by Lizzy Ford
“You can punch me later,” he says with a soft chuckle and penetrates my pussy again.
I groan, loving how he fills me, and hungry for him again. Trembling from the orgasm, I suck in deep breaths.
Myca takes my wrists and holds them at the level of my head. His hot breath is on my neck, his fangs nicking my skin. Aware of what he’s about to do, I’m also lost in the sensations, sliding into his magic and him despite my desire not to lose myself again.
He bites me. Hard.
I tense. This pain is very unlike the orgasm, where pain magnified intense pleasure. This … this hurts. He thrusts his cock in and out of me faster while his fangs pierce deeper into my neck. The pain subsides, turns into the itchy-achiness of a loose tooth.
Soon, I’m on a one-way zip line down the side of a cliff, plummeting out of control, fading out of myself, with darkness edging my mind and any resistance to my fate at Myca’s hands vanished.
I’m lost.
The rest of the night becomes surreal, a night of passion, fucking and blood. Myca’s restraint disappears with my fear, and we take turns feeding. Fucking him is like letting loose every fantasy, every desire, every inhibition and unleashing everything I am, knowing he can not only handle the mess that’s me, but he’ll catch me when I feel like I’m falling, command my body when I’m out of control, and teach me new limits of pain and pleasure.
At some point, I pass out, probably after one of those limits ends up shattered.
And I dream again or … remember.
I’m running through the forest, my senses fully awakened. I’m scared, hurt and smell blood. It’s my blood … but I’m not me. I’m …
I look down.
A wolf. Bleeding and mangled.
It’s the night Ben’s ex, Jenny Lake, tried to kill me.
By the amount of pain and blood, she’s almost succeeded and is close enough I can hear her pant.
Panic explodes in my mind, and I try to maneuver on a busted leg with wounds that ooze blood. Through a hazy vision and the belief I’m about to die, I fail an attempt to leap over a downed tree and run into it instead. Dazed, I stumble to my feet and whimper as I place too much weight on the injured leg.
Jenny’s there, a large black wolf whose fangs are covered in my blood. She’s snarling, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Lowering herself for the kill, she prepares to pounce.
I hunker down. I’m trapped, and there’s nowhere for me to run.
Then I smell it, the third wolf, the one I recall followed me the next day, when I wandered aimlessly through the forest in search of safety.
Jenny leaps – but the third wolf is faster. It knocks her out of midair and then grabs her by the neck, sinking its fangs into her jugular and shaking. Jenny fights at first. Her growl turns to a whimper. Her kicking grows still.
I cringe, unable to bear the death of anyone, even someone trying to hurt me.
The third wolf lowers her to the ground and waits until the last flicker of life fades from her before it releases her. The wolf faces me.
Its eyes are completely black, empty.
Too injured and shocked to move, I inch back.
It doesn’t attack. It stares at me with its empty gaze for a long moment, seeming to peer into my soul, and then turns away.
The third wolf melts into the shadows and becomes one of them, leaving me bleeding and alone.
Chapter Six
I wrench awake and sit up, clawing my way across the bed before it clicks I’m no longer in the forest.
“Leslie.”
Myca’s arms go around me, and he pulls me into his body.
It takes a minute or two for my dream to release me, so I can see where exactly I am. I’m panting and shaking, naked against Myca’s chest. We’re in his bedroom, and I assume he brought me back after I passed out last night. The door leading onto the patio is open, and a cool, morning sea breeze tickles my skin.
“You’re safe,” he whispers.
I grip his arm, unable to shake the fear I experienced when the third wolf stared at me. Through me.
After the incident during the week when I was a werewolf, I didn’t recall what happened or how I managed to kill an experienced wolf, especially when I was so mangled. The next day, I thought I sensed someone following me, another wolf by the scent. I never saw the wolf I smelled or figured out who it was.
I wasn’t alone that night or the next day. But who, or what, was with me?
“How real are the dreams?” My voice is scratchy.
“They’re memories not dreams.” Myca answers.
I release my death grip on him and lean my head back to rest on his bicep. The sight of his blue eyes comforts me, further grounds me. He places his wrist to my lips, and I bite into him.
At once, the fear fades, replaced by his familiar taste.
“What did you see?” he asks.
I drink and then pull my head back with a sigh. “Something that doesn’t make sense.” Reaching up to touch his face, a streak of frustration goes through me. I wanted so much not to end up here, in his arms, seeking solace from my fucked up life in the bed of another candidate.
Myca kisses me, slow and deep, before his focus shifts to my neck. Bracing myself for pain, I’m surprised when there’s nothing more than a quick pinch as his fangs slide into my neck.
Him sucking my blood is soothing. I have no idea why or how that can make sense. But my tense frame relaxes, and my breathing grows steadier. He’s right – the intimacy of drinking his blood, of him drinking mine, has an almost hypnotic, calming effect. It’s definitely addictive.
Lifting his head, he clears his teeth of blood. “Tell me,” he urges.
I sigh. He’s persistent for sure.
“During my first trial, I was attacked by another wolf. Long story involving Ben’s jealous ex,” I say and roll my eyes. “Anyway, when I woke up the next morning, I was barely alive, and she was dead. I couldn’t believe my luck.”
“It wasn’t luck,” he guesses.
“No. I dreamt another wolf was there, and it was the one who saved me,” I murmur, frowning. “But … it wasn’t a normal wolf. There was something very off about it.”
Myca holds me against him, studying me. “What do you mean off?”
“It was like a shadow. There but not. And its eyes …” I stare past him, at the ceiling. “Maybe this was just a dream.”
“It wasn’t.” A glimmer of something is in his gaze. What I’m saying doesn’t make sense to me, but it does to him.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“I’ll tell you someday.”
This dream feels important, and yet, the why continues to evade me. When do I start understanding all this?
“You need a distraction,” he says and nips my neck. “And breakfast.”
Myca’s hard dick is pressed to my hip, and I refocus on him. One of his hands is trailing lazy circles along my thigh, and he nips my arm and laps up the blood.
“What do I smell like?” I ask again.
“I’ll tell you that, too, someday,” he answers before kissing me.
Desire has been simmering since the day I arrived, and whenever he touches me, it ignites into a forest fire. His hand slides to my pussy, and I shift in his arms.
“You into bondage?” he asks, nibbling on my chin.
“Never tried.”
“I’ve had plenty of time to learn all there is about sex. I’ll teach you a few things. Wanna tie me up?”
I laugh. “Yeah!”
I’m not expecting him to be serious, but he is. What’s more, his bed has wrist and ankle restraints built into the frame – and drawers containing sex toys whose uses even I’m not sure about. He instructs me in how to tie him up, and then invites me to grab any of the toys I want, or none at all.
“What do you like?” I ask, eyes on the thick cock protruding into the air from his body.
“Everything. Nothing you do will hurt me, so do whatever you want.
You’re in charge.”
“I like that!” I grin and grab a whip, feathers and vibrator.
But first … I’m a huge fan of a man with a huge dick. I set my initial toy choices aside and straddle his head before bending over to sixty nine him.
“One of my faves,” he says with a chuckle. Seconds later, his mouth is on my clit, and I shiver.
“Can I bite you?” I ask, nuzzling his cock with my cheek before I take its head into my mouth and suck hard.
“Absolutely,” he replies. “The blood that pools in the groin during sex is the sweetest. It’s like a drug.”
I take his length into my mouth and throat, all too aware of the fangs grazing my pussy. I fondle his balls and rub his shaft while working its head with my mouth. When the veins are bulging, and the tip is almost purple, I take a page from Myca’s book and sink my fangs into the base of his dick.
His groan is one of pure pleasure. His flavor …
Oh, dear god. I’ve never eaten anything that tastes the way this does. I suck and suck and suck, lifting my head only when his fangs pierce my pussy, and the shock of my orgasm sends me spiraling near unconsciousness. Clutching his thigh, I close my eyes and wait for the waves to end before I can possibly move or function again.
I’m sliding once more, into him, away from conscious thought. When my body stops trembling, I shift off his face and sink my pussy onto his cock.
Any restraint or fear I’ve ever held with regards to sex is gone. He’s right – I can’t hurt him, and he’s not going to laugh at anything I do. He’s genuine about letting me use his body to learn or simply to pleasure myself in every way I can possibly think of.
It turns out, I’m pretty damn good at being in charge of sex.
I ride him, suck him off, whack him hard enough with the whip to draw blood and lick it off, feed from him, tease him and completely let loose. I tumble straight down the slide into his magic and explore, fuck and drink from every part of him with reckless desperation and need – and then break out the toys to torture or pleasure him. My desire consumes me and whips me down a stream of frenzied fucking and feeding, until I’m exhausted and lying on top of him.
As irritating as he can be sometimes, he’s also an incredibly effective stress release.
The spell releases me, and I remain where I am, my muscles shaking from overuse, my body coated in his scent, my stomach and pussy happy for the first time since I met him. I’m sweating, and so is he, and we’re both shivering from the last orgasm.
“I’ll teach you some stamina,” he says, laughing quietly.
Lifting my head, I glare at him. “You saying I did bad?”
“Oh, no.” His eyes gleam. “I’m saying I’ll have you tied up all night tonight for a twelve hour marathon.”
Already, I want his dick inside me, and my teeth in his neck. I smell his skin and lick it before rubbing my cheek against his chest to ensure our scents are combined. It’s not enough, though, and I growl in frustration. In a day, I’ve gone from hating him to not being able to get enough of him. The more of him I experience, the more I want him.
“Untie me, and I’ll show you what’s missing,” he says.
I shift up his body to loosen his wrist restraints so he can pull free. His muscular arms wrap around me, and he nudges my head aside to sink his teeth into my neck.
I sigh, and the sense of in-satiety is gone.
He feeds for ten minutes. I relax in his arms, unable to pinpoint why him sucking my blood feels so natural. It’s a vampire thing, but it’s kind of weird to think that people know they’re being killed slowly – and are totally okay with it.
Myca withdraws from my neck and holds me. “Happy?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Tell me about Ben.”
I lift my head to see his features, puzzled. “Why?”
“I want to know.”
“But why?”
“Because you don’t want to tell me.”
“It’s none of your business,” I reply and sit up, my thigh pressed to his side. “Most guys don’t want to hear about the ex.”
“I do.” He sits up and rests his arms on his knees. His face is close enough to kiss. Unable to resist, I wrap my arms around him and flutter kisses across his face. Myca chuckles. “Okay. But next time, when I ask, you’re going to tell me.”
I have no intention of doing so but don’t admit it.
“Now, we’ve gotta go to the office,” he says with a glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand.
“Which office?” I ask.
“The council is meeting this morning.”
“Oh. So … you’re going to further your father’s agenda?”
“I run the council. I have to be there.” He laughs.
“Wait … you run the council and go to the illegal dens the council doesn’t approve of?”
He winks.
I roll my eyes. I’m more relaxed than I can remember being in a long time. Oddly enough, it’s been easier to trust Myca, harder for me to keep the walls up around my heart.
In fact, they haven’t been up since Ben. He demolished my attempts to keep him and the world outside, and Tristan prevented me from returning to the void where I want to be, away from everyone, untouched by the plights of the supernaturals my father inadvertently led me to despise.
Myca’s approach is gentler but no less persistent. He waits for me to see what’s in front of me.
Myca admitted to wearing me down to test my magic. Why does it feel like they’re all working together to wear me down? Is this somehow part of what my father told them to do?
“What’re you thinking?” Myca cups my cheek in one hand and kisses my nose.
“Nothing,” I murmur.
“It may have taken twenty millennia, but I did learn when a woman says nothing, she means the opposite,” he says wisely.
A smile slips free. “I don’t know, Myca. I can’t explain what I can’t figure out.”
“Try.”
I grapple with the emotions and words in my head, none of which seem to form anything rational. Confusion has been at the forefront of the trial experience, followed by anger and frustration.
“I came into this thinking you all were evil or … maybe animals is a better word. Father hated supernaturals. He hated humans. I learned at a young age to be alone and to be happy that way.” I shrug. “I haven’t been alone since my first night as a wolf and it’s fucking with my head. The world, the supernaturals, you all – you aren’t what I spent my entire life believing you to be. And the book …” I trail off, struggling to define what’s been bothering me about the Book of Secrets and trials, aside from the obvious question of why. “What it tells me doesn’t always make sense. What it wants me to do … there’s no way I can.”
“Then don’t.”
I search his face. “Is it that easy?” I ask doubtfully.
“You’re the Kingmaker. You tell me.”
“I have so many questions, and I don’t understand anything.” I nibble on my lower lip. “I’m too in the dark to know what I can or should do.”
“Maybe this is easier than you think,” he says, smiling faintly. “Maybe you know the answers already.”
Do I? It doesn’t feel like it. I’m the only person who doesn’t have any answers at all while the Community stands on the sidelines and watches me fumble around.
“Think about it.” Myca stands and leaves the bed. “Sometimes the right answer is the simplest one.”
I sit pensively until he’s completely dressed before pulling myself out of the deep thoughts I’m fed up with thinking. Maybe later, I can tell him more. Or … try to. I kind of like talking to Myca.
Climbing out of bed, I dress quickly and join him in the hallway. A vampire council doesn’t sound scary, and I don’t plan to leave his side, in case there’s no bathroom to hide in.
Chapter Seven
The vampire council isn’t what I expect. I guess I envision a bunch of knobby, white-haired,
grumpy, ancient vampires in robes, seated on thrones in a dark hall, silently judging the masses that come to beg favors from them.
The council meeting is held in a boardroom around an oval table, and everyone in attendance appears to be in his or her thirties or forties. They’re in business attire. All carry laptops or tablets and are accompanied by assistants who do the note taking during the meeting. Three token human snacks stand to the side. When someone is hungry, they signal one of the humans, who promptly offers a wrist.
To my relief, I’m not overwhelmed today, perhaps because our bonding is complete. I don’t have the urge to jump any of the humans. The different smells are present, but they’re subtle, with the exception of Myca’s. Every time he so much as shifts, my eyes are riveted to him, and my heart skips a beat.
Five hours after arriving, I can’t remember ever being so bored in my entire life. The council is prone to lengthy arguments about minutiae that doesn’t remotely interest me. Everything from debates about archaic rules to the testy approval of marriages to the constant stream of snide remarks about destroying the fabric of their historical tapestry, directed at Myca, that he ignores. The tug of war between his vision, and the council’s staunch refusal to acknowledge it, is evident in every exchange. When he makes a decision, the council unanimously disapproves, even though his vote is the only one that counts.
Myca is pretty much on his own, a one man change agent bashing heads with people who are determined to keep everything the way it’s always been.
He handles it all with grace I’ve never possessed. Myca is always calm, always logical, always quick to smile when someone agrees. He never backs down and never takes cheap shots, either.
I watch him with a combination of awe and envy, wishing I had one bone in my body that acted as sure and resolute about anything as he does about everything. Like Ben and Tristan, he’s more than capable of making the hard decisions I don’t ever want to have to be in a position to make.
I’m seated in one of the observer chairs against the wall, no more than ten feet from Myca. It feels like ten miles, though, and I’m struggling not to fidget. Being in contact with him is soothing; being this close but unable to reach him is likewise maddening. My fangs keep emerging, and I keep hiding them behind a hand, aware that they’re giving away my constant state of hunger and arousal. No one else seems to have that problem, probably because they’ve been vampires for more than a few days.