Sylvia pulled a silver cigarette case from her bag and lit a long cigarette with a gold Cartier lighter.
“You poor girls. You look so disorientated and vulnerable. You almost bring out the maternal instinct in me. Come with me, let’s get you cleaned up and ready to meet the boys, shall we?”
They followed her down a long passage until they came to a door which was ostentatiously padded in burgundy leather with bronze studs. Sylvia clapped twice and the door swung open. She stood back and they moved, hesitantly, ahead of her.
The room was black. It had a black floor, five black walls and a high, black ceiling. The only feature was a large, white pentagram painted on the floor, contained within a white circle.
They turned to look at Sylvia who was leaning on the doorjamb, smoking. She said, “See you in a bit, girls.”
The door swung closed and they were alone.
Four
They waited half an hour and the door opened again. Sylvia stepped in with a flourish, like a magician’s assistant and gestured at the girls with both hands. She said, “Daddaa…!”
Behind her Mark and another young man, probably in his early twenties, stepped in. They were both in evening dress. Mark burst out laughing. The younger man looked guarded. He was extremely handsome and radiated an animal magnetism that was similar to Mark’s but more restrained, and in some ways more intense.
Maria got to her feet. She said, “Mark? Will you please tell me what the hell is happening?”
He spread his hands. His face showed nothing but delight. “My mother is a pure wonder. Quite simply, I said I wanted you for my birthday, and today is my birthday!”
Sylvia spoke. Her voice had become husky. She said, “Cún, that one is your un-birthday present…”
Cún looked at Leah. His expression was contemptuous.
“So, Mark gets the hot college professor, and I get the street trash.”
Maria was shaking her head. “Mark, come on, snap out of it, this is insane. You can’t do this…”
Mark pulled off his jacket and threw it on the floor, undid his bowtie and began to remove his shirt. His smile had shifted from being delighted to being dangerous. He said, “No, that is where you’re wrong, Maria. We can do anything we like.”
She glanced at Cún. He was staring at her. He had his lip curled into a snarl and he was tearing off his clothes. Leah was crawling back into the corner, but Cún was ignoring her. Both Cún and Mark were focused on Maria. They were both naked.
And then the world went crazy.
Mark hunched his shoulders and a deep, inhuman growl came from his throat. Cún closed in behind him, curling his lip and snarling. Mark pressed in close, pushing Maria against the wall, sniffing her hair, burying his face in her neck, gripping her shoulders, then sliding his hands down to her waist. She closed her eyes and let out a small cry. Terror flooded her. There was a fire burning in her belly. She stammered, “No…Mark…no….” and pushed against him.
She could hear Leah screaming hysterically. There was something wrong. Mark’s muscles were rippling as though with a life of their own. They were hard, too hard, and corded like steel ropes. And under her palms his skin was not skin. It was coarse fur, like a wolf’s.
She opened her eyes and screamed.
He was not human. He was more than a wolf. He was bestial. His head was wolf-like, but huge and diabolical. His shoulders and chest were massive and muscular, and the hands that held her were huge, powerful claws. He growled again, deeper in his chest and crushed her to him. His strength was terrifying.
Then there was a horrific snarl and a movement that was too fast for the eye to follow. Cún was on them, clawing savagely at his brother. Mark lashed out and suddenly they were both thrashing on the floor, biting and clawing at each other. Maria’s heart was pounding. Her mind was in turmoil. She could not think. She could only feel. And in her wild, storm of emotions, as she watched Mark and Cún savaging each other, she was horrified to realize that she wanted Mark to win.
She watched him grab hold of his brother and hurl him across the room, to crash against the wall. Cún rose, his back hunched and his hair bristling, and he slunk slowly towards Leah, sniffing at her as he went. Leah watched him approach in petrified fascination.
Mark turned and glowered at Maria. His eyes smoldered. His chest rumbled. She trembled. She could hear her breath coming fast and short. With a dizzy wave of nausea, she realized she was hungry for him. A voice in her head was whispering to her, no one would ever know. It would be her dark secret. As he approached her, slow and massive and savage, she was hungry for him. She let the sheet drop, feeling the thrill of her own nakedness. It was sexually intoxicating. She looked into the beast’s eyes and felt the terror of his power, and the indescribable pleasure of surrendering to him.
He took hold of her small, supple waist and crushed her against him. His thumbs played with her nipples and he bit savagely at her neck. The volatile fear mixed with the sheer pleasure, was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life. It was wrong, so deeply wrong, and that was what made it so exquisite. She gripped his massive back and clawed at his shoulders, crying out - inarticulate, animal cries - as he thrust against her.
In the corner she could hear the primal sounds of Cún ravaging Leah, and her small whimpers as she surrendered to his power. The sound fired her to deeper, more insane excitement. She fell to the floor and the beast that had been Mark rose over her. His torso rippled with huge muscles, his head was diabolical. Her eyes fixed on his and the excitement she felt drove her beyond reason. She spread her legs and cried out for him. He took her hips in his hands and penetrated her. He was like stone, deep inside her. She clenched and screamed. She felt the quick spasm, screeched involuntarily in her throat, staring into his face and held her breath as he began his slow, deliberate rhythm.
The pressure of his hips against her inner thigh, his powerful hands on her ass, his iron hardness and the friction of their moist skin, sent stinging tingles through her flesh, driving her to rhythmic spasms of uncontrollable pleasure. And then he was roaring. His huge voice echoed like madness around the black room as he pounded her. She screamed, releasing her breath, tearing savagely at his back, biting at his shoulder until they both collapsed, he on top of her, between her legs, gasping hot breath on her neck.
There was silence. Her mind was reeling, but she was too exhausted to think. The shoulder that lay across her throat was not covered in hair. It was a muscular shoulder but it was a man’s shoulder. The head next to hers was not bestial or lupine, it was Mark’s head and it was human. She had hallucinated. It had been an insane hallucination. They had probably been drugged.
She heard a shout from the door. “Mark! Mark!”
He rose on one arm, looking across the room at his mother who still stood in the open doorway. He was smiling, but it was no longer that dangerous smile Maria had seen before. It was usual, debonair playboy smile. But she was becoming aware of another sound. It was a horrible, grunting, slurping sound. She tried to stir and move, to see what it was, but Mark was still heavy on top of her.
She said, “Mark, let me out. I want to go home.”
And then she froze, as Sylvia’s voice rose into an insane screech.
“Kill her! Kill her and eat her! You are a disgrace to your family and your father! Finish her!”
Mark rose and faced his mother. He said, “No, I won’t.”
“You have to!”
“I don’t have to do anything! For crying out loud, leave me alone!”
“You will never be a true wolf until you make the kill. This is the one! You must make the kill!”
“I will not do it.”
Maria listened to these words while she stared Past Mark at his brother, Cún. She had not been drugged. It had not been an hallucination. Cún was still in wolf form, hunched over, snarling sidelong at Mark, and his mouth, his entire face, was covered in thick, fresh blood.
Five
Maria was
dragged by two of Sylvia’s servants, crying convulsively and half-hysterical, down a corridor to a large bedroom. She was thrown in and fell in a heap on the floor. She heard the door close behind her and lay sobbing, distraught not just at the insanity of what had happened to her, but at her own, inexplicable reaction to Mark. After a moment his voice came to her, low and soft.
“You should have a bath, and put on some clothes. You’ll feel better.”
She stilled her sobbing and lay for a moment in silence. Then she turned and looked at him. He was by the door, putting on a black satin robe, tying it at his waist. After a moment she said, “I’m not going to ask you again, because it’s gone beyond being insane. You’re sick monsters…”
He shrugged and spread his hands. “Monsters, by your reckoning certainly. Sick? Certainly not. We are a damn site more healthy than you.” He smiled, and the expression was oddly kind and gentle. It was incongruous. “Look at yourself, Maria. Which one of us is a sobbing wreck on the floor, and which one of us is vibrant with health, and feeling good? Now tell me, which one of us is sick?”
She pushed herself into a sitting position. Her expression was resentful.
“Which one? The one who just savaged and murdered an innocent young girl. And the woman who urged him to do it.”
“That would be my mother and my brother.”
“And the one who buys human beings and holds them as slaves!”
He looked at her for a long moment. When he finally spoke he said, “You should bathe. There are clothes for you in the wardrobe.”
He crossed the room to an en suite bathroom and after a moment she heard the shower. She looked around the room. There was a huge, four poster bed with black satin sheets. The rest of the furnishings were opulent, beyond luxurious. She struggled to her feet and went to stand in the bathroom door. To the left there was a large, sunken bath raised on a black marble dais. To her right she could see Mark through the steamed up glass of the shower cubicle, lathering his body with soap under the powerful jets of water. She felt again the stirrings of lust and hungered to have him inside her again.
She shook her head. “I have to get out of here, and back to the real world.”
She looked at the bath a moment, then shrugged and went to turn on the gold taps. There was an array of oils and salts. She threw them all in without looking at the labels. As she was climbing into the hot water, Mark stepped out of the shower and started toweling himself dry. Then he stood naked in front of the mirror lathering his face with shaving soap.
Maria sank back and watched him a moment, then burst out laughing. It was a strange, almost manic laugh. He smiled at her and raised an eyebrow. “Share?”
“You, shaving… You have to admit.”
“It has it’s funny side.”
She became serious.
“Why didn’t you kill me?”
“I like you.”
“You’ve never killed anyone.”
“How do you know?”
“What your mother said.”
He scraped at his face with an old fashioned razor. She waited but he didn’t answer. She said, “You don’t like it, do you?” He shrugged. She went on, “There is compassion in you. I can sense it. I’ve seen it.”
He rinsed his razor and wiped the lather from his face, watching her in the bath.
“Be careful, Maria. We call it the howling. When rage or excitement reaches a peak in us, we change, and what we become is completely out of control. Don’t trust that compassion holds me back. I haven’t killed yet, but I have no doubt that animal I become will, eventually. That is just something I have to accept. Whether I like it or not.”
“So you might kill me?”
“I hope not.”
“You hope not.”
He came and sat on the edge of the bath. For a moment there was sadness in his eyes. She wondered if it was fake or phony, but realized immediately that in fact Mark was probably the most honest person she had ever met. He was what he was and didn’t pretend to be anything else. So the sadness she saw was real. It was there.
“I do like you, Maria, a lot. You’re not like anyone I have met before. I feel a real rapport with you. I wish…” he made an eloquent gesture and spread his hands. “But I am what I am. I have this monster inside me, and what I turn into is beyond my control.”
She pointed at him.
“But this person here, this person is not beyond your control. This person has goodness, compassion and humanity. And this person can let me go.”
“You are asking me to defy my clan, my heritage, my ancestry…”
She nodded. “Yes. I am asking you to grow and go beyond your animal limitations, and do something good and honorable.”
He stared at her for a long moment. Then he stood and went into the bedroom and she heard him dressing. Shortly after that the door opened and closed, and she heard the key turn in the lock.
There was her answer.
She must have dozed off. She awoke to the sound of the bedroom door being unlocked and opening. Then closing and being locked again. She called out, half ironic, “Did you rethink what I said?”
There was no reply, but after a moment she heard a footfall on the tiled floor behind her. A couple more steps and Cún was standing on the first step leading up to the bath. Her heart jolted.
“What are you doing here?”
“What gives you the idea you can question me about what I do? You are a slave in my house.”
“What do you want?”
He was astonishingly beautiful. His arrogance was palpable and somehow added to his beuty. He smiled and spoke softly. “Mind your own fucking business. Whatever I want, I’ll take.”
She was suddenly acutely and intensely aware of the danger she was in. She said, “Please don’t hurt me.”
There was an evil to his smile that was fascinating, almost intoxicating.
“But I like to hurt women. And in my experience, women like to be hurt. There is a point you know, Maria, where pain and pleasure become indistinguishable, except that pain is much more intense.” He took another step up towards her. “Do you know what it’s like, can you begin to imagine, holding a woman in your arms as she orgasms in the throws of death?”
Her breath was trembling. A wild thought passed through her mind that she wanted to experience that, to have him hold her and bite deep into her throat as he penetrated her. But even as she thought it, even as the warm pleasure palpitated inside her, she knew it was not real. It was a suggestion that he was somehow placing in her mind.
He said, “Stand up.”
She stood and the suds slid down her body. He stepped close to her and his eyes roved her nakedness, then came to rest on her eyes. His breathing had become heavy. He reached out and touched her skin on her chest with the fingers of his left hand. She gasped. He slowly raced a line to her right nipple. A thrill of please made her shudder.
“You cannot lie to me, bitch. I can see it in your face, I can hear it in your breath and I can smell it on you. You are enjoying it.”
“Please don’t do this.”
He pinched her nipple and she cried out. The pain stabbed at her, but she gasped as she felt the hunger well in her belly. Their eyes locked. A madness inside her cried out for more. He did not release her. He reached out with his right hand and traced his finger from her ear, down her throat towards her left nipple. He stroked it and held it between forefinger and thumb. She was whimpering.
He said, “Get on your knees.”
She shook her head. “No…”
She knew what he was going to do and longed for it. He snarled and pinched savagely on both nipples. She cried out with ecstasy and went down on her knees. She held his eye, letting out small, whimpering cries. His smile was like a razor.
“Undo my belt, you worthless piece of trash…”
Whether she did or not, she knew he was going to kill her, but a wild madness in her head, a burning lust in her belly and her loins, hungered for th
e experience he had described. She wanted him in her mouth, she wanted his teeth sunk deep in her throat, she craved the quivering spasm of the orgasm as he sucked on her neck and drank her blood.
She sobbed and shook her head, not knowing whether she did so because she was fighting to preserve some shred of dignity, or whether she was praying he would punish her and subjugate her further. She looked up at him, saw his shoulder hunching, his lip curling. She heard the growl in his throat, and knew she was going to die.
Six
A long, low growl of warning made Cún freeze. He moved only his eyes and looked past her to the door. Mark’s voice was quiet, but full of menace.
“Back away, Cún. She is mine. Release her.”
Cún released her but did not move.
“She should be mine. You have no kills. I should be Tiarna, not you.”
Mark climbed the steps and stood by Maria’s side. She was trembling uncontrollably.
“I will not tell you again, Cún, back away now.”
Cún took a step closer to Mark, so that their faces were almost touching. He spoke with a sneer of contempt on his lips.
“From you? You are no Mac Tíre. You have not tasted blood.”
Maria inched away. She could see that Cún was still half in the howling. Mark was not, but his breathing was becoming shallow and his face was taut. When he spoke his voice was a rasp.
“I do not want my first kill to be my brother, Cún. I am your Tiarna. She is mine. For the last time, back away.”
He did not give Cún time to respond. The howling took him in less than a second. His roar was horrific. All Maria could see was his open maw, with hug slavering fangs, and eyes that that were possessed by a madness that was beyond bestial. He seized his brother and sank his teeth into the back of his neck. Cún’s shrieks and snarls were deafening as he thrashed and clawed, trying to release himself. But Mark clung to his back, ripping at him with massive claws, blood spilling from his mouth.
Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle Page 37