“You’re an excellent shot,” Johan replies to Kalina, completely deadpan.
It's funny. In Janus's arena, I felt nothing but dread and horror for the poor Hunted soul. Not knowing if they were innocent, or evil. But with Karhold, I didn't care. Some slack faced child trafficker. Maybe he's more than what we've been told, but I didn't feel the remorse I expected when we cut him down.
Perhaps we're more savage than we think, as humans. Perhaps I'm not as nice as I like to think myself as.
We're ushered in front of the judge who distributes our rewards – who so happens to be Carla. She's grinning widely, evidently proud of us. Apparently, the crowd loved us choosing to teamwork – and were especially excited over me, who no one expected anything off. The commentator keeps going on about how clearly it was my Profiling that was the hidden ability, but he's talking bullshit. All I did was speak directly to the Hunters, and access who might be willing to ally with me or not. Hardly a notable ability.
“And how will you split the prizes?” Carla has her arms folded, waiting for one of us to speak. Lisa Arrow's by her side, looking pale and shaken, but also strangely pleased.
“I don't want any of the money,” I tell her straight away. Split it between the other three.”
The others nod, smiling again, because I had stuck to my word. “And about the shifting,” I say, “are you guys still okay with my plan for it?”
There's the briefest of hesitations from Johan, before they nod.
“Sure,” Adam says. “We're outta this scot-free cos of you, anyway.”
“I want Lisa Arrow to be gifted the shifting.” When I announce this, Carla's smile grows almost impossibly wide, and Lisa gapes, thunderstruck.
“Oh, I did hope you might say that,” Carla says. “The perfect solution, isn't it?” Her dark eyes rest on mine for a moment. A stab of fear goes through me. What if this is the part where she unveils the true villainess that lurks inside, and kills Lisa in front of us?
“It shall be done. Lisa, you may approach our licensed converters, and begin the transformation process as soon as you like.”
Lisa Arrow, still dumbstruck, now has tears well in her eyes. “T-thank you,” she stammers. Her voice is broken, sad, and happy at the same time. Grateful. “You truly mean it?”
“Course,” I say. “That was why you came to Animusa in the first place, wasn't it? Because you had an illness.”
The senator's daughter nods, though it's barely noticeable. “It went wrong. Tomas...”
“Tomas is okay,” I tell her. “He survived his Hunt, like I told you.”
“Yeah, but –”
“He'll be waiting for you. I'm sure.”
After another moment, Lisa gives a strange jerk of her body, maybe an attempt at a bow, before heading away to where Carla's pointed her towards.
“What happens to us now?” I ask. “Do you still keep us or are we free?”
“Free?” Carla lets out a little laugh. “Oh, you'll never be free again.” Just as my heart starts sinking, and Kalina's mouth pinches, Adam makes fists and Johan twitches, as if he's about to attack, Carla continues, “I shall, of course, make arrangements for you to be where you want to be. But since you are known to us now as immunes, you'll need to choose a place where you'll be hard to find. Change your names. You won't be free in shifter societies. And I might want to ask something uncomfortable – particularly of the men.”
They stare at her, confused for a moment. Then, she clears her throat, and says, “Donating some of your sperm. Immune genes are rather valuable, you see.”
Johan blushes hard, but Adam shrugs. “Sure.”
“Obviously, you can discuss the details later.” Carla point behind us. “Oh, and here's Tarren and Richard! I do believe they seemed most concerned about you, Emma. You lucky girl.” The snake woman gives a toss of her shiny hair, and I turn, to face in amazement, Richard and Tarren making their way through the crowd, to bundle themselves upon me in a huge, stifling hug.
Could say it’s a well-deserved one.
* * *
It's all finally reached to a conclusion. Lisa Arrow's no longer in the clutches of Janus. She's dived into the arms of Tomas and is preparing to be released back to the senator in peak condition, with plans to hide her new shapeshifting, where she chose the wily, simple fox form. Foxes are by far the safest one to shift into, according to Tarren and Richard. The others have a higher rate of death during the transition. They keep quite vague to the procedure itself, though I wonder if it's simply because they don't know it.
I'm back in my apartment, and it didn’t take long before our little “glad you’re okay” meet up turned sharply into something more exciting.
Barely seconds before I’m out the shower, does Tarren make a move on me. I’m able to leave the shower room, but get squashed against the wall outside it, by an ornament table, as he begins to kiss me earnestly. Hot and heavy breaths send shivers down my spine, and everything inside me becomes a melting swirl of sensation – ones that I don’t ever want to stop. Barely has Tarren removed his lips and body from pressing mine, when Richard has his turn. In a way, I’m being smothered by their relief and desire, and I welcome it.
I need some of that relief for myself.
I want their roughness on me, I want to be ravaged, dominated, taken. A part of me thinks I need more rest before we indulge in this. The other, more animal part of me revels in the contact, in experiencing the simple pleasures of the body, dismissing everything else out of hand.
Between them, the dragon shifters manage to peel off my clothes to reveal my naked skin underneath, where I’m left trembling in anticipation, in the sting of pain covered by the kiss of pleasure. There’s a different atmosphere to this compared to the other times I’ve had sex, however. Not only do they want to dominate me – they want to worship me at the same time.
Tarren’s kneeling on the floor before me, kissing the top of my foot, and it’s strange to see this powerful male prostrate before me. Richard, meanwhile, his amber eyes glittering, is moving his face forward to kiss my lips. My back’s cold against the wall, but quickly heating up, and I’ve got two men above and below me. Richard’s kisses are feathery light, but get rougher and harder, and his breathing turns ragged when his hands rubs up and down my arms. It takes him a moment to move those palms to my breasts, and I moan into his mouth when he does so. I can’t see what Tarren’s doing, but I can feel it, and he’s working his way up my body, leaving kisses along each leg, alternating, getting nearer to my core.
The excitement in me stretches to breaking point. I close my eyes so it becomes a transformation of pleasure and focus, so I can concentrate on Richard and Tarren’s simultaneous touches. Hip, lip, tongue. Hands pushing soft and hard into my skin, extracting a mix of pain and delight. A primal growl stirs in my belly, leaving me wanting more, needing more. I gasp into Richard’s mouth as Tarren’s lips finally reach my core. His tongue undulates and lick me down there, parting the folds until it reaches my nub.
My legs lose all their strength, and I would have collapsed, if it wasn’t for Richard holding me tight against the wall, and Tarren now prepping my body so that I can’t move, can’t squirm, and have to endure the almost painfully sweet sensation hitting me between my legs. It’s too much. Too much pleasure – I need to move, to escape, but I’m going nowhere. My body shudders, and I whimper and groan against Richard’s mouth, now clawing at his shirted back, so that I feel the burn in my fingers and the tug of material.
So much! Too much.
I can’t focus, can’t breathe. Need to – need to…
I dissolve into a litany of moans and breathless cries. The burning sweetness between my thighs grows tight, sending my legs into small convulsions, an involuntary reaction against the assault of pleasure. Richard squeezes my breasts hard and kisses me equally hard on my neck, which will leave a bruise for sure, a badge of pride that I can wear and – oh.
“Ah!” I burst out the word as the org
asm soars through me, rippling into a monstrous wave that surges into every limb and leaves me weak and trembling, as if my soul’s been detached from my body. My heart’s beating so fast, impossibly fast, and my cheeks are seconds from erupting into flame, surely. Even before I’m able to take a breath, to recover from this, I hear Richard say, “Damnit. I don’t have condoms. Tarren, you got any on you right now?”
“No,” I gasp, clawing at him. “Take me. Just take me. I’ll go get the morning after pill tomorrow if I have to. Just – I need you in me now.”
His eyes become black holes of lust. Tarren’s moved away by now, and helps to adjust my position, so that I’m lying on top of him – back to his stomach. With frantic movement, the zipper on his pants comes down, and his bulge presses against me, thick and long, before it burrows into my wetness.
I let out a gasping scream of pleasure, needing, wanting more. More. And when Tarren’s own erection rubs against my ass, I realize, in a burning frenzy, I want him in there as well. I manage to growl it to him, but I’m not sure just how comprehensible I am. Comprehensible enough for him to wriggle free of his pants underneath me, however. And clear enough when he begins to tease me, using one finger dipped in my overflowing wetness to lubricate the area.
I’m not sure if I can handle him, but the idea is taking me by storm. Even if it hurts slightly, I want it. Obviously not if it hurts too much – that might ruin the mood slightly. But a little, combined with the wonderful feel of their bodies sandwiching me, I can take it. I cry out when Tarren finally replaces his fingers with his cock, and Richard stops moving to allow Tarren the adjustment to push inside.
Eventually, he’s pushed all the way in, and it does hurt a little – but not nearly as much as I feared. And when they both begin to move in me again, it’s a glorious, wonderful sensation and I don’t want it to stop. Their raw, unsheathed dicks inside me, their hands on me, their lips on my skin – I can do little else but gasp and cry out, drowning in it all, drowning in a second orgasm that follows after the first. I like being filled up by the both of them at the same time, and to have room to breathe and gasp out. I’m stuffed and it’s amazing, it’s addictive, it’s sinful and dirty and more than a little exciting, and when Richard pulls out of me suddenly to spurt his come over my stomach, my chest, I groan. So filthy… yet so fucking good. Tarren, meanwhile, thrusts until he releases inside me, and I’m eventually extricated from the both of them, still trembling, my legs limp as if the connections to my muscles have been cut.
“Holy crap,” I whisper, because I can’t raise my voice any louder. “That was…”
They can only agree.
By the time we make it to the bed and slid in, I must have slept like a kitten, because I wake up some time later, with the clock registering four hours after our little session.
Both men are slumbering like logs in my bed, and the moonlight teases across their beautiful skins. Richard’s bare, slender body, and Tarren’s muscular, tattooed body, with that locket over his heart.
Similar to the one that contains the picture of the girl I saw, but with stylized differences. I stay there for a moment longer, dreamy with the glow of my orgasm, which still somehow lingers. Eventually, I conclude that I can no longer drift back to sleep, and think of things without remembering everything that's happened before.
I do linger on the sex for a good few minutes, until my mind slips further back.
How I came here in the first place. Plunged into a dream of these people. Searching for something hidden, being punted between Richard and Tarren, both alphas in their own way. One who ruled the roost, the other that ruled the gaps in the roots of a tree.
A part of me is frustrated. We didn't turn up Lisa Arrow because of skill. We turned her up because of luck. I had been locked in a cage next to her, and likely would have been made to watch as Janus decided to torture her in front of me. Amazing he even resisted that long. Then that snake woman – the one he sold me to, probably for an obscene amount of money – took Lisa Arrow on a whim. If Janus hadn't brought her into the room to rape, the lady might have let Lisa rot in Janus's presence.
Then thrown into a Hunt. More civilized than Janus's, but still brutal. Still risky. I had little preparation other than my wits, of adapting to a bad situation. I spoke to who I could, and gained their protection, because I sure as hell couldn't have survived on my own.
I believe myself weak. But others think I am strong. A manipulator, a contriver, who uses words instead of fists, who won without striking a single blow, who united three other people together and persuaded them of my honesty.
I don't see it like that at all.
My face is reflected in the balcony window, partially speckled by the city lights. I wonder who I am, now.
The lover? The Profiler? A confused woman unsure where to take her path?
I had thought that in my freedom, I'd simply vanish back to Portland, and leave the danger behind. Even with the free apartment, how safe am I, really? Even with these two strong men, how safe am I? They couldn't do much when I was taken. What's to say the same thing won't happen again?
Rustling behind me. Tarren appears, yawning. Richard's not far behind, either, but he grabs a drink from the cabinet to fill up. Tarren's unbelievably sexy, with his unclothed, tattooed chest, and his barely shaven face. “Got something to say,” he mumbles – and I see Richard nodding in the background. “To both of you.”
Three drinks, Richard pours. It's part three in the morning, but that doesn't seem to kill the mood. None of us could sleep properly, it seems.
I think once more of the picture of that little girl in Tarren's pocket. The little girl he's never mentioned to any of us.
Wishful thinking that he might explain that. Wouldn't mind some answers. Wouldn't mind more reasons to stay, to like these men. Beyond the pleasures of the flesh. Beyond the soft touches, the smiles, the concern and the kindness. I want more.
I want love.
Such an alien word to pass my tongue. An alien concept. And to find it with two guys, not one?
The me of a year ago would be laughing herself sick at the concept. How absurd. The me of today, however, I start getting a headache when I think on it too much. When I add complications, it becomes less than what it can be. It becomes a pain when without those thoughts, when all the chaos is stripped away, it becomes something beautiful instead.
“I want you both to take a look at this,” Tarren says, finally revealing what he's been clutching in his palm. I realize, with a stab, that it's exactly what I'd been hoping to see. Tarren's locket. The one with the little girl.
Prompted, perhaps, by the death of Darius Karhold. Richard told me that Tarren wanted to kill the man himself. Meaning something personal. Both men had sought to save me, but there was no interfering with the Hunt. If they called the police on this one, Carla had too many dangerous shifters in her employ. Poison spitters, teleporters. Even something as mighty as a dragon would wither and die within moments.
“The girl you see in this picture,” Tarren says, when he has unclasped the cover and shown us the fair haired, chubby faced girl within, “was called Valentina. And she...” now he swallows hard. Nervous. “She was my daughter.”
Silence. Enough silence to drown in. Richard, casually slurping his whisky, pauses, eyes bulging like headlights. I've paused, unwilling to register what I've just heard. The awfulness of his statement crashes into us.
Hating child traffickers. Carrying a picture of his young daughter. A daughter he no longer talks about.
Oh.
“Yes,” he says, voice harsh. Fingers brushing the chain. Eyes heavy, losing some of their usual shine. I feel my own lips droop in response. Killing the last of the after-sex glow nestled inside. “The mother, Arianne, she let me see Valentina twice a week. She didn't want to be involved with me any more than that, since, you know, the condom broke during sex.”
I feel uneasy listening to him talk about sex with other women, but it's not like
these people will hold themselves celibate until the right person comes along.
“The mother was into pretty heavy shit,” Tarren says, still talking in that curious monotone, as if talking properly will force him to submit to despair. “But for the most part, I tried to do right by her. Clean myself up a bit. I was a little young to be a father, really. Fifteen,” he adds, making me and Richard stare at each other, perhaps with the same thought. That is young to have a child. Makes me wonder what else Tarren was doing at that age. Besides having underage sex.
“It went went, but just after she passed her seventh birthday, her mother invited back a particularly nasty boyfriend, who subsequently ended up selling Valentina to a child sex ring. Fifteen people in total, who got a kick out of abusing the girls and posting pornographic pictures online.” Tarren's shaking now, clearly not wanting to go on. Maybe he contemplates just shutting up altogether, before he gathers himself up, and says, “It took me two months to track her down. She was dying in the gutter when I found her. People putting things in her that cut up her insides.”
“God!” I don't want to hear any more. Tarren spits out the words, though they struggle to make themselves audible.
“I heard she wasn't the first child to be cast out this way. But...” Tarren seizes the locket, holding it close to his chest. “You can be fucking sure I wasn't going to let her die without getting every single last stinking killer.”
“Shit,” I say, barely able to breathe. He's been carrying a weight like that around all this time?
Fucking hell.
“And you didn't tell us because why?” Richard says, genuinely curious. “We're not going to mess you over with this information. Why would we?”
“Because,” Tarren snaps, before moderating his voice, “because I... I don't – I've not shared this one with anyone. It – the words, they don't come easy.”
Fuck it. I instantly go to him, and clutch my arms around his neck, just comforting him. “Thank you for telling us. I appreciate it.” I knew – should have known – he had such a vendetta against child abusers. Richard mentioned only the bare basics – that Tarren was a thief with a heart of gold. I can believe it. And hearing this – knowing this... there's no way I can't sympathize with him. It's sad, and tragic. And now I focus on a strange tattoo placed just over his heart – the same shape as the locket. And know exactly what it is. He's been carrying this burden for years.
Seducing Two Serial Killers Page 19