by Lucinda Dark
"Fuck," he hissed as I sank down onto his cock, taking him to the hilt. It was burning through me, this feeling. "Barbie."
I wanted to bite him, I realized. My vampire did. She wanted his blood on her tongue, staining her fangs. I whined when he pulled out, hating the feeling of him exiting me. As soon as I did, however, he powered forward again. He thrust into me with abandon. Hard and wicked, filling me to the brim. I didn't even know I was clawing at him until the scent of his blood hit my nose. My eyes snapped open. I hadn't even realized my talons had broken through, but there they were—long track marks of where my nails had scraped the outside of his arms raw. I panted as he pounded me into the wall. His thumb circled my clit, bringing me to life, edging me towards the most blissful orgasm that I'd ever known.
I was on the precipice of something great, something that might change me forever, and I found that not only did I want to fall over that cliff, I wanted to fucking leap from it. I wanted the freefall. I wanted to give myself to him and let him take me over. It was dangerous and wrong. I'd changed his life, ruined it in so many ways. I'd loved being human, and I hadn't wanted this change, but he'd taken control—wrestled it from my grasp and made his own path. It was admirable. It was sexy. It was ... well, it was truly a Maverick thing to do.
He pressed down on my clit and thrust into me in the same instant and I exploded. It took me by such sudden surprise, a gasp slipped out of my mouth and my talons locked onto his shoulders, biting into his back as I cried out. An orgasm like none other washed through me, stealing my breath and my sanity. Everything descended into a wave of white. I shuddered and came apart in his arms and in the next instant, he stilled and came as well. When Maverick pulled out of me, I felt a slow trickle slide down the inner side of my thigh. When I'd been human, that would have panicked me. Now, it only made my chest clench. In the past year, so much had changed. My life had been turned upside down and then stolen away. It almost made me want to cry, but I hadn't cried over anything so trivial in months. I'd cried when my parents died and then the tears had dried up. They did the same thing now. They dried up and became a wasteland desert. Instead, I stood up on my own two feet and moved against Maverick as he reached for the soap and lathered it up.
For several long moments, we washed each other. Neither of us spoke as we moved our hands against the other, running lathery fingers up over breasts and down against a rock hard abdomen. The magic wasn't gone, it was just different. And the more we touched—even though it was platonically now, no longer romantic—the closer I felt to him. When we got out of the shower, dried off, and found two sets of clothes waiting on the bed, I knew. Torin and Maverick were both the other halves of my soul. They were pieces of me that I could no longer deny. It was a terrifying thought because things would get worse before they got better—if they ever got better. We were three souls standing on the edge of a knife, just waiting to fall off.
Chapter 22
Barbie
“Who’s ready to get wrecked?” Olivia’s excited question brought a grimacing laugh to my lips. "Are you ready for some fun and shopping?"
"I'm ready to get out of here," I said in response and she took that to mean that yes, I was ready to get wrecked.
As soon as I had the door closed and my belt buckled, she whipped the car around and shot off back down the driveway, her mouth going just as fast as her driving. Thankfully, Olivia was one of those girls who could hold a conversation with minimal speaking on my part. A few well placed hums and agreements, and for the most part, I could tune her out. It didn’t seem right going to the city now. Not after what I’d learned earlier this week. Maverick wasn’t human anymore. He was a fucking dragon. A dragon? How did that fit into our whole dynamic?
Dragons are quite sturdy creatures, actually, a familiar voice piped up.
Could you tell he was a dragon? I asked.
Satrina made a sound that was both amused and irritated. It was a type of cluck, but I couldn’t picture her in my mind pouting her lips together and clicking her tongue at the top of her mouth to make it. Of course not, she said. He’s not even a true dragonborn. Just a dragon’s host. He’ll maintain the ability to shift only so long as he has the emblem of that medallion. I was actually surprised I didn’t notice it before. It makes sense, though, what with the golden, slitted eyes. Few shifters have that trait.
So if he gets rid of the medallion, will he go back to being human? I asked.
The boy has made his decision. He will keep the ability to shift with the medallion, she repeated. But even without it now, he has the senses of a dragon. He has agreed to an ancient contract much like ours. Dragons are rare creatures. The sound of clapping made me look at Olivia as she continued to talk and drive, but her hands were firmly on the wheel—thank God. It was then that I realized the sound came from inside my head. From Satrina. We get to fuck a dragon! she cried with glee, making me grimace. Oh, you don’t know how I’ve longed for this. I’ll be the talk of the Demon Den for years to come.
Is it really that big of a deal?
Is it that big of a deal! she squawked back. Do you know what kind of opportunity this is? Dragons are rare, darling, with a capital R. It’s nearly impossible to find one, much less a fuckable one—you know, with a host. Oh, next time, you should make him angry. When their tempers flare up, I’ve been told their eyes will turn that golden color and their skin gets hot.
“His skin felt plenty hot to me,” I mumbled under my breath. I would not be doing that. If I had sex with Maverick again, it would happen naturally.
“What?” Olivia glanced my way.
“Nothing, what were you saying?”
Olivia launched back into her spiel and I breathed a sigh of relief.
The city was supposed to be two hours away, but with her driving, I was sure we made it in half that time. I had to pry my hand from the 'oh shit' handle as she pulled up in front of our hotel with a screech. She yanked the parking break up and was out of her seat in a flash, her heels clicking against the pavement as she rounded the front and tossed her keys to the valet.
"Come on, Barbie," she called back. "We're late for our appointment."
"Appointment?" I scrambled after her, cursing as my booted foot caught on the edge of the entrance and I nearly tripped. I caught myself at the last moment and stopped, taking in a slow breath before I headed her way. My legs ate up the distance and I reached out, snagging her arm as she reached the front desk. "What appointment?" I asked.
She opened her purse and slapped her credit card down on the counter, sliding it towards the woman standing there. "Reservation under Olivia Jones," she said with a smile before turning towards me. "At the Marquess of Gem," she said. "It's the store to go to. I had to ask my mom to call for me, or else we wouldn’t've gotten in."
"It's just a prom dress," I said, shaking my head as I let her arm drop. "I thought we'd go to the mall or something, not—"
"Barbie," she said, the note of chastisement in her voice catching my attention. I looked at her and gaped as she frowned my way, slowly shaking her head. "Have I taught you nothing?"
"Here you are, Miss Jones," the woman behind the counter said, sliding Olivia's card back over the surface along with two room keys. "You'll be in the Siren Suite on the seventh floor. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to make your stay as enjoyable as possible."
"Thank you!" Olivia smiled brightly, grabbing the keys and card. She handed me one of the room keys before shoving hers into her purse. "Let's go." Olivia's perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around my wrist as she dragged me back to the exit.
"Wait!" I snapped. "What about my backpack? They won't let me take it in the store, will they?"
"Oh right." Before I could blink, she released me and reached for the strap of my bag, yanking it down off my shoulder and handed it to a passing bellhop. "Can you take this to the Siren Suite, please?" she asked.
"Of course, ma'am," the bellhop—a tall, elegant looking man with a dark head o
f hair said politely, bowing a bit before striding away, my backpack clutched firmly in his grip.
Hurricane Olivia had struck again.
The Marquess of Gem, it appeared, was another one of those boutique stores like the one she’d taken me to for homecoming except much bigger and much more lavish. I stared up and up and up some more to the dangling chandelier that looked more expensive than a fucking house. I swear it was hovering a good twenty feet above our heads. Wasn’t that a safety hazard?
Olivia was beside herself with glee. She clapped her hands and jumped up and down before visually calming herself with a few deep breaths. “Okay,” she said. “We’re gonna walk in there and we’re gonna own this place. We can have whatever we want, how we want it, when we want it. We are gonna look so fabulous in a Marquess original!” I had the distinct feeling that this pep talk wasn’t so much for me as it was for her.
A tall, curvaceous woman in a black pantsuit walked out. “Miss Jones?” She held out her hand to Olivia, which Olivia took with barely contained excitement.
“Miss Goldberg—”
“Please, call me Jada,” the woman said, interrupting her. The woman turned to me, scanning down my frame—clad in sneakers, holey jeans, and a t-shirt. Surprisingly, however, I didn’t see one lick of disgust or judgment on her face. Huh. Go figure. “This must be your friend. Hello.” She retracted her hand from Olivia’s and held it out to me. “I’m Jada Goldberg, the manager of the Marquess of Gem.”
“Hi.” I took her hand, shook it once, and then released it.
“Why don’t we head back to the rooms?” Jada turned and began to walk away.
Olivia’s fingers latched onto my arm. “Let’s go,” she said. I had a feeling this was going to be an incredible dream come true for her … and yet another nightmare for me.
We were taken to a rather large sitting room complete with a small table laden down with sandwiches and an actual teapot. After watching Olivia move to one of the seats, and reach for the dainty floral printed little teacup, and pour herself some of whatever was in the pot, I swallowed and moved to sit in the chair across from hers. Women of all shapes and sizes appeared, carrying with them long white and black bags with names printed across them in gold ink. Versace. Vera Wang. Michael Kors. Dior. Calvin Klein. Those were only some of the names I recognized from things like books and television. But there were more that I couldn’t even read because the women moved so fast. They hung all of the bags—dozens and dozens by my eye count—on two long travel hanging rods along the side of the room.
I looked down at the table, grabbed a cookie and shoved it in my mouth as I sat back and watched the fiasco. Olivia waved her hand and pointed to one of the bags. Someone brought it forward, unzipped it and displayed a dress so ridiculous it almost made me snort into the teacup I lifted to my lips.
The train was long and the color some garish green and were those ... feathers? Olivia grimaced and turned her head in a negative expression and the dress was returned to the bag and carted off. It went like that for the rest of the day. Olivia picking out bags based on their names. Sometimes, she'd get up and examine a dress up close. She'd ask for my opinion on a few, but I didn't have any preference. Except for feathers. No feathers. I shuddered.
We ended up with ten dresses each and were led to a secondary room—a changing room—where we stripped down and were trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys, tightened and laced into the dresses so quickly and efficiently, I stared back at the woman helping me in astonishment.
"Oh, I love that one," Olivia said with a sigh, stopping just outside of the dressing room as she took me in where I stood on a raised platform in front of a three part mirror.
I tilted my head to the side. "Yeah?" It looked fine to me. Gold and glittery. No sleeves or straps that would constrict my upper body movement. The front was shorter, revealing most of my legs. It would be easy to move in, that was for sure. The soft fabric swished around my lower half. It cut into my waist lightly, creating a shapely form. So far, it was my favorite.
"I think we've found the one for you," she said with a nod before joining me on the platform.
I looked to her and laughed. "And you?" I asked, snickering as I glanced down at the bright yellow and orange strips of gauzy fabric drifting to the floor.
"It's definitely not this one," she agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met in the mirror and hers softened. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet, reserved. "Thank you for coming with me," she said.
I frowned. "Of course, why wouldn't I?"
"I know you don't really like doing things like this. You're a lot less girly than I am."
"There's nothing wrong with being girly," I assured her. "You don't judge me for how I am."
She smiled and it brightened her entire face. "That's because you're my friend," she said before turning back to re-enter the dressing room.
I blinked, and with a startling realization, it hit me. Olivia was a simple girl. Sure, she liked finer things—expensive, fancy dresses, shoes, nice cars, and cute boys—but she was even simpler than that. It made a kernel of guilt blossom in my chest. I'd always assumed she was an airhead, but that seemed wrong now.
Olivia wasn't necessarily dumb and though before I might have thought she was spineless, she'd proven that wrong, too, when she'd slapped me. I shook my head and stepped down off of the platform when Olivia's high-pitched squeal had me whirling around and looking for an intruder. She burst out of her dressing room, a flurry of white fabric.
"It's perfect!" she shrieked. The dress wasn't even completely done up in the back. I gaped as one of the attendants came rushing out behind her, carrying the back of the dress in her arms with a look of utter horror on her face as she dropped it and tried to reach up to button the back of Olivia's gown. Unfortunately for the woman, however, Olivia wasn't paying her any attention. She spun in a circle nearly making the attendant face plant as she attempted to follow her—still doing up the buttons. "Look at it!"
"I am looking," I said with a small amused chuckle. I examined the dress up and down. It was all white, looking more like a wedding dress than something fit for a prom. But the sparkle in her eyes and the wide smile stretching her face made it impossible to say any of that. "You look beautiful."
She squealed again, jumping up and down as she clapped her hands. The action startled the attendant once more and made the woman step back with a huff as she gave up on trying to do up the back buttons. "I'm getting it! I'm getting it! I'm getting it!" she chanted.
And sure enough, as soon as we changed out of the dresses and back into our street clothes, she was at the counter swiping her card. I strode up behind her and handed over the card Beth had given me, wavering as the machine beeped and processed the charge.
We stepped outside onto the busy traffic congested street with our purchases left to be transported by the shop to our hotel later that night. Olivia turned to me, latched onto my arm, and said four words I would regret. “We’re going clubbing tonight!”
Chapter 23
Barbie
Loud, pulsating music ricocheted throughout my skull. At the same time, flashing bulbs and lights penetrated my closed eyelids and made the agony that much worse. How can anyone have a good fucking time with so much stimuli? Olivia seemed to have no problem.
Dressed in a barely there, skimpy tank dress with bangles glittering on her wrists, she bounced up and down and dragged me along behind her until we were in the center of the dancefloor. Writhing bodies moved in close, their scents overwhelming to my nose. I wrinkled up my face and tried to blend in by bumping along to the music.
“Isn’t this fun?” Olivia screamed the words over the music, but I could hear her just fine—like I could hear everything in this damn club. From the couple banging in the back hallway to the DJ snorting coke behind the stand, my vampire senses brought it all to life in high definition that I could’ve gone without.
I smiled and nodded, not willing to strain my own vocal cords to just get
a few words out. Music thumped throughout the club and I danced alongside Olivia even as I kept my eyes peeled. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't feel comfortable. Too many times I'd had to reach back and remove someone's hand from my ass. If one more motherfucker groped me, I was going to start chopping off limbs.
"Oh my god, I'm so thirsty!" Olivia shouted, reaching for me once more. I shook my head and captured her arm before she could touch me. Done with dancing, I dragged her away from the speakers and back to the bar.
"What do you want?" I asked, calling into her ear.
"Screwdriver!" she shouted back.
I lifted my brows and shook my head. There was no way I was letting her get alcohol. I turned to the bartender as he stopped by us. Ignoring the way his eyes tracked down my frame—clad in skin tight jeans and a low cut shirt—I ordered two glasses of tonic water. He slid the glasses our way a split second later and I handed hers over, ordering her to drink. With a pout, she tipped it back and sipped lightly.
"You're not having fun, are you?" Olivia asked.
"What?" I took two gulps of my drink if only to give myself time to come up with a plausible lie. Down the countertop, a man looked up and zeroed in on us. I scowled, hoping he'd go the fuck away.
She sighed. "You're not really into clubbing," she said. "Do you wanna go?"
"You're having fun," I said, my eyes darting to the side as the man slid closer.
"Excuse me, ladies—"
"Not fucking interested, buddy," I snapped, slapping my glass back onto the bar and letting my scowl deepen.
"Barbie, why don't we just go?" Olivia's gentle hand touched my arm.
"Why would you wanna go anywhere?" AAnother man piped up, appearing on her other side as his arm dropped around her shoulders. I reached forward and pinched his knuckle, grinding down until he yelped and lifted his arm off.