by Nikki Sex
I have no idea how to unmake the collar he wears.
Life is the strangest thing. Lady luck is capricious. The difference between triumph and disaster can often be measured in a coin toss.
Today, I freed myself from a dungeon.
I escaped ongoing torture and possible death.
I realized how committed I am to one man. I imagined I could live like a “normal” human being. I’d been planning to have a relationship. Love, marriage, a husband, children—roots. I was going to have it all.
For a moment there, I held the whole world right in my hands—
—then I dropped it.
I feel as though I found Aladdin’s Magic Lamp, called upon the genie, and immediately got hit by a bus.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck, and damn it to Hell in a handbasket!
Epilogue
Two weeks later…
I got my job at MacLeod International back without difficulty.
Not only that, I also obtained approval to bring my dog to work.
Thanks to me, Jonathan MacLeod is in an unusually good mood these days. Changed by magical energy, we’ve yet to see the outcome of my mystical meddling.
Like my demon, my boss is also fascinated with my dog. Strange, eh?
Toby doesn’t join me at work every day. Sometimes, he’ll spend a week at a time in the magic lands. He’s become friendly with the Spukani pack shaman. What his interest is, I can’t imagine.
Detective John Joseph helped me find Stafford’s missing wolf, a pack mate recovered his body. John’s pleased to work with me, even though he suspects I’m sitting on information about his murder case.
You bet your sweet ass I am.
One thing I’m good at is keeping a secret. The killer he’s searching for is dead. I killed him, but how could I tell him that?
Hope remains unaware of her white-wolf-demon-poltergeist. It’s not my job to enlighten her. Maloo, the Spukani pack shaman, has taken Hope on as an apprentice. No one has any idea of her history of Down syndrome.
Hope is a fully-grown woman with the heart of a child.
I love her to bits.
Hope and Owen, still inseparable, are as close as any two siblings can be. I’m so close to them, I feel a part of their family. While Maloo has taken over Hope’s education, Owen has reluctantly begun attending high school outside the magic lands.
Speaking of family, Stafford’s fetuses are growing exactly as planned. They’re viable—no doubt about it. A few months from now, there will be three wolf pups running around.
Stafford tells me, if the in-vitro pups develop the same as normally-gestated werewolves, the babies will remain human for only six weeks. After that, they’ll shift to pups and begin eating meat. They won’t shift to human again for another five years.
Other than ghost busting, I’ve spent my life carefully avoiding supernatural creatures and flying under the radar. Now I call the shots of two of the most powerful paranormals in North America.
The Beast Lord and the Jugulo.
With one thought, I know exactly where they are and what they’re doing.
My vampire watches and protects me, although he stays out of sight. I haven’t the nerve or desire to sit down with him face-to-face. As you can appreciate, this isn’t at the top of my list.
I’d like to free his ghosts, but they won’t speak to me. To help them cross over, I need to meet with him. I’d rather not—not yet, anyway. The spirits have waited this long—they can wait a little longer.
It seems when I placed the collar of compulsion on the Jugulo, his “walking dead” became interested and aware of me. Limping, disfigured, bleeding, and moaning—one or more are forever popping in or out of my personal space. It’s as though they like to check up on what I’m doing.
Either that or they love me.
Whatever.
Assisting them on their way will take time I’m not yet willing to spend. It is rather disconcerting when headless, limbless, and bleeding spirits turn up in unexpected moments and focus all their attention on me.
My vampire recently wrote me a letter in his strong, masculine hand. Able to be anywhere, he tucked it under the door to my penthouse apartment. He didn’t enter my home—I’d have known if he’d materialized inside.
My pet Jugulo asks if he can investigate a mystery full-time, and be “on call” if I need him. It seems the sorcerer’s green orb has gone missing. In the wrong hands, it could be used to conjure more demons.
Just what we need.
His return address is a post office box. I wrote back, giving him my permission to seek it, and asking him to keep me informed of his progress. I could speak to him mind-to-mind, but I’m not ready for that yet, either.
Toby and I walk into my office at MacLeod’s when my phone rings.
“Hi, Jan,” Molly, our receptionist, says when I pick up. “I have a man on the phone, asking to speak to the medium. Is that you?”
I laugh. “I guess so.”
“I’ll put him through.”
“Thanks.”
“Hello? Um…is this the…medium?”
“Yes, this is Jan.”
He hesitates, as if rethinking the idea of talking to a psychic. “My sister’s fiancée died a couple years ago. Over the last eight weeks, she’s positive he’s been haunting her.” Long pause.
“Oh?” I murmur encouragingly.
“Traci, my sister, has heard of you.”
“Well…good.”
“I think she’s going to call to make an appointment sometime this week.”
“OK.”
“I want you to set her mind at ease. Tell her he’s gone and he’s happy. I’ll pay you extra—whatever you like. Please don’t encourage her in this madness. I’m afraid she’s having a breakdown.”
“I see. This is an unusual request, Mr…”
“Webb. The name’s Webb. Kevin Webb.”
A picture comes to me, along with a delicious blast of sensory memory. Country music; a sad, stoic man; my hands running through his thick red hair, stroking his large chest. The delicious male sounds of pleasure he made as he climaxed.
Christ, I thought his voice was familiar.
“Mr. Webb, that won’t be necessary. It isn’t easy when a loved one passes. I assure you, I’ll do everything in my power to resolve your sibling’s issue. We have a money back guarantee—our customers are satisfied or they are refunded. Trust me, I’ll take good care of your sister.”
There’s another long silence on the phone.
I wait. Finally, he asks, “Marilyn, is that you?”
Shit. Marilyn’s the name I used over two months ago, the Friday night I met him. Webb hasn’t forgotten, damn him!
“No. My name is Jan. Janice St. John.”
He says nothing.
Disregarding his confusion, I launch into costs and payment details. “Is there anything else, Mr. Webb?”
“No.” He pauses. “Thank you.” His voice seems resolute when he hangs up.
Webb isn’t stupid. He’s slow and steady, a thinking kind of man. I just know he’s going to show up at my office.
Shit.
My friends and colleagues, Danvers and Abruzzo, peer up at me from their desks, smiles on their faces, laughter in their eyes. My job as a ghost whisperer amuses them. They welcomed me back with open arms, but were dismayed at the amount of weight I’d lost.
“Stress,” I told them, which had the merit of being true. I’m enjoying eating my way back to my comfortable, curvy-shaped, average.
As I wander off to the kitchen area to pour myself a coffee, I can’t help but be happy to be back at work.
I feel as though I’ve come full circle.
My demon and I avoid the sins of pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and sloth. We still focus on the virtues of prudence, restraint, humility, wisdom, justice, persistence, kindness, patience, and courage.
Toby and I spend every weekend at Spukani Lodge.
I have my own room there
. I share a bed with Stafford only when he’s in wolf form. His inner beast and my inner demon get along surprisingly well.
I enjoy his closeness. I breathe in the heady scent of musk and wolf, cuddle up to him, and curl my hands in his warm pelt. He makes me think of earth and pine, the distant scent of water, and the autumn sun.
In my dreams, I join Stafford’s beast when he hunts.
For now, this is as close as we can be.
Stafford and I talk all the time, yet our greatest intimacy comes when we are together as wolf and woman. In his wolf state, he feels most at ease with me.
There really is a silver lining behind every dark cloud. I never trusted anyone—I couldn’t. Yet thanks to his collar, for once I feel safe. I was willing to risk confiding in Stafford, but there’s absolutely no danger now.
He can never betray me, so I divulge everything. Confiding’s a delightful freedom I’ve never known.
The Beast Lord is the holder of my every secret.
Lust is a huge issue. He wants me, and I want him, but making love is out of the question. I refuse to make the first move—not while he continues to stubbornly hold himself back from my bed.
It’s an issue of consent. His collar is a violation, overriding his determination in favor of my own. Now, he feels magically compelled. Doing something your body desires against your will is still rape.
Initially, I asked Stafford to tell me what he thinks and feels, but my request backfired. To him, it seemed an order. Now, I’m careful of every word I say, how I phrase every comment.
It’s a difficult balance to maintain, but a thoughtless remark on my part could mess up everything. I recall our last argument in his spare bedroom near the basement laboratory.
“Of course, I feel I love you!” he rages. “I don’t have a choice!”
Fuck you. You loved me before I collared you. I think angrily to myself, but curb my emotions and calmly reply, “I’ll figure out how to undo it.”
“Then what? You still have a demon. A demon!”
I’ve always had a demon.
“A baby demon.”
“Baby, grown-up, whatever its age—it’s a creature that lives to kill and torture!”
“Not my demon.”
“So you say.”
“Really? He’s been with me almost all my life. You loved me before you found out about him. I haven’t changed. I’m still the same person.”
“You have a demon,” he growls, “but let’s forget about your evil spirit, for now—”
“—he’s not evil!” I reply, momentarily losing my temper. “He can enter the magic lands. That alone should give you a hint. He heals. He helps people! Look what he’s done for you, for your pack, for us all. That’s his power, not mine. I’m not demon-possessed, I’m demon-blessed!”
The evil spirit in question shifts lazily within me the instant our voices rise. He loves loud arguments, they’re full of strong emotion. I whisper pertinent virtues in my mind: Restraint. Patience. Understanding.
Stafford stands over me, bares his teeth, grips my jaw in his big palm. A muscle in his cheek jumps. Testosterone, heat, and a heady aura of animal power saturates the air. It makes it difficult to breathe.
The Beast Lord is so damn dangerous! A thrill of spine-tingling excitement, fear, and arousal runs through my body. Like a mouse in the presence of a cat, I hold perfectly still, unwilling to draw attention to myself.
This is a no-nonsense display of his dominance. In this moment, I doubt even my Jugulo could win a fight with Stafford. The Beast Lord’s people love him, yet many fear him. Powerful, commanding, and supreme sovereign of the magic lands—he doesn’t take shit from anyone.
“I’m alpha here,” he snarls, his voice full of menace.
I lower my gaze. “Yes, you are.”
We both know it for a lie.
The Beast Lord rules everyone, that’s true—all except for me. This unfortunate issue with his collar pisses him off. Thankfully, his angry defiance in talking back, and demonstrating his dominance over me is new.
Hooray!
Even though he can be scary as hell, I welcome his rage. It shows we’re making progress. After the shock of being collared, he’s only just begun to be himself again with me.
Sometimes, he even bosses me around.
When I’m with Stafford, I intentionally act super subservient. I bite my tongue, I never put ideas forward. It’s best to let him come to his own conclusions.
My vampire made me rebellious.
With the Beast Lord, I want to submit.
When there are relationship problems, couples frequently try to reach the middle ground. I don’t like this idea. The nature of compromise often dictates that neither party will end up feeling satisfied.
Fuck that.
Instead of bargaining or negotiation, I choose total surrender. The damn collar is my screw up—I’ll take responsibility for it.
It’s nice to know I don’t have to be in control. I’m flexible. When I’m with Stafford, I purposefully jump into a restful, submissive state of mind. It’s my choice to serve him, to make his life easier. I’m willingly subservient.
For me, it’s kind of like being on vacation.
For him, it’s therapy.
Luckily, I don’t feel the need to second guess myself when I’m alone with his beast. This is partially why I’m so close to his wolf.
Stafford shoves a hand through his brown wavy locks, a nervous display that’s out of character. I briefly flash back to my pet Jugulo making the same gesture. What an uncomfortable comparison.
“Look at me.” The order is a sharp command, I instantly obey. Muscles low in my body tighten. I’m utterly attentive—
—and aroused. God, he’s so damn sexy.
Stafford gives me a narrow-eyed glare. “Ignoring the fact supernatural creatures will try to kill you—including every shifter in the magic lands.” He throws his arms into the air. “I have no choice. I’m compelled to place your survival above my pack. Everything you say, I must do.”
I raise my eyebrows, force myself to reply mildly, “Do I give you orders?”
He opens his mouth, shuts it again. “You haven’t so far.”
“I will never give you an order. Nothing’s changed. You’ll always do what is best for your pack. You rule exactly as you see fit.”
“What kind of alpha does that make me?”
“The best kind,” I reply firmly. “That’s one reason it’s so easy to love you, Stafford.”
His eyes soften, his lips curve into a slow, sensual smile. “I love you, too.”
We both taste the truth of this.
My heart lurches. When Stafford smiles there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Collar or not, my heart is in his hands. I believe he is the one with all the power over me.
Anyway, a little self-doubt and reflection never hurt anyone. It’s a particularly good idea for powerful leaders. Our problems will pass—they’re only temporary. At some point in the near future, we’ll both look back and laugh.
We just have to get through this rough patch.
Besides, sooner or later, I’ll figure out how to remove his collar. Until then, maybe the Beast Lord will decide to collar me? The idea is a good one. I’ll wager that his dominance and my submission in the bedroom would help us overcome at least some of our problems.
Too bad I can’t suggest it.
I have an aching hunger for the Beast Lord. I want him to take me in every way humanly and inhumanly possible. Maybe I can leave hints around, like a blindfold, fur-lined handcuffs, and soft rope?
Stafford was my fantasy while in the dungeon. How could I forget the dark sensuous pleasure of pain?
My demon adores strong sensation. He longs to feel. In small doses, I can manage him. A spanking can be intense, intimate, and deliciously sensual. I imagine the Beast Lord keeping me on the exquisite edge of erotic sensation.
Would Stafford feel better if he disciplined me?
I lick
my lips as images of erotic punishment run through my mind. I’d better not do anything too obvious, like leaving a velvet soft cat-o-nine-tails on the breakfast table.
Or could I?
My mouth twitches into a grin.
I know I’ll think of something. He’s naturally demanding and controlling. Once Stafford has the idea and gets started, he’ll dominate the fuck out of me in bed.
I can’t wait for him to show me who’s boss.
I shiver at the thought of his commanding voice giving me detailed, sensual instructions. I imagine his firm hands on my body, his fingers gripping my hair. I hear his deep, imperious growl of command.
On your knees. Spread your legs. Open your mouth.
I remember his taste.
The sensory memory of him taking me hard and fast from behind, like the powerful male animal he is, makes heat flare between my thighs. I shut my eyes, as my body flushes and my nipples peak.
Sensual tension and anticipation are killing us. The next time I feel Stafford pounding deep inside of me, our lovemaking will seem a life and death battle. Our bodies will join in scorching heat—a maelstrom of savage, mutual punishment.
Yes, when he finally takes me to bed, the resulting energy, magic, and fireworks will blow our freaking minds. I have no doubt we’ll both end up scratched and bruised. Doesn’t matter. I’ll savor every mark he leaves on my flesh.
There’s a reason they’ve named my tough, scary pack alpha the Beast Lord—and it’s not because he’s tame, gentle, and sweet!
Soon his self-imposed barriers will fall.
Then he’ll screw me silly.
I simply need to be patient.
As you can see, we have a few issues to work through. The important thing is, I love Stafford. I know he loves me, too—and not because he’s compelled to love me, either.
This is simply an adjustment period. Everyone knows relationships are never simple.
Why should ours be any different?
End of Book One
Want more?
Join my email newsletter to be notified when the next Janice St. John novel is released! You will also get a free and exclusive story “André’s Taxing Affair” that’s not available anywhere else!
Join here: http://bit.ly/NikkiSex