Bad, Very Bad Shifters- The Complete Mega Bundle

by Daniella Wright

  “I take it one of you is to help with clothes and the other with food?”

  In response, the one with long blonde hair whips out a tape measurer. “Indeed.”

  “Let's actually let her dry off first,” the other one scolds, but the woman laughs.

  “Are you kidding? She's gonna jump straight into the spa.”

  “You're welcome to join,” I say, not quite sure if she's jealous or just loud.

  “It's ok. I have one of my own,” the blonde replies. “Right, stand still and straight, please, and arms out... there's a good lass.”

  “Kostya picked an interesting one this time,” the dark haired woman muses, her eyebrows crinkling as she examines me with green eyes. “He mentioned he wanted to get a more live-in person. I thought he'd go for the usual. Blonde or red head, some rare green shade of eye. But you... you don't fit into that at all.” Without any sense of privacy whatsoever, the dark haired woman grabs my hair and examines the thick strands, before her eyes curl down and up my body. I'm not embarrassed, though. I have power in my body, and I know how to use it.

  The blonde haired one notes this. “Ah. Look at the steel in this one. She's pretty, Kalina. Don't be a bitch.”

  “Oh, I know she's pretty. It's just not the usual type I see the princes go for,” Kalina replies. “Lucille, you done measuring?”

  “Nope.” Lucille now whips the measurer around my modestly sized breasts. “You're not nervous at all about this, are you? Shame. We were hoping to have you blushing red as a beetroot.”

  “After everything that's been done to me, ladies, there's very little that surprises me anymore. If anything, it's nice to be scrutinized like this by you two. Neither of you are mad or suicidal, so that's something.”

  “Huh,” Kalina says, one eyebrow now jumping. “You know, I think I understand why he went for you, after all.”

  “Actually, I don't think he had time to choose me,” I disagree. “I basically banged on the window of the last place I was imprisoned at, then let him take me away.”

  “Wait,” Lucille says, now measuring the length of my body. “You let him take you?”

  “Yup. Believe me. He looked like a better choice than my last master. I was captured by wolves before. Straight out of my hotel room.”

  “Fuck them,” Lucille hisses. “Predatory animals like them are the worst.”

  “I was taken on the way back home,” Kalina says, giving up on the pretence that she's supposed to be bringing me food. “Those bastards had some fun with me first before trying to auction me. Kostya and one of his brothers were there at the time. His brother chose some stunning red head. Kostya saw me with murder in my eyes, and he decided he liked that and bought me. The problem with me is that I don't have family to go back to.” Kalina says this without self-pity, without expecting it. “So I figured in the end it'd be easier to learn how to adapt to life in Balteria.” I continue listening to her, and I hear a faint accent in her words. She speaks incredibly fluent English, but I still find myself wondering what her mother tongue is. I don't ask, though. “Kostya mostly leaves me alone, aside from some obligatory orders. When his brothers ask why he doesn't use me sexually, he replies it's because I'm not ready for it.”

  I see something tremble in her voice for the first time, despite the iron she keeps there. Listening to her, I feel like I've gained more insight to Kostya. I don't know if he's a good person, since just because you feel like helping someone on a whim, doesn't mean that you're therefore a nice person.

  After all, Hitler treated his dogs very good. And look what kind of nice person he was.

  “I'm Nikolev's servant,” Lucille explains then, filling in the silence of Kalina's words. “He's the oldest brother, and he has a harem of women. When we're not being his personal harem, we just work around the palace. He really likes his blondes. He's nice enough so that we don't want to murder him in his sleep, but sometimes we sit around plotting how to escape.”

  I laugh. “So the women meet often, here?”

  “All the time,” Kalina says, swallowing the silence lodged in her throat. “We even get invited to board game sessions here with Kostya and some of the nobles. The servant's quarters has a communual spa room. I'm not complaining. Anyway. I digress. Food. Your options are beef sirloin steak with fries and vegetables, wild mushroom risotto, or Moussaka. Your choice.”

  Uh.” I shrug. “Not steak. Don't care which of the other two you bring.”

  “Excellent,” Kalina says, even as Lucille snaps the measurer shut, and grins.

  “I have your measurement as well. My advice, soak yourself for about an hour in the spa. You'll have your clothes then.”

  “Sure,” I say. Hearing them talk so normally, without fear or shame in their voices makes me relieved in a way. It's been so long since I've last heard such ordinary conversation. Normal voices. Not whispers or trembling, like mice being stalked by a cat. They're women like me, who were captured and simply learned to deal with their new situation as best as able. It's the only logical thing they can do, and I admire them for it.

  As they leave, I get the impression I'll be seeing more of Lucille and Kalina. Lucille, with her vibrant blonde hair, her strong, Eurasian features. Kalina with her olive skin, her chocolate eyes, short hair and rounded face.

  I wonder what I'll be to Kostya. I get the impression he tends to use me as more than just a servant. I'm assuming I'll be used for a sexual purpose, and I'm already mentally preparing myself for it – though with his features, and that languid attitude of his, it might not be such an unpleasant experience. He was looking for “steel” – whatever that means.

  I wonder if he saw the darkness inside me and liked it. I doubt it, because my darkness is not something to be loved. It's something to be hated, because it's the corrupt part of me that should never have existed.

  I slip into the spa, sighing at the warmth that envelops me. I prod on the jacuzzi and rest my back against the jet stream, feeling it pound my muscles into shape, and I stretch in bliss.

  What a difference. To be taken from a crusty werewolf's prison to a much bigger, glamorous prison, with enough distractions and people to talk to for us to be able to stave off madness. I keep wondering what Kostya expects of me, even as my hair fans out like seaweed, and I curl my toes and rest my hands just on the water, creating the surface tension effect. I watch my palms plop on and off the surface.

  He's fucking handsome, honestly. The kind of man that if you didn't know he was a shifter, to be playing aristocratic roles in films and series. Or maybe some super impressive villain, because he has that faint villain's accent, something suitably exotic enough to not be American, but distinguishable enough so that you can't quite place it, except it sounds high class and confident.

  By the time I finish off my spa, and have sweated my stress out in the sauna, Lucille and Kalina have returned with clothes and food for me. I thank them and they depart, clearly busy with something else. Lucille's given me about five sets of clothes and two pairs of shoes, ranging from fur robes to casual indoors wear and some night clothes. I have mushroom risotto to chew through, and I enjoy it, slurping down water before dressing myself up in a set of dark brown fur robes. It feels good to be able to wear something fresh and new. The fur tickles my skin.

  When Kostya comes for me shortly afterwards, I'm ready. My darkness waits to be accessed, so I can cope with whatever is inflicted upon me, pleasant or atrocity.

  Kostya admires me for a moment, approving of my appearance, less grime caked than before.

  I almost feel beautiful again, now my hair is brushed, and my skin soft and infused with a strawberry aroma from the soap.

  He invites me into his main chamber, which is as minimalistic as mine. There's a queen sized bed, red drapes upon the bed, a plush woolskin carpet, and a small table that has several drinks scattered upon it.

  What draws my attention, however, is the semi-naked man that's in the chamber with us as well, and he's clamped by manacles
to the wall. The man has bleach blonde hair over a squarish, solid face, and he's what I might have called swole once upon a time – big and naturally decked out with muscles. However, for such a muscular guy, with eyes a pale green. He's in a rather compromising position.

  “Ria, meet Tannic. He's a man I have a rather long history with. And he's part of the special task I plan to assign to you.”

  I stare at Kostya incredulously, even as Tannic raises up his head to examine us both in a mix of trepidation and anticipation. His muscles flex against the chains, and I see the slightest bulge forming in his underwear, about the only thing he has been allowed to wear. His body is marked with slash lines, and parts of his thigh seem red and raw. Purplish bruises are fading on the tops of his arms.

  “What the fuck is this?” I ask.

  Kostya merely smiles. There's no warmth in it. The nice guy image I briefly entertained with him is fading away into nothing, crumbling into the same darkness I hold inside. “There's a good reason we have a prince of the other royal family here. At his permission, may I intercede – before you ask if I'm unlawfully keeping him here.”

  Now I'm even more confused. “What?”

  “You don't mind, Tannic, if I give our new room mate the story?” Kostya pats him on the head, and Tannic lets out a grunt, his green eyes narrowed. “No, of course you don't,” Kostya continued. “Because you're nothing but scum.”

  Utterly baffled, I let Kostya guide me to the sofa, finding it difficult to take my eyes off the muscular shifter chained up by Kostya's bed.

  “Once upon a time,” Kostya begins, his voice low, concealing any emotions he might have tucked inside, “Tannic and I were friends. Friends for the longest time. It didn't matter for us that we came from separate royal lines. Oh no. We did everything together. We even lost our virginity to one another.”

  My eyes threaten to pop out of my head. What?

  Kostya waits for me to respond, so I oblige. “Are you serious? You guys are lovers?”

  His light blue eyes flick between me and Tannic for a moment. He drums his fingers against the leather sofa, making creaking noises as he adjusts his weight. I smell the leather as well, strong and pungent, and the material crackles under my touch.

  “We were. And Tannic, here, he swore his love to me. He swore that we'd be together forever. You know. Typical lover's things. Of course, he just couldn't keep that cock of his in his pants. He slept around with five other men other than me. Just men, funnily enough. No women. So you could say that he quickly grew to be reviled and hated, even amongst his family. He tells me, he can't help it. He has urges. But I'll always be his special one. Ha, ha.”

  Bitterness laces Kostya's tone. Despite myself, my palms are now firmly clamped over my mouth. A day ago, I'd been preparing how to throw Kallen off me. Today, I'm being plunged straight into some bitchy dragon shifter prince drama, and I have no idea how to react.

  What the fuck, dragon shifters? What's wrong with you?

  Tannic says nothing the whole while, though he bows his head as if laboring against strong winds. I've not heard him speak yet, actually, so I don't know if he has a low grunt of a voice, a pleasant lilt or a thick accent, more related to the eastern European bloc.

  Kostya continues his surprising little tale, though I'm still unsure of the final purpose as to why he wants someone like me around. “I dumped him, in the end. Couldn't handle the drama, and the cheating. He soon realized he didn't have many friends at all... if any. So now he comes crawling back to me, begging me to take him in again. That he's always loved me. But you know. I'm not so willing to accept him.”

  At this, Tannic makes a soft noise, though he still doesn't form any words I recognize.

  “So... why do you have him chained up here?” I push forward the question. Kostya blinks rapidly.

  “Well, you see, Ria, he just wouldn't stop. He kept sending me gifts, begging me, promising me he'd change. It's really quite pathetic. But, I suppose there is mercy in me, somewhere. I said I'd take him back... if he allowed me to do whatever I wanted with him. To treat him like a slave. To obey my every order. For a year.”

  Now it's starting to make sense to me. “And... he agreed?”

  “Oh, yes he did. He was that desperate.” Kostya smiles again, but I don't see any empathy. He hates this person for betraying him. Utterly despises. “I need a partner in crime to help me punish him. Someone with experience. And preferably a woman, because he's never actually dated a woman before. I'd like him to lose his virginity to a woman. And in return, Ria – you can punish him however you like. Because he's my playtoy, and he can be yours.”

  Okay. With his purpose clear, I sigh. Kostya did see the darkness in me, and he wants to use it.

  I'm not sure what to think about that. I barely want such corruption in myself, but I see it as a necessity, to keep everything working and my mind sane. But to deliberately tap into it for his estranged lover, who sounds in his description like some kind of pathetic, lovelorn sap who has no impulse control?

  It makes me dislike Tannic automatically, even though he's been so quiet, his green eyes so careful.

  “We will both be his masters,” Kostya says. “Ours to do fit with.”

  “Now?” I ask the question bluntly, turning my voice harsh. Kostya smiles.

  “Watch, first. Then you can decide for yourself.”

  He walks up to Tannic, whose green eyes take on a glint of despair, as well as desire.

  This is so fucked up. I mean, I was already in a fucked up situation before, but this feels like I've drifted from one world to the next. A world where I can be the tormentor, rather than the tormented. A world where my darkness can be allowed to thrive, even though I want to slowly wean her off, so I don't need to keep resorting to her in dire moments.

  I rest a palm against my brown hair as I watch Kostya get up, all calm and menace at the same time. He gives Tannic a vicious smile, and kneels down in front of the muscular shifter.

  “You hope, don't you, that by the end, after all I've put you through, I'll grow to love you again. I hear that desperate hitch of your breath – the pathetic way you adhere to my demands.” He presses his fingers into where a faint bruise lingers on Tannic's skin, and digs in. “I want you to look me in the eyes. You must not look away, you must not glaze them over in pleasure. You must always be looking at me.”

  I change my position to get a better view of this act, and see that Tannic's green eyes are now fixated upon Kostya's. Kostya is indifferent, though his hand slips to Tannic's underwear, and he slides the material off so that Tannic's semi-erect manhood is displaying, almost as thick and muscular as the rest of his body.

  “Look at me, scum,” Kostya breathes, even as his hand now cradles Tannic's cock, roughly rubbing it up and down. Sometimes his fingertips dip close enough to the ballsack to make Tannic gasp, and I Kostya's ministrations has a heavy effect upon the chained prince, who quickly grows to full size down there. I see Tannic's breath stuttering faster, his chest heaving, and despite myself, I'm getting excited as well.

  How cruel this is. Yet, how exhilarating. I wonder if it's really love that holds Tannic here, or pride. Perhaps both, with a little topping of desperation. Tannic lets out a sound like a gasp, shuddering as Kostya continues to work on him, rough but likely pleasurable at the same time, given how enormous it's become under the contact.

  I find myself getting wet witnessing this. I try to lock away the feeling, because I shouldn't be enjoying this, but I am. I even want to see if Tannic will make the mistake, so that Kostya can punish him. To place myself in the mind of the sadist, rather than the submissive or a reluctant submissive outlook, makes me drunk with possibilities. If I had power to be able to make someone come or suffer under my hands, how delicious would it be?

  I take a trembling breath, letting the thrill course through me. I want that power. I want to be in Kostya's position, forcing someone to submit to my gaze, to obey my every whim. Would I abuse such power, or be me
rciful?

  My mind whirs through these thoughts, even as Kostya, with those cold blue eyes, jerks off Tannic, who is trying so hard to focus on him and to not groan. I see the tendons in Tannic's neck bracing, and his muscles giving little spasms whenever Kostya either hits a sweet spot or triggers a wave of pain. I'm not sure which.

  Tannic obeys Kostya's instruction, though, and Kostya releases him suddenly – just before what I suspect is his orgasm.

  Tannic groans, and Kostya merely grins. “Don't you dare touch yourself.” He then turns to me, one eyebrow quirked, mirth lingering upon his lips. “Well? Do you think you can fit the role of mistress to this filth?”

  I allow the darkness to cover my heart, and I smile. “I suppose I might be able to assist with that. God knows I've suffered enough as it is. Might be nice to turn the tables on someone else. Give them a taste of pain.” My tongue runs over my lips salaciously, promising action to my words. Kostya smiles wider at this, and he bows to me.

  “You don't have to make him lose his virginity yet. But it's something I would like. It should... upset him.”

  The way he talks about Tannic, as if he's not even in the room, doesn't go unnoticed by me. Kostya really holds nothing but contempt for that shifter. The betrayal must cut deep to the bone, right in the parts I believe many men are unwilling to admit exist.

  Everyone feels something, though. Even psychopaths. Though their capacity to care is somewhat diminished. Kallen was a psychopath. Reading him was difficult but not impossible. These people are like open books in comparison, even with the way they restrict their expressions.

  As for me? Well. Anything can happen. I've gone from the good, sweet teenager out for her first trip to Europe to a cold, dark husk who has lost her dreams, and finds so very little to enjoy in present.

  I whisper a silent apology to my parents. They did a good job with me, honestly. How were they to know what lay inside their daughter all this time?