by Tracy Tappan
Maggie scrunched a napkin in her hand. “Oh, my God, how come we’ve never talked about this before? I, for one, have always felt really wrong about being so complacent.”
“Because we are brainwashed.” Ellen dragged her fingers through her unkempt hair. “Complaints rise in my mind, I’ll admit that, but then my husband kisses me in that way that lets me know how much I mean to him—to the entire race!—or I go to book group and have a blast with friends, true friends, or my kids do something so utterly adorable that I can’t help thinking how lucky I am.” She sighed. “I’m going to bet you all have the same experiences.”
Everyone went silent for a moment.
Maggie let out a long sigh. “We couldn’t do anything even if we wanted to, anyway. We don’t have any power here.”
Kimberly pounced on that. “We do in one area. We could all agree to cut off our husbands from feedings until Roth promises to cease and desist all kidnappings.” She smiled narrowly. “We could call it a Hunger Strike.”
Maggie snorted. It sounded a bit like a laugh.
“That isn’t funny,” Hannah snapped, her face pink. “What you’re proposing is appalling, Kimberly. Feeding is one of the most intimate acts that occur within the Vârcolac relationship. Our husbands depend on our blood for their very lives. We can’t just use that in a power play.”
“Plus,” Ellen put in, “you’re thinking too much like a lawyer, Kimbo. Topside, you could’ve written up an iron-clad contract against Roth reneging once the danger of the Hunger Strike had passed. But here, that won’t hold water, not with Roth being the only law.”
Kimberly cursed. That’s exactly what she’d been thinking.
Toni’s eyebrows lifted. “Is this man Roth a dictator?”
“Almost.” Kimberly twisted her lips. “In the old days, the Vârcolac system of government operated as a monarchy, and they just can’t seem to get away from that culture. Roth, as supreme emperor, doesn’t—”
“Everyone is making Roth sound like a monster,” Hannah interrupted with clear annoyance, “when he’s not.” She pinned a heated gaze onto Toni. “I happen to know that he cares very much about our well-being. He hates how unhappy we are when we first arrive, and he’s only doing what he does to save his species.”
“Boo-fucking-hoo.” Kimberly rolled her eyes.
Hannah’s face stained a livid shade of red. She kept her eyes on Toni, though. “I ask you to please understand their history, Dr. Parthen. After the Vârcolac fled Romania, they settled in England for a time. For about…I don’t know, thirty years. They lived among Regulars again, careful to hide their true selves, but they were discovered anyway and forced, once again, to flee for their lives. So Roth has to be adamant about keeping everyone securely hidden down here. He’s not purposely trying to cause unpleasantness with his strict attitude. It’s just life or death for them.”
Toni’s brows came together. “Are you saying you never get to go back up?”
“Have a baby,” Kimberly drawled. “Then you’ll be allowed topside to visit family for birthdays and Christmas.”
Toni took a moment to digest that, then she glanced around at the other faces. “Do you all have children?”
“Everyone except for me.” Kimberly turned her teacup in its saucer. “I haven’t seen the light of day in three years. But, God, no, Roth’s not a monster.”
Hannah’s body went rigid enough to crack in half.
“Have any of you ever tried to escape while you’re up top?” Toni pressed.
“Our husbands come, too.” Ellen shrugged helplessly.
“Where would we go, anyway?” Maggie added. “What would we do?”
“What you’d do,” Toni declared, “is shake things up around here. Because it sounds to me like no one’s listening to you.”
“We can’t be sure of that,” Ellen countered in a reasonable tone. “We haven’t been complaining, as I said, at least besides some initial kicking and screaming.”
“I have,” Kimberly qualified, “for two straight years of marriage. And I think my husband speaks for all of the men in Ţărână when he says that he doesn’t have the power to change anything.”
“Yeah,” Ellen conceded, “that’s actually true. They believe that to be true, anyway.”
“Which means none of them,” Kimberly kept going, “will take a stand against Roth about the repopulation program.”
Ellen nodded.
“So the kidnappings will continue unless we”—Kimberly banged her fist on the table—“make the stiffs around here sit up and take notice. I’d say a mass exodus of Dragons from the community would be just the ticket.”
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Maggie exasperated. “If it was possible to escape from down here, don’t you think we would’ve done that back when we were new and miserable? This is all just talk. We don’t have any power, as I keep reminding you.”
Ellen sipped her tea, looking at Kimberly over the rim. “Unless either you or Beth could finagle a key code card out of your warrior husbands. Then we could get past the secured exits.”
Kimberly snorted. “No way in hell on my end. But Beth might be able to charm one out of Arc. He’s totally smitten with her. One look at her boobs,” Kimberly teased, glancing at the fashion designer, “and he’ll go so sloppy-stupid Beth could slip a nuclear bomb into his pants and he wouldn’t know it.”
A blush rode up Beth cheeks. Her mouth opened, then closed. “But I…I….”
Hannah quickly pressed her hand over the top of Beth’s. “You don’t need to respond to that, Beth.” She glared at Kimberly. “We’re not going to get drawn into this ill-behaved scheme, Kimberly.”
“Ill-behaved?” Kimberly repeated incredulously. “Well, golly, Funshine Bear, it seems to me that it’s a mite ill-behaved to go around abducting women.” She glared back at Hannah through narrow lids. In her old life, she used to consume fusty librarians like her in a single yummy bite. “As happy as you are in this community, Hannah, can you honestly sit there and tell me that you support the abduction of women? Because if you can, then you and Beth are excused from the rest of this meeting.”
A profound silence descended over the room, the very air seeming to shudder with it. For a long, tense moment Hannah’s eyes clung to Kimberly’s, then she looked away, her lips trembling. “I just don’t want our husbands to get hurt,” Hannah said hoarsely.
“We don’t, either,” Maggie said gently, then she sighed loudly. “And that’s the problem: Roth knows that. If we escape topside, so what? Roth realizes that as soon as any one of our husbands plunges too deep into his blood-need, we’ll come running. All he has to do is wait it out.”
“Let him wait.” Kimberly hardened her jaw. “In a game of chicken, we have the upper hand.”
“Why, because we’re the holders of life-sustaining blood?” Maggie shook her head. “No. As I said, Roth knows that we love our men too much to allow them to truly get hurt. Being married to a Vârcolac makes it impossible for us ever to have any real power.”
Kimberly threw her hands up. Maggie was like a dog on a piece of meat about this issue. “Well, I think it’s pretty freaking clear that we absolutely don’t have any negotiating power down here. Escaping topside would at least put us in a position to play chicken.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over his chest. “And I happen to be a damned good bluffer.”
“So how do we get our hands on a key card?” Toni asked.
Kimberly exhaled a breath. “Only the warriors carry them.” She glanced once at Beth. No help would be coming from that quarter. “The warriors live in the mansion on the same floor as you do, Toni, so you might be able to get access to a key card. Give it a try.”
Toni looked slightly taken aback by the suggestion, but after a moment’s pause, she nodded. “All right.”
“Once we have a card, we’ll figure out the rest.” Kimberly’s heart jumped ahead a beat. They were really going to do this! She cast a smile over the group. “
Meanwhile, ladies, mum’s the word.”
Chapter Ten
Beth Costache couldn’t sleep. Curled on her side under one of her grandmother’s crocheted afghans, her thick honey blonde hair still damp from the shower she’d taken an hour ago, she stared at the mechanical clock on her nightstand. Shh-flip, another number flapped over to the next. She blinked slowly, her eyes gritty from her recent crying jag. God, why did she have to be such a baby about confrontations. The whole time Kimberly had been stirring up mutiny at the tea party, Beth’s throat had been tight, leaving her unable to do much more than sit in place and not talk.
She might as well have been back in high school.
Unlike most of the other Dragon women, Beth had had tons of friends growing up, but the relationships had been shallow, which was just like a typical Dragon story, kids hanging out with her because she was The Best Looking and Most Popular Girl. Whenever she’d opened her mouth to say anything, her so-called friends would invariably look at her like her head had turned into a cauliflower. To this day, she wasn’t sure if she’d said stupid things or not, but she’d soon learned it was better to act like a pretty ornament rather than risk it.
She was sick of still being worried about that. In her heart, she knew she wasn’t just some dumb blonde, but—
The door to the bedroom eased open and Arc stepped inside, pausing to watch her sleep, even though she wasn’t. From the corner of her eye, she saw that he was still dressed in his all-black warrior gear, which meant he’d just come off duty. He was running late tonight, but then the warriors always went on super high alert whenever there was a new acquisition in town. Until a woman was marked through mating to a Vârcolac, she was up for grabs as a potential reproducer by their Om Rău neighbors, making her dangerously vulnerable to capture.
Arc headed into the master bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the shower. She tucked her hand beneath her cheek as she pictured him undressing, his clothes falling away to reveal the broad shoulders, solidly sculpted chest, and ripped abs of a natural born soldier. He had a fantastic body, hands down the best of any man she’d ever been with. Which was saying a lot, because, modesty aside for a moment, she’d never lacked for some seriously handsome boyfriends in her dating years.
The shower turned off and she heard Arc moving about, brushing his teeth and such.
She continued to stare at the clock. Shh-flip…another number.
The bathroom door opened, releasing a cloud of steam. Arc padded over, fiddled with his alarm clock, then climbed under the covers on his side of the bed.
Two warriors out on the street exchanged quiet greetings as they changed the watch.
Shh-flip….
Her husband edged over and slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her close against his hips.
“Arc!” She jabbed an elbow into his abdomen. “Quit it!”
Laughing softly, he nuzzled her neck. “You are awake. I knew it.” The hard length of him prodded her rump.
“Yes, but not in the mood.”
“Hmm, no? Well, why don’t we see about getting you in the mood.” Setting a hand on her hip, he rolled her onto her back and smiled that smile of his which always turned her belly to sugar. Oh, God, why did he have to be so handsome?
Moonlight—well, really specialized stadium lighting—was leaking in through a crack in the curtains, cutting across the hard contours of his bare chest and turning his blond hair silvery white. His body heat wrapped around her like a cocoon of intimacy and his scent washed over her. Freshly showered male. Was there anything sexier?
He trailed a hand under her nightie, skimming over her belly toward her—
She slapped his hand away and lurched to a sitting position, clutching the afghan to her breasts to hide nipples that had gone erect with laughable speed. “Honest to Pete, Arc, stop it, would you? I’ve had a rotten day.”
“Tell me about it, baby.” His fingers danced over her knee. “Your clothing order arrive messed up or something?”
She scooted away, giving him her best glare. Not a very good one, since glaring wasn’t one of her specialties. He just widened his smile, not taking her seriously at all. “The five of us Dragons met with Toni today, Arc, and it was awful.”
Arc levered himself up on an elbow, discreetly inching back toward her. “It’s always tough at first, but things eventually smooth out.”
“This time they won’t. I’m warning you, Arc.”
His eyes glimmered out of the shadows. “Sassiness. Now I’m really getting turned on.” He wrapped a brawny forearm around her waist and hauled her back over to him.
She shoved away again.
He sighed. “You have two wonderful children, a rewarding career, a community that adores and supports you, no financial concerns, and a husband who’s absolutely crazy in love with you. What’s the complaint here, Beth?”
“This community takes women against their will, Arc. I’d think that’d be sort of a big duh of an answer.”
His lids hooded.
She bit her bottom lip. “The Dragons are really upset that you’ve taken another woman, Arc.” She didn’t want to betray the secret meeting, but maybe if she just talked to Arc and got him to understand the Dragons’ position, then life could return to being peaceful. “There was a big hullabaloo about it at Toni’s tea today. They want to…. It’s time to…take a stand about it.” She flung a hand out, and the afghan sagged away from one of her breasts.
Arc’s gaze latched onto the sight like a beacon. “Um…yes….” He crept forward and kissed her shoulder. “Take a stand….”
She fumbled with the afghan. “You’re not listening to me, Arc—”
He slid closer still, his hand coming to rest on her belly.
“There’s going to be trouble.”
“Right, right.” With the hand on her stomach, he urged her down onto the mattress.
“Hannah and Kimberly got really nasty with each other, and—”
Her husband tugged on her panties.
“Arc!” she gasped. She wriggled against his efforts to strip her, but he just laughed low in his throat and before she knew what had happened, he had her panties and nightie off.
With a ragged groan, he rolled on top of her and settled between her thighs.
“Stop it, Arc, you pain in the butt!” She slammed her palms against his shoulders to push him off.
“I’ll talk to Roth,” he panted, “first thing in the morning, okay.” His shaft throbbed against her thigh.
She froze, a kernel of hope sparking to life in her chest. “Really?”
“Absolutely.” He slanted his lips over hers, his kiss open and devouring, his tongue sliding inside her mouth like sweet fire.
Never trust what a man says when he’s focused on putting his schlong into your cookie, dear. Her mother’s oft-stated warning, with her one-of-a-kind genitalia descriptions, clanged through Beth’s ears, then flew straight out of her head at the feel of her husband’s powerful body on top of her, his well-defined chest warming her breasts. A thrill skipped through her body, sending embers of feeling lighting off along every inch of her skin. She entangled her tongue with Arc’s, sifting her fingers into the back of his silky hair to hold him in place. God, he was such a great kisser, never a hard-thrusting, gagging-tongue type.
His fingertips trailed up the side of her ribcage, all the while his mouth teasing and tasting, then he cupped her breast. She squirmed eagerly beneath him as he grazed his thumb across her nipple, caressing the rosy bud into an even harder point, then tugging gently on it with his fingers. She bowed off the mattress, moisture surging into her core.
Arc tore his mouth from hers with a harsh sound, his nostrils flaring. No hiding the scent of lust from a Vârcolac.
She spread her legs wider and bent her knees, making room for his large body, inviting him inside.
“Oh, yeah,” he moaned, grabbing his length in his fist and positioning himself at her entrance. He pushed inside her body, a smooth easy
thrust, always so careful of her. A growl wrenched from his lips.
She gripped his shoulders as he began to move inside her, tension steadily building in her womb, tightening, growing. He never skimped on penetration, each surge of his hips burying his shaft deep inside her. Exquisite ripples of ecstasy tumbled through her body.
“Arc,” she gasped in helpless pleasure.
“Come on, baby.” He increased his tempo as he bent his head to her neck, latching his lips onto her skin and sucking. The sharp tip of an elongated fang grazed her, and she pressed her head back into the pillow, stretching her throat out to him. His lips continued only to suckle her, though, his breath puffing in quick, hot bursts against her skin. He wouldn’t feed on her tonight.
No matter. She preferred a Fiinţă-backed orgasm, but didn’t need it. She flexed her legs tightly around Arc’s pumping flanks and dug her fingers into the valley that bisected his back, the scales of his dragon tattoo cool beneath her touch. Heat spiraled to the boiling point, her privates aching with the need for release. She gritted her teeth. Only…a few more…strokes, and…oh! She flung her head back and cried out as her sex squeezed and squeezed and squeezed. A shout rose in her throat that surely would’ve woken the kids had she not locked it behind her teeth. Oh! God!
A guttural noise erupted from Arc’s chest as the tight, rhythmic pulsing of her sheath sent him racing toward his own release. The muscles in his body stiffened…and then he was clutching her to him with impossible strength, a deep animal noise rumbling out of him that no human could’ve ever made. His sex pulsed inside her as he came within her body, and he hugged her even tighter.