Feral

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  Noah flagged down a waitress, who rushed to serve him. He ordered Jenny’s cocktail. For himself, he requested extra-aged tequila, specifying the brand.

  Within no time, their drinks arrived. Hers was in a tall glass, as expected, and his was presented in a faceted crystal snifter. She’d never seen anyone drink tequila from a snifter, but she didn’t know anything about high-quality brands.

  “Good?” he asked, after she tasted her Bellini.

  She nodded and took another sip.

  “They’re an interesting pair,” he said.

  Her skin went hot. She knew he was talking about the tattooed man and his groupie.

  He glanced in the vicinity of their table. “Their relationship is exclusive.”

  So they were a couple. “I don’t want to talk about them.” Let alone look at them.

  “Then what should we talk about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You just want to sit here and listen to each other breathe?”

  That wasn’t her idea of nothing, especially with the invasion of her thoughts. She didn’t want to imagine giving Noah oral sex. Yet her mind kept straying in that direction.

  To combat the visual, she grabbed her cocktail and sucked hard on the straw, but the slushy drink didn’t help. Her skin remained hot.

  “Slow down,” he whispered.

  His voice was so soft and sensual, he could have been giving her blow job instructions.

  Jenny needed to escape, to cool off, to put some water on her face. “Where’s the ladies’ room?”

  “Over there.”

  All the way across the other side of the bar. Damn. Still, it was better than sitting here, thinking about putting her head in Noah’s lap.

  She stood up and pushed away from her chair. She had to weave her way around other tables to reach the aisle, but at least she was able to avoid the tattooed man and his lover.

  Finally, she made it to the ladies’ room and gazed at herself in the mirror. She looked positively haunted. Flushed, too. She wet a paper towel and dabbed it against her skin.

  A trio of groupies came in to use the facilities and fix their makeup.

  A snippy brunette joined her at the mirror and said, “What’s wrong? Is Noah too much for you?”

  Yes, Jenny thought. But she responded, “I can handle him just fine.”

  “Really? Well, did you know that some of the groupies think that Noah is a real shapeshifter?”

  “No, I wasn’t aware of that.” But she wasn’t surprised that people thought Noah was real. This club was a breeding ground for wacky superstitions and moonlit myths.

  The haughty girl said, “I heard that he descends from an Inca god.”

  Jenny wanted to tell the little twit that he descended from the Seminole Tiger Clan, but she kept that information to herself.

  The brunette finished her lipstick application, and she and her companions left.

  Jenny cooled her face off again, tossed the paper towel in the trash, and exited the bathroom, only to be stopped by a man in a coyote mask.

  “Good evening,” he said.

  She answered him cautiously. “Hi.”

  “You’re with Noah tonight,” he remarked.

  She sighed. “Are you going to tell me that he might be a real shapeshifter, too?”

  “I wanted to tell you that I’m his accountant.”

  Oh, goodness. “You’re the one who directed him to my rescue?”

  “Stanley Truxton. But I’m known as Coyote here.”

  She wished she could see his face rather than the mask he wore. Simple as it was, it covered everything except his mouth and chin.

  He asked, “Who told you that Noah might be real?”

  “A girl in the bathroom. She just rattled it off.”

  “Ah, yes. The rumors. But they aren’t just about Noah. Other supernaturals are believed to be genuine, too.” He smiled. “Not me, though. Can you imagine? An accountant turning into a coyote? And in a cheap mask, to boot.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone turning into anything.”

  “If you ever start believing it, you can give me a call and we can discuss it.”

  Taken aback, she asked, “You think the rumors are true?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but I have proof that they are.”

  Crazy indeed. But what did she expect? He was a member of this club. “I think I should get back to Noah now.”

  “Certainly. But remember, if you ever want to talk . . .” He removed a business card from his pocket and handed it to her.

  Anxious to get away from him, she slipped it into her purse. “Good-bye, Stanley.”

  “Coyote.”

  “Yes, Coyote.” She darted off, making her way through the bar again.

  She resumed her seat next to Noah and told him that she’d just heard about the rumors. She also mentioned the weird thing his accountant had said.

  Noah shrugged. “He likes to mess with people’s minds. He portrays a coyote because they’re tricksters. You can’t trust what they do and say.”

  “Then why do you use him as your accountant?”

  “He takes money seriously.” He leaned into her. “The way I’m taking you as my prey seriously.”

  “That isn’t funny.” And neither was the urge he incited. She wanted to turn her head so he could kiss her. But she was afraid, too, fearful that his sharp-toothed kiss would hurt, fearful that it would feel good.

  “I think you’re ready to see the dungeon now.”

  The place where the bondage stuff was practiced?

  She went with him, allowing him to take her wherever he wanted to go.

  Noah thrived on the feeling of being with Jenny, of teasing her, of baiting her. It was especially thrilling when they reached the entrance of the dungeon.

  “This isn’t what I expected,” she said.

  “It’s only the reception area.” A room with a rustic bar, wrought-iron tables, and black leather sofas. “There’s a lot more to come.”

  A handful of all-too-familiar groupies lingered about. Noah ignored them and took Jenny down a hallway with numbered doors.

  “These are private playrooms,” he said. “They have to be reserved in advance.”

  “Like a bondage hotel? It’s all so strange.”

  “It’s going to get stranger,” he warned.

  They turned a corner and headed down a long corridor, where medieval torture devices were bolted to the walls. Noah had acquired them from a warlock who’d time traveled from that era.

  Approaching their final destination, he steered her toward a heavy wooden door. But he didn’t open it. Instead, he prompted the moment to linger, allowing her curiosity to build.

  “What’s in there?” she asked.

  “The community playroom.” He waited a beat, then opened the door and took her inside.

  The first sight that came into view was a beautiful blonde tied to a whipping pole. Jenny all but gasped.

  Noah guided her farther into the room. It had been designed to represent a modern version of an old-style dungeon, with brick-walled chambers overflowing with public activity.

  While masters dominated their slaves in the wildest of ways, candles burned, scenting the air with wax.

  Noah put his hand on the swell of Jenny’s back, doing his damnedest to keep his claws in check. He hungered to bare them, to slice her pretty white dress in half.

  “Keep going,” he told her. “There is a row of prison cells ahead.”

  On the way, they passed a fully aroused man being chained to an X-shaped cross. Jenny took a curious peek, then glanced quickly away.

  Her shyness elevated the ambience, enhancing Noah’s attraction to her. Sooner or later, he was going to strap her to his bed and make her come as roughly and perilously as he could.

  The first prison cell was empty, and he nudged her toward it.

  She gave him an uneasy look. “Don’t lock me inside.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Pr
omise?”

  “Yes.” He entered the cell with her, leaving the door open.

  Once they were standing side by side, she asked, “Have you ever been locked in one of these?”

  He shook his head. “Just the thought of being caged up makes me uneasy.”

  “Actually, I’m okay with being in confined spaces.”

  He studied her. “Then why would it matter if I locked you in?”

  “I didn’t want to get trapped by you.”

  “You already are, Jenny. Maybe not in this cell, but in other ways.”

  “I’m trying not to be.” She glanced at the prisoner next to them.

  Noah glanced over, too. A female slave, delicately attired in a lace G-string, knelt over a portable bondage bench, waiting for her master to come in and spank her.

  “I’m not going to take you to the voyeurism floor tonight,” he said, changing the original plan.

  Jenny seemed relieved. “Because I’ve seen enough already?”

  “No.” His goal was to make it more intimate. “There are bedrooms on that floor with private viewing areas and the next time you’re here, we can watch with no else around.”

  “Watch what, exactly?”

  “Anything that interests you. A couple, a threesome, an orgy. Something harsh or tender. You can decide, and I’ll arrange it ahead of time.”

  “I don’t even want to consider something like that.”

  “You will.”

  “I wish you’d stop telling me what you think I’m going to do.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “I’m already nervous enough.”

  “Maybe I should kiss you to calm you down.”

  She bit a little harder. “You’ll probably claw me.”

  “No, I won’t.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  “Then you can kiss me. You can go at your own pace.”

  She inched forward, obviously intrigued.

  He watched her come toward him, her expression a mixture of anxiety, curiosity, and attraction.

  She got closer and he breathed her in.

  “Such a sweet scent,” he said.

  “I’m not wearing a fragrance.”

  “It’s just you. You’re naturally sweet.” Combined with the sex-infused, candlelit air, it drove him crazy.

  “Mountain lions don’t have an overly keen sense of smell,” she said, going into chatty science mode. “Not compared to some of the other cats. Of course, compared to people, they do. But—”

  For the hell of it, he took another whiff of her skin. “Come on and kiss me, Jenny. I won’t bite.”

  “Don’t make jokes, not now.”

  He wasn’t. “Just do it.”

  She leaned forward and grazed his lips with hers. He could taste her pearly pink lipstick, and he imagined that it was the same soft shade as her clit.

  He opened his mouth, inviting her to deepen the contact. She did, tentatively, but it was enough to make him fight for control. She was like a thirst-quenching stream on a sun-battered day.

  How in God’s name was he going to keep himself from devouring every luscious inch of her? He wanted to pull her tight against him and drag her to the ground.

  Her tongue grazed one of his canines, and she shivered all the way to her bones, making him shiver, too.

  Slap! Slap!

  The sudden spanking of the prisoner next door destroyed the moment.

  Jenny jumped back, and Noah cursed beneath his breath. Of all the fucking times for the master to paddle his slave’s naughty little ass.

  “What should we do now?” Jenny asked, as if the dungeon was about to catch fire.

  “Let’s go to the third floor.” Frustrated, his claws popped out. While retracting them, he roughly added, “Where the blood baths are.”

  Four

  As Noah took her to the third floor, Jenny’s thoughts divided, caught between that soul-jarring kiss and the anticipation of the blood baths.

  Once they reached the landing of the staircase and headed down a hallway, she relaxed a little. The area was brightly lit with a row of colorfully painted doors.

  Determined to stay focused, she looked around and noticed a door with a big juicy apple painted on it. That seemed safe enough. She quickly asked, “What’s in there?”

  “It’s the food play area. For people who have erotic fetishes that involve food. It’s not a deep, dark fetish of mine, but I’ve dabbled in it.” He snared her gaze. “I wouldn’t mind eating something off of you.”

  Yikes. This wasn’t a safe conversation, but apparently nothing about Noah was safe.

  He continued, “I could rub chunks of pineapple on you and lick off the juice.”

  She imagined the sticky substance trailing between her thighs.

  “Pineapple is one of my favorite treats,” he told her. “I’m not a strict carnivore.”

  “I didn’t think you were.”

  “I do like my meat rare, though.” He gestured to a door splattered with red paint. “And speaking of carnivorous behavior, that’s the blood bank, where vampires pretend to feed and where the baths occur.”

  She expected him to take her inside. Luckily, he didn’t. She breathed a whopping sigh of relief.

  He continued the tour. “Behind the sparkling blue door is the sensation center. That’s where people use toys and sensory objects to stimulate themselves or their partners.”

  Jenny didn’t comment. She didn’t know anything about sex toys. She’d heard about parties where women got together to buy those kinds of items, sort of like Tupperware parties, only kinkier, she supposed.

  Noah guided her farther down the hallway. “The art center is over there. It’s for body painting and whatnot. I’m not skilled in that regard, but I appreciate art. That’s why I included a museum on this floor, too. It’s filled with erotic and supernatural-themed paintings and sculptures.”

  He didn’t take her to the museum. He turned around and headed toward the blood bank. She slowed her steps.

  “Come on,” he coaxed.

  Shoot. She moved forward. Lagging behind wouldn’t earn her the check he was supposed to give her tonight.

  He opened the red-splattered door, and she wished he didn’t have such a strong hold over her. Between the money and her attraction to him, he’d snared her but good.

  He ushered her into a cavernous room with sofas and chairs, occupied by groupies being fed upon. Jenny noticed that some of the players were more theatrical than others. A man with tousled dark hair and hypnotic green eyes sucked ravenously on a woman who actually looked as if she was in a trance. Her skin was almost as pale as his, and her head flopped back, exposing the column of her neck.

  “This way,” Noah said, taking Jenny in another direction.

  They came to an area with tiled floors and rows of claw-footed bathtubs. It was creepier than she’d imagined.

  More fake vampires.

  Dressed in Gothic garb, they leaned over the tubs and poured thick red liquid from antique pitchers, drenching naked groupies.

  In another area was a row of shower stalls for the bathers to rinse their skin after their experience ended.

  Jenny stayed close to Noah, which did little to ease her discomfort. He’d created this setting for his club, and it looked like an erotic remake of Psycho.

  The female groupie in the first tub was climaxing. She had her hand between her legs, stroking herself while she took her bath. The vampire dousing her with blood was female, too, and remarkably beautiful, with a shapely figure and long, fiery auburn hair. She glanced over at Noah and smiled.

  “That’s Sienna,” he said.

  Curious if they were lovers, Jenny asked, “Do you sleep with women who dress up as supernaturals?”

  “No.” He put his mouth close to her ear. “They don’t make good prey.”

  “Not like me.”

  “No one is like you. You’re my sexual ideal.”

  “Matt said that I have the upper hand.”

  “Who’s Matt
?”

  “My cousin. He was at the fund-raiser. The man I was talking to before you approached me.”

  “Why does he say you have the upper hand?”

  “Because of the lengths you’re going to in order to seduce me.”

  “Hmm. That’s interesting. So is he right? Does it make you feel powerful to know how badly I want you?”

  She looked at the bloodied activity in front of her. “Not at the moment.”

  “I wonder if you’ll feel powerful when you’re strapped to my bed. Or when—”

  She cut him off. “I want to go now.”

  “Go where?”

  “Home.” She needed to breathe, to get away from him.

  “All right.”

  She spun around to face him. “You’re going to seriously let me go?”

  “Yes.”

  “And give me the check?”

  “Yes,” he responded again. “But you’re going to go home and think about this place and me and the scenario you want to create for the second floor.”

  The voyeurism. “I don’t have that kind of imagination.”

  “Sure you do. I’ll bet by tomorrow morning, you’ll have all sorts of ideas about what you’d like to see.”

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed Sienna’s groupie heading for a shower stall. “It won’t involve vampires.”

  “But it will involve somebody.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re tripping me up.”

  “So I am. Come on. I’ll take you out of here.”

  Once they were in the hallway with the blood bank door securely closed, he handed her the check.

  She didn’t thank him, but he obviously didn’t expect her to. The strings he’d attached to the money were tugging hard and deep.

  When she got home that night, she stripped off her clothes, climbed into bed, and pressed a pillow between her legs, with Noah and his club swirling in her mind.

  The following afternoon, Jenny worked her butt off, and she enjoyed it. She’d always thrived on running the rescue, but today she felt an exhilarating sense of freedom to go along with it. This place was hers to keep. No more worries about losing Big Cat Canyon.

  Her only concern was Noah. She couldn’t stop obsessing about him. She’d even fantasized about the voyeurism scenario, just as he’d said she would. But if she knew what was good for her, she would never return to his club. She would never see him again or talk to him or—