For a moment she was tempted to tell her mom about the book, but her cheeks burned in embarrassment. What will you tell her? That a book got you all hot and bothered? TMI. Ick. For once, Alaya agreed with the voice in her head. There were some things even mothers didn’t need to know.
“Take care of yourself, Mom. I’ll talk with you soon.”
“I love you, honey. I’ll make sure and kiss a stud for you.” With a girlish giggle her mother disconnected.
Alaya shook her head and with a rueful smile focused her attention back on the invitation. Beautifully written letters scrolled across the expensive cardstock. She rubbed her thumb across the small type at the bottom of the invitation. Just Another Little Murder, LLC.
She rose from the chair with a wince at her creaking knee and went to her makeshift computer table. Her laptop sat on her mother’s rarely used dining room table, humming quietly. She hit the enter key and waited for the little beast to wake up.
While it went through its wakeup, she got a refill on her rum and coke. They’d had so much fun on the cruise. There’d been twenty groups. Each group had its own mystery to solve within four days. Then they’d switched up and started a new mystery for the last leg of the trip. After they’d figured out the first one two days early, they’d wandered to the other games and observed.
They’d been bored senseless with the “scheduled” deaths. Alaya and her mom had flirted and giggled and generally had one of the best trips in their lives, despite the poorly written scenes. Another trip like that would be fantastic.
Her computer finished coming back online. She tucked a leg under her and began an in-depth search of Just Another Little Murder.
Two hours of searching and a phone call later, she felt better. JALM or Jail-em, as they preferred to be called, organized parties for the elite. They took the guest list and tailored murder mysteries with their personalities in mind. The Murder Mystery Mansion game was a scheduled event with twelve openings for generic guests. Six women, six men, each assigned with an original supernatural ability. The event coordinator had assured her that the list of supernatural abilities was the only information they’d been given. The envelopes had been sent blank, as requested.
“If you ever figure out how they did that color-changing trick, though, Ms. Alaya, I’d love to know.” The perky coordinator’s voice chuckled.
“I’d love to know myself, Diane, trust me. Thank you for your time.”
“You’re very welcome. The games are really fun. If you get a chance, take it! And thank you for calling Just Another Little Murder. I hope your next party is a scream.”
Alaya groaned at the bad pun and ended the phone call.
The good news was that it was a legitimate company. Her mother could have gotten the invitation from any number of places. Hell, she knew everybody and her former inner circle still kept in touch. Alaya was intrigued. It sounded fun.
She tapped a light beat against the table with her index finger. Hell, why not? Her fingers flew across the keyboard. She confirmed her flight on the murder mansion site from the invitation. In minutes she received an email confirmation with instructions to include appropriate attire.
“Oh a masque. How awesome.” Nervous anticipation flittered in her stomach. It had been too long since she’d let loose.
Her mind wandered to the book upstairs and her pussy clenched in dark lust. Would it be the same? Her sense of empathy wasn’t magickal. Maybe the book somehow tapped into it. Of course, the only way to know for sure was to try the book again. It’s amazing how twisted logic works itself out, isn’t it? A nagging voice in the back of her mind made her wince. Just once right? What could be the harm?
She took the steps with trepidation, nervous excitement skittering across her chest. The book called to her like nothing else her mother had ever shown her. Why?
The book sat in the disturbed dust, alone and neglected. Alaya clenched and unclenched her fists, waiting for something to happen.
What are you waiting for, an invitation? That nagging voice again.
She rolled her eyes. Scared of a book. Nothing magickal could harm her. So far. Alaya grabbed the book before she could chicken out. Instantly the warmth was back, stroking against her skin like a smoldering winter’s fire. Her breasts grew sensitive, nipples hardening against the cloth of her shirt.
The fire licked within her body and her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the incredible sensation. A moan slipped from her lips and she trembled, wanting more and afraid to ask.
Opening the book would bring the inferno of lust back in full force. She knew it as surely as she was standing there.
“I should probably get comfortable.” She winced. Now she was talking to the book! Alaya dropped to the dusty floor and took a deep breath. The warmth teased her nipples, stroking lightly through all the layers of her clothing.
She opened the book and it lashed out in a frenzy, driving her insane with intensity in a heartbeat. Fingers stroked and twisted deep in her channel. “Sweet goddess,” she whispered to the empty room.
The fingers stroked again and her pussy clenched. The digits thickened and solidified, and she gasped. It stroked deep, stretching her like a cock. She cried out at the sheer pleasure. Hunger built within her stomach, tension mounting with each thrust. Alaya pinched her nipples with one hand through the layers of her clothes, twisting the tip to an aching peak.
She moaned and the stroking in her pussy changed to a shallow thrust, riding in time to her panted breaths. Alaya squeezed her eyes shut and imagined the way her dream lover must look. The image of the Kitsune from the book kept coming back to her mind’s eye. Strong jaw, raw passion.
Pressure built along her nerves, rolling through her. She clenched her fist on the book and twisted her nipple again with an edge of pain. A ghostly touch on her other breast had her arching against an unseen hand, wanting to be cherished, held. Fucked.
The stroking in her pussy eased to a slow rhythm and Alaya cried out in frustration, shocked on the one hand at how raw and dark her voice sounded, but ready to kill someone if she didn’t get off soon. The friction increased and fire tingled along her pussy. She could feel her inner muscles tighten and she held her breath. The ghost cock held her at the peak and it slammed home, driving her over the edge.
She arched back, thrusting against nothing but the rough line of her jeans, her pussy clenching at something she could almost taste.
The touch went away and Alaya cried out, reaching for…
Nothing but a cloud of dust and an accidentally closed book.
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” She must have dropped the book when she’d come. Her cheeks burned with equal pleasure and embarrassment. Fucked by a ghost in a book.
“You’re definitely losin’ it.” She stared at the book with a mix of terror and longing. Whatever the hell it was, she liked Kitsunes. A sharp laugh escaped her throat, sounding ragged and husky to her ears.
Magick or no, staying away from that book was the most important thing.
Chapter Three
Shad watched from the branches of the huge oak in front of Devonshire prison. He ignored the giggles of the happy prisoners frolicking in the sun. The Devonshire bastard had him by the balls. He rubbed his chest where the scar from his attempted escape still burned him. His stolen pearl kept him tied to the land.
“Oh Jamie, don’t you love the mansion? It’s so full of delicious distractions.” A slim-faced debutante and her companion strolled through the front gardens, oblivious to the danger. Shad leaned over the branch and caught the scent of her skin -- hot and desperate for a good fuck. His cock twitched in interest, but Shad curled his lip. Another toy. Another fuckmate. A century ago he’d have loved it. Now? He pulled himself back to the crook of the tree and waited for news from the lapdog. Maybe this time there would be a chance to escape.
A dark shadow filled the upstairs room of the owner. Shad’s hatred built up in a miasma around him, hiding him from view. Mr. Devonshire, the a
vid collector of all things paranormal. Every season, guests were invited for three days of ultimate pleasure and satisfaction. In the exhilaration, no one noticed if one or two went missing. If they couldn’t be found to tell good-bye, well, then they must be still having a wonderful time.
Murderer, thief, and insane. Mr. Devonshire was good; he’d give him that.
Shad felt his invisible tails twitch in irritation. He needed to shift form, but couldn’t. Not until he caught another piece for the “collection.” Devonshire had him on a tight leash and for a Kitsune, it was tantamount to hell.
The rev of a motorcycle engine drew his attention. Bitterness choked him. Jake was back. He could leave the grounds. Nothing outside of a silver cage could keep him confined to one place. That made him a willing lapdog.
Devonshire had Shad’s pearl, and therefore his only chance to escape. He glared at Jake, furious with the mutt for coming back.
Jake stalked across the grass, his silver hair perfect, like always.
“Coming home to master, puppy?” Shad taunted from the trees.
Jake glared up into the tree, uncannily able to find the fox. “Still skulking around in shadows, boy?” Jake’s perfect smile irritated Shad.
Shad laughed, the sound harsh to his own ears. “Boy?” Shad dropped from the tree onto the balls of his feet with barely a whisper of a sound. With some satisfaction he noticed Jake’s twitch of surprise. Pathetic.
The two women gasped and showed interest. He ignored them.
“New groupies?” Jake’s disgust was evident.
“They see what I want them to, Jake.” He waved his hand and formed an illusion of a running fox.
They giggled and followed.
“You don’t have to come back here; so why do you?” Bitterness at being denied freedom ate at him.
“Yes, I do. Drop it.”
Shad smiled and let his tails flicker to visibility. “It’s a fascinating thing to watch the powerful werewolf reduced to errand pup.”
“Shouldn’t you be working on your snare, hunter?”
“Well, it seems neither one of us understand the rules of the house, do we?” Did Jake think Shad did this for pleasure? Trapping humans and preternaturals?
“Whatever.” Jake turned his back.
Softly Shad asked the question that haunted his nights. “How many?”
Jake paused. His jaw clenched. Tension radiated off the wolf like a mist. By the time he spoke the frustration had almost solidified. “Ten more confirmed.”
Shad closed his eyes. Ten more trapped, like him. He shoved those thoughts away. There wasn’t time to worry about anyone else. “That’s the last?”
“Yes.” A muscle twitched in Jake’s jaw, the only expression of his distaste.
“Less than last year. That’s good.”
“Careful, fox. I might start to think you give a shit about something other than yourself.”
Shad unsheathed his claws and laughed, eying their sharp ends with artful disdain. “Yes, that would be unfortunate.”
Jake grinned and walked away, taking his cursed report to Devonshire. Bastard. Jake hadn’t trapped Shad. No, the devil himself had done that and no one could know about it. Ever. Let Jake think he enjoyed snaring women. If they knew Devonshire had power over him…
He shuddered in frustration. A good fuck would clear his head from needless confusion. He stared after the two women, now gone into the maze. Too bad his illusions worked so damned well. They wouldn’t be back, at least not this way.
He draped the shadows around him. None heard him, none saw him return to his room. He fell into the comfort of his bed and let his mind wander.
Twelve guests total. Ten confirmed to arrive. He reclined on the bed against the cushions and clenched his hands behind his head. One more trapped and he’d be free. He stared at the luxurious draperies adorning his bed. Humans were not to be trusted. No. Never again. He turned on his side and curled up, letting his illusion keep him covered from the camera’s view.
Who had found his soul book? And would she open it again? Uninhibited pleasure coursed through his cock in preparation. Would she come for him? It was written in his soul’s blood over a century before and lost when he’d come to this hell. Willing subjects caused a physical manifestation of his lust, a two-way sexual stimulation.
The book was opened and he sighed, letting loose his pent-up desire. She closed it immediately. “Dammit!” he growled into the pillow and waited for her to reopen it.
It didn’t happen and he fell asleep.
That night he dreamed of pearls and sea flowers.
Chapter Four
Four days later
Shad leaned against the rail, watching the new arrivals with no little interest. One of those unfortunates would be his last target. One way or another. Several of them looked to be easy picking, but he doubted it would be that simple. His tails twitched in frustration. Since that last time, she hadn’t reopened the book and it was driving him insane.
“Beautiful specimens, aren’t they?”
Ice seized his veins at the raspy voice of his tormentor. It took all his will to keep a relaxed pose. The keeper of his pearl, his jailor. One who could see through his carefully crafted illusions at close range. He wondered if Devonshire knew how much the fox loathed him. Something told him the man missed nothing.
“I see you have several nonhumans this time.” His voice remained neutral.
“Yes.” Devonshire leaned forward against the rail, mimicking the fox’s pose perfectly. It grated on Shad’s nerves. “But you have a specific target this time.”
Shad’s eyebrows rose at his words. A specific target meant a dangerous target.
“She’s an explosive mix of magick and one from a very old line. I’ve wanted her for my collection for a very long time.”
Shad’s fox ears twitched. There was an edge to Devonshire’s voice, one that twisted Shad’s stomach in an emotion he’d forgotten how to describe. If Devonshire couldn’t capture her on his own, that made her very dangerous. How powerful would you have to be in order to keep Devonshire from finding you?
“Which one is she, then?”
“The brunette in the sundress.”
He let his gaze flow over the crowd, taking them in one by one. The brunette leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, staring at a Fae. She had no aura of power around her, but he would have to get closer to taste her for magick. “Does she mean to insult your Fae guest?” Shad couldn’t quite hide the smirk in his voice. Fae and Kitsune rarely got along. Far too arrogant for his people to tolerate.
Her hair was enchanting and her features were intriguing. Her unconscious grace had his cock slowly coming to attention. She was a classic beauty, in the old black and white movie way, sensual without screaming for attention. Older movies had become an obsession with him since his internment. She was a mystery. His lips lifted in a small grin. He liked mysteries.
Devonshire rasped through a chuckle. “If not, she might find herself on the wrong side of a saber before the night’s out.” He paused, smoothing his hand over the sleeves of his dinner jacket. “If she escapes, I’ll destroy your pearl.”
Rage licked through him, sizzling the edges of his magick with dark intent.
“Don’t tempt me, fox.” The dead weight of the other’s words brought him from the edge of madness, but he still resonated with hatred for the once human.
Shad didn’t need to ask what would happen if she died. He already knew. She’d become one of his undead: tortured, desecrated, a non-thing. He shuddered, and let his gaze rest on the beauty. No one deserved that.
Devonshire turned from the fox in blatant disregard for his own safety.
He corrected his thoughts. There was one human he wouldn’t mind seeing tortured and maimed. Devonshire. The fox held himself in check with long-practiced patience.
The rules of his magick tied him to the holder of his pearl, the only being to ever outfox Shad. The human drew his attentio
n once more. She was speaking to the Fae with something akin to awe on her face. Jealousy knotted his stomach and his tails twitched in irritation. It was time to make himself known.
* * *
Alaya stood on the dais and waited for her stomach to settle. She didn’t know if it was the flight or nervousness, but whatever it was left her nauseated. The willowy gentleman with the amazing Elf ears still drew her attention.
He’d been shocked she’d noticed, but who could miss them? They were gorgeously crafted. The costume alone must have cost a fortune.
Several other guests had arrived and were strolling around the room. Elegant didn’t do some of these ladies justice. She definitely felt out of place.
Her observations left her curious. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the choice in guest. She wasn’t a snob, by any means, but there were all levels of society in the foyer.
Ten people so far and none of them had given her more than a cursory glance. For the moment, she didn’t mind. It left her free to look at her surroundings, take it all in at once. No cameras allowed, no video equipment. Hell, even her cell phone had been taken with no explanation, only a ticket for pickup later.
It was ridiculous.
“It’s a bit early in the party to look so angry,” a low voice growled in her ear. The warmth of his breath brushed her skin and she jerked at the sensation with cheeks warming in embarrassment.
Chill out, Alaya. It’s not the first time a man’s come this close. She refused to listen to the tiny voice in the back of her head that reminded her of how long ago that was. “I’m not angry. Just alone and isolated.” The story of my life.
“Aren’t they the same thing?” The voice caressed her skin.
She couldn’t shove away the sudden melancholy feeling. “No.” She turned toward the voice, wanting to see what her quietly rumbling companion looked like.
She noticed two things immediately. He was gorgeous and he had a tail. Well, three of them, to be more exact. She decided to focus on the gorgeous part first. He leaned against the wall, directly behind her. A light silk kimono in intricate designs hung from his cut shoulders in sensual drapes. Her fingers itched to trace the whisper of silk against his skin. The kimono closed at his waist, more’s the pity. Her gaze traveled back up his body, flickering over the three amazing tails lightly swishing behind him. Animatronics had really come a long way.
Masqued Tails Page 2