by Nikki Sex
Judging by his supernova of psychic power as a child, Leonidas Sparagis had it all.
Was he turned vampire and compelled to use his gift with malevolent intent? If so, I can think of nothing worse. I envision his sire forcing him to torture people. How many brutal interrogations had he been part of?
As an empath, he would’ve felt every wound, every cut, every injury. An exposed nerve ending, he would’ve been an emotional wreak. Only the power from his sire would have kept him from total madness.
My vampire must have died a thousand times, and in a thousand different ways.
No wonder he’s isolated and so damn serious. He’s an empath who has suffered, then suppressed and denied his gift.
Is that how he got started as a Jugulo? All I know for certain is, my vampire has made himself a fortress. He’s an emotionless being with one purpose: he’s driven to seek out and kill the demon-possessed.
Too bad for him.
His life is about to change. Ready or not, he’s getting a brand-new vocation. He’s going to protect me, someone he “knows” is demon-possessed.
My demon and I are much stronger than he is. Together, we utterly mind-fuck him. Man, we roll his consciousness flatter than a pancake. Are our actions twisted? Wrong? Perhaps, even evil?
Who cares?
I throw my head back and laugh out loud, adoring every delicious moment of it. I can’t stop giggling and snickering. It feels so damn good!
It’s his turn to feel my metaphysical bite.
In a moment of easy, effortless creation, I weave my vampire a collar of his own to wear. A flash of lightning to override his will. My survival is now his priority.
Cobalt blue for attraction. Ha! Ha! Ha! This time my irresistible glamour will arouse him. Let him tremble with lust, unable to meet my gaze.
The last element is for total submission. My vampire will be delighted to obey my every whim.
Mistress and slave, captor and caged—our roles have been reversed. I’m in charge now. I could torture him. I could lock him up and leave him hungry—let him see what it’s like.
My demon pulses with child-like enthusiasm at these notions. So not a good plan.
I’ve “gotten even” many times in my life, but it’s a dangerous pursuit. Buddha observed holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else—you’re the one who gets burned.
I’m not going to play a no-win game.
Germans say, Lass uns nicht das Kind mit dem Bade ausschütten, meaning, “Let's not throw the baby out with the bath water.” The Jugulo is my baby now. I’ll find a use for him. He can do as he likes, as long as he follows my rules.
Bent toward torment, unable to be denied, my demon adds his own element to the spell. When a human is enchanted, they have no knowledge of what’s been done to them. This is a good thing. It stops them from fighting themselves.
Yet my vampire will not lose an ounce of self-awareness. He will obey with joy, but he will also know he has no choice in the matter. He’ll know I’ve taken his free will.
It’s cruel, this mindful consciousness, but I agree with my demon. The bastard deserves it.
His eyes are ablaze as I approach. I stop three feet away. “Touch me,” I demand. “Hug me.”
Touch will complete our psychic connection. It’s best if I make him come to me. Contact isn’t really necessary, but like a vampire’s bite, it will help cement the spell.
Frightened, he hesitates.
We both know he doesn’t want to, but he must.
I burst out laughing at his dilemma. Arms spread wide, I give him a bright, ruthless grin, and remain exactly where I am.
My vampire steps into me.
The moment we touch, our magic quickens. Energy rushes over my skin in a sensual caress.
Oh, what an embrace! I feel every inch of him, all tall solid strength, and intoxicating otherworldly power. I melt into his warmth, his potent male scent, the joy of having someone—anyone—in my arms. It’s been so long!
From infancy to adulthood, hugs represent the best of every memory I’ve ever had.
Mmm. So good.
Unconsciously, I hug him back, sliding my hands under the jacket of his silk-lined suit. He’s fresh and clean. I’m not—but I don’t care. I’m a tactile person. For me, touch is an emotional need.
Oh, he feels utterly divine! His big male body is like a blanket of protective care, while his adoration, awe, and joy wash over my senses in a velvet caress.
Physical contact is vital for anyone with only a drop of humanity. As long as I’ve been without touch—I think it’s been even longer for my vampire.
Right now, Leonidas Sparagis loves me. Emotionally, I sense his intense pleasure. He breaths in deeply, his large frame shudders. Oh, yeah, he’s loving our hug.
So do I.
Enchantment or not, who cares?
It feels real.
It’s so out of character for Mr. I’m-In-Control-And-I-Don’t-Feel-Anything. Talk about nervous breakdown material. Compelling strong emotion from the emotionless one? What a crushing defeat for him.
I’m positive he’d prefer to be slowly beaten to death.
Surprised by his own reaction, gripped by a cascade of emotions he’s suppressed over centuries, he makes a strangled sound in his throat while crushing me to him with sudden, burning need. The urge is not sexual—it’s something greater. Something even more powerful.
A part of him craves and wants this as badly as I do. My super-scary vampire behaves like an abandoned child in need of comfort. With his whole world upside down, he’s desperate for human contact.
Human contact? Any contact.
My vampire wanted to possess me, to control my power, to own me—but I own him now. I have no desire to make him my slave—I don’t want that. Yet I fear it may be too late.
To him I represent comfort, pleasure, purpose, and safety.
He sure as hell is getting a better deal than I had.
“You are mine,” I send to him telepathically. I didn’t know I could speak to him this way until I did. In this euphoric height of power, it’s effortless.
“Yes,” he sends back.
Every drop of tension within him disappears. For now, he’s perfectly at ease, even though his life, his future—everything is in my hands. He knows it, but he doesn’t care.
There’s nothing he can do about it in any case.
I know how he feels—I know this exact sensation. He’s tranquil and at peace because he’s stopped fighting. My vampire surrenders completely. He’s discovered the pure joy of letting go.
Our powers mix and grow, bubbling up between us in a heated rush. There’s so much! Starved as my demon and I were, there is still far too much magic and energy to absorb.
I push some back into my vampire, making him stronger, but what shall I do with the rest? Immediately, I think of Stafford.
Just like that, I’m there in spirit, looking down at him.
Stafford’s warm, earthy animal magic resonates in my soul. He sits at a table, meeting with his pack alphas—it’s nighttime in the magic lands. His head tilts upward the instant I arrive.
Stunned and shocked to his core, he stares directly at me.
He can sense me. I’m not sure if he can see me.
It’s so good to see him! Already, our bond has returned—stronger than ever before.
Good. I don’t want Stafford to ever lose me again.
Instinctively I reach out and push the excess of power into him, then watch as his eyes widen in surprise. It’s too much. Through thin red threads of power, he distributes the overflow to the pack alphas of the magic lands.
Desperately excited to see him again, I whisper in his mind, Stafford, come get me! I was kidnapped. I miss you! Please, come as fast as you can!
I don’t know where I am, but I am here. Bonded once more, the Beast Lord knows exactly where that is.
He’ll find me.
I hear the so
ft growl of Stafford’s reply in my mind. I’m coming.
He seems so…different. He’s terribly tense and restrained. For a long moment, I witness a rushing river of his emotions: dread, horror, shock, loss, and even more dread. He has a problem—a big one—and it’s not connected to my disappearance.
What could it be? More pack challenges, maybe? Stafford won’t hold back if it comes to a fight to the death. He and his beast would even relish the battle and enjoy the kill. Yet in the cold light of day, reason will tell him leadership challenges are a personal failing.
Another possibility strikes me—oh, no! I hope his attempt at werewolf reproduction hasn’t gone wrong. Has one or more of the fetuses died?
What happened all those weeks I was away?
Chapter 78. Adjustments
With my fear for the possible plight of Stafford’s fetuses, my connection to him dissolves. Drawn by a soft murmur of power, I return to my body and the dungeon.
I stand here, crushed into the vampire’s chest, being cuddled by my lion-tamed Jugulo. He clings to me like a kid clutching his favorite teddy bear. Honestly, why is he still holding me?
I abruptly recall my command. “Touch me. Hug me.” I haven’t yet told him to stop.
Holy shit, is my control of him that literal? Wow. It seems I’ve made a commanding, ancient vampire—an assassin who sits at the top of the paranormal food chain, my own little bitch!
“Leonidas, you may step back now,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve used his first name, but it seems appropriate somehow.
With vampire speed, in less than a heartbeat, he’s five feet away. He must have fed recently as his golden cheeks flame red.
He knows what he did; he knows exactly why he did it. I made him hug me, but some of those emotions of his were real. Overly conscious of recent events, he’s embarrassed.
Brilliant. Making him feel uncomfortable is one of my favorite things.
No doubt, he’s mortified by his brush with strong emotions, including his behavior so unlike him.
Ha! Tough shit. Get over it, buddy.
Sure, he’s been psychically coerced, but a large part of him really enjoyed that hug. I wonder if he’s aware of that awkward truth? I glance at his groin. This is too good! He’s sporting an unwanted hard-on.
It seems I arouse him. A lot.
Hoo-boy, is this guy going to go through one hell of an adjustment period or what?
I still can’t get over the fact he was born an empath. It makes sense, though. Vamps are choosy about the humans they turn. That kind of ability doesn’t go away.
He must have denial down to a fine art.
Competent, commanding, stern, and no-nonsense. Doesn’t he ever have any fun? Maybe I’ll order him to read some joke books. If so, I’d better also instruct him to laugh when it’s funny, too.
Leonidas Sparagis is far too serious.
Why is he so damn driven? Maybe I simply haven’t seen him at his best. Yet I managed to find something to laugh about even while languishing away in my dungeon.
For as long as I live, my vampire will remain magically bound to me. I can’t remove the compulsion I’ve placed on him. Thanks to his collar, he’ll keep my secrets even if being tortured to death.
My pet vampire.
The Jugulo—a demon assassin—won’t tell anyone about my inner monster. He’ll do as I say, he’ll come when I call. This powerful vampire’s new job will be to protect me…from afar.
I don’t think I’ll want to see him again for a long, long time.
I grin. I’m looking forward to my new role. It sure makes a change. I’m the Bossy-Boots now, and I’ve never felt so safe from the supernaturals of our world.
“Right,” I say briskly. “I need a shower, some decent clothes, and a good meal. Where are we, by the way?”
There is dread and lust in his striking blue eyes—a strange combination. I can understand it though. I could order him to kill himself by jumping into the molten ore from a blast furnace and he would. Not only that, he would do so immediately, willingly, and with joy in his heart.
In his mind, however, he’d know he was being compelled.
He must be terrified a demon is in control of him. For centuries, the Jugulo has “slaughtered” demons. With all this determined activity, does he realize he’s due for karmic payback?
At some point, I’ll explain things and put his mind at ease…maybe. I’ll certainly make an effort to set his restless spirits free. Eventually, my actions will speak louder than any attempt at reassurance, anyway.
“My stronghold is in the mountains near the Fraser Valley,” he replies in his deep, melodious voice.
“Wonderful! So close to home. I need to clean up, then you can flash me back to say, Coquitlam.”
He nods. “As you wish. Shall I show you the way to the washroom now?”
“Yes.”
He spins on his heels, turning the opposite direction. I follow his long, graceful stride as his boots tread softly along a corridor I’ve never been in, then up a circular flight of stairs.
His black ensemble is very modern and elegant. It’s certainly a designer suit, well-fitted to his lithe, muscular body. My, my, my! I can’t help but notice—he has well-developed thighs and such a fine ass.
As I obtain magical energy from sex, a power hit always makes me horny. It’s a chicken and egg thing. Which comes first? Sex or power?
Answer: They arrive simultaneously (or should I say, they come together?)
Either way, my Jugulo is looking mighty attractive, right now.
I hope whatever crisis Stafford has on his plate won’t prevent him from being in the mood.
Chapter 79. Tactics
It turns out the man and woman who were the last to beat me are still here.
Before I shower, I command my vampire to flash them back to their homes, then bring me food, and clothes. At my order, he leaves me to my shower, then returns with an array of Indian takeout, a treat I’d been craving. He also brings me a pair of jeans, running shoes, a cotton blouse, and a knee-length woolen jacket.
The new clothes have tags on them. Is some department store missing stock? I’m too past caring to ask.
His stronghold, as he calls it, is in the middle of nowhere. It’s a fortress, made of large blocks of stone. I wonder how he managed to construct it, and what poor humans he used while coercing them to build it. There’s not even a road—which is perfectly fine for someone who can flash there and back again.
His home is practical, comfortable, and er—dare I suggest?—Spartan. I’m surprised by a grand piano, several different guitars, a cello, a saxophone, a drum set, an extensive library, and priceless artwork on the walls.
He’s bottled-up his psychic power for centuries. Perhaps the empathetic melody in his soul has manifested itself through pouring himself into music.
We sit across from each other in the living area while I enjoy my feast. For a man who doesn’t eat, he sure knows what humans like. I’m surprised he doesn’t have anyone living here with him. I thought most vamps keep blood slaves.
My demon’s adoration for my vamp has never lessened. I still feel an inexplicable attraction for him, too. What’s that about? Some sort of residual magic? Or is he simply that good-looking and powerful?
The assassin is definitely fascinated with me now. To my surprise, so are his ghosts! They stare at me, and murmur. They’re uncomfortably near. I’ve never had this problem before.
What next?
Did I magically compel them also? Or are they that in tune with the Jugulo?
Shaking his head as though attempting to free himself of glamour, his eyes return to mine. I’m amused to see my vampire has trouble meeting my gaze. He finds me too damn gorgeous.
This is such fun!
I watch his face and body language as I eat, formulating a plan. When I finish, I lean back on the couch.
“These are my rules,” I begin. “You will always tell me the truth. You are not to ki
ll yourself, or risk your life—unless it’s to save mine. Later, when I have more time, we’ll discuss our situation more fully. For now, your new job is to make sure I am safe, to come when I call, and to never tell anyone about my demon. Also, I want you to protect me discreetly. I don’t want others to see you. I don’t particularly want to see you, either, unless I call for you. Do you understand?”
“I understand.”
“Do you feel bonded to me? I mean, if you want to find me, can you?”
“Of course.”
I nod. “Good. Get me a new phone and put your number in it. I may want to contact you.”
He raises his eyebrows in query.
“Yeah, yeah, I could do it mind-to-mind, but I don’t want to. Frankly, after my time in your chambre de torture, the less I see you, the happier I’ll be.”
“I understand.”
“Also, no feeding on anyone I know. Do you kill humans?”
“If necessary.”
“No more killing.”
Anger flashes in his eyes. “I am an executioner, not a murderer. There’s a difference.”
“Oh yeah?”
My gaze lifts to his pack of ghosts. Huh. Potato, pah-tah-toe, I guess. “Look, I don’t have time to get into this discussion, not right now. I’m in a hurry to get back, but I’ll spend a few moments answering any questions you have. Let’s hear them.”
“What do I call you?”
“You may call me Ms. St. John. Anything else?”
His brows draw down in a look of concern.
“Ask away. I’m in a particularly good mood. For some unfathomable reason, I don’t seem to be carrying a grudge.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He frowns, puzzled.
“But you’re not really sorry, are you? You’re sorrier I got away, right?”
“Yes, that is so.”
I laugh. “If there is a God, she has a wicked sense of humor.”
My vampire lied to me, true, but first he lied to himself. It’s as though he has two different personalities to struggle with: the one mesmerized by my power over him, and the Jugulo who believes I should die as I’m demon-possessed.
It will take a little time for him to adapt.