by Wendy Stone
It had been beautiful, but Lucinda didn’t want this match. She didn’t want to be mated to Marshal, no matter how much he made her scream in pleasure when he took her. She especially didn’t want Marissa to touch or do anything for her. The bitch had taken Lukah, the only man she’d ever thought worthy of her.
“Look at this mess,” Marshal said, coming up behind her. “Why, Lucinda? Marissa was doing something nice for you, for us, and you had to destroy it.”
“So?” She glared up at him.
“You’re pushing me, Lucinda. You know what will happen if you push too hard.” He grabbed her by the waist, hauling her up until she was against his chest. Her round ass pushed against his hips, rubbing against his cock. “You really don’t want them to hear your screams, do you?”
“I don’t want you to touch me,” she said breathlessly, feeling the ridge of his cock pressing against her ass. Her sex quivered with awareness, growing wet, swollen with need. Her breasts felt heavy, her nipples hard and poking against the thin fabric of her dress.
Marshal slipped his hand to her thigh, holding her tightly by one arm around her waist. He pulled up her skirt, his fingers slipping between her thighs and into tight, wet, heat. He grinned at finding her bare, bending to whisper in her ear. “You naughty girl, you knew I was coming out here, didn’t you?”
“No,” she denied breathlessly. “I was hoping to catch Lukah when he went on his run.”
He shook his head, tsking at her lies. “Shame on you, Lucinda. Lying like that to your mate. Lukah left hours ago for his run. He took Marissa with him.”
She screeched, trying to twist to claw at him. Marshal just lifted her off her feet, grabbing a handful of the thin white fabric she’d torn from the trees. Quickly seizing her wrists, he looped the fabric around them, cinching it tightly. Throwing it over one of the trees, he pulled the fabric tight until she was stretched onto her toes.
Lucinda fought. She wriggled and shrieked, cursing him and his ancestors for many generations. He let go, standing back and enjoying the sight of her. Long dark hair sticking to her face and neck, her cheeks rosy and amber eyes glowing with rage and lust. When she quieted, he walked behind her, pulling her against his chest again, his hands going to the buttons that held her dress shut down the front.
Ever so slowly he unbuttoned one after another until her dress hung from her shoulders, exposing her beautiful body. She was all curves, sleek and lovely, her breasts high and firm. Her nipples were hard, the surrounding flesh crinkled. His fingers slid over them and she gasped, sensation needling through her harshly.
“I don’t want you,” she cried. He lifted one of her feet, parting her thighs.
“If you don’t want me, why are you so wet?” he groaned, coating his fingers in her thick juices and running them around her nipples, coating them with her arousal.
“I want Lukah,” she said stubbornly. “Only Lukah can make me come.”
“Is that a challenge?”
The sound of his zipper made her look over her shoulder, wide eyed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to prove a point, Lucinda.” He gathered her hanging dress in his hands, exposing every part of her. With no preamble, he stepped behind her, lifting her and throwing her dress over his shoulder. One thrust had him seated inside, her body stretching around him.
He gave her no chance to get used to his invasion. Instead, he began to fuck her, thrusting hard. She cried out, the pain of his sudden attack quickly changing to pleasure. Before long, she was thrusting back against him, her cries more pleasure than pain.
“Who do you want?” he growled, hearing her whimpers.
Stubbornly, she remained silent, refusing to give him what he wanted.
His hands found her breasts, mauling the firm flesh, tweaking the berry-sized nipples until he felt her body begin to tighten. Then he let go of her, pulling out. “If that is what you want, Lucinda,” he said, grinding his teeth.
“Where are you going? You can’t leave me here like this?”
He zipped up his pants, willing his hard cock to go limp. It didn’t help that he could smell her scent on his clothing and see her naked body swinging as she tried to find her feet. “Perhaps your beloved Lukah can come and cut you down,” he said, turning to walk away.
“NO! Marshal, God damn you, get back here!”
He smiled, even though he felt like someone had taken a sledgehammer to his balls. Her screams were the sweetest of music. She’d learn; it would just take time.
A Strange New Breed
Chapter Five
Lucinda screamed herself hoarse before someone finally came to her rescue. She fumed as Robert, another member of the clan, took his time cutting her down from the tree.
“Hurry up, before my father comes out here and finds me like this,” she scolded, kicking her feet when he let his hand slide over her backside. Screaming curses in their native language, she threatened him with everything from being collared to being castrated.
Robert’s eyes narrowed when he finally finished. “You are lucky that I like Marshal,” he snapped. “Otherwise I might be tempted to take your spoiled ass over my knee and give it the paddling that your father should have.”
Lucinda pulled the rest of the material off her wrists, glaring at him. “As to diavolo,” she cursed him. “You wouldn’t dare touch me.”
She turned regally, nose in the air. Before she could take the first step, he’d scooped her up in his arms and carried her to a log, planting himself on it before dragging her kicking and screaming over his knee. “Minara!” she screeched. “Ai pidiksou!”
“Asshole, am I?” he shouted, bringing his hand down hard upon her upraised bottom. “I should go fuck myself?” he growled, hitting her again. For every insult, he spanked her once, making sure to vary the strikes over her soft, plump bottom until every inch was bright red and welted. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her nose growing red from sobbing and her throat sore from begging him to stop. When he was done, he pushed her off his knees, grabbing her hand so that she flipped in mid-air to land on her bottom.
She screeched loudly, quickly moving off the ground, her ass too tender to even touch.
“Have you learned anything?” Marshal asked from where he’d stood and watched her punishment.
Lucinda’s lip trembled and she gave him the look that always melted her father’s ire, deterring further punishment if necessary.
It left Marshal cold.
“Have you learned anything?” he asked again. “If not, I am sure I can find someone else that you’ve wronged who’d be willing to take a stick to you. Dimitri, perhaps?”
“No,” she gasped quickly, remembering all to well the fury she’d seen on Dimitri’s face when she’d belittled his manhood and his ability to make any woman climax. “I’m sorry, Marshal.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to,” he said, waving toward Robert.
Naked, her bottom smarting almost as badly as her pride, Lucinda turned, bowing her head as she faced Robert. “I am sorry, Robert.”
Robert grinned above her head, nodding at Marshal. “I understand, Lucinda,” he said, dignity dripping from his tone. “Your mate will take you in hand now.” He turned and left the clearing, whistling even as he rubbed his stinging palm against his pants leg.
* * * *
The water was a torrent of heat, streaming through her hair and down her back. She sighed, bending her head back, letting it wash through her long hair. Suds from her shampoo circling the drain before being sucked down.
Terry’s body ached in all the best ways. Her thighs tingled from the morning spent in bed with a man of Nashe’s exuberance. He’d made her feel more like a woman in the short bit of time they’d spent together than any man from a long relationship.
The smile on her face slowly drained away, like the water swirling at her feet. “No, no, no! I won’t do it!” she hissed. “I won’t fall in love with him!”
The shower curtain was push
ed aside. “Are you talking to yourself in here?” Nashe asked, leaning against the shower frame.
Terry’s heart gave a lurch and her throat grew dry as she stared at that magnificent body, so close her fingers itched to touch him. “It’s the only way I’m assured of getting an intelligent conversation.”
His eyebrow cocked, rising in that arrogant and infuriating way, yet also charming and quirky. Quirky? She thought, wanting to shake her head sadly at the way she was reacting to him. She must have made some kind of face, because his mouth opened to speak.
Instead of dealing with the questions, she put her head back into the spray of water, drowning out anything he might say with the sound of rushing water. With her eyes closed, she didn’t notice him moving into the shower until he picked her up, gently swinging her aside so he could get wet. Then he ran his fingers over her face, swiping aside the water and a tiny bit of suds before dipping his head to kiss her.
“Good morning,” he whispered.
Terry burst out laughing. “We have to work on your mental clock, Nashe. It’s after four in the afternoon. We played away the morning.”
“Yes, but I just woke up, so that makes it morning in my book. And I’m hungry. What do you say to some breakfast after we wrap up your ankle?”
A little glow settled around her heart. He didn’t want their time to end yet either. “Breakfast? You don’t expect me to cook, do you?”
The arrogance in his glance made her laugh some more. “Are you kidding? I’d like to survive the day. You might poison me just to get me out of your apartment.”
“Nashe, if I was going to kill you, you’d already be dead.” She stood on her good foot and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve decided you’re not such a pain in the ass after all.”
“Really?” He reached behind her, grabbing the bottle of shampoo. “It doesn’t smell as good in the bottle as it does in your hair. So I’m growing on you then?” He poured a small amount into his hand before using it in his thick hair.
Terry lost track of their conversation. Her eyes were roaming over the hills and valleys of his physique, admiring the way the muscles bunched in his arms and across his chest as he scrubbed his hands through his hair. When he leaned back to rinse the suds out, she watched the water trail down his body, caressing it. Before he could move, she stepped closer, hobbling on her bad foot and picked up her shower soap.
Rubbing it into a thick lather, she started at his neck, slowly circling, moving lower to his shoulders and arms. He jumped when she first touched him, then seemed to stretch and move into her touch. Terry moved closer, her hands circling around Nashe, washing his back. A throaty purr came from deep inside of him as her breasts pressed against his soapy chest.
“Hmm,” he purred as he finished rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. “You’re better than a washcloth.” His hands dropped, folding around her to keep her close. When she lifted her head, his mouth found hers, his tongue sliding inside.
Terry moaned at the first heated touch of his lips. She was on fire for him, wanting him more now than she had this morning. Her breath caught in her throat, her head spun from his kisses. She gasped as he lifted her, turning to press her body into the wall of the shower. It was cold, eliciting a second gasp from her, one that drowned beneath his mouth.
He supported her, his hands under the round curves of her ass. Terry parted her legs, wrapping them around his hips, hissing slightly as she jarred her injured ankle.
“I thought I had you out of my system,” he growled, rubbing her soft body against his. “I want you as bad as I did this morning.”
“Think we should do something about that?” Her body tingled at the electrifying feeling of him against her.
“Do you mean this?”
Terry sighed as she felt him pushing inside of her, slowly filling her, stretching her folds around him. She felt so full of him, inside her, around her, holding her, supporting her weight so easily. Her hands clasped his shoulders, using them for balance as he started to move.
Each touch had her craving the next, an addiction that could never be satiated. He moved inside her and she was dizzy with sensation, moans of pure animalistic lust torn from her. She growled, looking up into his face, seeing his eyes glow with an intensity that should have scared her. Instead, it turned her on more.
She stared into his strange eyes, mesmerized by the power in them. With a sigh, she did the one thing she’d never thought she’d do. She bared her neck to him.
“What are you doing?” he growled, startled by the sudden submissive posture. He pushed his body against her, not allowing her to move.
“I want to feel your teeth,” she said, her tone almost begging. “Please, Nashe.”
“You want me to bite you? I’m not a vampire, Terry.”
“I know,” she said, feeling the embarrassment color her cheeks. “Forget I said anything.” She pushed him away, growing frustrated when he refused to budge.
Looking up into his face, she jerked, startled. His mouth was open, his fangs growing long, sharp and white.
“You want to feel them?” he asked, voice thick with the change.
“Yes,” she moaned, her eyes on his. “Please.”
His mouth moved closer, his eyes narrowing. He tore his gaze from hers to stare at the pale flesh which throbbed with the blood rushing beneath. He watched her pulse flutter faster as he grew close, then surprised her by rubbing his face against her skin.
She heard him inhale as if he were infusing himself with her essence.
“What are you thinking?” she cried, almost afraid of what he planned to do next. Would he bite her? Would he drink of her blood whether he considered himself a vampire or not? Terry didn’t know and suddenly it scared her.
“I’m thinking how incredibly easy it would be to spin you around and push you against the wall, to spread your legs and come into you from behind,” he growled. “I’d fuck you until you begged for it. Then, when both of us were almost there, I’d grab your hair and expose your neck. I’d bite you right here.” His teeth scraped against her skin. “You would be mine then, forever.”
His hips moved, as if he couldn’t help himself. She felt every thrust, every deep plunge he made into her body. He held her throat in one hand, his thumb against her chin, holding her face up and away from his, his mouth open and running across her neck. Nashe’s tongue lapped at her pulse, his teeth pressing against that throbbing flesh.
“Oh, God!” she cried, feeling the darkness of orgiastic bliss swelling over her. Terry screamed out his name, her nails clenching into his shoulders, digging into his flesh. He growled, his fangs pricking her neck, giving him just a hint of the sweet, salty taste of her blood.
* * * *
Nashe’s eyes flashed down, staring at the tiny trickle of blood trailing over her throat. He felt like a man dying of thirst, denying himself the drink that would keep him alive. So badly did he want to lap at that blood, to drink from her, to mate with her. But the memory of the first woman he’d thought to spend the rest of his life with came back to him with nightmarish force.
For just a moment, he watched again as she fought to survive, to take his blood, his animal into herself so that she might be with him forever. Her body twisted, the expression of agony plastered upon her face so vivid, she might be in front of him now.
Althea. She’d been a healer in the village just across the small inlet of water from their island. She’d known what he was from the first and had teased and tempted him, wanting to make him hers. Of course, he hadn’t fought much. Althea was dark-haired with laughing brown eyes and a smile that lit up her face and his heart. Her hair was the kind that he lost himself in, curling around her, thick and bouncing with life and health.
She wanted babies, she’d told him and her body tempted him as no other had. Wide hips flared from the tiniest of waists, one that he could span with his hands when he lifted her to spin her around. Her breasts were a generous handful, soft and pliant with pebbled nip
ples that always made his mouth water for more. She’d always been there, always watching him, even when she was a child, until one day he saw her watching.
He’d made her into a woman, stealing away her virginity one night as the full moon shone down on their glistening bodies. The small clearing was close enough to the ocean for them to hear the waves and the call of the ocean birds.
Nashe hadn’t known what his mixed heritage would do to her. He’d had no clue that the blood she took in was tainted by his DNA. Because of what he was, she had suffered, turning into something not human, not were. She’d gone mad, his blood rushing through her system, perverting her organs, causing them to decay and die.
It wasn’t a quick death, or a pleasant one. Althea had suffered horribly with no one knowing what to do to ease her pain. She had died, staring at him with mismatched eyes, one the green of the wolves, the other her beautiful brown, but no longer shining with life and love.
She’d died, cursing him and what he was. He’d wanted to run but before he could, her father and the men of her village had found him. They strung him up, whipping him until the ground was red with his blood and pieces of his flesh. Her father had taken his knife to him, cutting him from nipple to the top of his thigh, leaving him to hang for the seabirds to come and eat like so much carrion. If not for a stranger, a man passing through with his own secrets, he’d be dead.
The stranger had cut him down, bandaged his wounds and left. Nashe ran from what and who he was, leaving the peace and serenity of the island for the strangeness of the outer world and its customs.
* * * *
“Nashe?” Terry purred, sliding her hands down his chest. He was frozen, pressed against her, still hard inside of her. “Nashe?” she called again, this time concerned. Her hands pressed against his chest, she felt him tremble under her fingers.