Her Insatiable Dark Heroes

by Her Insatiable Dark Heroes (lit)

  “Yes.”

  He hated saying that to her. There was no use lying. He pulled the comb through the last of her tangles, running his fingers through the length of her hair for the sheer pleasure and treasure of it.

  Hell always rode in on the last donkey when a woman wasn’t handled right. At least he hadn’t been a total idiot with her, reminding her about the pleasure she’d just felt with them. That would only have earned him her hatred, or worse, she would have been wounded to the core.

  “Dunk for me, Wendy.”

  Obediently she slipped downward, fully immersing her hair. Dark red magnificent waves spread out around her head, making her appear like a magical goddess. A naked magical goddess. Stretching out tentatively, she floated, letting the water carry her and gently pummel her body. “Cleansing gel?” she asked.

  “Mine will have to do until we can find some you like.”

  “I’ve been making it. Some of us figured out how—with what we could still find.”

  Note, he told himself, pick up whatever is usable at her apartment.

  “I’ll get whatever you need.”

  “Nobody can do that.” Her voice was so solemn and so wistful it tore at his heart.

  Chapter Four

  Zavier and Wendy

  “Come here,” he ordered, knowing how she felt. The world they had all imagined living in was gone, stolen by vile madmen who believed they had a right to rule, no matter the suffering they caused. And irrevocably ruined by those who worshiped at the altar of greed. The perfect confluence had brought the world down brutally and rapidly around its own ankles.

  Rising up slowly, she sighed heavily. “Masters.” There was a tremor in her voice. “You said you were... ‘We are your masters.’”

  Claiming her hair in one hand, he used it to position her, then massaged in the cleansing gel for a while, enjoying the feel of it, yet struggling with what to say to her. There was no changing the truth. And double damn the consequences.

  “We have to be your masters.” He spread his fingers along the top of her neck, and then slid them upwards several times for the final cleansing.

  “Why?” Mutinously, she thrust the word up to him. “Never mind. You’ll say what you said before.”

  “Wendy, none of us are going to let you come to any harm.”

  “Well, Mr. Fierce Voice,” she sassed. “What happens when you disagree with each other?”

  Planting his hands on her shoulders, he gently shoved her deeper into the water. “Rinse,” he sternly ordered.

  “Rinsing.” Defiantly she slipped deeper, flung her head back and forth so her tresses spread in the bubbling water.

  Freed more and more from the foaming gel, the dark red stands floated like splendid wild things. Her breasts poked up farther as she writhed and moved with the water’s buoyancy. Aroused by her stunning sexual beauty, he sat paralyzed, greedily watching her, and nearly missed the emergency tone Zent to his ear, the one to let him know he was about to enter Zavier’s private domain.

  Rising to more of a sitting position, she squeezed the water from her hair, moving her hands down in a manner suggesting this was how she normally took care of her hair. “Are you going to duke it out in the skies? Winner takes all?” Dryly she cut a hunk out of him, just with her tone.

  “Company,” he muttered loudly.

  “Company?”

  “Emergency situation. Or—”

  “Or?” she impatiently asked, efficiently squeezing down the long length of her hair again.

  “Or we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

  “House rules?”

  Ignoring the smirk in her tone, and her curiosity, he stood to meet his brother at the doorway. At least his rod eased off at the thought of whatever emergency now confronted them.

  Dressed for flight, Zent strode in rapidly, his gaze ferocious and alarmed. “She okay?” he asked first, glancing over at Wendy, who had completely submerged herself to more thoroughly rinse her hair. “Hell, she’s gorgeous naked.”

  “She’s recovering. What’s gone wrong now?”

  “A group of the Thug Singles are using their powers, terrorizing citizens and trying to knock over one of the historical tenement buildings on Fishery Row. It’s occupied, and still in decent condition.”

  “Yeah, I know the building. Tough structure. The Broncos are busy elsewhere?”

  “Sorting out a vicious gun battle over territory down at the docks.”

  “One of us has to stay here with her.” Zavier glanced over his shoulder. Wendy floated in the water as if they didn’t exist, lazily undulating her hips.

  “It’s the instant buzz everywhere that we’ve got her. Already Zion has caught BladeWipe and his crew on the monitor. And MosquitoKid showed up with SnakeTooth. Looks like they’re new partners.”

  “Those two are dangerous as starving reptiles together. I’ll take her down to Control, watch the action, and stay in contact while I watch your backs. Is there any sign it’s a trap set up by the Corrupt?”

  “Doesn’t look that way. We’ll be on guard, big brother.” Zent gazed over at Wendy, his eyes lust-flashes of lightning. “She’s going to drive us crazy-insane, good and bad. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Spinning into a blur, he charged out of the room, ready to fight evil.

  “Wow

  !” Zavier heard Wendy’s exclamation, and her gasp of awe, as he pivoted toward her.

  With no time to explain, he super-speed moved inside his dressing area and whirled into his sleek combat suit. Grabbing a cotton blanket off the shelf, he strode with double-speed back to her. She stared as he came for her, lifting her chin up from leaning on her arms at the side of the bath.

  “Where are we—?”

  Zavier didn’t answer. Seizing her shoulders, he hauled her up before him. Wrapping the blanket around her, he scooped her into his arms, then blur-zipped toward the private elevator in his room. They were inside and descending at a fast rate before he stopped moving.

  “I’m wet. And dizzy,” she angrily complained.

  “But mine,” he growled. Bundling her closer against his chest, he stepped out of the elevator and into their subterranean Control room, once the private party rooms of the decadent rich and famous.

  “Good Lord, can you see the whole city?” She swiveled her head, then craned her neck, attempting to see all the monitoring screens surrounding them. The hundred and thirty screen cameras were trained on various sectors of Chrontropolis.

  “Most of it. And a large section of the bay.”

  Seating them on the uber tech control chair, which could spin on a coin, a complete 360-degree radius, Zavier arranged her on his lap. Then he touched one button on the immense semi-circular panel, which brought the giant tracking screen they used to follow each other, forward. Zion had designed a fiber-sized contact device they all kept on their flight suits, flyer cycles and combat cars.

  Next he tapped in a fast code, zooming in the screen bringing the scene into sharp focus and placing it before them. Wendra straightened, her gaze fastened intently.

  “We call them the Thug Singles because they have no brothers and often form criminal gangs.”

  “Dang the mule’s flea-bitten hide, what are they doing?”

  Repeatedly, five of the Thug Singles flew at the tenement building, attacking like darts, using their super strength in an attempt to topple it to the ground. A few brave souls shouted at them from the ground, their fists raised and shaking in anger. Many more cowered across the way, some looking to the skies for help.

  “What they shouldn’t be doing. Moronic maliciousness.” Zavier spoke more fiercely than he meant to, while aiming the camera’s focus all around the area for any sign of the Corrupt’s blue-uniformed enforcement lying in wait. “See anyone who shouldn’t be there?”

  “Yeah, Luby Pristier, the former mayor’s right-hand, get-it-done woman. I’d recognize that doll-pretty mug anywhere. She’s standing across the street, practically pressed against the corner
of the building.”

  “You’re right.” Zavier narrowed the camera’s focus on her. “Looks like she might have egged on this bullying stupid stunt.”

  “Or organized it. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  Doing wonderful things to his cock, his wet bundled woman squirmed forward to look more closely.

  “That could mean the Corrupt are looking for some weakness, intel on a new way of shutting us down.” Zavier studied Luby Pristier, a woman he’d known for a long time, since they once moved in the same social circles. And a woman he was now glad he’d never completely seduced and fucked. They’d shared a couple of kissy-face sessions at boring evening events, both of them drunk on their successes and on the edge of inebriated.

  “Us? Do you mean just the Dark superheroes or all of you Good Guy Super Brothers?”

  “Probably all of us. Although we have been targeted by Brusos and his gang of no-good former cops.”

  “Stinkin’ rotten butt hole. He and his cop gang used any excuse to raid the dance clubs and extort money. He couldn’t stand losing control of Chrontropolis.”

  “Yep, honey, and he got real tired of losing all his planted-evidence collars in court.”

  “Honey?”

  “What I’ve wanted to call you.” He panned their camera view back, surveying the immediate area once again, thinking this was how it should be. Her with him, sitting on his lap. His.

  “Men are weird,” she commented, her tone cutting. “Wowza, there they are.” Excitement owned her voice as his brothers arrived, pleasing him. At least she didn’t totally despise them as a shock reaction to their taking of her. He could work with that. Win her over eventually.

  Jetting in from three separate directions, Zent, Zion and Zotorro first flew a swift reconnaissance around the simple brick building. Then, as one unit, they dived like an arrow’s head toward the Thug Singles. Two, who hovered and waited their turn to strike the building spun around, staring upwards. Seeing the Dark Brothers aimed at them and streaking like blurred spears, they barked a warning. Turning tail, the two blasted away as if they’d turned on afterburners.

  Zent arced a fast turn, soaring after them. Meanwhile, Zion and Zotorro whirled at a furious speed countering the fist and feet attacks of the other three, who tried to gain the advantage by their numbers but were failing miserably.

  Zion and Zotorro spun punishing blow after blow. Soon the three Thug Singles bounced back and forth like limp caricatures of themselves.

  “Wow. You never get this kind of good stuff on the corp generic screens. What are they going to do with them?”

  “Not much to do, except teach them a lesson. No prison would hold them.”

  “The prisons are all pit hells of injustice. I doubt their characters would be improved.”

  Zavier tapped on the button that brought the screen tracking Zent forward. His brother had caught up to the two Thug Singles. Grabbing one by the foot, he gripped hard, and halted. Lightning-quick, he whirled like a dervish, spinning the hapless thug as if he were the spoke of a wheel. Then, rotating like a top toward the escaping Single, he used the captured thug to bat his fleeing cohort, who sailed as if he were a sport’s ball.

  “And Zent was the more studious, least athletic one of you. Looks like that’s all changed.” Her surprise was obvious, and softly understated in her tone.

  Seizing the back of the dizzy helpless thug’s gaudy costume, Zent soared toward his falling cohort. He caught him mid-fall, one steely hand wrapped around his upper arm. Then in a flash, he flew to the slimiest part of the bay near the shoreline.

  “Omygawd, he’s flying over the water. Where’s Zent taking them?” She straightened, her voluptuous butt pressing down on his cock. Zavier loved it.

  He focused the screen on the sludge-blackened water near a deserted area of the bay that had once been a popular strolling park for lovers. “Where we toss out all the thug garbage, honey.”

  Smack! Smack! Dropped from a small height, the two thugs’ bodies slapped down into the thick muck, which only rippled outward, not spraying any droplets into the air.

  “Ewww.” She recoiled a bit. “Of course, they deserve it.”

  “Forty-two and forty-three. The number we’ve deposited,” he explained. He zoomed in the main screen tightly onto Zion and Zotorro.

  Plop! Plop! Plop! Zion and Zotorro tossed the other three Thug Singles onto the pavement, and then brushed their hands in good riddance. The angry crowd picked up anything they could find, beating on the three with bottles, bricks, bent pipe and old pieces of wood.

  “Mob justice. Not that they feel much of anything. Do they?”

  “No. It’s the bruising of their pride that might cause them to behave in the future.”

  “Luby, the Lipstick Queen, is she still around, observing?”

  “She slinked off into the menacing shadows despite wearing white,” he dramatically intoned, imitating a popular entertainment story. “Lipstick Queen?”

  “Yeah, whenever she came into a club I was performing at, she’d always have the shiny, reflective lipstick piled on. Couldn’t miss her in the dark. So we all began calling her the Lipstick Queen.”

  Zavier laughed until a crack of sound reverberated from one of the doors to the subterranean compound.

  “The donkey’s hind end, what the hell was that?” She stiffened, absolute stillness in his arms.

  Another crack of sound blasted around them, loud as thunder.

  Zavier brought forth the screen covering the reinforced foot-thick door, already knowing who attempted to beat his way into the Control room.

  “RedMaverick.” She gasped, shrinking back against him. “I thought he was one of the Good Super Guys.”

  His palm extended straight in front of him, the wild-haired beast of a man shot huge, blue fire bolts at the door, constantly booming the atmosphere around them.

  “Usually, yeah. Not now.” Zavier rapidly re-energized the seal around the door.

  Once the sounded receded, she whispered, “Good gravy, what does he want?” Hysteria trembled her voice.

  “You. He thinks he can steal you since I’m alone here.”

  With his giant teeth bared in sheer determination, and his eyes glowing like opaque white orbs, RedMaverick raised his other pale meaty palm. He fired two enormous bolts at once. A thunderous rolling sound shook the air around them.

  Switching it on fast, Zavier aimed the Drainer cannon square on RedMaverick’s massive back. Large sparks flew backward as his energy was sucked away. He roared a vicious growl, whirling his bulk around with amazing agility. Zavier had the urge to burst out laughing as he watched the other man’s haphazard orange-red peaks of hair move straight back with the force of his spin.

  Instead, he clutched Wendy close against him while amping up the Drainer. Larger sparks leapt from RedMaverick’s bull-monstrous chest, looking like droplets of orange-fire. Thrusting his head forward, and fiendishly growling, RedMaverick beamed a dark maroon light from his forehead, through the area of his third eye.

  Zavier shielded the Drainer’s aperture with a titanium plate, and then clicked on the Scrambler. He aimed it at the back of RedMaverick’s head, set the particle wave on medium and fired.

  Grunting a bellow, RedMaverick straightened as if a rod had been shoved down his spine. For an instant. Then he whipped around, fury contorting his hambone face. Zavier was about to scramble his brain again when Zent appeared, tapped his hulking shoulder, and then waited for RedMaverick to spin around. He fisted his jaw with a tremendous uppercut.

  Reeling backward, and looking like a redwood tree about to crash to the ground, he stumbled into Zotorro, who held him up while Zion unmercifully crashed his fist into his jaw. RedMaverick moaned like a drunk and failed at shaking his head. He staggered as Zotorro whirled him around, then lightning-flashed his fist—Thwack!—against his jaw.

  Catching RedMaverick as his beast-big frame toppled backwards, the three Dark brothers then soared upwards with him. Zion
and Zotorro held his beef-huge muscled arms, while Zent gripped his strange mane of hair.

  Wendy uncurled a bit, her gaze fastened on the screen. “Where are they taking him?”

  “A holding cell at a secret location. He’ll sleep it off. Get a hormone adjustment.” Zavier focused, scanning the entire perimeter of the building.

  “Hormone adjustment?”

  “Yeah, honey. It happens. He was probably planning on claiming you. His libido hit overdrive when he found out we had you.”

  “Overdrive.” She thought for a second. “Will he be the only one to hit overdrive?”

  “Probably not. However, I don’t see or ‘hear’ anyone else on our outside monitors.”

  She shivered. Zavier knew it was involuntarily. He’d felt her try to repress her reaction.

  “Wendy, I know this is traumatizing to you. Being here with all of us.”

  “Yes.” She hissed a jerky sigh. “What are you going say? That I’m better off here? With all of you? Than with, with—” She squirmed restlessly. Half-turning, she shoved at his chest. “Than with that hulking great beast. Only God knows what donkey size his anatomy is!”

  “The size mine is, if you don’t stop moving on me,” Zavier darkly rasped. He gripped her upper arms to halt her, although hell knew that was the last thing he wanted. Especially since he gazed down at the gorgeous moon-pale swells of her breasts. “Wendy.”

  “Don’t you start, you, you... Don’t think I don’t know about your cad reputation with women.”

  Flame leapt in her eyes when he managed to drag his gaze upwards. “Not recently.”

  “Okay. So what. So you finally grew a conscience.”

  “Jealous?”

  Zavier knew the moment he uttered the charge, he’d stepped into a hole drilled just for men this brainless. It was a straight fall into real hell, if he didn’t think of a way to save himself. The trouble was, he wasn’t thinking, except with his lower anatomy. And she was still wiggling on his cock, infuriated.

  “Jealous,” she bit out, her eyes even more fiery. “Jealous of being ‘seduced’ by the suave master of seduction in Chrontropolis. Yeah. That was it. Jealousy.” She heaved in a furious breath. “It was relief, you conceited idiot. Relief! Relief I didn’t lose my heart...” She halted, realization lighting her eyes now, the realization she’d just revealed again to him that she had wanted him. Maybe even as much as he wanted her.