BEAST HORDE TRILOGY BOXSET: MFM SciFi Romance

by Cari Silverwood

  She must stay strong and resist them, for the sake of mankind.

  She felt one of them move in behind her, his body pressing at hers, his large hand caressing her neck, his wings casting shadows on the walls before her. Vargr. She nibbled her lip.

  “Don’t be getting ideas, V.”

  “Too late.” He brushed aside her hair and bit her neck then his other hand curved beneath her breast and squeezed there, gently, while he still bit and licked at her.

  “Fuck,” she croaked. Every bit of her anatomy that could get naughty had just melted. She was going to need a change of panties.

  Maybe… just one more time?

  Chapter 13

  It was close to dawn again as they drove closer to Maelstrom Towers, and the slim buildings were dominating the skyline, narrowing into swords as they climbed, or perhaps the architect had a more peaceful intention? They might have been meant to resemble leaves. After Mo estimated the height, she realized these scrapers reached a lower altitude than any of those forming the quarters. When the high clouds dispersed, their Tops were easily visible.

  No Ghoul Lords had bothered to inhabit these three towers.

  Mo pulled up beside them.

  The lowest three stories were smooth, windowless, surfaced with blue-gray stone. Apart from letting Mo walk straight up the side, the only way in was via a gate of crisscrossed steel that led into a tunnel running through the base of one tower. Since blowing up the lock meant they’d not be as secure while they slept, Kiko tried to open it. While Mo monitored the area for dangers, he placed his hands on the square mechanism and rested his forehead on the steel. After a few minutes, the lock sprang open, and he slid aside the gate.

  Mo stomped in.

  Once through the tunnel, they found themselves inside a large neglected courtyard of trees and grass. A small lake occupied the middle, and park benches dotted the paved trails. The only animals she could see were bats, feeding on red fruit hanging from the trees. Somehow, a breeze had found its way in too.

  Cyn stood beside the others where they’d lined up outside Mo. For the first time in many weeks she regretted not being able to greet the sun… It would be beautiful here, but it would fry all her friends.

  But not her.

  Perhaps she should do this by herself anyway? It would be a way to gauge how well she could handle her nemesis—the Lure. Though late afternoon would be wiser since the Lure would slowly lessen as night fell.

  They plucked some of the fruit—the apples, lemons, and oranges. The trees were not decorative, and she had to wonder if someone, the doctor perhaps, had been thinking ahead in survivalist frame of mind. This was a Garden of Eden.

  Using a building layout from his database, Mo located the tower where the doctor had a penthouse. Once they’d climbed aboard again and had strapped in, he began to climb up the side of the tower. So much for all the lock finagling. Rocked by the wall-walking, strapped in tight, Cyn stared at the rosy red apple in her hand, polished it on her shirt, and took a big bite. Difficult to eat lying down, but it was worth it.

  The juice tasted of heaven.

  This was the first fresh food most of them had eaten for years.

  On the ninety-ninth floor, the story below the roof, Mo smashed through a grand circular viewing window, crunched past the shattered glass thrown to the carpeted floor, and parked himself in the huge corridor beside the apartment entry. The double doors were joined by a circular bronze plaque with ONE on it.

  His joints hissed and his rear exhausts ticked as they lost heat.

  Typical. Was the doctor an egotist or a joker, or both? Who else would name his penthouse on this floor ONE?

  Though divided into two halves, the apartment covered this entire floor. She and her males laid claim to one half while Kiko and Vincent took the other.

  They explored swiftly to beat the oncoming light, and discovered that above, beneath the fading, starry sky, was a helicopter pad, but no aircraft, and a swimming pool with one of those snazzy infinity lips so it appeared as if it ended on sky, though it was now dry. There were also dead trees and an acre of green synthetic grass. In the middle was a large gazebo with showers and a bar, a telescope, and a playground. For a few scanty seconds, as she gazed upon this memento of how the rich once played, Cyn’s spine prickled as it had the day she met Drummer.

  A high glass fence guarded the entire rooftop, and though it was smudged with ashes and dust, she could see her reflection. The moon lay above, while to either side of her stood the shadow-muted Vargr and Rutger. She contemplated this nightmare warrior mélange of a horned beaster dripping blue, a winged beaster with sculpted gray hair, and the demon girl with the fiery glow licking the air above her shoulders.

  Both of her males took her hands.

  Warm beaster fingers enveloping hers.

  They comforted her in an incalculable way. Her breathing slowed, her stance grew more solid, her mind calmed, and she looked at the empty swimming pool before her feet and barely saw the deflated ball or unicorn, or the plastic lounge.

  She only felt an emptiness looming.

  She needed them but could not have them. Cruel.

  She wondered if they’d seen the fire at her back. Wings, she had wings. Cyn frowned. If she imagined those, she should think about cutting back on the coffee and the champagne.

  They went below again, and by then the fire at her back had vanished.

  The apartment itself was luxurious and color-themed in espresso and cream, with hints of gold and red. Best of it all—they had a functioning solar-powered generator, large tanks of water, plumbing that worked and, lo and behold, a wall-sized TV with every video game known to mankind, before humanity’s fall.

  They showered in the pristine water and became cleaner than they’d been for weeks. There was shampoo and soap, and functioning drains, and bathrooms with gold inlay and metal sculptures. The towels were fluffier than a Disney rabbit. She found a matching set of lycra exercise clothes with bright-colored manga scenes on the leggings and the figure-hugging top, and couldn’t resist changing into them.

  Here was air conditioning too and a security system that still turned on. Hah. Mo would give any burglars a fright. As would she.

  The doctor had kept his pantry well stocked and made this tower apocalypse proof, and then he’d walked away from it all. She kept peering at framed paintings and photos, wondering if any were him or even, by some miracle, if she might be in one.

  There was beer, champagne, and snacks, and enough canned and dry food to last them years, as well as the fruit on the trees.

  “Heaven,” Cyn said, rocking on her boot heels and lusting after the game console. “Let’s play Witcher 4. I’ll beat you both.”

  “It’s single-player.” Vargr shook his head. “I’ll watch you.”

  “This has monster POV too. Split screen. Wanna be a dragon?” She winked. “You can fuck dragons in this one once they shift to human.”

  Oh shit. Bad, bad words, considering. Her libido was seducing her subconscious.

  Vargr shot her a brooding look.

  She needed to distract her boys from the idea of sex, so perhaps she could exhaust them, give them bleary red eyes and send them to off to sleep to the tune of exploding monsters? It was worth a goddamned try.

  The white lounge was big enough for ten people or one dinosaur, and was a shallow U-shape. Immense square cushions were piled up at the corners plus a few in between. Parts of it had been slid out into long bed-sized padded sections. Either the doctor loved to lie down while viewing, or he had orgies?

  She sighed at herself.

  Mind, please leave the gutter.

  Everything was wireless and the generator supplied electricity. With the shutters lowered over the windows, they could play all day. She took a moment, closed her eyes, and felt for the Lure. The tendrils were there, curling and twirling in the air, but low in concentration. She and they were safe, and so being here was never going to test her resistance. She needed mor
e, to go to the Top of War Quarter.

  Every piece of equipment had switched on fine. The controllers must use magic batteries and held full charges.

  Time to do some game-playing. “Is that champagne again?” Vargr had wandered off and was returning with silver buckets of… fuck was that beer on ice?

  “Beer and pretzels!” He raised the buckets and some foil packets of pretzels. “And to be healthy, we have apples and oranges.” He poked a finger at the lined-up fruit as he ambled to the coffee table, then he picked up the remote and flicked through to the gaming channel. Words scrolled across the screen.

  UNABLE TO CONNECT TO THE INTERNET OR DOWNLOAD UPDATES.

  Not exactly surprising news.

  Then… Witcher 4’s opening screen sprang to life—it was the man himself, Geralt, walking through a field of swaying white flowers while battlements burned in the distance. It was a vivid and a poignant reminder of life as it had once been in living rooms across the world. Fantasy on the TV, bountiful food, and a time when gaming was a religion of sorts.

  Now the fantasy had turned to horror and haunted them for real.

  “Great,” Rutger chuckled. “We have a balanced diet.”

  “Fuck, we found the land of plenty. Utopia,” she said softly and with more than a little awe.

  Sunlight was out there already. Day had broken. White flickered, glinted, in a few lines where the shutter blades weren’t perfectly abutting. At this time of the day they should be sleeping, or fucking, but she was going to tire these guys out before it came to that.

  The main problem was that Rutger looked more into staring at her than the screen.

  “I’ll watch. I’ve never played.” Rutger deposited his large frame on the long straight part of the lounge then waved at the console. “Any of these, ever.”

  “Never?” Maybe she could teach him.

  “Nope. Gamer virgin here. Teach me oh mighty ummm—”

  “Teacher?” Vargr drawled. “It’s in the dictionary under T.”

  She tsked at Vargr.

  The virgin part was what she’d heard. Every second word seemed to reek of sex.

  “Sure.” Carefully she sat near Rutger, but not too near. “Your controller.” His fingers touched hers as she handed it to him. “These are the main buttons and if you press this…”

  She could smell him, could feel the blue motes from his immense horns touch her skin as they drifted by, could see his massive biceps press on his sleeves as he manipulated the controller, and below the breadth of his even larger thighs.

  Cyn breathed through the arousal until it was mostly gone—simmering only.

  He easily picked up the principles of playing, and for over an hour, he and Vargr devoted themselves to laughing, cheering each other on, as well as rubbing the other’s face in the virtual mud when they did something stupid. In fact, she had little time with the game because they were too busy amusing themselves, screwing maidens, fighting monsters, and sometimes screwing the prettier monsters when they changed into humans.

  This is better than fighting them off me.

  Keeping her distance helped keep their hands off her.

  She ended up behind the lounge—one foot on the floor, and with her butt and her bent knee perched on the padded back of the lounge. Since they’d shifted along to be next to each other, she could watch them both. Cyn swigged the last of her beer and eyed the bottle, turning it, wondering if beasters could be alcoholics. They’d drunk all the cold ones that’d been on ice.

  “I’d better get more,” she said. “Fridge is in the kitchen?”

  “Where else?” Vargr muttered, distracted by getting torn apart by something winged and slithery. “Fuck! Wait.” He passed the controller up to her. “You’d think the wings would make us allies or something but no, it ate me. I’ll get more beer, you play.”

  Finally. Grinning, she waved as he left then leaned over the cushy lounge with both elbows resting on it while she played. The game reset to the start and she skipped the cutscene at the beginning. An early fight was taking all her attention when she heard Vargr pad closer.

  Then he arrived and squeezed himself into her, hugging her like a big warm bear, squashing her to the padded back. His lips touched her ear. “I come bearing gifts.”

  “Gifts?” she tried to laugh but the sensation of his cock rubbing between her legs was most… interesting.

  “You know,” she said, inclining her head, her eyes closing, opening. “I’m trying not to fuck quite as much.”

  “Why?”

  “Reasons.” Which was when she heard and saw that Rutger had turned on the lounge and knelt, facing her. His thumb slid on her lower lip as his curled fingers slid beneath her jaw.

  Fully aware of what she was doing, despite Vargr kissing the back of her head, her neck above the collar, and the hardness of his very long cock against her ass, she opened her mouth.

  The thumb was slid further in with Rutger keenly watching. He pushed it to the inside line of her teeth and held her so as he rose and came in for a kiss, his face angling,

  She sighed as his lips reached hers, pushed on her, and she let her tongue play over that thumb.

  “It’s not good for you, or for our cocks, to be alone and unfucked. You know this.”

  How elegant. She sort-of squinted at him and sighed again as Vargr began to roll down the back of her new, stretchy leggings. Maybe too stretchy. Too easy to remove. He paused when he had them gathered at the join of her ass and her thighs, grabbed a big handful of her cheek and pushed his hand between her legs. The slickness already there meant his fingers ran along as if buttered, creamed, lubed...

  Her throat chose then to close in for he’d stuck a finger or two inside her and was working them in and out. Thick, man-sized fingers, fuck, her eyes rolled up. His biting recommenced, little marches of bites down her back, while Rutger smiled and kissed her, and held her lip and mouth.

  “You like it,” he said, in those guttural, beaster tones as he kissed her, and she kissed him back. “Why resist?”

  “Because,” she breathed. How could she ever answer?

  Because, Ghoul Lords—as well as her normal feistiness, which, fuck, was not happening today. She was too desperate for sex, too turned on already. Abstinence had made her pussy far too fond of cock. She wriggled and ground her butt in irregular circles and heard the moist sounds from those fingers at her rear delving into her extreme arousal… then the unzip of Vargr’s pants.

  Upon releasing her mouth, Rutger drew away and unzipped his own, still kneeling but freeing his cock—the one with the spikes.

  She whimpered, anticipating.

  Gone from zero to one hundred in seconds.

  One. Last. Time.

  Vargr wedged her rolled leggings a little lower, smacked her ass and growled, “Spread them wider.”

  She spread her legs and waited for the thrust, but he gave an exasperated growl.

  “Drag her down there.” And Vargr hoisted her body higher, over the top of the lounge, until her butt was the highest part of her, and she slid and head-planted into the cushions She only saved herself from the worst of the plunge by putting her arms out in front and bracing her forearms.

  Laughing, Rutger grabbed her hair at the nape. She expected him to fuck her mouth, but instead he thudded to one knee and tilted her head until he could kiss her… and Vargr stuck his cock into her at the same moment as lips met hers, and she shuddered, moaned and her eyes snapped closed.

  “Fuck,” she spluttered as Vargr adjusted his aim, and the thrusts became deeper, more forceful, more fucking awesome.

  Getting kissed did indeed swap to being shallowly mouth fucked, and she found Rutger playing with her like that while she struggled to breathe and get herself at the right angle to be taken fully from behind. The depth Vargr’s cock reached made her still her inhalations and claw at the lounge.

  He thumbed her slit open with his thumbs and fingers.

  The latter only made Rutger stop kissing
and force his erection partway to her throat. She spluttered, reminded of how that he’d never quite fitted this monstrosity in her mouth. He held himself there for a while, and she was so enraptured by being shoved ass-up and head-down, by the pure dominance of this sex, that she only groaned and gurgled around his cock.

  Drool gathered on her face, and wet the slide and lunge, then Rutger withdrew completely, holding her in place to let her be fucked only by Vargr in the pussy.

  The last hammering thrusts buried her into the cushions, and she stayed there, gasping, her legs wide-spread.

  When Vargr came, she stayed low, feeling every inch, every swell of dick, every jet of come, and she hadn’t come yet but wasn’t in any hurry.

  This had left her spinning, happy yet needy.

  “Come here.” That was Rutger and she turned her head to find him turning her as if she were meat on a spit. Still she had her butt raised high, on the lounge, but he was up there now, taking V’s place. Once he had her on her back, and her leggings stripped off, he draped her legs over his shoulders.

  “Going to eat you now. Say please.” He winked at her and waited for Vargr to wedge cushions under her back then remove her top so she was fully naked.

  She lay on that ramp of pillows with Rutger at the end, eyeing her like she was supper, and she stuck her tongue tip on her lip while considering what he’d said.

  “You want a please?”

  “Mmm-hm.”

  Then his warm, wet, soft tongue licked slowly over her clit, just the once, making her swear—that had been a free sample of what he offered.

  Saying no would be insane. “Please.” She arched a little, trying to reach his face with her pussy.

  “Be good. Or else.” His mouth twisted up at the corner. He had her spellbound.

  The lounge sank to one side, and Vargr sat next to her ramp of pillows. He gathered her hair where it fell to the floor. “Let’s see if we can get her to come, despite some… torture.” She watched his eyes as he wound his fingers deeper into the strands, and he held her tightly as he lowered his head, his hot mouth, over her breasts.