Her Billionaire, Her Wolf--The Novel (A Paranormal Alpha Werewolf Romance)

by Aames, Aimélie

  And, he did.

  Sara moaned as he struck her bottom, his open hand landing what felt like everywhere at once. He paddled her for all her wrongdoing and for all of what would come.

  It was what she wanted. It was what she desired.

  Sara sought absolution at the hands of her master and he did not disappoint.

  Braze slapped her until her bottom was on fire and Sara was pushing back at him with each strike.

  She knew she was to the point of literally dripping as he punished her and, suddenly, without prelude, she felt him stop. There was a pause in which she heard his and her own breath panting, then she felt something cold at her back opening.

  Braze was going to do something like he had on the flight back from France. Sara heard the faint sound of cellophane crackling. It was easy to imagine that he had opened a condom.

  But this time, it was no toy that came to bear at her back passage. This time, what she felt pushing at her was hot and alive...and very, very large.

  Sara could not help herself from moaning aloud as she realized what was about to happen.

  She did her best to relax, knowing that her muscles would try to rebel against the exquisitely foreign sensation, then Braze began to push his way inside.

  The power that held her was immense. Sara had been utterly mistaken that anything she might do could possibly hinder him. His hands held her like iron and his cock was as rigid and unbending as his indomitable will.

  Like fire, she burned as he slipped himself deep inside her, burying himself to the hilt.

  Sara screamed. Not in horror, but in absolute ecstasy, then Braze eased himself back and then forward again.

  The feel of him, there, where it was so wrong...so terribly wrong, was delicious beyond any measure.

  Slowly, he began to stroke in and out of Sara and just when she thought it could not possibly be better, Braze shifted his grip as he hunched over her.

  Then, one hand stroked down across her belly. He reached lower and pushed the heel of his hand at the top of Sara’s apex.

  She could feel the hard kernel there slipping forward. She could feel how stiff she had become, then her jaw locked tight as Braze seized her between the tips of his finger and thumb.

  It was too much. The pain of it crackled through her and in a startling flash Sara thought she might pee with the intensity of it going too far.

  Instead, Braze continued his deep thrusting, never releasing her clit, until Sara’s nerves were jangling and frayed to the breaking point.

  And, just as it seemed she would lose all control, she felt her stomach tighten. She felt the long muscles along the inside of her thighs quiver. She felt Braze stiffen even more while buried so deeply inside her.

  His fingers pinched her hard and her hips bucked like an unbroken horse under her rider. Then the avalanche took her and him both.

  Their orgasms blew through them as pleasure brought them together, then split them apart again in great, trembling spasms.

  Braze pumped into Sara, while his fingers did not release her. Sara slammed back at him, desperate to be free of his touch while delighting in it all the same.

  Together, they became a mass of slick flesh that ached with delicious pain, until their breaths slowed at last.

  Braze released her. Then she felt his weight leave the bed as she sagged down, her body giving way at last to exhaustion.

  Quickly, he was back at her side, then soft, egyptian cotton moved along her skin as he took care of her.

  Braze released the cords that held her wrists, and as Sara was about to turn to look at him, he pressed his palm to the middle of her back, asking her without words to remain where she was.

  She felt his touch there where the hunting knife had made her bleed. Braze applied something cool and soothing, then she felt him tenderly press cotton gauze into place before fixing it with surgical tape.

  When he had done, he lay down beside her and kissed her upon her shoulder. Sara had never felt safer in all her life. She had never felt more sated in all her life.

  Sleep stole over them both and for a short time, all they knew was peace as they held one another in the night.

  Sara woke up, her heart pounding a drum roll within her chest.

  She stared at the ceiling overhead, thinking of the small forest that stood guard over them. Of how wonderful it would be to go there now and hide within its depths until all danger had gone.

  But, a bargain had been struck.

  She sighed quietly then waited as she listened to Braze’s breathing. His respiration was deep and unbroken.

  She heard a man entirely at ease at her side as she carefully slid from the bed and padded across the room.

  Without error, Sara made her way into the central part of the suite, there where the glass wall of protection stood between them and the rest of the world.

  Knowing Braze and the reputation of Abraxis Industries, she had no doubt that the glass was unbreakable, probably even proof against most small missile strikes.

  Except that it was not proof to the subtleties of the men and women brought to hard decisions in the worst of circumstances.

  A second security panel opened at her touch, this time on the inside of the glass partition. She felt the cool touch and slight tingle as sensors did their job, then she withdrew her hand once the green light came on and the glass panel slid silently open.

  Sara leaned against the wall, then slid down slowly until she was seated upon the floor. She hung her head and listened to the soft sound that tears make as they fall with no reason to stop them.

  A short while later, the elevator doors opened, and Sara forced herself up and held her head high, as if looking directly at the thing limping toward her and not down at its pinstriped pants would be a show of defiance.

  She had, after all, given in to all it wanted.

  “Ah...Sara. How delightful it is to see you again, and so soon, and at such a late hour,” the Journeyman said in a whisper muffled all the more by the burlap it wore over its head.

  “Look,” Sara said, “You and I both know I don’t take any pleasure in this. So, let’s just make this as quick as possible.”

  She pointed to the desk in the corner and the various filing cabinets surrounding it.

  “The computer is over there. All the company’s files, too. I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for...and, I guess, it’s all wide open. He told me all security checks are turned off up here.”

  The Journeyman turned stiffly in the direction of the desk, then nodded before turning back to her.

  “Well done, dearest Sara. Not at all necessary, of course, but well done nonetheless.”

  Sara felt her throat go even drier.

  “What do you mean ‘not necessary’? You said your organization needs the company’s secrets to success. Where in the hell else do you think you’re going to find them?”

  He had said that. After Jackson had gone running like a maniac out of the barn, the Journeyman had told her he was there to bargain. Braze’s secrets in exchange for leaving them alone forever afterward. Otherwise, he had said he would wait for Braze to come save her and gut him before the wolf even crossed the barn’s threshold.

  Her choice had seemed clear. And he had made her a solemn promise. Suddenly, Sara had no idea why she had believed him.

  There was a flash of bright metal, then a terrible heaviness drew itself like a thick cloak around Sara. Before she could utter another sound, a stifling lassitude overwhelmed her and she sank to the floor.

  The Journeyman chuckled, but did so quietly as it hefted a long bladed knife in a pale hand. As if out of nowhere, a silver chain appeared in its other hand, loop after loop held in its grasp.

  “Why Sara, the secrets I seek are not to be found in any computer, you silly girl.

  “His files have nothing to do with it. Rather, it is his marvelous skin that I shall plunder this night...with it and its powers of prevoyance, I shall no longer be but the Journeyman, bu
t a Master among my own kind. When I subjugate all of humanity under my rule, it shall be by my hand that the feast will begin and vampires rule the earth.

  "Furthermore, you have every right to be proud. You have taken part in what will be my chef d'oeuvre, my ultimate masterstroke before I unleash hell upon earth."

  The blood drinker’s glamour held her under its leaden grip and Sara could do nothing even while she howled her outrage from within the depths of her soul.

  Braze reached out for Sara, but found only a warm place beside him, empty.

  He stirred just a little, unalarmed. She must have needed to use the bathroom and would find her way back to him shortly.

  He kept his eyes closed as dreams came to tug at him, tempting him back to the deep waters of somnolence. On the morrow, he would tell her everything. She tortured herself, thinking she had betrayed him or would betray him yet, only she could not know that it was he, the real betrayer.

  All his careful planning had brought them to this point and the vampires were at the brink of unveiling themselves and their stillborn plans. Except that he had not planned on falling so hard for the woman at the center of this poisonous maelstrom of subterfuge and manipulation.

  Over breakfast, he would explain to her that her apparent guilt was unfounded and that all blame could be laid at his feet.

  It would sting her, he knew, but falling upon his own sword before things went further seemed the only solution.

  He heard her come back, her footsteps cautious and slow. Drowsily, he noted that she seemed to be limping and he thought to himself that a visit with a proper doctor to look at those knife wounds was merited.

  Braze reached out, meaning to draw the sheet back so that Sara could snuggle in close to him, when suddenly the stale scent of something long dead wafted to his nose.

  The growl about to erupt from his throat was cut short as the sickening touch of silver draped itself over him. He struggled against it, but pale hands moved quickly and with inhuman strength, imprisoning him in finely wrought chains.

  As if through the murk of swamp water, Braze fought to see clearly while the metal sapped his strength. What he saw was a thin, crippled thing in silhouette that steepled its long fingers as it appeared to look down at him.

  It was hard to be sure, though, as its head was covered by a ragged burlap sack.

  A voice as reedy and thin as parchment paper spoke.

  “My, my, what big eyes you have,” the Journeyman said.

  “What big ears...what large hands you have, too.”

  The creature snickered as it readied a blade in its fist.

  “Little good they’ll do you, now that silver holds you fast, mongrel,” it said, then bent down closer to him.

  Unable to stop himself, Braze lifted a lip as if to growl at the thing.

  “My, and what big teeth you have, too. Still, I wonder if you might make an effort to not twitch too much while I go about skinning you. Hmmm? Otherwise, I risk cutting the ties that hold your father bound to this earthly plane and neither of us want that, do we, dog?”

  Suddenly, Braze stopped his ever weakening efforts against the chain binding him.

  “Surprised, are we? Well, you wolves aren’t the only ones capable of researching a bit and it did not take me all that long to discover how you do what you do, Abraxis. Your father traveled extensively the world over and left a trail that a child could have followed. Then he went willingly to the grave so that your entire race might rise amongst men, seemingly playing by their rules and upon their terrain of capitalism and greed. But, to what end, I asked myself.

  “The answer to that question came to me immediately. World domination, of course.

  “What couldn’t you do with the power that your father’s spirit gives you? He sees just enough of the future that your business never makes a false move...you never make a false move.

  “Until now, of course, your vision blurred by silly emotions.

  “But, enough about all that. Whatever the circumstances, the fact remains that we are here, you and I. You, completely under my power, and me, holding the knife.”

  The Journeyman bent lower as it appeared to search for where best to begin its foul work, when, from the corner of an eye gone dry, Braze saw a blur of movement....

  Sara pounded her fists against the walls of darkness that held her. Once again, a vampire had spelled her into futility, taking away all her choices, making her as worthless as a doll.

  But, this time, it was not just her own life at stake. This time, the fate of her lover hung in the balance and all of it was her fault.

  Sara raged against the power that held her and, at last, she felt it weaken. She pounded against it inside her own mind then forced her eyes open.

  With a supreme effort, she shook her head from side to side, then staggered to her feet.

  Next to her, she saw an egyptian statuette of some kind and she seized it. It felt heavy, maybe a kind of metal, or more likely stone. In either case, it would have to serve.

  She swayed drunkenly as she did her best to hurry down the corridor to the bedroom.

  As she rounded the corner, she saw a dark figure leaning over Braze, himself covered over in coils of silver, unmoving.

  Without thinking, Sara screamed and threw herself at the Journeyman, meaning to stave in his head with the statuette.

  The creature moved more quickly than Sara could have ever imagined possible, neatly sidestepping her, while holding a foot outstretched that tripped her hard to the floor.

  “What courage, Sara. Bravo,” it said as it dusted imaginary dust off its hands.

  “And all this for a man who hasn’t hesitated to string you along in this little game. You surprise me. Surely you realize that I’m not the only one playing the puppeteer, dear girl,” the Journeyman gestured toward Braze and said, “Isn't that right, hound dog?

  “That spilled drink was such a heavy handed, ill conceived plan...where was the subtlety...the panache?

  “Of course, you would have realized that, Sara, if you had bothered to look back as you left the building that first time. If you had, you would have seen a familiar face in the parking garage attendant's booth. Just as was the case this evening.

  “However, I am sorry to say that Big Lou did not live to tell the tale...twice, anyway. And, for the moment, that lovely collection of European steel is unguarded. Not that it matters...not anymore.

  “And, despite your dull efforts at counter espionage, you still let yourself be led by the nose by this woman. One would have said she must keep bacon in her pockets for the way you've behaved.

  “What a weakness, dog...what a grievous error, indeed.”

  A long bladed knife flashed in the Journeyman's long fingered hand, then he brought it up to the burlap wrapped around his misshapen head. He slipped it under a seam at his neck, looking for all the world as if he was about to cut his own jugular wide, instead flicking it through the half rotten sack.

  With a flourish, he jerked the burlap away and what Sara saw made her scream deep inside her soul.

  It was a man's face, but one that looked as if it had been placed in a vise. A torture machine that had squeezed down until no living thing could survive. Yet, he had.

  There were white and grey stones melted deeply into the skin on one side of his face, the eye on that side burst and black ichor ran from it in a thin track, like a demon's tears.

  "I'm a fright to see...I know."

  He laughed then, baring broken teeth in a horrid, crooked grin.

  "The damage is extensive, to be sure. Even my fangs have been broken out so that I can no longer feed with the elegance given to the most common vampire. Instead, I am reduced to cutting my food into morsels and then sucking them dry as best I can.”

  Dimly, Sara thought of poor Mr. Jenkins back at her hotel. She had never liked the man, but thought that he had not deserved such a terrible fate at the hands of this...this thing.

  "Happily, I have since gained some skill
with a knife because of it...and that will serve me well as I skin your beloved dog. It will be messy, but less so than it would have been...oh, and of course there is the fact that I'm going to do it while he still lives...

  "What do you think of that, Sara?" he asked, then continued without waiting for her to reply, "My word, but I think it's going to be such fun."

  He advanced on Braze, his knife raised, when from the doorway behind them a voice spoke.

  "The fun is only about to begin, blood drinker. For me, that is."

  The vampire’s trance still lying heavily upon her, Sara would have liked to turn her head, to see those steel grey eyes looking coolly out at the monster about to kill his brother.

  Instead, Clement obliged her as he stepped into the room, placing himself between her and the Journeyman. In a white-knuckled grip, his sword gleamed.

  "Oh. Another guest for the party. The errant half-brother come to save his undeserving sibling.

  The Journeyman turned away from Braze, a second knife appearing in his other hand.

  "Well, why not...the more the merrier, as they say."

  The long blade that should have lifted the creature’s head off its shoulders slammed into the mattress and just inches from Braze’s face. Somehow, the thing that named itself the Journeyman had moved with a speed that defied all reason, its own knife forcing the sword to the side.

  “Turn around, vampire. Your time on earth has come to an end,” Clement said.

  “Vampire? You name me as such, but look at me and tell me...where are my fangs?” it replied as it turned to look at Clement with its single eye.

  “Do you seeeeee, what I meeeeeean?” it asked with a hissing sound issuing from between its broken teeth.

  Clement saw.

  The creature’s face had been hammered flat. Even its lips had been burned away.

  “Yeah, I see, and I don’t care,” Clement said, then burst forward with a lunge from his sword meant to cut the monster in half.

  Instead, it appeared to one side of him and his own momentum carried him forward.

  Clement curled away from the flickering of the knives it held, narrowly avoiding having his own abdomen opened wide. As it was, he had felt the hot lick of a blade and blood begin to run along his waistline in a shallow flow.