by Sonya Jesus
My eyes never leave my Elly. "She'll be okay?"
"I believe so. But we'd best get you back to health. She'll need more blood from you before too long."
"Okay, Doc," I say, finally looking at him. "Just tell me what to do."
SELENE
"Passerotta, can you hear me?" Mother's voice sounds muted, as though she's speaking from far away. I have an inexplicable urge to answer her. As though it's of the utmost importance. But even the effort to just open my eyes seems too great. Instead I sink back into the black hole of unconsciousness.
***
"Elly, please come back to me, Baby. Come back to us all." Shawn sounds so sad. I want to hold him and tell him everything will be okay. But my arms are so heavy, and my eyes don't seem to want to open. I try to speak, but my throat is sandpaper. Despite my reluctance, I fall back into oblivion.
***
Once again, I find myself aware of the world. This time I feel different, lighter. After a few attempts, my eyes flutter open. I'm in a darkened room. My room, I realize, as I take in my surroundings.
I become aware of a pressure on my left hand and turn to discover the source. Shawn is asleep in a chair next to me. His upper body is resting on my bed, as though he was leaning on it when sleep claimed him. My hand is clasped in his — the source of the pressure.
"He has hardly left your side since you were taken ill, Passerotta." My mother's quiet whisper comes at me from the other side of the bed, too low for human ears. I turn to her and am shocked by her appearance. My mother, usually so composed, looks exhausted and disheveled. "He has barely slept or eaten."
Her words finally sink in. How long have I been ill? And what happened?
"What —" my voice comes out a broken whisper. Almost instantly, Mother holds a straw to my lips. Cool water soothes my throat. "What happened?" This time, my voice is clear.
At the noise, Shawn grumbles lightly, then bolts upright. His eyes, widened in disbelieving hope, are fixed on my face. "Elly?" His expression morphs to delight. "You're awake! Thank God!" He stands and leans over me to press a kiss to my brow, never letting go of my hand. "Thank you for coming back to me," he murmurs.
"What happened?" I ask again.
"Gar ùri," Mother says quietly.
"That's not possible," I say, shaking my head. "I am not a Destined."
"No," Mother agrees, "at least not in the traditional sense. However, it is inescapably obvious that you two are much more than mates. For now, all we can say is that you are Fated."
I share a glance with Shawn. Mother has not told me anything I don't already know. At least Fated gives me a title for my mate, even if it is not official.
"But what does that mean?" I ask.
"We don't know." Somehow, my father has made it into the room without me noticing. "This is as new to us as it is to you. As far as we know, the two of you are utterly unique. All we know for certain about your relationship is that henceforth, you can only drink from Shawn. You were lucky this time, Selenette." His eyes are bright with unshed tears and hearing his nickname for me makes my throat thick with emotion.
My father is typically fairly stoic, utilizing pet names and showing emotion in only the most extraordinary cases. Clearly, my illness gave my family quite a scare.
"How bad was it?" I ask in a whisper.
Shawn's hand tightens on mine while my parents share a glance. "We almost lost you, Elly. You've been out for nearly four days."
I look back at my parents, eyes wide. Surely it wasn't so bad.
"Shawn saved you, Passerotta. Dr. Forester gave him ùrisei and still nearly bled him dry at his insistence. You have a stubborn mate," she says, giving Shawn a fond smile.
"I had to do everything I could to save her," he says defensively.
"And we appreciate it more than we can ever say." From the look Mother gives him, it's clear she's already accepted him as her son. "Our Goddess was right to vouch for you."
"Our...our Goddess Nyx?" I ask in shock. It was our Goddess who changed their minds?
"Yes," my father answers. "That is what she discussed with me at your brother's Bonding. She said I could not stand in your way, both because you are meant for each other and because Elysabeth needs Shawn in her life to keep her on the right path."
"But she said nothing about the nature of our connection?"
He shakes his head. "No." His brows crease as he thinks back. "I have a feeling that she knew more but could not tell me. We hope that, with time, we will discover the true nature of your connection, perhaps with the help of Elysabeth."
Father wraps his arm around Mother and pulls her close. "We hope you both will forgive our reluctance toward the match. I know I have already said as much, but you have our hearty blessing to pursue your relationship wherever it may go. Shawn, we look forward to formally welcoming you into the family."
"Thank you," Shawn answers my father. "It means a lot to hear that."
"We will give you two some time alone before sending up Selene's siblings." They start to leave, but Mother pulls away and comes back to sit on my bed.
"I almost forgot. Dr. Forester left some rules for you. You must not drink from Shawn for another sixteen days. We have just enough of his blood to sustain you until then, but you must take care not to over-exert yourself, as you will likely be weaker than usual." Mother is stern as she gives me my temporary rules, but I don't understand the reasoning behind them.
"Why can't I drink from him?" He is my mate, after all.
"He received a transfusion. It is Dr. Forester's opinion that 20 days is the earliest you can drink from him safely, even with the ùrisei. We have informed Violette of the situation and will make you a drink each day with a minimal amount of blood. It will likely not sate your thirst entirely, but we have no choice. I am sorry, Passerotta."
"I'll manage," I tell her with more conviction than I feel. I've never had to deal with unquenched thirst before. I don't know how I'll handle it.
"I know," she answers with a sad smile. "But it is a mother's place to fret." She leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I was so worried." She whispers. "I must go thank the Goddesses for your deliverance."
I take her hand and squeeze it, uncertain of what to say. She stands and leads my father out of the room, no doubt headed to their private altars.
Once the door closes behind them, I let my serene countenance drop, revealing my fears. "Shawn," I say quietly, "I'm nervous. We were always taught to feed often to keep our thirst under control, but now I'll be purposefully underfeeding."
He leans forward and envelopes my hand with his own. "Elly, I have faith in you. We'll make it through this, just like we made it through your illness, and like we'll make it through any problems that come at us in the future: together." His eyes shine brightly with love, although he hasn't yet spoken his feelings aloud, and I know, looking into them, that he's right. Together we can overcome anything.
DICTIONARY
If you're confused by any of the French (fr), Italian (it), or vampire formal (vf) and Old Language (ol) terminology used in this book, you can find the translations and explanations here, in order of use.
Chosen: (vf) A human who is fated to be with a particular vampire. Partner term to Destined.
Cara: dear (it)
Destined: (vf) A vampire who is fated to be with a particular human. Partner term to Chosen.
Passerotta: little bird; a term of endearment (it)
Cucciolo: puppy; a common term of endearment for children (it)
Chérie: dear, darling (fr)
Conquest: (vf) A human who has either fallen in love, or been coerced into love, with a vampire. Typically taken up in their "prime" and discarded once aging has started. The practice of taking a conquest is almost exclusively limited to the vampire nobility.
Ma chatounette: my kitten, a term of endearment (fr)
Gar ùri: blood claim (ol); The phenomenon where, after a Destined has tasted their Chosen's blood, t
heir body rejects any blood consumed that does not come from said Chosen.
Ùrisei: (ol) A supplement developed by vampire medical specialists to enhance the blood production of humans to allow for more frequent feeding. Typically given to conquests.
Rachel de la Fuente
Rachel de la Fuente (meaning of the fountain) lives in Maryland with the love of her life and two furry children that meow. She's been writing since elementary school, and telling stories since she could speak. She is an avid fountain pen enthusiast with a bit of an ink problem, and often writes book notes and sections of stories by hand.
Rachel was born and raised in southern California, but spent many summers with family in Mexico. Her parents loved traveling, so she also spent many vacations in various locations, soaking up foreign cultures and sights. She still loves to travel, and is committed to crossing all of the locations off her bucket list.
Rachel is a proud Slytherin, and when not writing, spends much of her free time reading, cross stitching, and watching documentaries.
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Cuffed
By Cam Johns
I learned a long time ago, to not get involved in emotional attachments. That shit is for straight suckers. It's easier to just fuck and leave...or rather strap her to my bed, as she indulges in my every pleasurable whim...and then leave. Having complete control over my monthly submissive by night, only to relinquish control to my career as a detective by day.
Becoming detective by the age of thirty isn't easy, especially since my childhood was a shit-fest. But I learned to control my anger and disappointment in more explicit ways. That is, until I began my first assignment as detective…and I met her.
Copyright © 2018 Cam Johns
August.
You know what the summer brings? Fucking trouble that’s what. Two months ago, I almost burned my career because of woman spewing too much heat. Ugh. That damn woman, initially, drove me absolutely insane. In more ways than one. I just couldn’t focus. My domineering, ‘can’t get enough’ side wanted her tied up across my bed…or hanging from the ceiling…or…whatever my kinky sex drive could conjure…until her true colors surfaced. Even though I have been able to regain the trust of my superiors now, I still regret forgoing the assignment and letting my anger lead me into torture.
The assignment.
Jennifer Little. She was the beginning of a well-laid plan and I was supposed to monitor her. Something that started off as a short undercover operation, turned into three months of a cat and mouse game that got out of hand. But there’s no one to blame for this colossal fuck up but me- me and my constant, overwhelming need to explore my sexual deviancies.
It’s also what brings me here, sitting in front of this small coffee shop. I scan my surroundings, keeping my eyes open for anything suspicious. If my intel is correct, my suspect will be here soon and this whole thing will be over. It’s time to keep my head in the game. Which is difficult to do when, once again, I’ve crossed the line. The line I continue to blur with someone special that entered my life at the worst possible moment. I inadvertently ran across a melody that sang a different tune, then my usual lady of the month. Not only have I found my carnal release with her, but she’s found a way to break a barrier that no one has ever been able to. A part of me that has been buried for so long that I’ve learned to accept the loneliness. Now, I see a future filled with the love of a woman I don’t deserve. But nothing will stop me from proving my desire to be her everything. Nothing.
I didn’t see this happening, however. Lurking from my undercover car window, anger passes through me as betrayal saunters down the block toward the coffee shop.
I guess you really don’t know anyone.
The Case I:
Jennifer Little
June. Sixty days earlier…
As I sit at my desk, the events of last night’s lascivious activities replay in my head. Conquering the curvy body of the latest mistress of the month, calms my nerves as I await my first assignment as detective. Even though I’ve proven myself enough to make it this far at such a young age, it doesn’t change the fact that this will all be new to me.
I don’t do well with new.
I don’t do well with anything that is out of my control. Why I became a police officer, an occupation that always changes with each day, is something I still can’t answer. It could be because I am always in a position of authority, and that never changes.
My authority.
Being an orphan, moving from house to house as a child, having no stability is what forced me into a secret life of control. Relationships cause a weakness that I don’t ever need in my life. That weakness is for suckers in my opinion. I can fulfill my needs without the emotions attached to it. That’s easier for me. I live by my own set of rules, and I refuse to deviate from them. Not under any circumstances. The first, and most important, is to only deal with one woman for thirty days. I’ve tried longer, but for some reason women grow attached, even though I explicitly express that I am not looking for an exclusive relationship. Sex is all I’m willing to offer…and it will be thirty days of a dominant lifestyle. I’ve went so far as to make each sub sign a contract.
Submissive. Hmmm…the word just rolls from my tongue like a seductive longing to assail their vulnerability.
Last night, thirty days ended on my last contract. I’m not going to lie, I quite enjoyed this one because she pretty much let me do whatever I wanted to her. Even strapping her hands and legs to my bed and letting me have my way with her. Hmmmm. There’s nothing like torturing a woman’s pussy with my tongue and there’s nothing she can do about it.
But that’s all the control I get. Outside of my bedroom, I live by the normal rules of society.
***
“Lyndsey! Get yo’ ass in here!” Captain Richards shouts from his office.
I jump from my desk as the captain’s voice seems to pulsate through me, causing me to abruptly scatter toward his office. I timidly knock on the slightly ajar glass door, and wait for him to tell me to come in. Instead, he continues to stifle through a mound of papers on his desk, with an overwhelming look on his face. He finally glances up at me, apparently annoyed that I’m still standing outside his door, and drops the papers in his hands. He stares at me angrily until I hurriedly take one of the seats in front of his desk.
“Can I help you, sir?” I ask not sure why I’m being summoned.
He gathers the papers directly in front of him, and shoves them messily into a manila folder, before sliding it across the desk in front of me. I slowly lean forward to reach for the dossier as if the folder is about to burn me. I open it up to Dominic Little, the head of the most elusive crime family in the city. No one has ever been able to infiltrate their powerful domain, and anyone who dares to stand against them has ended up in the bottom of Lake Michigan.
Why is the captain even showing me this?
“You’ve been making a mark in the department, Lyndsey. I think it’s time to really get those rookie feet wet.” His intimidating stare begins to irritate me, as he stands and walks in front of his desk.
I hate that I have to pretend that he intimidates me.
I begin going through the massive folder full of each member of the crime syndicate, and their rap sheet. Then, I get to that last list: a memorial of all the victims who were once witnesses. All nineteen of them.
Will I be lucky number twenty?
I stare at the captain
baffled as to why he believes I can help in any way. I don’t know shit about undercover work. I’m lucky I’ve made it to detective at thirty. And by shear dumb luck, too.
“Captain, I’m not ready for this,” I say slightly, holding up the overloaded folder.
He chuckles. “Of course you’re not.” He grabs the other folder, sits in the chair beside me and crosses his long legs. “This is why.” He slings the folder at my lap and I barely catch it as the papers slightly spew from it.
I open it up to a beautiful woman, with tanned skin, long brown hair, captivating hazel eyes and a smile that would stop me dead in my tracks. But then, I glance at her name…Jennifer Little. Little?
Why don’t I know her?
“Where has she been hiding?” I ask, looking through her folder, but unable to get her beauty, and the image of a ball gag in her mouth, out of my mind.
“They’ve kept her away from their dirty business.”
“I see. I still don’t understand what that has to do with me.” I close the file and place it back on his desk.
The captain stands. “Well…it seems you’re her type.”
Her type?
What the fuck? Am I seriously being used for my looks right now? There’s no way I’ll be taken seriously if I do this.
“You’re kidding me, right?” I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees.
“Nope. Apparently, it is possible for you to make it on your good looks,” he jokes.
However, this is no laughing matter. I may be able to get my foot in the door, but I may not leave with my life.
“How do you even know she will like me?” I ask.
“Ummm…we’ve had people scoping her out and she seems to go for the young, tall, muscular type…and there’s no one in this department that fits the bill…that’s already a detective.” He stands to retrieve yet another folder and hands it over. “These are the men she’s dated in the past. None of them lasted long, considering her brother is Dominic Little, but you need to find a way to get close. Close to her…then her brother.”