by Candy Nicks
"You, on camera Two. You, get Rock in here pronto. It's showtime."
Chapter 5
Before him the front entrance to the club. Inside, Carine. It was that simple. The symbols whispered their approval. Now you're starting to understand, they said. All you had to do was listen. His entry went unchallenged, his way smoothed by unlocked doors and people who neither saw him, nor cared about him. Quietly turning their backs, they continued with their business, while he moved through them as if in a dream, eyes forward, one goal in mind.
The anger and frustration had been replaced by a surprising calm. All of his energy channelled and focused. They were expecting a grand entrance, so he gave them one. The door crashed back under his assault and without breaking stride, Ancel continued walking towards the stage. Carine looked stricken, embarrassed; not exactly happy to see him. Relieved perhaps, which was some compensation. Tough, this wasn't her decision. For once, what happened next lay in his hands.
Carine shook her head, her sad eyes fixed on him as he strode towards her, only vaguely aware of the other people in the room. Vin stood to one side, arms folded in rapt attention. A small group of people huddled together behind the bar. Someone scurried out of Ancel's way, another moved behind him. He leaped onto the low stage, needing to touch her first. To reconnect and reassure.
"You had the chance to run..."
"No. I didn't. This was my only option."
"Ancel, don't..."
Her helplessness, softened his heart. Reaching out, he touched her cheek with his fingertips, pushed them into her hair and held her. “You're a fighter. Like me,” he said. But this is one fight you're just going to have to watch. I don't know any other way but this, Carine"
"You should have run. Taken the chance and gone home."
"We go together, or not at all.” Behind him, someone coughed pointedly. Without turning around Ancel called back, “Whenever you're ready. Let's get this over."
"Thought you were never going to ask. Ancel, meet Rock."
Ancel tensed and stepped away from Carine. Listening, senses alert. Mentally he prepared for the fight. One last look at her, the woman he was fighting for. A swift prayer to the Gods. No room for fear. It was a time-honoured ritual—one he'd been through many times. But the stakes had never been as high as this.
The house-lights dimmed, throwing the room into shadow. Swiftly, he turned, defensive, his gaze sweeping the room. A single spotlight caught him, tracking his movements, blinding him temporarily. He blinked and tried to make out the large shape plodding towards him. Man, beast, machine? In this light he couldn't tell. A second spotlight illuminated his assailant, revealing a hybrid, at least two heads taller than himself, and almost twice as wide. Oiled skin gleaming, arms like tree trunks, his gaze unwavering. He walked to the centre of the floor with the confidence of one who'd done this many times before. The hybrid threw off his leather jerkin and waited.
Ancel kept a grip on his racing heart. The size of the thing wasn't a problem; he'd fought bigger and won. Bulk didn't always guarantee finesse and fights like these were won with the head, not with fists and sword. But hybrids didn't know when to stop. They'd fall and rise, fall and rise, winning by sheer persistence. Oblivious to the pain.
"Ancel, meet Rock.” Vin, in full master of ceremonies mode, had the microphone. “Look, he's taken quite the fancy to your Carine. How does it go? To the victor, the spoils ... I have to tell you, he's undefeated. Which is more than you can say."
It was the MC's job to unnerve him, to distract him. Ancel shut out Vin's voice. And the thought of this beast of a man anywhere near Carine. That would only happen if the beast killed him, and he didn't intend to die this day. Rock lunged suddenly, swung his fist and felled him with one blow. Around them the guards moved into position, smaller stun-guns in hand. Ancel shook away the stars flashing in front of his eyes. So it wasn't to be a death-match? He sprang upright and lunged at Rock feet first, using the momentum to flip backwards off the hybrid's stomach. Before Rock could react, Ancel was at him again, trying to get a hold around the hybrid's slippery waist. Rock roared, twisted and brought both fists together, catching Ancel on either side of the head. He staggered, fell to his knees and rolled, narrowly missing Rock's booted foot stamping at his face.
Ancel didn't dare look at Carine. One slip of concentration and Rock would have her. Throwing himself at Rock's leg, he vowed that would never happen. Rock shook him off as if he were an irritating bug, turned and swung a fist. Ancel, ducked, flipped upright and jumped onto the stage. Rock resembled a walking mountain, crushing everything in its path, but his moves lacked intelligence. All brawn and nothing else.
"Call him off,” Ancel shouted to Vin. A series of rapid punches to Rock's stomach stopped the hybrid—for a heartbeat. Rock returned a thunderous blow to Ancel's chest, knocking the breath out of him. “You're not going to let this ape deflower her,” Ancel gasped. “She's too valuable for that."
Rock hauled himself ponderously onto the stage, his eyes fixed on Carine. She didn't scream; Ancel thanked her for that. He couldn't fight while listening to her distress.
"Got that right,” Vin replied. “Up your game, man. That's your honey he's about to ravage. And I mean ravage. It won't be a pretty sight."
"Fuck you, Vin.” Okay, time to fight dirty. A hybrid had only one vulnerable spot. Rock lurched towards Carine, saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth. His hands already working the laces of his leather pants. Ancel stayed down, waiting until Rock was within touching distance of Carine. When the metal box used to protect the hybrid's private parts fell to the ground Ancel struck, grabbing Rock's balls with both hands, twisting viciously. Rock screamed like a girl, a high-pitched keening sound which bounced off the walls of the club. The guards came scrabbling onto the stage at Vin's insistent shrieking. Ancel hung on, determined that Rock would never ravage anyone again, ignoring the kicks aimed at him by the guards.
The first blast of the stun-gun loosened his hold. The second, more-intensive blast, caught them both, dropping Rock to the ground. Ancel clutched at his numb arm, groaning through gritted teeth while the guards restrained Rock and hauled him away. He almost felt sorry for the beast; he was as used as they were. Carine called his name, softly, over and over. Grounding him when all he wanted to do was drift away and sleep off the pain.
The future promised more of the same, of that he had no doubt. Already Vin was crowing gleefully over the playback of the film they'd shot and making rapid notes on a tablet. Boyfriend in tow, he sauntered over and ordered Carine to be released. Temporarily paralysed, Ancel could only stare up at her concerned, tear-stained face and hope that she'd forgive him. He should have been able to get her out. In this test of manhood, he'd failed bitterly. She deserved better.
"Great performance, Carine sweetie.” Vin patted her shoulder and winked. “Damsel in distress extraordinaire. As for you...” He hunkered down in front of Ancel. “Have one of these—you could do with a boost.” A sticky sweet substance dissolved on Ancel's tongue.” He heard Carine cry out, no. Felt Vin's fingers skimming over his lips, pressing them together.
"Loved the entrance, Ancel. Think we can work that into the act. And the ball breaking? Well, I almost peed myself. I think Rock with be singing soprano for the rest of his miserable life."
Ancel took a swing at Vin. Or at least he thought he had. His arm, when he looked at it, still rested weakly on his stomach. Sensation was returning, slowly in the form of stinging pins and needles. When the effect wore off, everything would hurt. He felt his head being lifted into a soft lap. Gentle hands stroking his brow. If he could move, he would have pushed her off. He didn't want Vin witnessing their intimacy. Vin's plucked eyebrows arched as he studied Ancel, a hand resting lightly on his thigh. He skimmed it lightly over Ancel's groin. Murmured his approval. Touched the gouge on Ancel's shoulder.
"Naughty boy,” he said and beckoned over one of the guards. “I hate the slave-bracelets. So passé. But needs must. Y
ou be a good boy Ancel, and you'll like it here. We work hard and we play hard. What's your fancy? Threesomes? Orgies? Me? Give me a good show and we'll cater for your every desire. You could work your way up the ranks to most trusted slave. It's not a bad life."
Ancel wasn't really listening. Vin's prattle faded away until only the sound of Carine's voice remained, murmuring low. Her breath warming his face. He felt as if he were flying, somewhere high above the room, galloping on his destrier. Standing exhilarated on the top of Mount Helios, kissing her until she couldn't breathe. Exhausted as he was, he wanted her with an appetite that he'd never be able to satisfy.
"What is this?” He pushed his tongue against the sticky pill, trying to spit it out.
"It's your new best friend,” Vin replied. “Here.” He offered one to Carine. She knocked it from his hand. “Suit yourself, darling,” he replied tartly. “With or without, you're in for a very interesting night. Get him to bed before he starts to levitate. Suite 5A I think. Poor guy's earned it."
Skin, muscle, bone, everything hummed in a way he'd never felt before. The symbols begged for completion. Ancel rolled his head, searching for Carine.
"Do it,” Vin urged him. “Get it out of your system. I guarantee you'll feel better for it. And it will make things much more ... interesting."
Where was she? He wanted her now. In every way imaginable. Hadn't he suffered enough for her?
* * * *
How many more times could she ask him to save her? Poor battered Ancel. He'd keep trying until they killed him, and then what? She'd still be a prisoner. Rock would still have her. Only a matter of time.
They'd dumped him on the bed. She'd escaped into the bathing-room. Ancel had almost died for her and she was here, hiding from the look in his eyes. With a groan, she slid down the wall and hugged her knees. Wanting—that wasn't the problem. The Bonding wanted with an intensity she'd never known. She wanted, he wanted, but none of this was real. This thing she'd started with magic was now charging headlong and out of control, fuelled by fear, adrenaline, narcotics.
Coward. She stood and splashed water onto her face. Turned her back on the huge tub which promised her aching muscles relief. It wouldn't be fair to indulge herself when Ancel was lying stricken on the bed.
They'd been put in what Vin had knowingly called the honeymoon suite. Sumptuous furnishings, rich colours, low lights. Sensual decadence designed to seduce and excite. She'd already spotted the cameras, high on the walls.
Soaking a wash-cloth in warm water, she tiptoed back into the room. Ancel lay on the bed, where they'd left him. Spent, but still relentless in his scrutiny. He'd bled for her and now he wanted his reward. The effects of the stun-gun wouldn't last long. The pill, who knew?
His head tipped back when she squeezed water from the cloth, letting it dribble over his hard stomach. She dragged the soft cloth over his skin, sweeping it upwards over the contours of his chest, his wide shoulders, his bruises and grazes. His warrior's arms, solid and unyielding. She wiped him down carefully, almost reverentially. Making him quiver under her touch. Mapping him out and committing him to memory.
"Everywhere,” he ordered when she hesitated at the waistband of his pants, his voice taut. She was his by Bond and by conquest. No running from that. Hands trembling with both fear and anticipation, she obeyed, sliding the thin material over his hips. His eyes held a challenge, daring her to look at him as he lay defenceless and open before her. The balance of power shifted briefly. She above him, he below, silently begging for her touch. She took pity on him, draping the cloth over his cock, stroking it back and forth. He gave a strangled gasp when delicately, she outlined his balls, swept it along his inner thigh. Pulled off his boots and washed the grime from his feet.
"The cameras,” he croaked. “Cover the cameras."
Carine blinked, shaking herself out of the trance-like state induced by the exploration of his body. “Oh,” she said and left him, reluctantly, to fetch towels from the bathing-room. She climbed onto a chair and threw them over the swivelling cameras, her skirt hiking up as she did so. Ancel's eyes never left her.
"Come here."
"I need to wash out the cloth.” It was a feeble excuse. She turned for the bathing room, afraid of what she was about to unleash. Of the power she held over this massive, naked warrior.
"You need to come here."
She went and stood meekly beside the bed while his hand slid beneath her skirts. His strength was returning fast, his grip on her thigh sure, possessive. He pulled her nearer and took his time. Fingers splayed, creeping higher. When she opened her mouth to speak, he placed a finger over his own lips to quieten her. Not a time for talking.
His touch made her shameless. The symbols whispered to her, seductive, persuasive words. Telling her that resistance was utterly futile. Asking her if she really was prepared to die without ever having known this?
"Don't ever hide from me,” he said in the same tone he'd used at First Bonding. In response, she bunched her skirts, pulling them slowly upwards, until she was exposed and inches from his parted lips. He rolled to the edge of the bed, onto his side, his fingers slipping around to grasp her buttocks, to push her against his searching mouth. She bit her lip to keep from moaning out her relief. Pushed against his shoulders, dimly remembering that he wasn't in full control. He jerked her back to him, the flat of his tongue seeking out her clitoris, fingers opening her.
"We shouldn't.” She arched into his mouth. “You're not in control.” She grabbed his head to hold him in place. “Ancel..."
He crushed her to him and blew out a hard long breath, sending her hurtling into a climax which left her gasping for air, weak and totally in his hands. Dazed, she lolled against the edge of the bed, Ancel still lying on his side, holding her upright with an arm around her hips.
Her rational mind screamed at her to fight him—the more they did this, the more they sealed the Bonding—while her body stood quietly, Ancel's arm around her, drifting, soft and compliant. His for the taking. The symbols reached out, stealing her will. Carine felt herself being lifted, dragged, draped bonelessly over Ancel's body. The feather mattress enfolded her and then he was over her, blocking out everything but his need for her. She heard the sharp rend of material tearing. Felt his warm breath on her breasts, her stomach. Answered his rasping, “I want you," with a desperate, “Yes."
He laid his full weight on her, hands circling her wrists. Like a man on a quest, he pressed on, almost oblivious to her now. “Have to fuck you,” he said. “Don't fight me. Need to fuck you..."
His thick cock shoved mercilessly inside, shattering her virginity with one hard thrust. Her tender tissues screamed their protests, urging her to push him violently away. Then, as he started to move within her, throbbing with a different kind of ache which had her wrapping her legs around his back to hold him closer, deeper.
She would have had it gentler, with sweet words of love instead of these crude, lust-filled ramblings. Would have had him truly there with her, instead of wherever this drug-induced frenzy had taken him. But he was the first and for that she shed her tears of gratitude, while the symbols crowed their triumph.
* * * *
Not a gentle taking. More a desperate race-against-time, act of possession. He wanted to be first and he wanted her to know what she'd unleashed. The effects of the stun gun receded. The buzz from the drug flowed through him, taking over his senses, urging him on.
Ancel was vaguely aware of her protests, her struggles. Of one of the towels slipping from the cameras. A very small voice told him to stop, to take more care. Another, louder voice, told him she was his, to do with as he wanted. And he wanted this. To be inside her. To feel her soft velvet surrounding him, squeezing the life-force from him. He was both taking and giving, but mostly taking. It was wrong on all kinds of levels, but right on those which counted.
Holding her down, he spent himself inside her, moaning like a savage. Dipping his head to lick away a droplet of blood from her
lip. She pulsed around his desperate cock, head thrown back in stunned ecstasy. It had been fast and frantic, but now he felt himself hardening again, thrusting, more slowly this time. Sliding over sensitised and abused nerve endings. Carine struggled a little, then sighed out her acceptance. He should apologise. Explain his lack of control. But the feel of her around him, under him, had him biting at her soft flesh, kissing, sucking the breath out of her, snarling through gritted teeth like some rutting animal.
A second, violent climax slammed through him and for a few moments, everything disappeared. The room faded and he was suddenly in a void of coloured light falling at terrifying speed into a bottomless pit. Roaring out his terror, he grabbed at the walls flashing past, ripping the flesh from his fingers as he scrabbled for a hold. He hit the ground screaming Carine's name and with the world rushing back at dizzying speed. Her arms circled him, anchored him. She caught him and held him safe. Talked him down from the terrifying hallucination with soft words of reassurance, while he trembled and breathed and clutched at her for dear life.
"Carine ... what the hell ... I thought I was falling..."
"Shh ... lie still, it was the drug. It didn't happen. I've got you."
He wanted to tell her she was an angel. His guardian angel. He would, when the world stopped spinning and when the thick soupy fog in his head cleared. Soft lips ghosted over his. Warm breath. The scent of their arousal and their passion. The cool sheets below him, sticky with his come. Bit by bit, he pieced himself back together, re-finding his place in the world. Carine's lips slid over his bruised and battered skin, forgiving him for being so rough. An act of charity he would be eternally grateful for.
"Be still,” she commanded. “Let it wear off. Let me help you."
He flopped back and waited for the room to stop moving. Lost himself in the feel of her mouth kissing away the pain. Her hand on his stomach, giving him a still point to latch on to. The soft velvet of her tongue touched his balls, the base of his cock, timidly at first, then slow and sure. She put her hands on him and made him come in a sweet pulsing rush. Then, utterly spent, he drifted away, cradled in the safety-net of her arms. Refusing to contemplate how this would feel when they woke up.