison is more than just sex.
Isolde
I’M PROUD OF MYSELF for not having chewed on my fingernails these past two weeks. No, I haven’t fretted about Tristan and Soraya, but it would be a lie to say it was because I was strong.
No.
It was because of the connection I feel with him. The last time I used him in Mark’s study we inversed the roles—he’s the one fretting about my feelings now. What Tristan and I shared with each other, both physically and emotionally, connected us on deep levels. I can feel that, even though before he left for the Western Mountains he was still in control of his emotions, now he’s tossing and turning at night, needing me in ways he doesn’t even understand—because he’s never experienced something like this before.
Finally, I leave Mark behind as the train moves off towards the Western Mountains. The cars in the back are filled with serpents that will spread out in the villages from the area, but it doesn’t matter. I feel free.
This train ride is the first breath of freedom I’ve had ever since I was forced to marry that bastard. It’s a long journey to take, but I spend as much of it as I can with my head out the window, breathing in the fresh air, especially after we enter the mountain region.
God, how I love the Carpathians! I fell in love with them the first time I visited this country, for my sister’s wedding to the Prince of Midnight. There’s something timeless about the mountains, the forests, and the quaint villages, many of which have been apparently abandoned. But Juliet and Rux told me stories about the countless mysteries dwelling beyond the appearances. Flip the villages around, and in their mirror dimension they’ll be crawling with magic.
The Carpathians need to arouse as little interest as possible in order to keep nosey investors, the press and researchers at bay. So the government is difficult, and the villages don’t look particularly attractive to outsiders interested in money or power. But there’s abundance beyond this veil, all kinds of it.
The train creaks to a halt in Father Ruben’s old village. I grab my luggage, and hurry out into the crisp mountain air.
God, it’s so fresh and strong that I’m immediately hungry. I close my eyes and breathe in, feeling so happy my heart might burst. If only I could hold on to this moment.
But then I open my eyes to the small, decaying train station, red brick and wooden window frames, the glass dusty as if the windows haven’t been cleaned in years. Someone’s supposed to pick me up, and chances are that someone will be Tristan. Damn it, I get nervous when I think about seeing him again. I thought I was over that crap. Only hours ago, I was still punishing him with my detachment.
But no one’s waiting for me outside the station, and there’s no passageway so I can get from this platform to the building. I walk over the tracks, almost breaking my ankles through the pebbles, balancing my luggage. But after I’ve cursed my way over a few tracks, Tristan and Soraya
emerge through the open doors. Tristan hurries to help me with my luggage, our hands touching over the handle.
Butterflies rise in my stomach the moment Tristan and I lock eyes. He’s wearing a black priest’s robe that only makes his beautiful vampire face stand out even more. My God, his white-blond hair, his hard sexy face, the electric blue eyes, that mouth, he’s so incredibly handsome. My vampire assassin. My wet dream.
I have a flash of him between my legs, his priest clothes still on, while I’m spread-eagle like a wanton whore under him. I go dizzy with desire, swallowing hard. Damn it, it must be the love potion, its effects intensifying now that we see each other again after two weeks.
He takes my luggage, and offers me his arm—now facing his supposed wife, Soraya.
She waits in front of the desolate double doors, dressed modestly in a black dress like a proper orthodox priest’s wife, a black bonnet on top of her head. The only patches of color are her white face, the red lipstick, and the bluish-shiny black hair that she wears in two coiled braids like two pretzels hanging from the sides of her head.
I’m sharply aware of Tristan’s closeness as he guides me over the tracks, keeping me steady. His arm is hard and strong under the priest robe, his scent of frost and danger making me high. God, how I missed him! All this time I’ve been only numb, not indifferent. Probably because I wouldn’t have been able to put up with the yearning and the anguish over what could have happened between him and Soraya.
Neither of us speaks until we face Soraya, and then the first and only thing she says is ‘Let’s get to work’. Maybe I’m not helping with conversation either, since my only response is the sound of my swallowing the lump in my throat. God, I resent looking at this woman.
I let go of Tristan’s arm as he leads us outside the train station.
“A good thing you won’t have to stay in the village up the mountain,” Soraya says as she gets into the car by his side. “The old priest lives here at the foot of the mountain, so you’ll be spared the hike on foot. We’re pretty sure Father Ruben will hear that you’re here soon, and he’ll come looking for you.”