 
#

#

# Grave Hauntings

# Where Sexy and Sinful Meets Dark and Chilling

Charity Parkerson

Suzy Ayers

The Black

Thianna D.

C.E. Black

Eric Keys

Will LaForge

Corey Harper

Darling Adams

Grave Hauntings copyright 2014 by Suzy Ayers

Smashwords Edition

All Rights Reserved

All stories are copyrighted to their respective authors, and used here with their permission.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any forms or by any means, whether graphic, electronic photo copying, mechanical, recording or otherwise, with the exception of reproduction of the designs expressly for personal use only, not for financial gain. Unless expressed consent for lending is allowed for the particular works.

Cover designed by Charity Parkerson. Thank you so much for the many edits. The final product blew me away.

A special thanks to Satisfiction Services for formatting services provided on this project as well. You impress me every time. I would be stressed without you.

This was truly a project that was a group effort and I thank everyone.

# Table of Contents

Introduction

Of Ghosts and Dreams by Charity Parkerson

The Lost Sheep of Menotomy Village by Eric Keys

One Hell of a First Date by Corey Harper

The Haunting of Hamstead Manor by Thianna D.

Z by The Black

A Pecking Order by Darling Adams

In Heat by Suzy Ayers

HAL by C.E. Black

True to Her Nature by Will LaForge

# Introduction

This collection of stories has me over-the-top excited. I wasn't sure who was going to be in the group or what type of stories would be imagined. I can say there are no two remotely alike.

The group of authors involved in _Grave Hauntings_ has shifted and changed many times. The idea to do this book came to me right after the success of my Christmas anthology, Sexy Holiday Bites in 2013. The collaboration on that one was a lot of fun and this one also proves to have its own bite to it.

I was thrilled at the extremely talented authors that agreed joined in. I know you will enjoy all the: ghosts, wolves, vampires and other surprise stories that will haunt you late into the dark evenings. And the twist is this one isn't pure erotica. There are some sexy scenes and some stories completely (gasp!) dare I even type it, without sex. Trust me this book is not like one you have read before.

Believe me when I tell you it is something you can read over and over. I hope you delve further into each author, because the unique styles have even little ole me titillated. I have been truly honored to be graced by this group.

Thank you so much for checking us out and sweet dreams...if you can make it that far.

Suzy xx

#  Of Ghosts and Dreams

# by Charity Parkerson

The foundation of the world is built upon lies. From big lies, such as _who shot JFK_ and what _really happens at Area 51_ , to the little lies you tell yourself to get through the day, like _your ass looks better now than it did in high school_ and _it isn't stalking until the police are called_.

The biggest lie Raven told herself daily was she wasn't crazy. It was a story that was getting harder to swallow every day.

Five years ago, Raven married her high-school sweetheart. Three years ago, the dreams began.

There were many times over the past three years Raven thought if she could bottle her dreams and pour them onto paper, they would make the world's hottest erotica story. However, when she woke each morning, her dreams would slip away before she could grasp a firm hold on them. She was positive it was always the same man in her dreams. He never looked the same. Sometimes he was more feeling than appearance, except for his eyes. They were the only thing burned so deeply into her memory she couldn't shake the memory of them loose. His eyes were a startling blue, the same as the sky on the most beautiful summer's day. Each time the dreams came to her, she would wake with a feeling of loss so deep sometimes she would cry with no explanation. All Raven knew for sure was he was a piece missing from her life.

***

The light from the fireplace flickered across the wood floor, warming her nude body. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leaned against the door, watching her. She could feel his hot gaze upon her even from the shadows. Her heart raced in response. One moment he was all the way across the room. The next, he was upon her, overwhelming her senses with his touch. He probed her swollen pussy with his fingertips while licking a hot path down the side of her neck. Burying her hands in his hair, she tugged. Bringing his mouth to hers, she kissed him deeply. Two of his fingers moved in and out of her rhythmically as she rocked herself against his hand. She was so close to the blazing orgasm she knew only he could give.

The loud shriek of the alarm clock jerked Raven from her dream. She nearly screamed in frustration. Her body was on fire. Glancing over at her husband, Anthony, she slammed a hand down on the snooze button when it became obvious he had no intentions of stirring. With a sigh of regret, she slid from beneath the warmth of the covers, heading for the bathroom.

***

Lucien wanted to touch her, needed to feel her skin. Doing so in her realm meant using a lot of energy. Instead, he chose to follow her throughout the day. Waiting until her guard was down he snuck into her thoughts. She believed she was going insane. It wasn't true. Raven was special. In her heart, she knew he was real. The problem was she was in denial over the matter. Raven kept him tied to this world long after he should have passed on. He couldn't leave her behind. Even though they hadn't gotten the chance to meet before a drunk driver cut his life short, he knew she felt the loss of him. The problem was she didn't realize why. Now, he existed where Raven's soul came to play each time she closed her eyes. He wouldn't let her go.

It took half the day for Raven to let down the walls of her mind enough to let him in. Finally, she stared blankly into space. Spotting his opening, Lucien dove into her thoughts.

***

Dreams never make sense to anyone other than the dreamer. They don't have a beginning or an end. They simply _are_. In her real life, Raven needed to feel safe. In the very least, she required a reasonable explanation for her circumstances. There was no rhyme or reason for the way she craved the dream man. She wanted to open her eyes each morning, simply leaving him behind. She wanted never to open her eyes again, staying with him forever. She wondered if full-blown insanity would finally set her free.

She managed to avoid thinking of him all day by filling her thoughts with every day worries, such as, reminding herself to set a doctor's appointment, and wondering if her favorite dress was still at the drycleaner. The truth was he was always a hair's breadth away from the front of her mind. All it took was a moment of mental silence, and there he was. His striking blue gaze became a perfect picture in her mind's eye. Her breath caught in her throat as the image caught her off guard. Everything else about the room surrounding her disappeared. He almost become a solid form in front of Raven, making her—inexplicably—want to cry. Why did he haunt her like this? Why did she want so badly to be with someone who wasn't real?

A wave of exhaustion so intense it couldn't be ignored, overcame her. Glancing at the clock, she calculated the number of hours before Anthony was due home. Mentally shrugging, she headed for her bedroom, climbing onto the mattress. The huge four-poster bed was an antique passed down from her grandmother a few years earlier. Raven loved the old piece of furniture. She focused on the green and purple sprigs smattered across her wallpaper for several minutes before closing her eyes. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't relax her mind enough to sleep. The memory of the dream from the night before continued to snake its way into her thoughts. Her nipples hardened in response. Uncomfortably, she shifted, unable to find a single spot on the bed that didn't chafe her nerves. The memory of his fingers stroking her swollen clit caused her hand to slip beneath the waistband of her yoga pants, past the barrier of her cotton panties, until she found the wet folds of her pussy. Finally, her shoulders began to relax. A tiny bit of stress began to melt from her body. She pictured his lips pressed to her throat. The fluttering of his tongue against her neck felt so real she swore he was really there. She slipped the tip of one finger inside herself. Her tight pants restricted the motion. With an aggravated growl, she quickly stripped out of her clothes, before settling back down. Cool air brushed over her nude body. She closed her eyes once more, bringing the memory of his blue eyes to the forefront of her mind. Her lips parted on a sigh as her knees fell open. She envisioned the head of his cock brushing at her entrance as he moistened the tip with her cream.

It wasn't enough. She wanted the sensation of her pussy stretching wide as he buried his dick there. She needed to feel him hitting bottom, as he lifted her knees to his chest, deeply pounding away.

A heavy weight settled upon her. His hips brushed her inner thighs. She moaned at finally having him where she craved him. She spread her knees wider to accommodate his size. He sucked lightly on the side of her neck. His hair tickled her skin as he trailed down her body with biting kisses. Nipping at her nipples and nibbling upon her ribs, he caused her to giggle. When his hot mouth closed over her dripping cunt, she moaned. Gripping the blankets beneath her, she lifted her hips to meet his mouth. He pressed her knees to the mattress spreading her as widely as possible. His tongue moved with a perfect rhythm, slipping over her clit before moving inside her repeatedly, and then traveling back to circle her clit.

Her mouth began to water as lust fogged her brain. "Damn it. I want to taste you." At her growled words, he froze. His tongue followed its set path once more, before he crawled up her body. Straddling her shoulders, he brought his cock to her willing lips. She gripped his tight ass with both hands, kneading the muscles beneath her fingertips. He braced his weight with one arm on the headboard. Using his free hand, he guided his dick to her waiting mouth. A drop of moisture leaked from the tip. She touched her tongue to it, before licking a slow circle around the head. Opening her jaw wide, she drew him into her mouth and sucked him deep into her throat. Hollowing out her cheeks, she allowed him to slip almost completely past her lips before starting the process over again. The muscles in his ass clenched, beneath her hands, as he gently pumped against her mouth. He allowed her to control the pace. She could tell he was close to his climax by the sound of his breathing, but he pulled away from her before she could finish him off. Working his way downward, he positioned himself between her legs. She found herself rubbing against him like a cat. She was so wet the juices leaked from her, soaking the bed. He brought his mouth down hard upon hers. The taste of her pussy lingered on his tongue. Her clit was pulsing with need. When he finally entered her, she whimpered into his mouth. Leaning away, she peered into his eyes. They were becoming as familiar to her as her own were. Unfortunately, a hazy fog, making most of his features undistinguishable, surrounded them.

" _See me," he demanded, and suddenly she did. The heavy haze around them lifted, revealing dark brown hair and olive-toned skin. The sharp angles of his face gave him a hawk-like appearance, reminding her of a statue she'd once seen of a Greek god. Her throat tightened. She choked back a sob. For so long he'd remained hidden from her. Now, she was finally able to look upon his beautiful face._

" _Hi," she said with a giggle, as she lifted her hand to his cheek. A luminous smile touched his features, revealing perfect white teeth and the hint of a dimple._

" _Hi," he answered, mimicking her tone. He bent his head, kissing her once more, trailing his lips along her jaw line, and nibbling on her ear. "I'm Lucien. Let me hear you scream my name," he whispered. He emphasized the words by thrusting deeply inside her. She clenched her muscles around his dick in an attempt to keep him from moving away. She whimpered as he pulled almost completely out of her. Thankfully, he quickly slammed home again._

The sound of a tiny motor roaring to life jerked Raven from her dream. Her eyes filled with tears. A heavy weight sat upon her chest. Her throat burned from the effort it took to keep those tears from falling. Her bare skin chilled. There was only emptiness without Lucien. She wanted to pound her fists on the mattress. She'd been so close to finding release. Unable to keep from doing so, she pinched her clit between her thumb and forefinger, rubbing a slow circle around it. Her hips automatically lifted to meet her fingers when she buried two of them inside herself. She sawed in and out while picturing Lucien in her mind. Digging her heels into the mattress, she mindlessly moved against the palm her hand. Clenching her ass cheeks tight, her orgasm hit hard. Raven's body shook from its force. Whispering his name, she hoped it would bring him closer. She only succeeded in making him seem less real. Feeling ridiculous for pining for him, Raven climbed from the bed, slowly redressing. Her body felt tender, as if she'd enjoyed a long day of lovemaking. She deliberately kept her thoughts blank. There wasn't enough strength in the world to face them now, not with her heart so heavy. Catching sight of her reflection, in the mirror above her dresser, she moved closer to it. Her lips appeared swollen and her cheeks flushed. Her hair was a mess and her eyes shined brightly. She looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly fucked and fucked well. Shaking her head, she tried clearing the cobwebs in hopes _something_ would make sense. The same sound penetrating her dreams now broke through her haze, and she followed it outside and onto the front porch.

Her husband set aside his weed eater when he noticed her standing there. His broad shoulders and shaggy blond hair were as familiar to her as her reflection. He seemed to get smaller in her mind each day as Lucien became larger.

"I didn't realize you were home," she told him absently, as if she was following a script written by someone other than her. He smiled with the same boyish delight he always did, as he moved to stand at the edge of the porch.

"These weeds are getting tall." The words were so mundane.

Raven cocked her head to one side, studying him closer. A bitter thought slammed into her. If this was a screenplay then it was a boring one.

"That's because it's not real."

Raven jumped in surprise at Lucien's sudden appearance at Anthony's side. Pressing a hand to her chest, Raven hoped to slow its pace.

"What?" She snapped her teeth together, nearly biting off her tongue, to cut off her question. What did she intend to ask anyway?

Anthony stood mere inches from Lucien. Their shoulders nearly brushed, and yet Anthony stared off in the opposite direction, seemingly oblivious to Lucien's presence. Raven glanced back and forth between the two of them. Her confusion grew. It was as if someone pieced reality together, but the edges didn't fit. Lucien's realm was a shade too bright, making the real world appear dull and lifeless. She barely restrained herself from waving her hand in front of Anthony's face. She eyed Lucien questioningly, wondering if she was still dreaming.

"Am I crazy?"

Lucien shook his head. "No." He simply looked at her. The same desperation she'd felt in her heart upon waking to find him gone, was in his eyes. He tore his gaze away from her and inspected Anthony closely. "He isn't special in any way, you know? He's only another boring person helping to fill this tedious world." He brought his beautiful blue stare back to her. "You don't belong to him."

"I know," she whispered, barely forcing the words past her rapidly swelling throat.

A smile lit his face. "Kiss me," he cajoled.

Raven's eyes shot to Anthony, still half-expecting him to react to the sound of Lucien's voice, but he continued watching the trees across the street.

"Kiss me," Lucien repeated, drawing Raven's attention back to him. She leaned forward allowing him to kiss her cheek. "That's my girl," he told her quietly, before disappearing. The moment he was gone Anthony turned back to her as if nothing happened.

"I guess I'd better get this grass cut before it gets too hot."

Raven nodded, absently watching as he headed towards the garage. Her feet moved as if on autopilot, carrying her inside the house. It wasn't until she was standing inside her bedroom her mind snapped back into focus. She peered more closely at her surroundings. It wasn't real. She stood trapped in some form of stasis, a type of holding cell or waiting room until she could be with Lucien. She knew it now.

The bedroom curtains blew wide as if the window stood open, yet she knew she kept it closed tight. A breeze brushed over skin as a lover's caress. The image of Lucien's eyes formed in her mind, as clear as if he was standing there again.

"You are my soul mate and even in death we shall be as one," Lucien whispered against her ear.

His form solidified. Their fingertips brushed. Standing chest-to-chest, Raven looked up into the face of the man who was indeed her other half. Perhaps insanity had finally come for her.

"Yes, even in death," she agreed.

**About Charity Parkerson**

Charity Parkerson is an award winning and multi-published author with Ellora's Cave Publishing, Midnight Books, and Punk & Sissy Publications. Born with no filter from her brain to her mouth, she decided to take this odd quirk and insert it in her characters.

*2014 Readers' Favorite Finalist

*2014 Golden Ankh Nominee

*2013 Readers' Favorite Award Winner

*2013 Reviewers' Choice Award Winner

*2012 ARRA Finalist for Favorite Paranormal Romance

*Five-time winner of The Mistress of the Darkpath

Also by Charity Parkerson

If you liked _Of Ghosts and Dreams_ , be sure to check out _Unbalanced_.

Find _Unbalanced_ online and view Charity Parkerson's author page.

For more from Charity Parkerson

Twitter @charityparkerso

Website

Facebook

#  The Lost Sheep of Menotomy Village

# by Eric Keys

As soon as I read about the mass disappearances at Menotomy Village, I knew Paul would call. And when he called, he offered me a job—a job he knew only an unsavory old friend would be able to do. Losing your kid and half the kids of your parishioners would push a fine pastor to call a private investigator with a seamy reputation. Naturally, it was easier as we had once been chums.

But I was on retainer and I would have to clear it with Mr. Hess.

I let myself into Mr. Hess's office without a knock. Knocking irritated him and he had decided that certain trusted employees simply should desist from the practice. He sat behind a big oak desk, which made his tiny, fragile frame look even smaller than usual. His eyes darted up to me, then scanned the room to see if my entrance had allowed any unauthorized access.

I'm tempted to call him a funny looking man, but that might be the pot calling the kettle black. My ears are a bit juggy and my eyes bulge more than is considered socially acceptable. And my nose has been broken a few times too many, if you catch my drift.

Once he saw that the coast was clear, he returned his gaze to the stack of papers on his desk.

"Boss," I said.

"Don't call me that or I will retaliate by calling you Abraham."

"Abe is just fine, Mr. Hess."

"What do you want, Abe?"

"You heard about Menotomy Village?"

"Of course. It sounds like the work of our enemies, but The Executive Board has decided that it is not in their best interests to act in this matter."

"And what, exactly, are their interests?" I asked.

"It is better not to ask such questions." That was all Hess said, but his glare conveyed more.

Of course, I knew I was better off not knowing. They paid me well, tolerated my unorthodox methods, and had taught me all kinds of interesting things. And the stuff I'd seen working for them... I honestly wished I could forget most of it, but you can't go back once you've seen this stuff. Better not to step foot on that road than to go forward and try to go back.

"Do we have anything big coming up?" I hesitated. "A friend of mine has asked me to do a little digging. What do you think?"

"I know with absolute certainty that you will go regardless of what I say, so I do not know why you ask instead of just telling me you are going."

If my life is to make any sense to you, then you have to believe there are some things science just can't explain yet. For example, Hess is an incredibly shrewd judge of character. You almost always lose when you bet against him. However, when he utters the phrase "I know with absolute certainty that..." then you are in the presence of a supernatural event. He simply cannot be wrong about any character judgment that comes at the end of that sentence.

Seriously. The Executive Board hired some statisticians to study him. They recorded every word he spoke during the working day for two years. And then they analyzed data for longer than that. Their conclusion was that when he uttered that phrase, he was 100% accurate. Even without that phrase, he was still shockingly accurate if fallible.

They even tried to trick him into saying the phrase when he was not inclined to. At least, I hope it was a trick. Putting a gun to someone's head for an experiment is pretty intense. I never did figure out if the researcher had threatened to blow Hess's head off unless he said the magic phrase because it had been part of an experiment or if he had just lost it. Either way, I had shot the gun-toting statistician dead before he could fire. What was I supposed to do? Part of my job is to keep Hess and the others alive. If it had been an experiment, they should have told me.

And that is why The Executive Board kept Mr. Hess in their employ. Sure, he was a pompous ass, but he was no worse than some of the other guys around there. Reggie, Hess's boss, was worse. But at least Reggie let you call him by his first name and would take you out boozing once in a while. Plus, he always seemed to draw the nice looking women to him and he'd mastered the art of throwing the funny looking side-kick a bone now and then.

Hess sighed and said, "But you are on your own, Abe. No rescue attempt will be made if things go wrong. And if you are alive next week, then show up on time. I expect there will be work for you. Please go now." And with that, Hess returned to his papers.

His fear tactics were more an expression of disdain than any real warning. He and I both knew that these sorts of events were almost always isolated. He knew my purpose was to pacify and comfort someone, and he had no patience for that sort of activity.

But his opinion was not the one I really wanted or needed. That one would come in the middle of the night.

I knew Alicia would be in my dreams that night. I could tell when she was going to make an appearance. I would catch a certain smell. It doesn't seem to have a physical source and I can't describe it, for the life of me, but it's a reliable sign. I figured she knew something was afoot. She had some kind of weird connection with some of the players in this fucked up game. I probably wouldn't have agreed to go to Menotomy Village if I hadn't got the feeling Alicia was going to help me out.

That night, the dream started with a replay of the day we'd met. Things were distorted in the dream—my funny looking mug was almost grotesque—but the details were basically the same: I brought some papers to the TV studio, where Alicia was taping one of the most popular kid's TV shows in the country. The Executive Board had asked me to deliver these papers in person for reasons I didn't understand fully at the time.

I took in the view of her from a distance, before she went into wardrobe. I was hiding in the shadows like a peeping tom. She was a little on the short side, with jet black hair and big brown eyes that look like the entrance to a deep cave of obscene lust. The short loose skirt showed off her shapely legs. No need to cover up that flawless skin with hose or tights. Just a slight hint of a tan and the effect was complete, and I was nearly bowled over.

She came out of wardrobe with her perky breasts flattened out by some seamstress's trick, and the shapeless jumper left a whole lot more to the imagination than her street clothes did.

As the dream continued, I watched the taping, and I was amazed they let her on a kiddy show. The sexual vibe she gave off almost melted my phone. I bet she was the reason so many dads watched the show with their kids.

And the smell of her. No one else ever seemed to smell the special scent, but I knew it meant she was mine for the taking. It was the smell of a woman who has come to close to certain forces that operate in our universe. Women who have been near those forces seem to find me irresistible. I have no idea why, but at least a funny looking guy like me can get a pretty girl now and then, even when Reggie isn't around.

After the taping, I introduced myself and told her I had some papers related to her recently deceased uncle. I offered to buy her a drink and go over them.

The dream condensed the evening, but all the delicious cat-and-mouse flirting games we played that night were preserved. Normally, in games like this, I don't do too well. But that night I had an edge. I knew she wanted me badly.

We ended up back at my place and the dream slowed to a crawl as my favorite memory from the evening came. She was naked, with her jet black hair plastered to her head. Her head was pressed into the pillow and her shapely ass was in the air. She was fingering her clit and pussy as I worked my cock slowly in and out of her anus. Her sphincter started to clamp down hard on my cock—which looked huge against her tiny frame—and I could no longer control myself. I felt my whole body contract with each violent shot of cum that burst from my body. My dream biology was prodigious, as it seemed like an impossibly large load of semen filled her ass to a literal overflowing, but my orgasm seemed to go on and on until my brain could not process any more.

But the dream did not end. Now was where it usually got interesting. Here was where we talked. I don't know if I was really in contact with her then, but usually at that point she was aware of all that had transpired between that first night and today—including her attempted betrayal and the trap I led her into.

"So, you're going to Menotomy?"

"Yes, Alicia. My friend Paul needs me," I answered. I don't think my motives were as pure as all that, but I often don't understand why I do things until later. I sort of feel my way through situations and analyze afterward.

Alicia gave me a smile that let me know she thought my response was bullshit. Then she got a sad, fearful look in her eyes. She was thinking about how she was going to have to go back to her new home soon. "It's horrible, Abe. You need to help me. You can't even imagine..."

Her face was white as a sheet. She's tried to describe her life to me. I hung on to the hope that all of this was just a dream, but it was unlike any dream I had ever had. She had given me such useful information—some of which had saved my life.

"You know I can't help you," was all I could say. I had tried. Every avenue of research had come up empty. It was like she was in hell. Not dead, but not alive by any reasonable definition of the word. Constant torture, interrupted by her occasional forays into my dreams. I'd often wondered if her wardens let her have these moments of respite as a way of making her agony all the more painful.

I calmed myself with the notion that nothing lasts forever. Entropy always wins, even if it takes billions of years.

"What's waiting for me in Menotomy, Alicia?" I asked. The pain and despair in her eyes was so deep. But if I didn't want to end up dead or worse...

"Abe," she said, her voice smooth and sultry, "can't we do other things?" Her hand stroked my cock, and unbelievably it responded.

I knew she wanted to drag out our time. If I got what I wanted, I might leave. Or maybe her motives were worse. Either way, I needed to know what was there, and her attempt to distract me disturbed me.

"What's there?" I asked again.

"You'll know when you get there, and you'll know what to do. But you aren't doing your friend any favors."

She started to stroke my cock again. I reflected that the alarm wouldn't go off for hours. In this dream world, I could recover quite fast, and she still had two pretty holes I would like to visit.

Still, I wondered if I was really doing her any favors. But that thought disappeared as she took my cock in her mouth.

***

I arrived in Menotomy the next morning. It wasn't hard to find Paul's church. It was the biggest one in such a little town. Of course, he was quite a successful pastor. It was a life that chose him, I suppose. What other career could a bookish kid named Paul choose?

The facilities were very modern but it was clear they were in crisis mode. The receptionist was nowhere to be seen. I found Paul's office quickly enough, and there were muffled voices coming from behind the door. I knew it could be a tense counseling session or some other sensitive matter, but I also was on a mission of sorts and I didn't have time for tact.

I'm goofy looking enough that people assume I am totally socially inept. I knew if I barged in, people would give me the benefit of the doubt, so that is what I did.

Paul was sitting on a couch talking quietly to a middle-aged woman who had invested quite a lot of money and time into looking young. She had been crying a lot. Her kid must have been one of the kids who'd vanished. But there was more. In her eyes, which rose to meet mine as I walked in, I saw guilt.

She ran off sobbing. Paul gave me a look—half angry, half relieved.

Paul continued to look at me. His face was blank, then a forced sickening smile turned on. I saw the recognition in his eyes and the smile disappeared. His face went slack, and I thought for a moment he was going to fall over as his body started to sway, but he steadied himself on his glass-topped metal frame Apple-store looking desk. All this seemed to happen in a second or two. An untrained observer might have missed it.

"Thank God you're here, Abe!" He hugged me and a sob escaped him.

I checked my cynicism and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume this was genuine.

He offered me the couch to sit on and he pulled up a small desk chair from the corner of the room.

"You must realize you aren't getting the kids back, yes?" I was not so much looking for his opinion as trying to figure out how close to collapse he was.

A slight shiver ran through his body and he made a long sigh. "The theologically correct reply is that 'all things are possible with God.' But I know the kids are gone. I need to know why, Abe."

"It's not your fault, Paul." It wasn't much consolation but it was all I could say.

"Are you sure? I've believed in God as far back as I can recall. I've seen some weird stuff, but I've never pursued or studied the occult. But I have friends who do. Pentecostal preachers who know about demons. They've seen some pretty awful stuff. They say demons only can affect you if you do something that lets them in. Sin, for example."

I looked at him for a moment. I was glad I had my poker face already in place because the urge to laugh was incredible. I was sure those preachers had dealt with dark powers but if they really knew what was going on, they'd all retire. What had happened here in Menotomy was out of their league.

But his talk of sin got my mind working and words formed in my head. A question was stirring in my brain and it felt like the right direction to go. "That woman who was just here, what's her name?"

"Elsie."

"How long have you been fucking Elsie?"

He punched me good and hard. He had telegraphed the punch but I let it land because Paul was an old friend.

He sat back down and sobbed in his hands for a few seconds. I was glad as it gave me some time to start seeing straight again.

"It's worse," he said. "I've been fucking her daughter, too. She's only 17. My career is over if this gets out."

He stared off into space for a few minutes. I watched him patiently. "She lost her youngest child and I lost my only one," he said.

"Tell me what happened," I said. "What you saw and heard."

"It was such a wonderful spring day, Abe. It was cool but not cold and just slightly damp. It was the first good park day after a long winter, so lots of parents were with their kids at the playground. I was there with my three year-old, Jake.

"I knew so many of the people. Many of them were from my church or were people I knew from my work there—community involvement is one of our core values. Kids were yelling and running. Some of the parents were trying to control things, but most of us had given up and let the kids run as wild as we dared.

"And then the noise started." Paul paused, his mouth still hanging a bit open like he was trying to catch some last taste of the words, like there was some meaning he might feel in them with his tongue.

"What were the noises?" I asked.

"Well, that's the thing. I've talked with literally dozens of the adults at the park and they all heard something different."

"What did you hear, Paul?"

"It was a steady, deep pounding, like some kind of construction equipment. But some people heard crashing glass or music or animal noises... All kinds of things..."

"Go on, Paul. This may be important."

"I was with Elsie and a few other parents."

"Was your wife there?" I regretted that as soon as I said it. I'm a detective of sorts and my instinct is to rattle people and see what falls out. But Paul was an old friend and he'd been rattled enough.

"Yes, Amy was there," he said, with contorted mouth and furrowed brow.

"Go on, Paul. I'll try not to be more of an ass than I need to be."

"Groups of us start to look confused. We all knew something wasn't right about those noises." Paul put his face in his hands like he was going to start crying again.

I patted him on the shoulder because I didn't know what else to do.

"One by one, or in small groups, the kids all start running for the woods. Not scared or anything. It's like some kind of game. Most of us parents were looking at each other at this point, so we didn't really notice how weird it was for all these kids, who were seconds before all playing different games or just running around the way toddlers and little kids do, to start playing one game that involved running in the same direction.

"Somebody, I don't know who, started yelling for his kids to come back. The urgency in his voice woke all of us from what seemed like a trance. And the kids were gone. Most of us ran into the woods, yelling names, pushing branches, tearing up bushes. They were just gone.

"The cops came and there were search parties, but I wouldn't have asked you to come out here if they had found anything. Just nothing. Abe, I don't think there is anyone in town who doesn't know some kid that is gone now. Abe, this town's future disappeared that day."

Paul was being melodramatic, the way preachers often are, I thought. Or maybe it was an expression of grief.

"Paul, you don't really think I can get those kids back, do you?" I asked. "You know they are gone for good, right?" I've always been one for tearing the Band-Aid off quickly. Hearts heal faster when hope is gone and you stop picking at the wound.

Paul sighed and said, "I'm supposed to say that all things are possible with God, but I guess I don't have any hope for my Jake to return."

I guess he saw me snort a bit at his invocation of God. "Abe, do you believe in God?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. I believe in God. I just wonder whose side He is on," I replied.

Paul scrutinized me for a few minutes. I guess we both wondered what I meant by that statement. Sometimes shit like that just sort of rolls out of my mouth.

"So what do you want from me?" I had been wondering this for a while. I guessed now was as good a time as any to ask.

"I want to understand, Abe."

I leaned forward and put my hands on either side of his head. I kissed him on the forehead and then looked him dead in the eye. "Are you sure you want to understand? Wasn't there something in your bible about knowledge and trees?"

He sort of shuddered and nodded.

I told him to meet me in the church parking lot at 11PM, and I left abruptly.

On my way out, I saw Elsie lurking in a shadowy part of the lobby. "You know where a man can get a drink in this town?" I asked.

Elsie pulled a cute metal flask out of her purse and handed it to me. I have to admit I was a bit shocked, but I've learned that sometimes you've got to put your money where your mouth is. Putting it to my lips, I pulled the last few drops out of the almost empty flask. From the smell emanating from Elsie, I could tell that the flask had been full till just a few moments ago. I thought about talking to her but decided I had shaken enough people for one day.

I went back to my hotel and found that the honor bar was better stocked than I had a right to expect from a little motor lodge in a suburb like this. But gentrification brings all kinds of benefits in its wake. I spent the afternoon drinking and watching TV as I mulled over what Alicia had said. She said I'd know what to do. I didn't feel like I knew what to do. I wasn't even sure I trusted her.

I had sold her out. She had trusted me. She had "the smell," which meant that she had been touched by something—the same thing, I suppose, I had been touched with. Maybe she didn't even know it, but I did. I could tell. I've never been an attractive man, and never had much luck with women, but those women who have been touched—they need me bad. They trust me more than they should. And I'd taken advantage of that for the goddamn Executive goddamn Board and turned her over to what might as well have been the Devil in Hell to protect their sense of honor.

She had crossed them. She had killed one of theirs to gain knowledge. Her uncle had been some black magician the Board used from time to time. Alicia had known that her uncle knew things. She had killed him to get some books he had hidden away.

And, in their admittedly fine sense of irony, they had given her more knowledge than she had wanted. They had even given her firsthand experience, and I was their unwitting pawn. I knew I was a pawn. I had always been their pawn, and as long as they had use for me, I always would be. But so often I didn't know what their game was. Too many times I'd wondered if The Board was any better than the horrors we fought. And, like Hess was always reminding me, I was probably safer not knowing.

But I was her only contact with the world beyond that... that... whatever where she lived now. I guess that was why I could trust her. She still needed me.

I did my best not to sleep. Half of me wanted to see Alicia, half of me didn't. Mostly, I felt like a pussy who didn't want to take my old friend for a midnight stroll in the woods. I was pretty sure—based on experience, gut feeling, and the hints Alicia dropped—that I was in no physical danger, but I was keenly aware that sometimes the mental and spiritual dangers were worse... Much worse. Some things can't be unseen. I'd seen my share of those...

I knew I was awake when she walked through the door to my room despite the lock. She was wearing a severe looking business suit with a short skirt that showed the lacy tops of her thigh-highs.

"Appearing while I'm awake, huh? How'd you manage this?" I asked.

"Can't you feel it? They're all around us. I mean, yes, they left, but now the place is crawling with traces of them."

"Yeah, I can smell them. But what's so different about this mission?"

"Hell, honey, don't you sense it in your bones?" She came up to me and planted a long, slow kiss on me.

"Your lips are colder than in our dreams," I said. "And you have a bitter taste to you."

"It comes with the territory, I suppose."

She put her hand on my crotch. My cock vibrated at her touch. "I remember you tasting quite nice," she said. "Let me taste you again, the real you, not your dream-self. It's been so long since I've had a physical body."

She knelt down in front of me, unzipped my pants, and pulled out my swollen cock. "It's still the most beautiful cock I've ever seen, Abe. And I saw a lot in my day."

She jerked it slowly as she pulled my pants down with her other hand. She cupped my balls in her palm as she pressed the throbbing head against her face. She ran it up and down her cheeks, over her closed eyes, as she sighed, "It's been so long, Abe."

She took the head of my cock in her mouth. She swirled her tongue over it, her fingernails digging into my buttocks. I winced at the pain but didn't stop her. She then pushed her head in closer as I pushed my fingers into her hair. She bobbed her head up and down on me.

"Oh, god," I said.

Then she stuck one of her fingers into my ass hole.

"Fuck," I said, as my hips began to thrust violently. My grip on the back of her head tightened.

She dug the nails of her one hand deeper into my flesh while she began to finger fuck my ass.

"Oh, Baby!" I shouted, as I felt the pressure build up in me. I pushed back as hard as I could on the pressure building in my balls and my cock. I squeezed every muscle to hold it back. But she was relentless. She worked her tongue and her fingers, despite the brutal pounding I was giving her face. She began to claw deeply as my skin. I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on dragging out the moment.

Then I burst. I felt the spasms shoot through my cock—out toward her and up my spine. She got bursts of cum while shockwaves of pleasure rolled up my body toward my brain where they exploded. I looked down and saw my cum running down her chin as she smiled up at me.

Then the room went dark. I could see Alicia despite the darkness as waves of shadows rolled over everything around us. And then arms seem to reach out of the shadows in the room. The grabbed her with long, ragged claws, ripping her skin and she screamed and moaned. They lacerated her body in front of me as they dragged her away into the darkness. I closed my eyes again but I could not shut out the half-agonized, half-ecstatic screams that came from her mouth.

And when I opened my eyes, she was gone. I was alone in my hotel room and my pants around my ankles and my cock wet and chilled by the hotel AC.

***

Somehow, I found myself in the church parking lot at 11PM. Paul was there. He was shivering, despite the unseasonably warm evening weather. He nodded at me and I began to walk the few blocks between us and the park. He waited a moment or two before he started to follow me.

The park was dark, but there was a lot of ambient light from the town so it wasn't difficult to dodge the police equipment, signs, and the odd toy or two left from "the incident," as the press called it.

We got to the edge of the woods and I said, "You sure you want to go through with this, Paul?"

He nodded.

I shrugged and walked into the woods. I don't know if it was some inner sense of where to go that Alicia had alluded to, or if it was just drunken chance, but I weaved my way through the trees and undergrowth like I knew what I was doing. And then I sat on a rock.

Paul sat in the dirt next to me. "I've been over these woods a dozen times and so have the local police, the state police, and the FBI. What are we doing here, Abe?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. And the truth is, I didn't. I knew what to do; I just didn't know why.

But something different happened that neither Paul nor I expected. Maybe it was my presence there, maybe that stars were just right. Maybe Alicia whispered in something's reptilian ear. But there was a rumbling in the ground—almost like an earthquake, but it seemed very contained, like it was just happening in a specific spot. Straight ahead of us, several chunks of earth just fell inward like some insane ultra-targeted sink hole.

"What is that, Abe?!?" The fear in his voice made me a little scared, too.

"There's your answer," I said. The words just popped out of my mouth, almost like someone else was talking. It's a feeling I should be used to by now, but it still surprises me every time.

"The kids fell in that! My God! We need to get ropes or something!" Paul started to get up.

I put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him down. "They aren't there anymore. I told you they were gone. In there is the reason. The knowledge you seek. You can still turn back. It won't help you." I stood up and helped him to his feet. I looked him in the eyes to make sure he was looking at me. "Please don't do this, Paul."

"I have to know. Don't you want to know?"

"No, Paul. I don't. I know too many things. Whatever you see, don't tell me. It's just between you and whatever is down there."

I saw Paul slowly walk toward the pit and I turned away slightly. I could still see him out of the corner of my eye, but I wanted to be sure I didn't see anything that was down in the hole. I saw vaguely reptilian things moving in the trees—appendages coiling and uncoiling around stumps—keeping their distance but observing us closely.

"It's so fucking deep..." said Paul. It wasn't like him to drop the F-bomb.

"I don't want to hear it, Paul."

"There's something down there," he said.

There was a long pause. Then he sobbed for a moment or two. Then he started shouting. "My God!" He just shouted it five or six times.

Then he said, "Can't you hear them screaming, Abe? We've got to go down there!"

I grabbed him by the shoulders, my eyes now shut tight. "I can hear them just fine, Pastor," I said, even though all I heard was the chirping of the bugs and the croaking of the frogs. "But they aren't there. It's just a vision, Paul."

"There's something else moving down there, Abe!"

"Don't look, Paul. It's not too late." But it was. I knew he would look.

His shouts turned to whispers, but I could hear him. "So old," he said. "So, so old. So much time..." Then, after what seemed an eternity, he sat down in the dirt next to the rock and he just looked blankly at the ground. I knew he was gone.

The doctors would talk about stress and unresolved tensions or whatever they talk about these days. But I know what happened. He had learned more than he should have. I could have left him there. Maybe I should have left him there. But he was an old friend, so I led him by the hand back to the church and then called an ambulance.

***

I didn't want to sleep that night but the hotel bed was so comfortable.

Alicia showed up in my dream. The dream was located in the hotel room I was staying in in waking life. She was dressed in a leather bodice and a tight leather skirt, fishnets, and black stiletto heels.

"You're dressed for action, Doll Face," I said.

"You were so close to them today. God, I'm dripping wet just thinking about it. The energy from them... I can feel it coming off of you."

"What does it all mean?" I asked her.

She walked toward me, letting her hips roll in an exaggerated fashion. "What does it matter? They are the gods of this place, Abe. And they've touched you. This whole thing is a message to you. You've got their attention."

She pressed her body up against mine. Her dream body was taller than I remembered her—or maybe it was those heels—but her lips were at my ear. I could feel the heat of her breath. I could smell the blood boiling in her veins. "I want you," she whispered.

"You want those bastards. You want whatever taint they've placed on me. You want my sickness."

"Does it matter? Weren't you a little turned on watching them rip up my flesh? Just thinking about it is making me wet." She grabbed my hand and pushed it up her skirt.

"No panties, huh? Naughty little girl," I said. "Damn, you're wet." I gently probed a finger between her pussy lips.

An "Uhhhh..." rolled out of her mouth into my ear. "Yeah, Baby."

I pulled my hand back and ran my wet finger over her lips.

She sucked it into her mouth then twirled her tongue around in. "I taste wonderful," she said with a smile.

She reached into my pants. The feel of her hand on my cock made my knees a little weak. I tore the bodice off of her and she giggled. "I like it when you play rough."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, as I picked her up and threw her on to the hotel bed.

I grabbed her feet and pulled her legs up in the air. I kissed her ankles and calves through her fishnets. Her fingers were already dancing on her pussy, teasing her clit. I dropped my pants. My cock was already throbbing.

"Fuck me, Abe," she said.

I pushed my cock into her and, suddenly, I was not dreaming of her in my hotel room anymore. The setting had changed to that awful place she went when she was not with me. We were in some horrible torture chamber. I tried to blot out the screams I heard coming through the walls. Beneath me, Alicia was writhing. Sighs and moans were rolling off her lips and I pounded her, pushing her legs closer and closer to her face.

"Listen to the screams, Abe," she said.

And then she began to cum. Her chest heaved. I grabbed her nipples and twisted them harder and harder as my cock began to spasm. I felt the hard clenches shake through my body as the spurts of my jizz shot into her.

I collapsed on top of her.

***

I pushed myself up and noticed we were back in the hotel room, our sweaty bodies not completely naked and under the sheets.

I turned over on to my back and she curled up next to me with her head on my chest. I stroked her thick, black hair.

"What does it all mean?" I asked her.

She looked up at me for a moment with soft eyes. Then they got hard. "You haven't figured it out yet?"

I guess she was waiting for an answer and my silence sufficed.

"Oh, Abe, you poor soul. Well, you'll figure it out soon enough!" she said. Then she started to giggle; the giggle then turned into a laugh, which transformed into a cackle. Her mouth grew wider than any human mouth has a right to be.

I stared down her throat and saw such deep darkness.

I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. But I knew the revelation that she hinted was coming was not the kind you can hide from.

**About Eric Keys**

Eric Keys lives in the woods in the Southern United States. He enjoys writing dark fantasy, horror and – his favorite – horror erotica.

#  One Hell of a First Date

# by Corey Harper

For as long as Lucy Cole could remember, she'd wanted a man to dominate her. But only one who had the confidence to truly be dominant over her would win her submission. Sadly, far too many men thought they could do it, but could not maintain it over time because it was not their true nature.

Lucy had a different feeling about Zack Bonham.

From the moment they'd met at Starbucks, he'd looked her right in the eye. His energy was aggressive, but calm. He crackled with power, but paradoxically made her feel safe in his presence.

Oh yes, there was something very different about Mr. Bonham.

She raced around her tiny apartment, one eye on the clock. Why had her boss asked her to stay late to do filing she could easily have done the next morning? On Halloween, no less? And why had she said yes when she had plans? Why was the universe conspiring to keep her from her very first date with Zack Bonham?

She showered in record time, taking care not to wet her waist-long blond hair. Soaping herself, she thought about the first time she saw him at Starbucks. Her hands slid down her lathered belly, her fingers drifting to her folds.

She had been at the back of the line behind him. She'd noticed how tight his cute little butt was, and how his torso flared into that muscular masculine "V" shape, even under his business dress shirt. But that wasn't what had made her feel light-headed and doomed all at the same time, as he turned away from thanking the barista and caught her eyes with his.

It was that smile. More a smirk, really, as his lips seemed curled in perpetual amusement. Full lips. Hint of pink. Smirking pink. Like he knew a secret about her that even she didn't know herself. That scared her. And it made her tingle between her thighs, like it was doing right now. She had an overpowering urge to feel him press his sensuous lips to hers, hard, rough, making her accept him. She couldn't wait.

Of their own accord, her fingers stroked faster through her labia. She felt her tummy tighten, and a throbbing grow in her clit. When her index finger brushed the hardening little nub, she gasped.

She was close, but forced her hands away. If the night went well, Zack would be the one to make her come, and anyway she didn't want to meet him already swampy. What message would that send?

She giggled. Probably exactly the one she wanted to send, but she preferred him to make that determination for himself.

She rinsed and toweled off quickly, and went into her bedroom. Glancing at her bedside clock, she saw she'd be late if she didn't hurry. And if he was the type of man her instincts said he was, keeping him waiting would not bode well for her... perhaps even resulting in a spanking!

This time she giggled till she was gasping. She plopped down on the bed and took a few deep breaths till she felt calmer, then looked at the costume she'd laid out that morning.

A white button-up shirt, a little red plaid tie, and matching plaid skirt and white knee socks. As she touched the clothes, she wondered for a moment if the sexy schoolgirl outfit was too cliché. Probably it was, but men usually didn't care, as long as it was slutty. Which this definitely was. And if a girl couldn't play at being sexy on Halloween, when could she?

She slipped into a pair of plain white underpants that matched the cotton knee socks, then threw on the costume. She started to button the white shirt, looked at herself in the mirror a moment, and simply tied the tails in a knot above her belly button. Very hot, with her sternum bared between her breasts. One advantage of being so flat-chested was getting away with dressing like this.

Her small pink nipples pebbled as she regarded herself, poking against the soft cotton. Like the rest of her, her nips were tiny, but prominent when aroused. Perfect for clamping.

She felt her knees start to buckle as she imagined Zack's strong hands and long fingers putting nipple clamps on her. She almost reached for her once again-damp pussy, but restrained herself. A glance at the clock, and she gasped and flew to the bathroom. He'd be there in ten minutes!

This costume required very little makeup to work—just some concealer, blush, and a little eyeliner to make her green eyes more prominent and innocent-looking. And the crowning touch: her long hair tied into two side ponytails.

She'd just finished with her hair when she heard three firm knocks on her door, and stifled a shriek. He was there!

She slipped on her black patent leather heels and raced to the door, skidded to a halt, and opened it. Her pounding heart nearly exploded.

"Hello, Lucy," Zack said in his deep voice, looking down at her with those fierce ice-blue eyes, high cheekbones, slender nose, and that dark three-day growth of beard she imagined he took care in cultivating. All crowned by a thick head of raven-black hair that just begged to have her fingers sliding through it.

_And_ he was wearing a sexy werewolf costume! When she'd told him about the Halloween party, they got to talking about their favorite horror movies, and she had said how much she liked werewolves over vampires. She hadn't thought he'd heard her, but he had! She felt woozy.

He was shirtless, the attached fur strips across the top of his shoulders and down the backs of his arms making him look menacing. His pectoral muscles were like twin slabs of dusky marble under his natural chest hair, and his abs looked carved from the same stone. The ragged and torn costume trousers barely reached his knees, and were strategically ripped in spots. And where they were not ripped, right there in the center... Ohh. He was _big_! And as she stared, unable to pull away her eyes, he grew even more.

His cock crawled down the inside of his left thigh under her gaze, and she felt his eyes burning into her skin. Licking her lips, she glanced up at him. The intensity of his stare as he inspected her almost made her pass out.

"You look... good," she said, barely able to breathe, looking up at his six-feet-plus from her five-feet-nothing.

Zack stepped inside and closed the door. She fell back as he came towards her, as if they were the same poles of different magnets. But then the poles flipped as he took hold of her, spinning her around and making her gasp, pressing her back against the door, and himself full length against her.

She stared at his sculpted chest, so close she could lick it, unable to meet his fierce gaze. He put a fingertip under her chin and raised her face to look into his eyes.

"From the first day I saw you at the coffee shop, I knew," he said.

"Knew... what?" she squeaked. Her heart was about to detonate.

"Everything," he said, his voice resonating in her core. "That's why I stayed away for so long."

"I don't... understand," she said, her head whirling. He was so masculine. His scent... She breathed him in like a drug.

"I saw you that first day," he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. "But I forced myself to ignore you."

Her eyes had rolled back in her head, but now snapped open. "Why?"

"Because I am... intense," he said, the first time she'd ever heard him pause in his speech.

"I know."

He shook his head. "No, you don't. I want— I _need_ things from a girl. Powerful things. Sometimes difficult things."

She had been right about him! "I want to give you those things," she whispered.

He opened his mouth to say more, but clamped it shut and searched her face. "I'll be damned," he said. "I actually believe you."

Before she could reply, he bent and kissed her. His tongue forced its way between her lips, sought her tongue, and thrust hard against it. She sighed to the soles of her feet and melted against him, standing on her tiptoes while he bent to pull her tight. After a few moments he straightened, pulling her off the floor in his strong arms without breaking their kiss. Her feet dangled, and her left leg curled as his kiss deepened. She felt herself getting lost in him, and rejoiced.

_This_ was the man!

Her hands slid up his arms, the coarse costume hair scratching her palms and sending shivers through her. Then she got to his neck, and felt his own rough yet silken hairs under her fingertips. Her hands slipped into his thick hair and fisted, pulling hard.

He groaned, and his broad, strong hands caressed down her back and under her ass. Squeezing her small ass cheeks hard, he pressed himself into her. She felt his huge cock throbbing into her cotton-clad cunt, and she knew she was responding by soaking those doomed panties.

His hands slipped under her slutty schoolgirl skirt and into her panties, one big finger gliding between her ass cheeks. She held her breath even as she darted her tongue against his, wondering, _Would he?_

His fingertip pressed against her anus, and she almost passed out. _Yes!_ She moaned, maybe louder than she needed to, and locked her ankles behind his back.

The throbbing of his cock against her grew more rapid, and the pulsing shaft felt like it was branding her, it was so hot. Part of her brain was trying to remember if she had any condoms left in her bedside table, because if this kept going, in a few minutes she knew he would be fucking her in every hole.

And suddenly he stopped and set her down.

She whimpered, afraid to open her eyes and look at him. Had she done something wrong? Had she been too forward in letting him know he could have her however he wanted? Had he been testing her to see if she was anything more than a slut? She squeezed her eyes tighter, fearful the tears were about to begin.

"Open your eyes."

His voice was rasping, but so gentle that she obeyed immediately. He still had that fierce look in his cool blue eyes, but she saw kindness there as well. And... something else?

He cupped her cheek with his right hand. His palm was so warm she felt it through her entire body. Bending down, he kissed her forehead, her nose, and soft as gossamer on her lips. That made her whimper again, but this time with hope.

"I stopped," he said, "because if I hadn't, I never would have."

It took her several moments to find her voice, but in just these few minutes together, she felt like she could tell him anything, so she said, "I don't want you to stop."

The perpetual smirk on his lips lifted to an amused smile. "I know," he said. "But I didn't want you to think I saw you as a slut."

"But—"

He put a finger to her lips. "Not _just_ as a slut." He regarded her, and all she wanted to do was crawl in through those wise eyes and shelter inside him. He continued, "I know who you are, and what you crave."

He curled his fingers in her ponytails and yanked her head back. The sudden sharp pain and the intensity of his dominance brought her to the edge of orgasm. _Now—_?

But he only kissed her lips again, gentle as before, and said, "We have the rest of the night." _Or longer_ , his eyes said, and she cheered inside. "I want to take you out. Talk. Dance. Get to know you." He pulled harder on her hair, crushed against her so that she again felt the heat from his still-hard cock, and said, "And then I am going to bring you back here and fuck you like the dripping little whore that you are, until you are nothing more than a feeling puddle of cum."

She clamped her thighs together as her orgasm slammed through her cunt and sent every muscle in her body rigid. He covered her lips with his, pressing so hard against her that he cut her lip on her own teeth. That only made her come harder. Sliding one knee between his legs, the other outside his right thigh, she ground her pussy against his rock-hard quad muscle as she shuddered and moaned.

Thought left her body as she became part of his, wanting nothing more than to allow the last vestiges of her thinking self to depart, and only her emotions to remain. Just as he had said.

He pulled his lips away from hers, slid one big hand down her belly and to her crotch. Grinding his palm against her pussy, making her gasp, he slipped a finger inside her wet hole. Now she stopped breathing altogether. He withdrew his finger, licked it, then brought it to her lips.

"Do I have your consent for the rest of this night?" he said.

She took his finger, slicked with her own juices, into her mouth and sucked, all the while gazing into his eyes. When he pulled it out, she whispered, "Anything. Anything you want."

He chuckled. Looked at her a moment, said, "Leave the panties."

She obeyed, her mind calming at his command. He took the sodden panties from her, examined the soaked crotch, grinned, and stuffed them in the pocket of his costume's trousers.

"For a gag, later," he told her.

She almost swooned, but he caught her. "Let's get you outside," he said. "Some fresh air, and some dancing when we get to the party, will make this night last longer."

She couldn't wait till they came back here later.

Once outside, the cool night air brought her back to herself some, but being in his presence made her feel euphoric and warm. She hoped that feeling would never end.

"My car is over there," he said.

She gripped his hand. "Let's cut through the woods behind the building," she said. "It'll be faster than driving."

"Sure," he smiled, pulling her close.

They passed a few kids dressed in vampire and princess costumes, carrying their bags of Halloween candy, and their parents trailing behind. One of the moms looked at Lucy's costume and tsked, but Zack gave the mom _that_ smile, and she blushed and looked away.

"Maybe she saw my naked pussy," Lucy whispered, smoothing the very short skirt down as best she could in the gentle breeze that was blowing.

Zack shrugged. "Jealous, perhaps. She'll have to get her own monster for the night. Yours is taken."

Lucy sighed and snuggled against him as they rounded the rear of the building. She showed him where the small gate in the fence was, and they went through it and onto the dirt trail. Orange lights atop poles spaced every ten yards made eerie pools of illumination amidst the greater darkness. The wind rustled the leaves, and branches danced and swayed. There were no other sounds save their soft footfalls on the pine needle-covered trail. Zack put his arm around her shoulders, and she folded into him as they walked. The silver light of the full moon dappled the ground where it broke through the canopy overhead.

Reaching a fork in the trail, Lucy pointed to the left branch. "That one."

The branch was darker than the main trail, with lights now every thirty yards. Lucy's scalp prickled. It was so shadowy. Maybe she should have let Zack drive.

They passed one of the sparse lights and moved into the darker space between. The shadows were creepy here, with the wind blowing harder and making the fallen leaves swirl, and her imagination whirled.

Ahead, one of the large shadows split, and a hulking figure stepped into the center of the trail. Lucy stopped. Zack saw where she was looking, frowned. He turned them to go back the way they'd come, but another large figure now stepped onto the trail.

"Zack!" Lucy whispered, fear tightening her throat.

She heard a growl rise from Zack's chest as he put his arm around her and drew her along the trail towards the second figure. "If he makes a move," Zack murmured, "I'll flatten him. You run for your apartment and call the police."

"I'm not leaving you!" she hissed, her heart beating like a kettledrum.

Zack stopped and took her face in his hands. "A few minutes ago," he said, "you consented to me. That means you are now under my protection. I will _not_ let anything happen to you. And you will do what I tell you, so that I _can_ protect you."

The breath sighed out of her. "Yes, Zack," she whispered.

"Let's go," he said. "I'm not standing here until these assholes decide what they're going to do."

He took her hand and strode towards the immobile second figure. Lucy risked a glance over her shoulder; the first figure was also standing motionless. Who were they?

The figure they approached was silhouetted by the orange light, but as they neared Lucy saw he was in costume as well, similar to Zack's werewolf outfit, except for some extra hair and very large muscles and claws.

"Let us pass," Zack said as they drew to within a few feet. The figure didn't move, so Zack pulled her around the man.

Suddenly the massive figure was in front of them again. Lucy gasped; she hadn't even seen him move. And now the man opened his mouth in what may have been a grin, but Lucy's blood ran cold—his mouth was full of razor-sharp fangs!

"A costume," Zack muttered to her. Then louder, "Okay, I get it—Halloween prank. I've asked you to step aside nicely. I won't ask again."

A breath of hot air behind them, and Lucy screamed as the first figure appeared off her shoulder. How had he moved so fast?

As that figure reached towards Lucy, Zack fired a karate kick into the man's midsection. Even though it had looked like a powerful kick to Lucy, the man barely moved, just opened his mouth and laughed. His fangs were just as sharp and plentiful as the other man's, and Lucy chilled with dread.

Zack snarled and punched the man in the face. This had even less effect than the kick, and the man laughed again. With a backhand swipe that looked casual, he knocked Zack into the air twenty feet away!

Lucy screamed and felt faint. "Zack!" How were these guys so strong? Were they on drugs?

The man grabbed Lucy's arm, and his hot breath was fetid, like earth and rotting meat. "You come with us," he growled, in a voice that sounded nothing like a man's. More the snarl of a dog.

"Not a chance!" Zack hurled himself up from the ground. Slamming into the thug, he hooked an arm around the man's neck and brought his other arm around in a choke hold. The man reached over his shoulder and grabbed Zack by his thick hair. Yanking, he hurled Zack over himself and onto the ground. Zack grunted and leaped to his feet.

As Lucy watched, their attackers changed before her eyes. Growing larger, thicker, hairier, and—

Oh no! They really were _werewolves_!

"Zack!" she shrieked.

But it was too late. The man—the _werewolf_ —slashed his claws across Zack's bare chest, flaying his flesh and slicing him to white bone. The creature howled with laughter and bloodlust, grabbed Zack, and bit his neck almost all the way through with his razor fangs. Blood fountained, and Zack fell to the dirt, his body limp and still.

"No!" she screamed, jerking against the steel grip the wolf had on her arm. She scratched and kicked, but it was like fighting a concrete wall. He laughed, then growled, and shook her like she was a helpless kitten. He threw back his head and yowled, his cohort joining in.

The sound turned Lucy's blood to ice. It was one thing to like the wolves in books and movies, but facing two of them—two werewolves that had just killed Zack—was so frightening she could not think or breathe.

The wolf fixed her with his eerie green eyes, and his hand slid to her throat. Lifting her off the ground, he regarded her as she began to choke.

"We want a female for our pack," he said, the sound like growling mixed with a bark. "You'll do."

"No!" she gasped against his iron grip on her throat.

He growl-laughed again. "Don't worry. We'll turn you into one of us, and then you'll understand. And you will enjoy us." He set her down and glanced at his partner. " _All_ of us." They each took one of Lucy's arms, and turned to go.

"I don't think so."

_Behind them!_ Lucy dug her heels into the soft earth, and the wolves frowned and turned. Zack was rising from the ground where he had lain, dead—or so she had thought. His wounds healed before her eyes, disappearing as if they had never existed. The look on his face was murderous. And he seemed... bigger?

The first wolf snorted. "We have turned you," he said to Zack. "You are one of us now, brother."

"I have _always_ been this way," Zack snarled, advancing. "And I am not your brother."

Zack came towards the wolves, and with each step he grew taller, broader, more muscled, more... wolf. His arms lengthened, his legs thickened, his neck widened into steel cables of power. His skin darkened to a rich mocha, and a fine mat of fur sprang forth.

And his face... Lucy watched—horrified, fascinated—as his nose and mouth lengthened into the muzzle of a wolf, but far more fearsome. His fangs protruded several inches from his snout, and claws grew half a foot from each fingertip.

"Let her go," Zack growl-barked, "and I may let you live."

"She is ours," the first wolf said. "We have claimed her."

"So be it," Zack said. He came towards them, growing ever taller, stronger, more frightening. His costume trousers strained at the seams. With a loud _rip!_ they split from his waist and thighs and fell away. The faux fur patches on his arms and shoulders dropped off and were replaced with real fur.

The first wolf pushed Lucy away and to the ground, and he and his partner began to grow just like Zack was doing. Despite the situation, Lucy's eyes riveted on Zack, on the pure animal power he radiated. He was naked, looking somewhere between a wolf and a man, but more than each. And his cock... it was as big as her forearm, even at rest!

It seemed like the two wolves would yet triumph over Zack, matching him inch for inch as they grew. Zack paused ten feet away.

The first wolf spoke. "You see you're outnumbered, brother. You should leave now. She belongs to us."

Zack shook his head—sadly, Lucy thought. He said, "I did warn you."

Zack took a step, and he was seven feet tall. Another, and now he topped eight feet. Lucy could not tear her eyes away from his power. Every muscle rippled. He was almost upon the two wolves.

Lucy expected they would grow to equal Zack, but they looked confused. And they stayed the size they were.

Zack was almost nine feet tall by the time he reached for the wolves, who seemed frozen in place, fear widening their eyes. He grabbed each of them by the throat, lifted them from the ground, and threw back his head and howled.

The trees shook, and Lucy's ears rang with the fierce supremacy in his roar. The sound died off to a snarl, and Zack squeezed. The heads of the two wolves popped off with a wet _snap_ , and blood volcanoed into the air from their headless corpses.

Zack growled, breathing hard, and flung the carcasses into the trees. And then he turned towards Lucy.

She stared at the fearsome creature before her. He could end her life with one swipe of those scimitar-sharp claws. Or those slavering fangs. Or the muscles that swelled and undulated with his every movement.

And yet she was not afraid.

As if realizing how he must appear to her, Zack paused. He shook his head, the mane of black fur around his neck rustling, and a low whimper escaped his lips. When he looked at her now, his ice-blue eyes were filled with sorrow.

He took a step, and now he was seven feet tall. Another, and he was once again his normal size. His face returned to the gorgeous features that had first attracted Lucy to him.

And he was still naked. Stunningly, beautifully naked.

"I am sorry," he rumbled, vestiges of the wolf still in his voice. He fixed his now-human eyes on hers. They were wet. "I never wanted you to see that part of me. I will return you safely to your apartment, and then I will go. You won't see me again."

"No," Lucy whispered.

"Those two," he said, as if she hadn't spoken, "were thugs. Transforming and succumbing to the blood lust is a choice with us, not a necessity. The movies and books are wrong—we are in control, if we choose to be." He shook that sad head shake again. "They chose wrongly." He reached out his hand to her. "Come, Lucy. I will take you home now."

"No!" Lucy yelled.

Zack frowned. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

Lucy looked up at him, her naked ass cold from sitting on the dirt, her body vibrating with the fading adrenaline and fear from before. But none of that mattered. Her heart spoke loudest of all.

She could see from the look on his face that words would not sway him. He must have suffered so in his life, never allowing himself to get close to anyone, always fearful for their safety if he brought them into his world.

And she didn't care. With him, fearsome as he was in his wolf form, she felt safer than she ever had in her twenty-eight years.

Looking up at him, moving forward onto her hands and knees, she began to crawl. Keeping her eyes on his the entire time, she crept closer to him. The dirt and fallen leaves felt soft and comforting under her knees and palms. His look as he watched her was perplexed.

When she reached him, she sat back on her folded legs, knees spread wide, the micro-skirt pulled up so he could see her naked pussy. She rested the backs of her hands on her thighs, palms open, and bowed her head.

Realization dawned in his eyes. "Lucy," he whispered. "You can't."

She gazed at his bare feet. Strong feet, tendons and muscles flexing as he shifted his weight. Her eyes slid up his muscled calves, his sculpted thighs, and stopped. She saw his cock twitch as she gazed at it.

"I can," she murmured. "Because you are him. My One."

Before he could respond, she rose up and clasped his rapidly stiffening cock in her small hands. He groaned, the blood filling his shaft and swelling the head. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek to his erection, reveling in its heat, its power, his arousal. She was tiny, and no match for his wolf, but she could give him this. For as long as he wanted her.

"Lucy," he moaned, the sound filled with lust and anguish. His hands found their way to the back of her head and grasped her hair.

She responded by gliding her tongue up his long shaft, flicking the tip under and around the massive flared head until he growled, and taking him into her mouth.

He was so big she feared he would choke her, but she believed that the man she allowed to dominate her was free to access all of her, in any way he chose. Otherwise, she had never truly submitted to him. And to Zack, she would always submit.

"If you continue," he groaned, "I will not stop. You will belong to me. I will protect you to my dying breath." He growled. "I will love you to my dying breath."

In reply, she plunged her mouth all the way along his shaft until her nose pressed into the muscled flesh below his stomach. Holding herself there as long as she could, his cock filled her throat, her mind, her heart.

He grabbed her ponytails and leveraged them to pull her tighter against him. She moaned deep in her core, her cunt flooding with nectar at this display of his dominance. Of ownership. She hummed around his cock, her heart soaring into happiness.

He pulled her off him, and she gasped in precious oxygen. Then he plunged his cock into her mouth, her throat, once again. Using her ponytails as handles, he jerked her head back and forth, fucking her face like the beast he was. Her pussy was so wet and dripping as she worshipped his cock that she knew the soil beneath her was damp. Keeping her knees spread while he was face-fucking her like this made her feel wanton, and wanted.

He had chosen to reveal himself to her, but said he would leave to protect her. She would show him, over time, that she was safer with him. He was a man, so it might take him awhile to understand, but she would persist.

And in the meantime, there was this.

Her hands gripped his thighs, exulting in the sensation of his iron masculinity surrounded by her softness and compliance. And just as she was in dire need of air, he sensed it and pulled her free of him so she could breathe.

He lifted her up, enfolding her in his arms, looking into her eyes.

"Being with me will be dangerous," he warned her.

"If you hadn't been here tonight," she said, "if I had gone to the party with another man—" He growled at the thought of her with another. "—then those wolves would have killed both of us." Her eyes said, _Can't you see how logical this is?_

He must have read her mind, because he chuckled. Holding her ass cheeks in his big hands, he raised her higher. "Wise little girl," he rumbled, his face changing towards the wolf, just a little.

And as he plunged his cock into her waiting pussy, pumping her until he filled her with his seed, she screamed with joy, and had the first of many orgasms she would have with him that Halloween night.

**About Corey Harper**

I write erotic romance fiction, mostly paranormal, all with M/f D/s spice. (Spanking may be included.) And always with a HEA (Happily Ever After).

I write characters that lead with their hearts, think with their brains, and explore their passions with everything else.

And yes, I am a Dom.

To learn more about me, and why a man like me writes erotic romance stories, read my interview on my blog.

Also by Corey Harper

If you liked _One Hell of a First Date_ , be sure to check out _Desire and Blood: The Complete Baobhan Sith Trilogy Box Set_.

Find Desire and Blood on Smashwords and view Corey Harper's author page.

For more from Corey Harper

Twitter @CoreyBooks

Website

 Facebook

#  The Haunting of Hamstead Manor

# by Thianna D.

The old wood creaked as Ryan pushed the warped door open. Grimacing at the shriek that came from the unused hinges, he made a mental note to get some WD-40 out of his truck. As the door finally pushed in far enough to step inside, he took a cautious breath and bent over as his lungs rejected the reeking, foul air. Backing up, he turned around, half-coughing, half gulping fresh air. Was getting a free house worth this? Grasping for his inhaler, he shook it and shoved it between his lips, pushing it down and inhaling the precious medicine that would allow him to breathe.

For fifteen minutes, he coughed, hacked, and wheezed before he was able to stand on shaky limbs and turn back toward the door. Hamstead Manor, a stone cottage supposedly from the seventeenth century, had gone through owner after owner over the last two hundred years. Well, maybe owner was too broad a term. Giftee might be more like it. Or maybe just _Unlucky Jackal_.

Ryan had heard the stories. The haunting of Hamstead Manor had been told and retold through his youth. It was said an evil ghost lived here, the last human to actually inhabit the place in peace. Something had happened when he died and he'd been haunting each new owner ever since. The rules were clear. He had to spend two months under the roof to inherit the home free and clear. Anything less than that and it would be held for the next generation.

As he was out of a job and had been for seven months, a free home where the bills would be paid for the rest of his life sounded like the perfect spot. Nobody was going to kick him out of his new home. As he stepped up to the door again, he grimaced. Now, with the door open, he spotted cobwebs. He might not get kicked out, but the creatures now making the manor their home were about to be evicted.

Not unused to living in a place that needed a thorough cleaning, he had brought a vast amount of supplies with him. After all, the manor was over five hours from town. Heading there more than once a month seemed like a huge waste. Going through the supplies stacked in the bed of his truck, he pulled out brooms, mops, bleach, ammonia, and a package of pest traps. Good thing it was only noon. He needed to get the place clean enough to sleep in tonight as he really didn't look forward to sleeping in the cab for the third month in a row. Besides, the stipulation in the inheritance was clear. Once he reached the manor, he had to spend each and every night there.

How they would know if he didn't, Ryan had no idea, but he assumed there was some sort of tracking device there to see if a human was in residence.

The first thing he needed to do was get more light in there. There was no electricity set up in the house. To make such changes, a person had to live there for the specified two months and gain full ownership. As far as Ryan knew, that had only happened once and thankfully that person put in internal plumbing.

Just knowing one other person had succeeded was a boost to his morale. He wrapped his head in a towel to fight off the dust, put on a pair of goggles, pulled on some gloves, and got to work. To get more light in, he yanked down the old curtains, grimacing as spiders galore scattered across the floor in the dusty light shining from the dirt-encrusted windows. Thankfully the manor had only one story with a tiny attic space, as he couldn't imagine having to do such a deep cleaning with more than one level. It was tough work.

Every curtain he dragged out the door and tossed into a field next to the house. The good thing was that some light did trickle in through the horribly dirty glass the curtains had once covered. The bad was that it allowed him to spot the spiders, rats, broken floorboards, and in one case, the emaciated carcass of an animal he couldn't name. Once all the things he could remove were removed, he laid pest traps and for three hours heard constant snaps as they caught rodent after rodent.

While the traps caught the varmints, he took to the windows with industrial cleaner. Just doing the large bay window in the living room took three hours. Stepping back, he beamed at it. "Beautiful." With all the dust and grime gone, it was obvious someone had gone to a lot of trouble with the architecture of the building. The glass, even though old, was in amazing shape, but it was the copper details that surrounded it that caught his eye.

Of course he had no time to waste. The sun was already going down. Thankfully he hadn't heard a single snap from a pest trap in over an hour. He hoped that meant he had gotten most of them. Fifty-seven rats down. As he turned from the window to go get a couple things from his truck, a deep rumble filled the house. Standing still, he scanned the room quickly, taking in the sturdy construction of the place while wondering if there were earthquakes in this area of the country. But the rumble didn't seem to be coming from the ground. It was coming from above. Confused, Ryan looked up. Of course, all he saw was ceiling, and in less than two minutes the rumbling ceased. Maybe there was some problem with the plumbing. He would need to clear out the pipes more than likely.

He dragged in a thin mattress and pillow, electing to stay in the living room for now as he hadn't really had the chance to clean the rest of the house. From his truck, he also brought a bottle of drinkable water. Not wanting to attract pests, he chose to eat outside. After all, he'd just gotten rid of some. The last thing he wanted to do was attract more. Once the sun had fully gone down, Ryan closed the door to the house and trickled an array of herbs all the way around where his bed lay. About four inches from his mattress, the eclectic set of herbs would act as a deterrent to insects and animals.

Intent on getting up early, he lay down and closed his eyes. One day down.

A deep rumble once again filled the house and he groaned and then froze as the rumble took on the tone of an unkind laugh. Frozen on the mattress, his eyes sprang open and he looked around. The moon wasn't up yet so no light at all came through the front window. But light was coming from somewhere. He was faced toward the window and the bright light shone enough that he could see the shadow of his prone form. "Who's there?" he called out, aware that fear tinged his voice.

"Well, well," a male said, the laughter gone. "Look what we have here. Another human set to take my house." The voice was filled with malice and Ryan gulped. This wasn't real. It wasn't real. Ghosts did not exist. This could not be—

Something cold grabbed his arm and he yelped, scrambling to get up and away from whatever it was. But whatever was holding on to him had strength. Turning to look at his left arm, he saw nothing. But he felt it. Oh, how he felt it. "Who are you?" he called out.

The deep, cold laugh came back, cool air drifting over his shoulder and past his ear. "You know who I am. Kallisper Hamstead."

"Liar," Ryan said, even as he tried to fight off something he couldn't see. His left arm felt like a cold hand was holding it, but he saw no hand. Cool breath tickled the hairs on his neck and ear, but he couldn't see anyone. "Kallisper died centuries ago. He—" Ryan cried out as the hand grasping his arm tightened and another hand grasped the back of his neck.

"Yes," the voice hissed. "I died. Here in this house, observing something that to my then young eyes was disgusting and debauched." Kallisper's voice deepened and took on a mocking edge. "What you must observe as well, tonight."

His breaths coming hard and fast from his lips, Ryan tried to shake his head. This must be how the trust expelled possible owners form the home. But how did they do it? He couldn't see anyone and yet something had him. Or was this just a dream? As the realization came to him that he was probably having a nightmare brought on by all of the stories he'd heard through his life, he let out a soft huff of a laugh and relaxed. "Right," he said in amusement, no longer taking the spectre seriously. "So what was it you saw that killed you, Kallisper Hamstead?" Even if he had tried, Ryan didn't think he could have kept the derision out of his voice.

A low growl came from the thing behind him. "You dare mock me?" he hissed. "You will watch. Now."

The dark room changed. Instead of standing in the living room, Ryan stood in a large, square room he was unfamiliar with. The ceiling was angled and low, but that wasn't what drew his eyes. Oh, no. His mouth dropped open and a gasp left his lips as he stared around him. Flickering candles sat all around the room, giving an eerie feeling to what was already happening. Three people, all men, stood in the room, their arms tied above them to chains that hung from above. Their legs were tied apart. Stretched out as they were between floor and ceiling, each one stood almost on tip-toe. As each of them was naked, Ryan was able to see criss-crossing marks across their chests or back as though they'd been whipped.

Another man walked around them, a hood over his head, a long leather whip in one hand and his other hand cupped.

"Please," gasped one of the men and with a quick arm movement, the hooded man brought down his whip hard between the offending man's legs. The man cried out but to Ryan's shock, his cock grew and became hard.

"You like that don't you?" hissed the hooded man. "You like being hit and humiliated."

"Yes," the man gasped, nodding. "More, please more."

With another flick of his wrist, the hooded man's whip fell on the man next to him and he screamed as the leather cut across his buttocks.

"Silence," the hooded man snapped. "I choose when and where to mark you."

"Yes, master," the first man said with a gasp.

"Good boy." The hooded man reached down with his cupped hand and grasped the man's dick, giving it a few short, rough tugs. The man moaned, his body shuddering. Almost as quickly as the hooded man stroked him, he yanked his hand back and slammed his whip over the man's shaft, sending the man into what was unmistakably an orgasm.

"Fuck," Ryan gasped, surprised that he actually spoke. Not to mention the feeling of his cock hardening.

"This turns you on?" hissed the voice behind him. Kallisper cackled. "You're as sick as they were. I knew something was going on in the attic of this house," he said, his lips drifting over Ryan's earlobe. "I hid up here in the evening waiting to see what it would be. My nineteen year old mind conjured up magic or other such evil. I had no idea it would be so much worse. The hooded man was the town magistrate. The man on the far right? The one he hasn't touched yet? My uncle Calix."

Ryan wanted to ask something, but instantly forgot what it was when the hooded man walked down the line and stopped at Kallisper's uncle. He leaned against the man's back, pushing him forward until he was standing on his toes. "You've been bad," he said harshly.

"I haven't," gasped Calix.

As he stepped back, the hooded man let his whip fly, ripping through Calix's back. His shrieks filled the room and the other two men shuddered. "Yes, you have," the hooded man said. "And bad boys get buggered out. Understand?" Whimpering, the man nodded, arching his back and sticking his ass out. Another flash of the whip and a cruel thin line slashed across his buttocks. As he cried out, the hooded man grabbed his hips, lifted them and thrust his own cock right up the man's ass.

"Holy shit." Ryan couldn't take his eyes off the two men. The one roughly fucking, his hips slamming into the man in front him so hard and fast, the sound ricocheted around the room like gunfire. The other, Kallisper's uncle, arched with his mouth open, his cock hard and wanting, dew from the tip dripping onto the wooden floor.

To be taken so hard and rough...Ryan had always dreamed of it. The detachment of the offender, taking his body and using it as his toy. This was like watching every dream he'd ever had. Unable not to, he reached into the opening of his boxers and pulled out his cock, spreading the wetness from the end and grasping hold, fucking his hand as roughly as the hooded man fucked, each gasp of Kallisper's uncle mirroring his.

A cool hand ripped his hand away. To his shock something icy and yet, red hot, slammed over his dick and he cried out as the sound of a whip falling filled his ears. "Perhaps we should do this right," Kallisper's voice murmured in Ryan's ears. The cold hands pushed him into the middle of the room, right next to Calix. As the hooded man continued to bugger him hard and fast, Ryan found his arms secured above his head and his legs tied apart.

"Wha—" Ryan barely started to ask what was going on before hot ice spread across his ass and he cried out. _Thwak!_ It fell again, the leather cutting into his butt cheeks, sending hot and cold through him. "Wait!" he called out, trying to catch his bearings, but the fall came again. Whack! His cock throbbed and all he wanted to do was to find completion. That was all he craved.

And the whip came down again, this time sliding through his ass cheeks and slamming into his balls. Shrieking, Ryan arched even as the blow came again. It hurt. It hurt so bad and yet...he didn't want it to stop. This was better than any other dream he'd ever had like this.

"What do you think?" Kallisper murmured in his ear. "Think it's still hot?"

"Yes," Ryan gasped, groaning as his cock throbbed with need. "So hot." And cold. The two divergent temperatures were amazing. It was like the cold was so icy, it burned.

"Sick," Kallisper snapped, but something in his tone told Ryan that he was turned on as well. "Well, if this turns you on, let's go for everything." _Wham!_ The whip fell and wrapped around Ryan's dick, cutting into him as it was yanked free. Screaming, Ryan's body exploded into such a mixture of pain and pleasure, his sight grew dim. His body twisted and writhed, and yet with his hands and feet stretched so far, there was nowhere to actually go even if he had tried to move. Two cold hands grasped his hips and lifted him up; he was too weak to even know what was going on, until the cold, hard prick slid into his ass.

Crying out again as the man...ghost...Kallisper pushed all the way in, pulled out and then plunged in, buggering him just as hard as the hooded man was buggering his uncle, Ryan felt his eyes roll back in his head. The pleasure was painful, but in turn, the pain was pleasurable and he arched and his mouth opened in a silent cry as Kallisper fucked him hard, his cold, hard shaft thrusting in rough and fast, so fast no mere human could have done it. With both him and Calix being buggered so hard, it sounded like hundreds of gunshots going off and to Ryan's surprise, his cock hardened again.

A burst of a laugh came from behind. "Sick boy," grunted the hooded man. "You like this. Admit it."

As Ryan opened his mouth to do just that, Kallisper's uncle responded, making him remember that he wasn't truly a part of this. He just thought he was. But oh, it felt like it. Cool air drifted over his ear and the voice that spoke was no longer cold and cruel. It was breathy and filled with passion. "See how sick this is," he said with a gasp. "So...sick..." A loud sharp cry left his lips and as ice cold liquid filled Ryan's cavity, he saw a candle off to the side fall, its flame touching cloth he hadn't seen before and it instantly caught on fire. "And now you'll see how I died," Kallisper hissed, all the breathiness gone.

The hooded man quickly released all three of his captives and the four of them ran from the room. But Kallisper didn't release him and with horror, Ryan watched as the flames rapidly spread around the room. A scream came from the far corner and as he looked, he saw him. A young man, barely nineteen, huddled in the corner, trying to keep the flames at bay. But he was no match for them. Shaggy blonde hair fell almost to his shoulders and terrified blue eyes stared directly at Ryan as the flames engulfed him. "No," Ryan cried, trying to reach out a hand for him, trying to help. But his arms were still tied above him. "NO!" he screamed.

And sat bolt upright on his mattress. Gasping, he looked around. The dewy light of morning poured in the front window and his skin was slicked with sweat. Grasping his head, Ryan took several deep breaths trying to get that image out of his mind. His kink dreams had never ended like that before. Hell, they'd never felt that real. Knowing he couldn't just sit there, he put his foot down and tried to stand up, screaming as pain flowed through him. Every muscle complained as he moved. It felt like he had been through something horrible. His back ached, his cock burned, but his ass...it felt like someone had set a hot poker to it.

"What the fuck," he moaned, managing somehow to make it to his feet. Hoping some varmint hadn't gotten up onto the mattress and bit him in the middle of the night, he pushed his boxers down and turned to look. "Holy fuck," he gasped. Red welts covered his cheeks, in the exact spots he remembered being hit in his dreams. Touching them tentatively, he hissed and withdrew his fingers. They were ice cold. Pulling his underwear back up, grinding this teeth from the pain, Ryan quickly got dressed and ran out to his truck.

While he drank water and ate a sandwich, he paced back and forth. That couldn't have happened. It couldn't be real. And yet, he had the physical proof that something happened. Not to mention that horrifying look on Kallisper's face as he burnt to death. Choking, Ryan drank the last of his water as he thought about it.

Part of him wanted to get in the truck and leave, never to return. But it was a very small part. Maybe it had been scary, but it had also been amazing. Ryan had looked for that kind of passion and pleasure all his life but had been too afraid to ask for it. If this was why other possible owners fled, he could handle it. He just hoped he wouldn't have to see Kallisper burn again.

For the rest of the day he cleaned the kitchen, dining room, and what would be his bedroom. He caught only fourteen new rats so he knew he was making a dent in the rodent population. As hard as he worked, Ryan kept his eyes on the horizon. Sleep was very appealing suddenly. Would it happen again? Or was it a once off? Now that he'd seen Kallisper die, would it be over?

Taking a quick bath in a nearby lake, he ate, drank some more water, and got ready for bed. Only this time, he set up the mattress and herbs in his bedroom. There were two more rooms that needed to be cleaned, but for now he at least had a bedroom. Once he had ownership, he would buy furniture.

Lying down in his bedroom, it was with a hint of excitement. Would he sleep? Or dream?

Forcing his breaths into heavy, calming rises and falls of his chest, Ryan closed his eyes and felt himself relax.

When the deep rumble filled the room, instead of freezing this time, he smiled and stood up.

"Well," Kallisper spat in his ear. "Back for more, boy?"

"Yes."

"Well, if last night didn't scare you, I guess I'll have to show you how bad it can get."

The darkness of the bedroom transformed and they were back there. In that room. Only it wasn't burning. At least not yet. The three men, instead of tied to the ceiling, were all kneeling, with their wrists bound to their ankles. The hooded man was fucking the mouth of one of the other two men this time, Kallisper's uncle's ass such a bright shade of red that Ryan wondered what had happened to him.

"See what he's doing?" Kallisper whispered.

"Yes," Ryan gasped, his cock already hardening.

The ghost behind him grunted. "Turned on already? On your knees." Without a thought, Ryan dropped to his knees and his arms were wrenched behind him, his wrists manacled to his ankles. "Open up," Kallisper growled. As exciting as it looked, Ryan was a little more afraid of this particular event. What if he couldn't breathe? "I said open!" Cold fingers pried open his mouth and a large, ice cold phallus pushed over his tongue and instantly into his throat, making him gag. "That's right," Kallisper said with a bark of a laugh. "Gag, bitch." Cold hands grasped Ryan's head as Kallisper fucked his throat as fast as he had buggered his ass the night before.

It was terrifying. It hurt horribly. And yet, as Ryan's shaft pulsed and hardened even further, he knew he loved it. Kallisper had control. Ryan could do nothing but take what he was given. Lifting up his tongue, he felt the ghostly dick rub over it roughly and moaned. "That's right," Kallisper grunted. His fingers dug onto Ryan's hair. "You were meant for this, boy." No more words came from him, but grunts and moans filled the room as he took his pleasure from Ryan's mouth and the hooded man came with a roar.

"Swallow," was the only indication Ryan had that Kallisper was about to cum and as the shaft pushed all the way into his throat and thick, cold liquid exploded, he coughed and swallowed, gagging slightly on the sharp, salty liquid as Kallisper pulled back enough that the last couple jets of jizz spread over Ryan's tongue. He kept swallowing until finally the spectre pulled his shaft out and Ryan stretched his jaw muscles.

"He need training?" grunted a voice. Ryan looked up, surprised to see the hooded man standing next to the two of them.

"Yes," Kallisper's disembodied voice said. "Rough training. Harsh training. I want to hear him scream."

The hooded man smiled. "Perfect. Come over here, boy!" he barked, grabbing Ryan by his hair and dragging him across the rough wooden floor. Crying out as the wood tore at his skin, Ryan tried to struggle but with his wrists attached to his ankles, it was an impossibility. "I love it when they fight," the hooded man barked. "Breaking boys is my favorite thing to do."

Reaching above them, the man pulled down a long chain and attached it to the manacles on Ryan's wrists and ankles. "Up we go." He yanked on the chain and Ryan was no longer supported by the floor. Crying out as the pressure on his shoulders and hips was intense; he grimaced and gritted his teeth. This was only a dream. Just a dream.

Yeah, like those welts across your ass were a dream.

When Ryan was waist high, the man in control of him turned and unhooked Calix. "You've been good." He yanked Kallisper's uncle to his feet and stood him on shaky legs in front of Ryan as he tied the man's hands above his head to a different chain. "Suck him," he barked to Ryan and without a thought, Ryan opened his mouth as another dick, this one he could see and truly taste as it wasn't ice cold, slid over his tongue.

Calix didn't have a lot of movement, but what movement he had, he made use of, thrusting his hips forward and his cock into Ryan's throat over and over. But before Ryan could even get used to it, his knees were pushed apart and something huge and ice cold shoved into his ass. A cry left his throat but was not heard as the cock inside of it blocked off the noise. Strong cold hands grasped his hips. Kallisper buggered like a machine and Ryan loved it. Moaning at the pleasure from the ice cold appendage deep in his ass, he sucked his cheeks in over the cock in his mouth. Calix screeched as he came, warm, gooey liquid trickling over Ryan's tongue and down his throat.

Kallisper tasted better.

The hooded man yanked the uncle backward and shoved his own rod into Ryan's throat. He was every bit as rough as Kallisper was. "Boy," the man grunted, looking at one of the other two who had been manacled but weren't any more. "Crop. Now."

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw one of the men run to get a long, thin crop and he ran back and lay down underneath Ryan. In a split second, heat spread over his cock as the man hit him with the leather and he screamed as the hooded man slammed his cock into his mouth. Something cold and hot at the same time sizzled across his ass, going across the welts he had from the night before. Unable not to, Ryan gave into the pain-filled pleasure and screamed, his body writhing in orgasm as Kallisper continued to bugger him and the hooded man continued to cut off his breathing with his monstrous shaft.

Between the two men and the crop, his orgasm kept going, increasing in intensity with each thrust, keeping him above the clouds, even as Kallisper let out a yell. Ice cold liquid poured into him at the same time the hooded man came down his throat, pulling back so that his jizz spurted into Ryan's mouth. Greedily, Ryan sucked every last drop down, gasping and groaning once the hooded man pulled back. Going limp, his head fell forward and he looked at the man underneath him who was still tapping the crop against Ryan's shaft. He grinned and Ryan grinned back. It was a secret kind of smile. Not one for fun or to be rude. No, this grin said "You're one of us."

A strong cold hand yanked his head back, holding on to Ryan's hair so roughly he was afraid some of it would fall out. Of course, he saw nobody. Kallisper was a ghost and thus invisible. For some reason that hurt.

A bark of a laugh came from the hooded man. "He still can't see you?" he asked.

"No," Kallisper barked. "I haven't put my brand upon his skin."

Brand? Ryan's breath picked up as he imagined wearing something that proclaimed him as belonging to the spectre, the original owner of the house.

"Best do it soon. If the other masters hear of such a boy, they'll take him from you."

A roar shook the room and Ryan trembled at how angry Kallisper sounded. "They touch him. They die."

The other four men in the room scrambled backward and Ryan stared in shock, realizing that even the hooded man was afraid of the ghost. Cool fingers slid over his cheeks. "No, I'm not ready to mark him yet. But I will make sure he receives pleasure from nobody but me."

Hands, more than one, grasped Ryan's shaft, rubbing it hard and rough until with a moan, he felt his dick harden and lengthen. Something cool and metal slid over his cock and he trembled at the unique sensation. "There," Kallisper said, his tone back to the cruel one. "He's mine." The cold hand released his hair and Ryan screamed as the chain released his manacles wrists and ankles at the same time. He dropped.

Right onto his mattress. Crying out as his face smashed into the pillow and his hard cock into the thin cushion, he rolled over to his side, crying out as pain rolled over his aching body. Everything hurt. His head, his scalp, his back, his ass, and his shaft.

As some of the pain dulled, he blinked his eyes open. No longer in that room, but back in his bedroom. Shuddering, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and struggled to his feet. With shaky legs, he headed outside to go to the bathroom as he hadn't quite got the water going in the house yet. There was only one problem. He pulled his boxers down and stared at his cock. It was surrounded by rings of metal that kept him from touching his own dick. Reaching down, he realized it was locked just under his balls. There was no way to get it off.

After relieving himself, he stumbled to the truck, digging through the supplies until he came up with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Tearing the lid off, he let the burning heat pour down his throat, crying out as it passed over the soreness the night before had left behind.

Putting the lid back on, he grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it. Would it be like this night after night, day after day? Taken into a strange room and given more pain and pleasure than he'd ever known existed by men who no longer lived? His shaking hands put the water bottle back down. It was wonderful and exciting and exhausting as hell. Plus, what if they just got worse? And there was also that scary concept of being branded. Ryan had the feeling it would be an actual brand.

His eyes flipped to the manor in front of him. Kallisper Hamstead might have died when he was only nineteen, but in the almost four hundred years since his death, he had obviously had an education. Who were those other men? And why were they trapped here?

Sighing, he made himself a sandwich and continued to look around. Ryan supposed he could overthink it, decide it wasn't worth it, and run away. But he didn't want to run away. He wanted more. Before he had even consciously made the decision, his feet moved and he unpacked the back of his truck, taking all the food and drink inside and putting it away. Today he would work on the bathroom and the plumbing. He had the feeling a nice hot bath would be in order tomorrow. Especially if Kallisper came for him again tonight.

Smiling at the thought, he grabbed his tools and headed into the bathroom.

**About Thianna D.**

If anyone asked Thianna what she thought was most important between Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic, she would grin and say, "Well, obviously you cannot write – and definitely not write well – unless you read, but that reading does not help so much when it comes to math problems. Throw out the math and you might have it work just fine." Of course, as a math whiz, she can say that with a twinkle in her eye.

A lifetime reader, her nose can continually be found within the pages of a book. Reading did lead to a lot of writing. And writing led to more writing and then getting published. Writing fantasy led to romance which led to paranormal romance and erotic romance leapt in and she went, "Yes! I've found my niche." She first started out in BDSM erotica but then fine-tuned it to one of her favorite fetishes of spanking and the rest is history.

An author of both M/F and M/M erotica and erotic romance, she enjoys creating interesting situations and characters. Well, the characters would tell you they were already there, that she didn't create them. But she's not about to split hairs with a spectre. This little ditty was a fun one to write. Ghosts and kink and two men. Yum.

Thianna has written the best-selling gay DD/spanking erotic romance trilogy _All They Ever Needed_ and is the creator of the best-selling Corbin's Bend series.

Also by Thianna D.

If you liked _The Haunting of Hamstead Manor_ , be sure to check out _Breathe Each Other In_.

Find _Breathe Each Other In_ online and view Thianna D.'s author page.

For more from Thianna D.

Twitter @the_weremouse

Website

Blog

Facebook

Goodreads

#  Z

# by The Black

Janie cut a glance at her countertop television as she lugged the basket of dirty colored clothes through her kitchen. _News at Noon_ was leading in with yet another story about the outbreak that some people were now calling the beginning of the apocalypse. Apocalypse as in Undead Apocalypse.

Janie was sick of bad news but paused in the kitchen to watch because news anchor Chance Longstreet was a hottie. Okay, he had big, white horse teeth, but when he didn't smile and was looking serious he was hot.

Chance opened the broadcast with his standard, "Good morning Richmond and surrounding areas," and got right down to business. He reported that the south side of Richmond had become a war zone. Things had gotten so bad that police and gang members were banding together to shoot at the zombies instead of each other.

Chance didn't say so, but local councilman and civil rights activist Johnny Jefferson said things were so bad on the South Side because the city didn't bother confiscating all bovine food products in the inner city until it was too late. He called the Zombie outbreak a genocidal plot cooked up by either the CIA or the Republican Party.

Janie didn't know about any plots, but she couldn't argue about the confiscation sequence. After the police and fire department seized all the beef and cow's milk products from the supermarkets in her suburban neighborhood her next door neighbor Margaret went to the South Side—as dangerous as it was—to buy milk. Margaret and her family were gone now. Who knew Margaret's husband Tim had an M-16 he'd squirreled away from his days in the Army? When Margaret and her children changed Tim went Rambo on them. Then he turned the gun on himself.

On the news, video footage from the previous night showed people running in the streets, screaming as if Godzilla was a block behind them and coming fast. Houses and stores were on fire. _Why were they on fire?_ Janie wondered. _What was the point of that?_ And of course, the worst of the citizenry were taking advantage of the turmoil by looting.

Chance came back on camera, shaking his head gravely as if it all was just too shockingly incredible, as if he hadn't been reporting almost the same events every day for the past week.

Yeah, we know, Chance. Things are getting worse out there.

Chance pressed a finger to his earpiece and frowned as if he were just receiving some amazing breaking news. Janie hoped he was going to announce that it was okay to eat dairy and beef again.

Chance face turned solemn, then he nodded as if whatever was about to happen met his approval. He fixed his steely gaze on the camera and announced to the viewing audience that in just a minute the Chief of Police was going to hold a brief press conference on the steps of City Hall.

Janie took that opportunity to go to her combination mudroom/laundry room to load the washing machine. When she stepped into the space she shuddered and hissed through her teeth as the cold, rough concrete floor abraded the soles of her bare feet. For the umpteenth time she cursed Steve for breaking one of his many vows. From the day they bought this house nine years ago he'd promised that he was going to lay tile in the mudroom. In all that time he'd managed to be too busy to get around to it. Now he never would.

The bastard.

When Janie returned to the kitchen the press conference was just starting. The police chief, who with his round face, mop of yellow hair and in his big-buttoned jacket looked like Captain Kangaroo, was already speaking:

"Please, please, if you have a firearm and you're hunting these creatures or are shooting in self-defense, make sure you aim for the head," the police chief said. "If you kill someone you just _think_ is a zombie, you must still go for the head. You have to kill the brain. I repeat: you absolutely _must_ stop brain function in these things. If you don't have a firearm, use a bat or a brick or any object substantial enough to crush a human skull. If you don't have such a weapon, run. Just run. It's better to let a suspected zombie live than kill a human being by mistake and create a new one of these creatures."

With her empty laundry basket on her hip Janie shook her head at the television. Is this what things had come to, killing innocent people? Were good, law-abiding citizens that afraid? Thank goodness most of this madness was confined to the city. Other than her next door neighbor Margaret and her family, the zombies had stayed out of her neighborhood.

Jeez, Margaret, how could you be so stupid and selfish?

On the television an unseen reporter called out, "Chief, are you saying that seemingly non-infected people are becoming zombies when they die?"

The police chief shrugged. "My information is unconfirmed at the present time. However, the CDC has sent an advisory to all law enforcement, emergency response and medical agencies across the country stating that this might be the case. They're saying that in some people, whatever this disease or infection is might lie dormant while the person is living, and become active after...well, after death. Again, this information is unconfirmed."

"But you're saying it could be the case?"

"I'm saying I'm only passing on the information provided by the CDC. Nothing is confirmed."

Someone else yelled, "So anyone who seems normal might not be?"

"Again, nothing is confirmed."

"Why do some infected people change immediately and others take as long as a week?"

"I don't have that information."

"What are the hospitals doing about people who die there?"

"It's my understanding that there will be information about that forthcoming. I don't have the—"

Someone else yelled, "What's the governor doing about this? Where's the National Guard? We've got chaos on the South Side. What's anyone going to do about _that_ , Chief?"

The police chief's shoulders rose and fell as he breathed a heavy sigh. "We're all doing the best we can. Again, I urge all citizens to implement the um...the procedures I've already discussed when dealing with these...with the undead."

"What about the beef and milk, Chief? When will it be legal to eat again?"

"I have no information on that at this time. We've already been assured that the best scientists in the world are working on—"

"Chief, there are rumors that the cause of this outbreak is a combination of a variant of mad cow disease and beef and milk manufacturers using growth hormones in cows. Can you speak to that?"

"I can't speak to that. Ladies and gentlemen, that's all I have at this time. Good luck and God bless all of you."

The police chief almost ran away from the microphone.

The press conference ended and the broadcast switched to the local weather forecast. Janie headed back to her bedroom to grab the whites for the next laundry load.

***

In her bedroom as she went to the hamper Janie caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the mirrored sliding doors of her closet. Before she could banish the thought it whispered in her brain:

Still not a size 2.

Damn it!

Janie stopped in front of the mirrored doors. She dropped the plastic laundry basket.

Because she liked feeling sexy and was almost always horny, when Bobby was in school and she had the house to herself she dressed—or didn't dress—to suit her sensual mood. Today was a mild mood day. She was wearing denim shorts cut so high they'd make Daisy Duke blush under a tank camisole.

Standing in front of the mirrored doors Janie examined her reflected self. As she had on more days than she cared to think about since the tragedy of the size 2, she checked off her physical pros and cons in the mirror.

She liked her new pixie haircut. Her hair was a shade of brown that should have been a synonym for dull, so as far as she was concerned less of it meant more. Her shorter cut allowed her sea green eyes to really pop.

She'd never thought much about her mouth, other than once upon a time feeling it was too wide. In three years of dating and eleven years of marriage Steve certainly hadn't much to say about it. He was the only man she'd ever known or heard of who wasn't into getting head. That should have been a clue right there that something was wrong with him.

Now, thanks to Zachary, she liked her mouth. Mainly because he liked her mouth. He'd told her in his shy but oh-so-sexy way that in addition to her having a pretty smile, her mouth looked like it was made to do a certain thing. That's just the way he'd said it, in that sexy-shy way of his: _"Janie, your mouth looks like it was made to do a certain thing."_

The way Zach said that to her, and the way he'd smiled his sexy smile when he said it, he might as well have lit a fire between her legs. After he said it she couldn't wait to do that certain thing to him. In fourteen years with Steve she could count on both hands the times she'd given him head, with fingers left over. With Zach she'd topped that number in one week.

Sexy Zachary.

Stupid Steve.

All Steve had cared about were her boobies. He couldn't get enough of touching, squeezing, and sucking them. And the other thing. Sometimes Janie thought the reason they only had one child was because Steve preferred using her breasts more than her coochie to get himself off.

Okay well, her breasts were nice, she had to admit. Since she'd gained weight they were her best feature. Well, Zach thought it was her mouth.

Janie lifted her top and exposed herself. She smiled at herself in the mirror. She compared one feature to the other. Mouth and boobies.

Two pros.

Her waist had thickened, but thank goodness it was more spread than bulge. Unfortunately, most of her post baby weight had decided to loiter on her hips and thighs.

Once upon a time she had considered her legs her best feature. She still had hot legs, and in a knee-length skirt and heels could turn heads, but she wasn't happy about her thighs anymore. When she'd squeezed into her cutoffs this morning she hadn't thought about examining herself in a mirror. Looking now, she decided her thighs weren't too bad. Most men would still drool, but she remembered when her thighs were long and lean and so much sexier.

When she was pregnant with Bobby she'd gained sixty pounds. As of a year ago—seven years after Bobby was born—she'd managed to drop half that weight. In the past eleven months—since everything had gone south in her world—she'd lost another ten pounds.

The voice in her head that she hated told her that if she'd made the effort to lose the weight sooner her world wouldn't have gone south. But her common sense told her that that wasn't true; that it wouldn't have mattered.

Because she'd never been a size 2.

The bimbo was a size 2.

Steve, you bastard.

_And you never will be a size 2_ , the voice she hated whispered.

Yeah well, screw you, bitch.

She was a size 12 now. That wasn't so bad. She was the size of the average American woman.

Anyway, Zach liked her body. He said she looked better naked than in clothes. To demonstrate his sincerity he'd kissed her everywhere, from her forehead to the soles of her feet. Slowly. Delicately. Teasingly. He'd kissed her until she'd wanted to scream at him to do something to her—anything as long as it made her come.

Janie pulled her cami down to cover herself. Lifted it again. Nice boobies. Maybe she'd spend the rest of the afternoon au natural, until just before Bobby came home from school. She was in that kind of mood now.

Too bad she wasn't still seeing Zach. She sure could use a good afternoon fu—

A noise outside—a deep rumbling—pulled Janie's attention away from contemplation of the pros and cons of her body and what it needed. Next came a beep-beep honking sound. It sounded like that Roadrunner cartoon character. She padded to the bedroom window to see what was going on.

Peeping through her blinds, Janie saw a car idling in the street in front of her house. It was one of those colorful muscle cars from the late sixties or early seventies. This one was a lime green number.

Janie didn't know anyone with such a vehicle. Even Steve, who apparently was going into his midlife crisis a decade early, wouldn't drive something so garish.

The muscle car's horn beep-beeped again. This time the driver didn't let up. He laid on the damned thing as if he were in a humongous hurry and whoever he'd come to pick up needed to get a move on.

Janie squinted and leaned until the tip of her nose poked through the blind's slats and touched the window glass. Was there someone in the back seat of that car? Wait—were they fighting?

The beep-beeping stopped, then sounded again, a sharp blast as if the driver hit the horn by accident. She could see the driver's silhouette. He was turned in his seat, punching at someone in the back seat. Over the rumbling of the car's powerful motor Janie heard a scream, then another; one male, one female.

Oh no.

Janie stumbled backward, away from the window. Outside the muscle car's engine roared hungrily. Tires screamed as it sounded like the driver had floored the gas pedal.

Something bumped against the backs of Janie's legs and she screamed too, then bit off her cry as she realized that she'd backed into the side of her bed.

Janie collapsed onto her bed, but feeling too vulnerable, bolted up to a sitting position.

Was that one of them? In her neighborhood?

Shit-shit-shit!

The phone ringing made her scream again. Heart pounding, she grabbed the handset.

"H-hello?"

"Janie?"

"Yes. Who...Mr. Godowski?"

"Yes, dear. Are you all right over there?"

Mr. Godowski lived across the street and two houses down. He was a widower, and since she'd kicked Steve out the old man had been a blessing to her, helping out with the things around her house a man was usually better at taking care of. He'd rehung her out of balance storm door, and was showing Bobby how to operate a power lawn mower. He'd even offered to tile the mudroom/laundry room floor.

"I'm fine, Mr. Godowski."

"That was some racket a minute ago, wasn't it?"

"Yes it was," Janie said. "Do you think it was one of them?"

"Hard to say, but I expect so."

"Oh no."

"It was only a matter of time, dear. The authorities don't have a handle on this thing as of yet, and there's no telling when or if they ever will. This won't be somebody else's problem much longer. We're not safe, I'm afraid."

The old man sounded really sad. As much as she didn't want company (unless it was Zachary here to kiss her all over) she said, "Mr. Godowski, would you like to come over? I'm about to make lunch and you're more than welcome to join me."

"That sounds nice, Janie, but I shouldn't."

"It's not an imposition, I promise."

"No dear, I mean I really shouldn't. I'm afraid that for the past day or so I've...well, I've been a tad bit under the weather."

Perhaps a dozen heartbeats passed before Janie could speak. "Mr. Godowski? You don't mean...you're not..."

She heard the old man sigh. "I wish I could state otherwise, dear."

"Oh god."

"Now, now, Janie, you and Bobby don't have to worry. Things are fine right now. I've made plans, you see. Gertie's father left her a cabin up in the Shenandoah Mountains. After she died I was never able to make myself go up there. It's so isolated, and I thought I would be so lonely up there without her. But I think now the time is just about right."

"I think you're right, Mr. Godowski."

"I've been sitting here all morning with my suitcase packed and in the car. I didn't know why I was waiting to leave, but I think I know now."

"Why were you waiting, Mr. Godowski?"

"I think Janie, that I just needed someone to say goodbye to me. Would you do me the kindness of waving goodbye when I leave, dear?"

Janie blinked, but too late. The moisture in her eyes brimmed and spilled over, slipping down her face. "Of course I will Mr. Godowski."

"Abe. Call me Abe."

"I'll wave goodbye to you Abe. When are you leaving?"

"I'm not feeling very well, so I think sooner would be much better than later. I'll be pulling out in a minute."

"I'll be waiting Abe."

***

Though tears streamed down her face Janie smiled as Mr. Godowski slow-rolled his battleship-sized Cadillac past her house.

She waved from her stoop. He looked her way and waved back. His eyes were red-rimmed and he was as pale as milk. He already looked worse than some of the creatures she'd seen on the news.

He'd waited too long, poor thing. He wasn't going to make it to his cabin in the mountains.

Janie watched until Mr. Godowski's Caddy vanished around the corner at the end of their block. She wondered how long it would be before the old man bolted from his car growling and drooling and started eating people. Not long, she imagined. She hoped that when it happened that he was too far away and that his mind was too far gone to remember that she was home alone.

For one of the few times in the year since she kicked Steve out Janie wished their marriage hadn't fallen apart. She wished she had a man to protect her.

Were it not for a size 2 dress Steve would be here.

Had she not been trying to be a good and dutiful wife she would still be married. Not completely happy and ignorant of what was going on behind her back, but at least still married.

If only she hadn't gone to Steve's office that day.

***

It was tax season, so Steve, an account running his own one-man firm, was working long hours and on weekends. One day he'd called home grumbling more than usual because his secretary had called out sick. One day turned into three, with no end in sight. Not good during his busiest season.

Janie knew that Rosanne, Steve's secretary, usually went out to buy and bring back Steve's lunch when he was too busy to leave his desk, which was every day during tax season. So she thought she'd be the helpful wife and surprise him at work with homemade lasagna, his favorite.

As Janie expected, Rosanne's desk in the receptionist's office was empty. As Janie had not expected, a dress was draped over the arm of Rosanne's chair. A single discarded red three-inch pump lay on Rosanne's chair mat. Its mate lay on the carpet halfway between Rosanne's desk and Steve's closed office door. In the dozens of times Janie had visited Steve's office she had never seen his office door closed.

Beyond the second shoe, on the carpet just before Steve's closed office door, a G-string panty lay like shed snake's skin.

Almost a year after that day Janie still didn't know why she picked up the dress and checked its size. But she did. It was a sundress with spaghetti straps, as yellow as sunshine. A size 2. Like the pumps, the G-string was red.

Janie remembered thinking as she crept to Steve's closed office door that she'd never been a size 2, even as a teenager. And she'd never been bold enough to own a pair of red pumps. She'd only ever fantasized about wearing a G-string.

Standing outside Steve's office door she'd considered her options:

She could knock politely, but considering the evidence before her eyes that seemed a pathetically weak thing to do.

She could burst in full of righteous anger, but then what? She didn't feel angry, and shouting "Ah-ha!" just didn't feel right.

She could peek. Just open the door quietly a little to verify that what the evidence screamed at her was true.

That's what she did.

Holding her breath, she'd twisted the doorknob. The latch retracted silently. She pushed the door open—just a half inch—and peeked.

Steve was lying on his back on his desk. He was naked except for his black socks. He looked ridiculous.

A naked blonde who looked like she might barely be old enough for college squatted on Steve, straddling his hips. She was riding him hard, like she was a Pony Express rider trying to make record time.

Janie's stomach clenched itself into a fist, reached up and grabbed her lungs and squeezed, making it hard to draw in oxygen.

She didn't know how long she watched. Seconds and minutes became the same unit of time. But when she finally closed the door and turned away she knew her marriage was over.

What did it wasn't the Steve's infidelity. And it wasn't witnessing his infidelity with her very own eyes. What did it was the look on Steve's face as he lay on his desk with that beautiful girl (and yes, damn it, she was beautiful) riding his cock. He looked happy.

In replaying it in her memory, Janie didn't think he was even looking at the girl in his bliss. When she'd thought about it over the past months she didn't think it was the girl's good looks, or even the way she was making him feel at the moment that painted the joy on his face. But it was something about that girl—that other woman—that fulfilled Steve. That's what did it.

That's what made her know her marriage was over.

In their three years of dating and eleven years of marriage she had never seen Steve look so happy. And knowing that she had never been able to make him feel whatever he felt to make him look that way, Janie knew that she couldn't stay with him. Everyone deserved to be as happy as they could be. If she wasn't the one to be able to make her husband feel that way then one of them was married to the wrong person.

Before leaving Steve's office she left him a note. It was a simple message, brief enough to fit on one of Rosanne's Post-Its. In the note she told Steve that she was taking Bobby and going to her mother's for a week, and that when she returned she wanted him and his things gone.

She stuck the Post-It on Steve's office door. When she left she took the size 2 dress and the G-string.

She left the red pumps.

They were pretty.

On her way home she tossed the size 2 dress and the G-string in a McDonald's dumpster.

That was her first act of revenge. Her next was Zachary, who lived on their block and was the only black person in their neighborhood.

After Steve moved out to live with his blonde bimbo their Neighborhood Watch captain paired her up with Zachary for their night patrols. One thing led quickly to another.

At first it was all about revenge. She'd wanted to rub Steve's face in it, to show him that he wasn't the only one who could have hot fun.

But on the occasions she'd needed to talk to Steve or whenever he came over to pick up Bobby she'd been at a loss. How does one bring something like that up?

" _Hey Steve, thanks for transferring the child support money to my account. And oh, by the way, remember Zachary, the divorced black guy from around the corner? Well, the myth is true. And what's even better is that afterward he likes to cuddle and chat. He can cuddle a lot harder than you and chat way longer."_

She hadn't been able to bring it up, and after a couple of months with Zach she'd begun to feel guilty. She'd slept with him in the beginning because she had an agenda. But Zach was a nice guy. He deserved better than someone who was using him only for revenge and orgasms.

Janie loaded her laundry basket with dirty whites. She padded back out to the kitchen, ignored the infomercial on the tube and cursed Steve again when she stepped on the cold, rough concrete floor in the mudroom.

She transferred the color clothes to the dryer. She loaded the whites, measured in the detergent and bleach and got the wash going. When she returned to the kitchen Steve was standing in the far entry.

***

He was in his shirt and tie, sans jacket. He looked like he hadn't shaved in days. His skin was pasty, and his eyes were rimmed with red.

Standing with his hands in his pants pockets he flashed a nervous smile and said, "Hey there Janie."

"What are you doing here Steve?" _Oh god._

"Well I um...I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I'd drop by—you know, to see how my best girl is doing."

He hadn't called her his best girl since their honeymoon.

"Steve, are you a zombie now?" There was no point in beating around the bush.

"I don't like that word. It's like using the N-word. So degrading and disrespectful. It's like calling a Democrat a tree hugger or a Republican bat shit crazy. You shouldn't stereotype, Janie. It's really not nice."

"But you've been...changed?"

"I prefer to think of it as transfigured. However, I'm still me. I'm just...let's say, more adventurous. You always said I needed to step out of my comfort zone. I remember once you even said I was boring in bed. Well, in recent days I've thought things over, and I've come to understand that you were right. So I've changed my ways. I'm more adventurous now, Janie. I want to try new things. Let's go to bed and I'll show you all that I've become."

He took a casual step closer.

"Stop right there!"

"What? What's the matter Janie?"

"I'd like you to leave. Right now."

"But why?"

"You know why. Because we're done. Because of you and your bimbo."

"Janie, the divorce isn't final so I'm still your husband. I don't even want you to file the stupid thing now. I've come back to apologize and try to make things right." He took a cautious step closer. "I want you Janie."

"I just bet you do. Stay back. Don't you dare come any closer."

"Is this about Heather? If it is then that's one of the things I need to apologize for. I was wrong to throw you over for that bimbo. She was so not worth it."

"You thought she was worth it when you were screwing her on your desk. Or should I say she was screwing you? You thought she was worth risking our marriage. You thought a size 2 dress was more important than a life with me and your son."

"I've learned the error of my ways, Janie. I really have. I know now that a size 2 dress means that a person really isn't all that substantial. They don't last long. Heather wasn't like you. She wasn't substantial."

" _Wasn't_ , Steve? You're talking about your bimbo in the past tense. Did you get tired of only being able to have conversations about reality shows? Oh wait—did she dump you? Is that why you've come crawling back?"

"I finished with her, that's all. Ultimately I learned that she was unsatisfying."

"In bed?"

Steve smiled and shrugged. "Well..."

"Don't answer that. I don't want to know. Anyway, you can leave now."

"But I want you now Janie."

"No. Never again."

"Come on, I don't want to hurt you, Janie. I mean, it's not like I want to rip your throat out with my teeth and claw out your sweet meat organs because they'd taste so good. I mean, I'm sure they would, and...well, I just miss you is all. You and Bobby." Steve looked around. "Where is he, by the way?"

"He's in school. It's April. How could you not know that?"

"Oh, school, right. Ha! Duh."

"Are you okay? I mean, is your mind going?"

"My mind? No, not at all. I was just thinking that Bobby's been gaining weight. That's my fault, I suppose. I should be teaching him sports, working him out...getting him nice and...fit. He's so plump now."

"Steve, you don't know the difference between a baseball and a can of paint. What're you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, Janie. I've been a little distracted lately, since Heather...well. Um, what I mean to say is that I really want you...want you back. I think about you all the time. I imagine you naked. Your pretty, pretty breasts—"

"It's not going to happen, not ever again. Now get out before I call the police."

"I'm sorry Janie, but I can't do that," he said, and bolted across the kitchen at her.

Maybe because his mind was going he forgot to take his hands out of his pockets, so he couldn't defend himself when Janie grabbed the countertop television and smashed him over the head.

Steve went down hard, but the television hadn't done much damage. He managed to get his hands out of his pockets and claw her legs as she skipped out of his reach.

Ouch!

Janie dashed into the mudroom. Steve came after her on all fours, scrambling like a crab. He moved too fast for her to close the mudroom door.

Kill the brain.

When Steve was halfway through the door on his hands and knees Janie jumped. She drove her feet down onto his head, slamming his face down onto the cold, rough concrete.

Janie jumped and stomped and jumped and stomped, until she was so exhausted she thought she would faint. By then her estranged husband's head was nothing but a mass of red and gray gooey pulp.

Brain dead.

Okay.

***

The steamy shower felt so good. It sluiced away the stress of her day and soothed her aching muscles.

Janie thought it would have been nice to take a nap, to sleep the day away au natural. But she couldn't. Bobby would be home from school soon.

Steve was right; Bobby had gained weight, and it was all her fault. Since their breakup a year ago she'd been trying to compensate for their son living in a broken home by spoiling him, giving anything he wanted. Every toy his heart desired. Whatever he wanted to eat, to include junk food by the boatload.

Bobby was overweight, was really quite chubby, or as Steve said, _plump_.

Janie imagined that her son was probably quite tender, too.

**About The Black**

For over a decade, The Black has been a writer of internet multi-genre fiction. His online stories, which include dozens of short pieces, novellas and serialized fiction like the Insatiable and Passion series and The Hitman Chronicles, have made him a web-wide favorite author. Originally from the New Jersey Shore, The Black now lives in Virginia, where he is working on many new writing projects.

Also by The Black

If you liked _Z_ , be sure to check out _The Getaway_.

Find _The Getaway_ online and view The Black's author page.

For more from The Black

Twitter @TheBlack_Writer

Website

Facebook

#  A Pecking Order

# by Darling Adams

Sasha exited the Tucson Center for Developmentally Disabled at midnight, exhausted from her shift. She scanned the dark downtown streets for anyone she ought to avoid on her five block walk to her duplex. Downtown should lend comfort in numbers, but unless it was a weekend, the only people who roamed Congress Street after midnight were looking for trouble.

A man approached and while he didn't look menacing, she held her keys pointed through her knuckles the way she'd learned in her self-defense class, then added her own self-devised protection--imagining a giant ball of light surrounding her.

The moment she pictured it, the man stopped in his tracks, staring as if he could see it. Her breath froze in her chest, heart pounding.

A slow grin spread across his face. "Is this for me?" he drawled in a faint British accent.

Vampire.

She didn't know how she could tell, but the word had entered her mind clearly.

His grin broadened, showing sharp canines. "Yes," he purred as if she'd spoken the word aloud. "And you are...what? A witchling? He cocked his head to the side, "Priestess?" He extended his fingertips in the air, touching what would be the edge of her ball of light and suddenly she could see it, too--a shimmering white wall of protection that rippled and repelled his touch.

Even in the streetlights she could tell he was beautiful with rumpled blond hair and pork chop style side burns. Deep dimples crinkled now as he looked at her creation with apparent fascination. He turned the glittering gaze on her, locking eyes.

Energy shifted within her and she felt the sensation of her belly moving to the left as her chest moved to the right. Her bubble of light vanished. Gasping, she tensed to run, and he smiled wider.

"Oh yes, do run, little witchling. I so love a good chase."

She stumbled backward. "I-I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not a witch or a priestess. I'm nobody. I'm just a counselor at the School for the Disabled."

He walked casually forward as she continued backing away. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"What? The bubble?" She shook her head. "I don't know--I just invented it, I guess."

"Powerful," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Do you do other magic?"

She shook her head, looking around for anyone who might help her. "No, sir." She didn't know where the "sir" came from, but it amused him and he beamed another toothy grin, his fangs seeming to lengthen before her eyes.

It had been the eye contact that had burst the bubble. All she had to do was avoid eye contact. She threw another bubble up around her and took off running as fast as she could. She heard his laughter behind her, but did not hear his footsteps in pursuit. Still, the hairs on her head stood up, warning her of something. She ran the seven blocks to her duplex and jabbed her key into the lock. Once inside, she checked the latches on the doors and windows, trying to catch her breath.

A stake through the heart. That was how you killed a vampire. And garlic. She looked around wildly for any kind of wooden stick. There--the dowel in her little wall hanging. It might work. It was three quarter inches thick and 18 inches long. She brought it to the kitchen and began frantically carving the end into a crude point.

She almost screamed when she heard a knock on the door, but then her neighbor's voice called out, "Hey, Sasha, you got any smokes?"

"No, Jane! I don't smoke, remember?" she called back.

"Well, can I come in?" Jane asked.

Crap.

She went to the door, sharpened stake in hand, and opened it. Somehow, she was not at all surprised to see the vampire leaning in the door frame.

"Go back to your side," he said softly to Jane, whose eyes were glassy and unfocused. She trotted obediently away, clearly glamoured by the vampire.

Even as her brain processed it, her eyes slid to his and she was lost in the ice blue pools, her belly moving to the left as her chest moved to the right.

"Come in," she heard herself say.

He grinned broadly and pushed past her into the apartment.

The moment their gaze broke, her wits returned and she launched herself at him, aiming for the middle of his upper back with the sharpened dowel.

He whirled and caught her wrist so quickly she didn't see it happen, but the outrage on his features registered clearly, fangs elongating as he hissed. Wrestling the dowel from her, he snatched her up around the waist and carried her, kicking and squirming to her living room. She panicked, wishing she had eaten garlic or had some other defense against getting drained by a hungry leech. To her surprise, he plopped down on her sofa and pulled her ass-up over his lap.

She almost giggled when he began to spank her with the flat of his hand, her relief at not becoming vamp-food so immediate. But then, he might be just getting his jollies before he bit her vein. As this new fear set in, she struggled against his hold, but his arm around her waist was like steel. Well, duh--he probably had superhuman strength.

He began to strike harder and she wriggled against the sting, though it was thankfully muffled by her jeans. In some bizarre coping mechanism, she began to count the slaps. By thirty-five, her butt was on fire, the pain growing exponentially with each new smack.

"Ow! Stop it!" she protested, but he continued to punish her without answering.

The absurdity of laying over a vampire's lap for a spanking struck her and she began to giggle out loud, her shock and stress coming out in a rush of sobbing laughs.

He stopped and she sagged in relief, thinking it was over only to realize his hand was at the button of her jeans. He hauled her to her feet and held her legs, looking up into her eyes. The fury was gone from his expression and the fangs had receded. Now he held only amused, if not arrogant command. "Pull down your pants."

He must not have used the glamour, because she did not feel the odd pulling sensation. "What?" she cried in outrage. "No way!"

The corner of his lips lifted and he unbuttoned them for her, shoving her hands away and slowly pulling both her jeans and her panties down. She tried to catch them, twisting her hips to and fro, but he gave one yank and they arrived mid-thigh, her lady parts clearly exposed to his satisfied gaze. She held her shirt down, trying to cover her bare cleft as she stood in the humiliating position. Her legs trembled and she cast her mind about for any ideas about how to escape this obviously deranged creature.

"Defiance will earn you extra punishment, my dear," he said with the same predatory smile he'd given when she'd been ready to run out on the street. As if he were a cat and she was his mouse. _Oh yes, do run, little witchling_. I so love a good chase. She realized he was just playing with his food.

A fresh wave of terror flooded her as he picked up the wooden dowel with which she'd tried to kill him and bent her back over his knee. One smack and she howled, wishing she'd never pulled it from the wall-hanging. She twisted, trying to cover her naked ass with her hand, but he caught her wrist and bent her arm behind her back. He began to spank her in earnest with the implement.

"Ooomph. Ow!" she yelped, squeezing her eyes shut. The stake stung on her bare flesh. She kicked her legs, which made him chuckle. He beat a steady rhythm, as if the dowel were a drumstick and her flinching bottom were the drum. "Ooh. Ouch! Stop it!"

"You're getting a spanking, my dear," he said. "You've earned it. There's nothing you can do to stop it now."

On and on he spanked while she bobbed and wriggled to no avail. Her entire bottom blazing and certain she couldn't take any more, she cried, "All right! All right, vampire...I'm sorry."

***

"Ah," he said, pausing in his assault on her lovely cheeks, then giving her three more spanks in quick succession. "Magic words. Say it like you mean it," he purred. The pleasure of having a lovely girl over his knee sent the familiar sense of arousal and power coursing through his body. His momentary irritation with her attempt on his life had long since been eclipsed by the enjoyment of bringing her to heel.

"I--I'm sorry, vampire," she cried in a rush, obviously reaching the limits of her pain threshold. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you with a stake. I won't do it again, I promise."

He chuckled and gave her another swift volley of spanks. "I'm not sure I believe you." He had delivered a sound spanking by this point, and the hue of her firm, round buttocks had turned from pink to plum. He was surprised, but not disappointed, she had not shed any tears yet. For him the pleasure was not in breaking a girl, but in the dance of taming her. He preferred a woman with pluck, and clearly this one had taken her cues from Buffy, The Vampire Slayer.

"Owww," she whined. "Please, vampire. I'm sorry." She still sounded more pissed off than sorry, but he stopped anyway. He had proven his point.

He broke off the sharp tip of the wooden stake, then snapped the length in half, dropping the pieces on the floor. "That's probably the best you can give me for now," he mused, running a cool hand over her bare cheeks, the heat delicious. As he continued to make lazy circles over her swollen bottom, his cock, already hard from spanking her, twitched against her hip.

She stiffened.

"No, little witch," he said, lifting her to stand and pulling her jeans and panties up as she winced and tried to rub. He batted her hands away and guided her onto his lap. "That's not what I want from you."

She squirmed, her bottom obviously too chafed to be comfortable on his hard thighs, but he held her firmly in place. Her hand slid to cover the alluring artery at her throat.

"I didn't come for that, either."

"Why are you here?" she demanded.

"For your magic, my dear."

A look of confusion shadowed her youthful face. "I don't have any magic."

"Ah, but you do, and it is quite powerful. Your protection spell out there dazzled. I'll need you to learn to use your skill, because there's a curse that needs undoing."

She shook her head. "I can't help you. I don't know what you're talking about." Her expression held defiance, but he detected a look of panic beneath it.

He stroked a wisp of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "I need your power, witchling. You may not even realize you have it, but you do, and I'm not going to leave you alone until you've solved my dilemma."

She began to blink rapidly, her chest moving rapidly with shallow breaths.

"Ah," he said, softening his expression. "There are the tears."

"I'm not crying!" she glared but her brave expression crumpled, and a choked sob erupted from her throat.

He didn't want her to break. Though he knew comfort from him would not be welcome, he pulled her against his chest, tucking her head in against his neck and stroking her back like a kitten. She smelled fresh and sweet, like wild strawberries.

She wrestled against his embrace but he held her fast, not allowing her to pull away.

She gave up her struggle and surprised him by letting out one giggle and then another, though he could smell the salt of her tears. "And I can't believe you spanked me!"

He smirked. "Yes, I'm a bit old-fashioned when it comes to ladies. I come from a different era."

She laughed again. "No, I mean, I tried to _kill_ you with a wooden stake, and you pulled down my panties and spanked me."

He chuckled. "Well, you were afraid when you went Buffy on me," he said, thumbing the moisture from her lovely cheeks. "I can't really blame you for that, can I?"

She studied him with big brown eyes flecked with gold, her copper-colored hair falling in her face again. This girl was special--even if he hadn't seen the bubble of light she'd cast on the street, he could feel it now in her presence. He hoped he could get her to cooperate, because it would be a shame to have to truly frighten her. He cupped her cheek, stroking her lower lip with his thumb. "Lovely mortal. Sasha, was it?"

She didn't pull away from his touch, reading him with the same amount of attention he paid her. "Yes. So what era are you from?"

"I was turned in 1825."

"Turned to vampire?"

He nodded.

A tiny shudder ran through her, but she continued to regard him boldly. She reached out and touched his side burns, sending a tiny shock of electricity through him. "Hence the pork chops?"

He caught the little hand touching his face and turned it over, his gaze inexorably drawn to the blue vein at her wrist. She noticed and snatched it back, holding it against her chest as she eyed him, warily.

"I'm not going to drain you and I'm not going to turn you, but I do require your full cooperation." He put a finger under her chin. "Can you give that to me, Sasha?"

She lifted her chin, but he saw fear in her quick swallow. "What happens if I say no?" she asked defiantly.

"Nobody tells me no. You belong to me now. You'll win your freedom when you've figured out how to rid me of my curse."

***

Being given a bare-bottomed spanking by a vampire was surreal enough. Being told she would not be rid of him until she performed magic--which she didn't have the first idea how to do--chilled her to her toes. She took deep breaths, trying to calm her thudding heart.

He lifted her up off his lap. "How about making me a snack?"

Unfortunately, being frightened only made her snappish. "Why don't you make your own snack?" she demanded.

He yanked her back down on his lap and tugged her head back by her hair, his fangs lengthening as he stared at her exposed neck. "Shall I?" he asked.

She made an incoherent sound, somewhere between a groan and a whimper.

He lowered his long fangs toward her carotid artery. "Shall I choose my own snack, little witchling? Or will you make me something from your kitchen?" He spoke with the satisfied purr of a man who knows exactly what answer she will give.

"I'll make it," she choked out.

He released her hair and helped her back to stand. "Thank you."

She walked away, practically panting to catch her breath, her legs trembling. "I didn't think vampires ate food," she said, falling flat in her attempt to sound unaffected.

"We don't have to," he said in a bored tone. She didn't turn around, but she pictured him examining his fingernails. "But we can. I certainly prefer blood."

She shuddered.

As if he sensed her fear, he said, "Sasha...if you behave yourself and do what I ask, I won't even hurt you."

It had been nice until the even hurt you. Like hurting her would be the norm. She did not give him the satisfaction of an answer. She opened her refrigerator and looked inside. She didn't have much. Living alone made her a lazy cook, although she did like to prepare food for others.

"Master, what shall I cook thee?" she asked sarcastically.

"Be careful, love, or I'll punish you again and I promise this time it won't make you laugh."

Her bottom seemed to tingle in response, the warmth traveling even lower, to her sex. What was wrong with her that the idea of being punished by the sexy vampire turned her on? She closed the refrigerator door and fished a box of graham crackers from her cupboard, along with a jar of peanut butter and the bottle of chocolate syrup. Pulling out a plate, she arranged eight crackers on it, then spread each one with peanut butter and drizzled chocolate over the top.

She carried the plate back and handed it to the vampire.

He raised his eyebrows and looked doubtful. "What is this?"

"It's my version of s'mores," she said.

His lip curled.

"Just try one. They're tasty."

She picked a square up and held it to his lips, her heart skipping at the boldness of the gesture. "I promise I didn't poison them with roasted garlic spread or anything."

His lips twitched in amusement and he opened his mouth a crack, as if only to let the tiniest bit of food in. Nibbling a corner, he looked up as he sampled the treat. "Not bad," he said, taking the cracker from her hand and accepting the plate. "I guess I won't make you crawl around on your hands and knees and lick my hand."

Her jaw dropped and she didn't know whether to laugh or kick him in the shin. "I beg your pardon?"

"My dear witchling, I have many ways of punishing you, and all of them involve your humiliation."

She stifled a shiver, meeting his eyes with a narrowed gaze.

"If you would like to sit at my feet, I always enjoy subservience, but you are also welcome to sit beside me."

She time she did laugh, catching his smirk. She plopped beside him and made a show of snatching one of the crackers from the plate on his lap.

She bit into the cracker and watched him chew, studying his beautiful face. A pierced eyebrow and multiple studs up his earlobes roughened the look, but he had a Hollywood mug with the firm jaw, blue eyes and sensual lips. He wore a black t-shirt, fitted snugly over a muscled chest, faded blue jeans and Converse sneakers, looking every inch the part of twenty-something mortal hipster. A very sexy hipster.

When she finished her cracker, she reached for another one, but he slapped her hand, holding the plate away.

She made a sound of outrage and he grinned.

"Say please."

"They're _my_ crackers!"

"Are they?" he challenged, the emerald eyes connecting with hers in a stare-down she could not win.

She blew out her breath and looked away. "Nevermind."

He crossed one long leg over the other. "You see, there's a pecking order here, love. The sooner you learn it, the easier things will go between us."

"Go to hell," she muttered, pushing to stand up.

He picked her up and plopped her onto his lap. "I am your hell, sweetheart. Believe it, witchling."

His words would have irritated her more, except she knew he spoke them to purposely get a rise out of her, so she rewarded him with a roll of her eyes. But his continued belief in her witchiness concerned her. "Listen," she said, hoping this time he might believe her. "I'm not a witch. I don't know anything about curses, or magic. Even if I wanted to help you, I can't."

He reached out and wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb, turning it around to show her the chocolate syrup she had sported before he popped it in his mouth to suck it off. Her nipples tightened as she considered the effect of those lips sucking parts of her body. As if he could see through her clothing, his eyes traveled down to her breasts then back to her face, a smug look on his face. "I believe you don't know or understand your abilities," he said. "But I will help you get up to speed."

"How?"

He shrugged and offered the plate of crackers. As she reached for one, he said, "Say please."

She huffed. "Please?"

He grinned. "You see? That wasn't so hard." He offered the plate. Returning to their discussion, he said, "I'm not sure yet. It's been a long time since I've been around a witch. But you have so much natural power, it can't be that hard."

"What is the curse?"

His expression hardened, a dark anger evident in the set of his jaw. "You'll know when the time comes," he said stiffly.

She shrugged, stifling a yawn. "Okay. Look, it's way past my bedtime. I know you're nocturnal, but I need my sleep or I get very crabby. So...ah, are you going to let me go to bed?"

He gave a lopsided smile. "I'm glad you're realizing who is master here."

"Alone?" she clarified, catching a glint in his eye.

He lifted her to stand and rose. Grasping her jaw, he tilted her face up to his.

She stiffened, eyeing his fangs as they lowered, his heavy-lidded gaze mesmerizing. He merely brushed his soft lips across hers, kissing her as if they'd just ended a first date, rather than the bizarre exchange of attempted murder, spanking and...what? Kidnapping? Claiming? No words described her position. She couldn't move, frozen under his light caress, smelling the sweet chocolate on his breath.

He gazed at her. "Sasha." He said her name as if committing it to memory. "Lovely little witch."

And then he dematerialized, leaving her standing alone in her living room, her heart beating in an irregular pattern.

"Wait," she said, although she knew he was already gone. "I don't even know your name..."

**About Darling Adams**

Darling Adams is a naughty author who loves writing about hot alpha males, Dominance/submission and power exchanges. She also writes spanking romance under the name Renee Rose.

To read more about Sasha and the vampire, check out _Loose Morals_.

Also by Darling Adams

If you liked _A Pecking Order_ , be sure to check out _Yes, Doctor_.

Find  Yes, Doctor online and view Darling Adam's author page.

For more from Darling Adams

Website

Facebook

Google+

#  In Heat

# by Suzy Ayers

Sitting at the table with wet-ringed watermarks, no one ever cleaned in this dive. Alexis tapped her long, red nails impatiently. The loud harshly lit bar was coated in a heavy blanket of smoke. The floor was littered with endless: cocktail napkins, plastic wrap from the top of cigarette boxes, cigarette butts and the occasional condom.

Her eyes narrowed and grazed around this tiny wooden box called a bar. She let a sharp exhale escape her parted lips and abruptly went to the ladies room. Eyes flinched, heads turned—all of this she was used to and dismissed it. As she pushed open the flimsy wooden door, the rank smell of the bathroom caused her to crinkle her nose and want to hold her breath. It was a mixture of: vomit, standing urine, cheap perfume, sex and female menstruation.

Sexual hunger was swelling within her and she growled when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were a deep lilac, which many mistook for contacts. She wiped the corners of her mouth with the pads of her index and thumb, careful not to disturb her shockingly red lipstick, which matched her nails.

She adjusted her little black dress with a sweetheart neckline. It cast a lovely shape over her ample chest. She tussled her curly auburn hair and rushed out of the putrid bathroom. Walking past the jukebox and peered into it, wishing there was more than the sappy old country love songs spilling from it.

She'd all but lost hope for her date. But his woodsy scent was strong...she could smell him, as the front door swung open. A ripple of sexual frustration cascaded over her. Alexis' body fought between a flush and a shiver. She drew in the light gasp and toyed with her bare neck, scratching at her naked flesh lightly.

He strutted in like a true cowboy. All that was missing was spurs. _He's not half bad_. Her tongue rolled across her bright poppy lips as she took him in. His boots clunked along in a slow, rhythmic stroll as he neared. He took a seat at the dilapidated bar. Removing his hat, he placed it on his knee. He ordered a beer and his lips surrounded the glass bottle with a thirst that matched her own.

Swallowing back her desire as her blood warmed. Something about him had her unnerved and her pulse quickened. She sat back down. _The week so far had been a successful one. Why would this one be any different?_

***

Last night Alexis had been left drained. She'd slept up until a couple of hours ago. "He" had taken a toll on her body. She found her last victim, in a movie theater—she never caught their names—it was easier that way. She feigned fright at the scary scenes of the _Psycho_ remake or whatever it was. She truly wasn't paying attention, it was so mundane.

He'd been an easy spot. He was slightly shorter than her and touted a small, pudgy belly. He had a small thin crown of walnut brown hair and a shiny bald spot in the center of his dome. His eyes were sunken into his weasley face.

Her hand coaxed him outside, rubbing enticing circles on his back. They exited through the grey door at the bottom of the dimly lit, carpeted walkway with the glowing red sign above the door. Once out the back of the theater, she pressed his wrists against the crumbling brick wall. His eyes were fueled with excitement.

The heat of the summer night made her blood awaken, as her wantonness rose within her. Her chest heaved and she noticed his eyes on her cleavage. She'd worn a thin white tank top and shredded denim cut-offs. Her beige wedge espadrilles added to her height over this man placing her bust in his face.

"What's your name sweetheart?" His southern drawl made her cringe or perhaps it was his drooling and almost foaming mouth.

"Alexis," she flashed her gleaming smile, ignoring the surging tearing disgust within her.

She began to hum a low melody as she held his wrists above him.

His eyes wavered into a soft flicker as if being lulled into a slumber. His life slowly came into focus. His pitiful life.

The beginning whizzed by: his birth into a normal family, siblings, two parents, a dog, etc. Then it moved into a wife and alcohol...alcohol was his Master. He began to beat his wife into submission. Fear and pain—Alexis could feel all of her emotions as if they were her own, while she slowly seeped his life away through his agape mouth into hers. The pain was body numbing and her bones ached, as his life was ending. Her throat burned, as if on fire and her belly turned into a mongering hunger of desire, a surging need to release.

Relinquishing his hands, she was mere centimeters from his stench of decay and vile unclean body. Watching, as his eyes changed from blue to black empty holes and the skin on his face began to sag and shrivel away.

Victims that matched her own horrid life—pedophiles and abusers, both drained her and gave her the most power, forcing her to rest for a couple of days.

She wondered if the tune she sang anesthesitized or paralyzed them, as it incinerated her victim's insides, while she stole their essence. She told herself long ago she didn't care. Flaring flames began at his feet as it always did. There was no movement, no thrashing, as his body was engulfed and turned to a pile of ash.

***

"So what are you doing here, Alexis?" The cowboy interrupted her memory.

She jumped. He'd snuck up on her, while she was lost in thoughts and somehow knew her name. Her "dates" where always something she was able to foresee in her mind before they'd meet.

He sat at the same dirty table as her, grinning arrogantly. Perhaps his intention was to take her off guard. No one knew her name, not unless she told them—and if she did that was right before she killed those bastards.

"Who says that's my name?" she combed her manicured nails through her hair. Her looks had always captured the hearts of any man that she'd crossed paths with, not that she'd let any get that close to her. She had one mission in life.

"Don't be coy. We both know it is." His hands looked rough, but as they came in contact with her hand she flinched at the softness. He touched her ring. It was a gold knotted Celtic banding with a triangular ruby in the center.

"Don't touch me." She recoiled from him.

That pompous smile returned and she saw his necklace, it too had a Celtic knot, but his gem was green. _Who was he?_ Her victim was now turning into a mystery—one that seemed to be eyeing her body all over and taunting her wordlessly.

"What do you want?" She crossed her arms and dug her nails into her own flesh, reminding herself to maintain control.

"You," he said as he leaned back and his legs slid forward. He crossed them lazily and his arms across his chest.

If he knew who she was or if he knew what she did. How could he just sit there so... so-

"What no sassy retort?" His eyebrow quirked up.

"Who are you?" she asked a little louder than she'd intended, as her anger flared.

He laughed and brought his hat over his face in mock embarrassment. "I guess my reputation precedes me." He stood and held his hand out to her in a sweeping gesture.

"What?" she scowled.

"A dance," he offered.

"I don't trust you."

"Good, that makes two of us." He winked. "Cole," he nodded and toyed with the brim of his hat as he stood before her. "Cole Brackton,"

Alexis' eyes flashed wide and her heart danced wildly.

"Ah!" he laughed. "So you have heard of me. So a dance?"

She knew he wouldn't use his powers on the dance floor, but he could drain hers. She figured his plan was to kill her, but her senses weren't clear. She stood and her stomach churned uneasily. She took his hand and let out a little cry when he pulled her harshly to his chest. Flush filled her cheeks as a throbbing sensation began between her thighs.

"Why now, that wasn't so hard was it?"

Her breath was as a near pant as she tried to keep pace with him. His movements were graceful. She refused to look up at him, as racing thoughts of worry plagued her mind. And her body began to betray her with a feeling of arousal she'd never experienced. Her nipples tightened and she was thankful for the darkened material of her dress.

"Stop doing that," he said sharply.

"What?" She gave him an equally harsh look, confused about what he was saying.

"Biting your lip like that. It's," he squirmed a little.

She grinned at his obvious discomfort.

"It's what?" she cooed into his ear and stroked his sideburn with her nail, slicing down through the coarse hair delicately. She relished watching his body shiver and his neck muscles flex. She knew those movements all too well—attempting to maintain control.

"Just, stop. I wanted to offer you a deal." He gripped her biceps, holding her at bay.

She pointed her gaze downward to his ratted jeans. She wanted to see just what sort of effect she was having on him. The corners of her mouth quirked up and her eyes danced in excitement at his bulge.

His feet shifted and he shook her. "Alexis, focus!" he growled.

"Hmm, _someone's_ a bit cranky." She glinted her eyes at him as she licked her full lips. And remembering his weakness, she tugged at her bottom lip with dramatic flare.

A noise in his throat emerged, one she'd heard once before—an animalistic charge of lustful wanting. He wrenched her to himself, but her hands found purchase between them.

She dug her blood red nails into him. The very tips of her index nails were sharpened and small razors had been inserted. She tasted his blood in the air, the bitter copper and her tongue instinctively flicked out. The scent only fueled her excitement.

"Argh," he grunted and his head fell back slightly.

_Death dealers are self-healing_ , she told herself. _He'll be fine_.

His face changed and he reached for his hip.

Fearing a magical weapon, she moved swiftly. "Don't even think about it. And in front of all this people?" she shook her head, making a tsk tsk noise. "Male's," she scoffed, turning to leave him in his frozen state of embarrassment. "Never were very good at their job."

She could feel his eyes boring into her back for her rejection and insult. Her heels echoed loudly in her ears as her pulse quickened. For a few beats she found herself holding her breath. She exited the building and the sweltering summer heat washed over her. _Where was he?_

The heat heightened her senses. He was near and he was angry. She walked cautiously toward her car, but as she scanned it she saw a heat signature. It wasn't the normal red in the center and rainbow pattern flowing outward. It was blue with violet around it. This assailants' scent was strong and alluring. She tried to take calming breaths as her arousal began to take flight.

"Come out, fight me like a man!" she taunted him.

There was no movement from behind the car. Slowly she made her way around her beat up Saab. A man jumped from the shadows at an alarming rate and toppled Alexis over. He held her down with one hand on her wrists.

"Get off of me!" she screeched.

"You know what I want."

"No, I don't. Now get the fuck off of me, before I-" his backhand slammed across her face with a force she'd never felt. Her eyes jostled in her head.

The man, who now she could tell wasn't a man at all, but a demon of some sort was tugging fiercely at her finger. He was trying to pull her ring free.

"We'll have to cut it off," he looked up to someone else.

"No good. She needs to give it to us." Another voice rang in, one she recognized. Alexis looked at the man.

"Cole?" she said softly. "Why?"

But before she could say another word a cloth was put over her face. An acrid smell and taste poured into her nose and mouth, as she gasped for air. _Air, sweet air. Just a...taste_. Alexis' world of blackness and stars spun, before she lost consciousness.

***

Whenever she slept, she was taunted by horrific dreams. In her unconscious state a victim came into view. One she'd seen repeatedly in her dreams. Although she'd sucked the life from that piece of shit, he took parts of her soul each time she re-lived it. He'd bought children. One's abandoned or sold by parents for their next hit.

There was too much evil. She knew she'd never catch up to them all. But this one—he was a particular breed of ugliness. The kind of despicable that would make you want to: gouge your eyes out, stab yourself in the ears, and just plain rip out your own heart—believing that there could be no love if there could be such evil.

He raped babies. Torturing, burning, cutting, and sodomizing them with all sorts of sick instruments. Her mind replayed some of the scenes and their helpless cries. His twisted evil grin on his face repulsed her, as he recorded it all for "data". Book after book filled with "data", were strewn about his trailer.

She had a morbid fascination with this lunatic and she couldn't figure why. Perhaps it was because it took her two weeks to recover from him. Or maybe it was his sickening eyes when he stared at her, ready for her. They were black holes of hell staring back at her. Vertigo struck, as she held him down to his bed. His place held a pungent stench of mothballs and bleach. It burned her nose and eyes with every breath, but she dared not release him from her sights.

He was scrawny; his black shoulder length hair fell in greasy strands and his lips were crusted white from his multiple bites and licks from his tic. His overalls were dirtied at the knees and bib. She'd spent time looking in the backyard and around his trailer to see if he buried something. Her gut told her he was hiding something—that he was waiting for her. Perhaps he knew she was coming for him that day.

She'd left an anonymous tip with the police, pretending to be a victim that got away. In the newspaper she read about jars of parts in formaldehyde: nipples, lips, penises and parts of the vagina. And they found the remains in the freezer. It appeared he re-used them—frozen.

***

She awoke a little while later with her hands tied above her head. Shuddering, as the memory raked over her with an uneasy wave of nausea. She blinked several times. Not only due to the drowsiness that clung to her, but her surroundings seemed unreal. The floor was made of red dirt and there was a single torch lit on the wall across from her. There was a doorway carved out next to the torch.

She tried to move and her body ached from hanging by her wrists; attached to a wall of red clay. She used her feet to brace her weight, groaning as her stiff muscles awakened. _How long was I out?_ She contorted her head to see that iron shackles held her hands. She tried to swallow, but the dryness in her mouth was painful. Her tongue tingled when she moved it. Rubbing it around her mouth trying to get her body working again, but even that was a failed attempt. The soft tissue of the roof of her mouth stuck to her tongue.

"Gross," she said hoarsely. It was as if a cat crawled into her mouth for a nap. She huffed at her predicament.

She balled her fists and tugged. She tried to wrench her hands through the silver rings, twisting them into inhuman forms. Irritated, she let out a stifled scream. Using her feet as leverage, she climbed up the wall until her heels were level with her butt. It seemed to be futile; her shoes couldn't grip to the crumbling wall. Pushing and pulling with all her might, she grunted and growled. It was no use and now her wrists were battered and bruised, throbbing painfully. Her body was self mending, but she stewed in irritation and gritted her teeth.

Suddenly, a noise outside the door alerted her to someone coming. She froze.

"You thought I wouldn't know Cole?"

Cole's body was tossed on the ground and bounced hard on the brick colored dirt.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He sneered, trying to turn his head back to his assailant.

"You two are trying to pull a fast one. That's what I'm talking about. Roark told me you were dancing with her, kissing her."

"That's a lie!" Alexis' screamed and spat out. "I didn't kiss that fool. I was dancing with him to merely figure out his game, who he was. What the hell do you want from me? You know you cannot have my gem. If you take it off me, it's worthless and you know it." She spoke viciously.

Cole looked up at her with pleading eyes. She was unsure why.

Smack!

Alexis saw those preverbal stars people always talk about. This man whacked her hard across the face and her body was still registering it. Tears threatened, but she fought them off. She refused to show anything to these brutal men.

"What I want is your ring. I'm a merchant and I want to sell it," he said with an excruciating grip on her chin. "Boss wants you for something else."

She winced under his hold, but refused to let him get under her skin. She opened her mouth, as if to say something. Perhaps she could use her power on him.

"Uh, uh, uh, beautiful, I have protection from your soul sucking power," he said and pulled out a medallion. It was a round onyx stone, imbedded into an intricately carved piece of silver, with snakes, both eating each others tails.

She wanted to use her siren powers, something she figured they weren't aware of, but there were too many of them. Two goons hung at the door, the demon from earlier and another that had actual horns protruding from his head. The demons' skin was tinged orange like a cantaloupe. She shuddered at his physical appearance.

Plus there was Cole. She still wasn't sure about him. _Was he a friend or foe? Why do I care?_ She let out a large breath of air, irritated at her concern for him. His blue denim shirt was now colored with the red dirt and open. It exposed his chest which was riddled with many scars, including the ones she'd inflicted earlier with her nails. _Hmm, so he's not a death dealer? What is he?_

The man with the horns waltzed across the room with eerie stealth and took Cole off the floor with an astonishing amount of strength. He had a pair of silver cuffs with long stakes in one hand.

"Be still or I'll knock your hand into a pancake," his words came out like a rumbling mass of steel.

Alexis held her breath. Watching, as he used his hand like a hammer. This man was pushing the spike into the wall with brute force and determination. She couldn't tear her eyes from the maddening scene. The ease of the manner in which he did it made Alexis think she was dreaming. She shook her head, readjusting her eyes.

"Now you two play nice, while the boss decides what he wants to do with you sweetheart," the demon looking man said, as he gripped her chin. She tried to pull away from him.

Alexis' powers strengthened with each soul she took. One ability she had was being able to tell about the soul of the being. _Why can't I figure Cole out?_ After they left she concentrated on him. _Was he using his power on me? What is this feeling?_ Her heart raced and she was sweating in this cool room. _What's wrong with me?_ Taking some deep breaths she looked up toward the ceiling.

"You alright?"

"Yeah fine," she scowled.

"Look at me?"

She twisted her head with a fierce glare.

"Haha, you're in heat," he laughed.

"What? What are you talking about?"

He looked at the door, and seemed to listen.

"They are upstairs or whatever, they aren't there." She shook her head with an annoyed look like it was obvious.

"Well, soooorrrry. I don't have the same powers as you princess."

She inhaled sharply through her nostrils. "Just shut up." She turned her head so she didn't have to look at him.

"So no one told you that when you meet your mate that: your eyes will dilate, your heart will race, and it will be hard to breathe? You're in heat."

"Shut up, just shut up," she cursed him and looked back at him again.

"Your ring."

She looked up at her hand and it was glowing.

"It's just because I am angry with you. You're pissing me off. Now can you get me out of here or not?"

A grin spread across his face. "I could have gotten us out of here awhile ago; I like to see you tied up."

"Fuck you!" she spat. She attempted to loosen the shackles again. Inching her feet against the wall again.

"Stop, just stop. You'll hurt yourself."

"I have healing powers. It doesn't matter."

"So, did you think I did too? Or where you trying to hurt me? Maim me?"

"Hey, I saw your necklace and...well whatever. I was protecting myself." Alexis huffed.

"Right and what do you think I was trying to do?"

"Sure right. You were with these buffoons." She shook her head.

"Yeah, so I could find you. Are you that dense?"

"Are you?"

He growled a throaty, deep, feral sound.

That sound sent something through Alexis that made a little girl inside her want to cry. She hadn't felt a man's touch in a very long time, but something about him since the very first instant he walked in the bar had captured her.

They were silent for awhile.

"Why did you want to find me?" Alexis asked after a long silence.

"Because a seer told me I must."

Alexis looked over at him and he shrugged not even looking her way.

"What else did she tell you?"

He didn't respond.

"Tell me how you got your pendant?"

He looked at her pleadingly. "I don't want to."

There was sorrow in his eyes and she wanted to know even more, but suddenly there were boots trotting down the hallway. The horned-devil, the one that had hammered in the stakes, came in. "He wants to see you," he said gruffly, moving toward Alexis.

"No," Cole interjected.

Alexis stiffened. She could smell fear emanating off of Cole. _Who was this boss that he was consorting with?_

The deviled man pulled the stakes out as if it was nothing and Alexis gasped.

She was strong, stronger than most men. She knew she was no match for this monster—whatever he was. She wanted to use her siren power on him, but she was somewhat curious about who this boss was. She looked over her shoulder at Cole who was yanking fiercely at the shackles. She gave him a questioning look. She was well aware they wanted her ring, but she had to willingly give it to them.

"Alexis!" Cole cried desperately. "Please."

She squinted at him, as this monster ushered her along. _Please what?_

A pungent stench throttled her, as she walked up the eerie steps carved from red clay. It was a strong odor of sulfur and decay. The floor beneath her crumbled under her heels and the familiar scent of the man she was about meet became ferocious. Her heart pounded in fear. She jolted away, but it was useless as she was propelled into the large expanse of the room. It was also red clay, but lit with candles giving it a hellish glow. She stood, a little turned around and alone—she sensed her adversary. _Where was he?_

His hand took her throat from behind. "First time meeting a Master I see." His arrogance angered Alexis.

The power and dominance he exuded was overwhelming. Her knees buckled, as she stood near him. She took a strong breath and clung to his overcoat for strength, as she leaned back into him.

"I cannot give you my ring. I am not done with it yet, sir," she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

She turned to face him. His eyes glowed a deep amber color. There was a shimmer of recognition there, she captured it, but refused to look away.

"I see. And tell me who is this victim you intend to kill? You seem to have gained quite a lot of strength, but on my count you still need a few more before you can capture his soul." He smiled showing his pointed teeth.

"Perhaps," she replied.

"Would you take all of my men's souls?" his brow arched. "Now Cole," he signaled to one of his men and a struggling Cole appeared. "Cole would really give you enough strength. But I don't think you have it in you, little Lexi." He fondled her hair.

She bashed his hand away and in doing so lost her hold on his coat, falling to the floor. "Shut up! Don't call me that Gregor!" she scowled.

"Leave her alone!" Cole cried and attempted to rush to her aide.

"All because I took your mommy for a breeder." Gregor sighed as if this was boring him.

"You slaughtered her you sick monster!" Alexis cried from her knees, as the memory of finding her mother sliced from chest plate to pubic bone still resonated in her mind.

"I wanted my child." He smirked and let out a long laugh. "Like that was even worth it. A waste." He gestured toward Cole.

"I'm not your son."

"He's not!" Alexis attempted to stand. Her mind whirled. _How could he be? He has no healing power. He...he...he's my mate. Oh no-no-no. This is all a mind-fuck._ She shook her head and her hands came to each side to steady herself.

Gregor let out a long treacherous laugh, as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. Gregor slid up to her and took her face into his grasp. Intense pain seared through her. "I'll ugly you up," he whispered. "No one will ever want you, doll."

"Let me go!" she screamed, as it felt as if half her face were on fire.

"Alexis!" Cole cried out and tore away from the monsters grip.

Blood curdling screams filled the air, as Alexis stared back at Gregor, and her attacker was enjoying every moment of inflicting pain on her.

***

Cole rushed over and placed his necklace over Alexis' head.

"Fuck!" Cole patted his singed hands on his pants.

Alexis stood slowly with a clenched jaw and tilted her fiery filled face toward Gregor's. Her lips were mere millimeters from his. It was as if a secret what was being said between them, as their lips moved.

The obscene moment was like a car wreck. No one could move or look away. Flames burned like blue embers from the skin, as they reached for air they changed to yellow and orange, deepening in hue.

"This is for my mother you evil sadistic bastard. I hate you, father." Her eyes burned hard, as she looked at Gregor and sucked the soul from him.

Alexis began to convulse and the flames died away. Her self-healing power began to work as her skin reformed. However, it left a scar in the shape of a flame upon her cheek. Perhaps a reminder of the devil she was born from and killed.

Gregor's body thudded as he fell to his knees. His eyes were hollowed out like many of her other victims and he had a sneer stuck to his façade. He seemed to relish the end–that she, his own daughter, was his maker so to speak.

Breathless, Alexis dropped to the ground and looked over at Cole. Her feelings for him were still intense and it scared her. She noticed his eyes were as green as his pendant had been. They were dilated and his body lay almost lifeless beside her except for his heaving chest and eyes like a frightened child. Trembling, she removed the sterling chain and attempted to replace it over Cole's neck. Neither had any strength or ability to protect themselves physically.

A flash of fire erupted to Alexis' left and Cole protectively scooped her up in his arms and rolled her over, placing her beneath him. "You alright?"

"Yes," she smiled. "You forget I am the one with the self-healing."

"So, are we? Brother and sister I mean?"

Being a death dealer, that was the softer term for succubus, Alexis was able to see her victims past, their life. "No," she shook her head lightly. "He has one other child named Amos. Reading him was hard and he was able to fight me. And thank you for your necklace. Now that you've taken it off, I," Alexis looked away unable to say it.

"I sacrificed my power to save your life. I would do it again in a heartbeat." He stroked her scarred cheek. "Alexis, I'm sorry you had to face that. I knew who he was. I tried to stop it."

Alexis smiled weakly and took a worried look around the red room. No one had ever taken care of her or cared for her. "We can't stay here."

"Alexis, talk to me." he urged.

"Cole, damit. I did what needed to be done. It wasn't your battle to fight. I was searching for him for a long time and he knew it." She pushed him off of her.

She saw the other men teetering away and holding their hands in defense, probably still trying to make heads or tails of what happened.

Cole grabbed her shoulders and then gripped her head. He paused a moment with her head poised before his. They stared at each other like lions in a mating ritual before he pounced on her with a kiss filled with searing passion.

"Mmm," she tried to pull away and her eyes fluttered open. She could see the determination in his. She released her tension and joined in. The sensation of a hot flush and pins and needles rolled up and down her body, with hair tingling warmth throughout her scalp. As their tongues danced she fought the urges within her to tear off his clothing. Although she was alerted to her nails slicing into his flesh unconsciously.

"Mmm," he groaned and released her from the kiss.

Her exhaustion hit her hard and she sagged in his arms. She pulled in a ragged breath and tucked her head into his arm.

"Come on beautiful. Let's get you home."

"But you don't know where I live."

"Yes I do. I know more than you think, besides we need to make this mate thing official," he taunted.

She glared at him and dug her sharpened nail into his bicep. Moist heat surged between her thighs at the mere thought and an embarrassed flush tinged her cheeks.

"First thing you'll need to change...these nails." He kissed her on the lips and slid his arms under her legs, carrying her limp body out of the clay cavern without resistance from anyone.

**About Suzy Ayers**

Suzy Ayers is a Bestselling Author of both "Sara's Awakening" and "Miranda's Amulet" in Fantasy (Metaphysical/Visionary). Her newest addition to the bestseller list in single author and women's fiction with _Erotic Fantasies_.

She has multiple Erotica titles that have also been in the Amazon Bestseller lists within the free categories.

Her main focus is Romance, which crosses many genres including: Erotica, Fantasy and Paranormal. Her short stories and books twist into happily-for-now or happily-ever-after's

Suzy attempts to write in a manner that pulls you into the erotic event and paints an explicit scene of lust and passion. Her purpose of expressing it in this manner is that she believes that sex and love are intertwined and are healthy expressions of the human heart. Her writing depicts true to life characters with flaws and showcases that the world is sometimes sad; people are not one dimensional shells. We somehow become stronger and this to her is beautiful.

Suzy Ayers grew up on Cape Cod, MA and many of her books are based in the New England area. Beyond her passion of writing she loves to read and devours books at a rapid pace. She's also passionate about music; you'll find her singing everywhere. And when she remembers, she practices yoga. She loves to laugh and be surrounded by people who make her laugh. Her other creative outlet is cooking. Basically, she is all over the place. You can find all of this on her Twitter, blog and Facebook accounts.

Also by Suzy Ayers

If you liked In Heat, be sure to check out _Miranda's Amulet: Elements, The Before World Book II_.

Find  Miranda's Amulet on Smashwords and view Suzy Ayers author page.

For more from Suzy Ayers

Twitter @SuzyAyers

Website

Facebook

 Elements Facebook Page

#  HAL

# by C.E. Black

Just one time I wished for a knock at the door, to have the scariest looking costumed kid ask for candy. To have cute babies dolled up as little lady bugs and pumpkins carried to my door, where I'd chat with their moms and dads, before giving the traditional candy farewell. But sadly, I never had.

I lived in a remote town in the Appalachian Mountains, and my cabin sat upon the mountain quite a ways from town. Still, every year I filled my candy bowl and hoped for the best. Though this year was no different.

I sat on the couch watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show for the millionth time while nibbling on my fifth Tootsie Roll. No matter how much I loved the movie, it felt pathetic doing the same thing year after year.

With no husband, boyfriend, or many close friends, I spent most nights alone. That didn't bother me, and I enjoyed it for the most part, but Halloween was such a fun holiday. It was the only time of year I wished for company, or at the very least, meet a bunch of cute kids dressed in silly costumes. The best thing about living in the isolated cabin was the peace and quiet, and the worst thing about it was the peace and quiet.

Sighing, I stood up from the couch and made my way to the small kitchen. Those Tootsie Rolls had gummed up my teeth, and I needed a glass a milk.

Just as I finished swallowing down the last of the cold milk, I heard a light tapping sound coming from the front room. My lips pulled up into a wide smile as I quickly made my way to the couch and scooped up my bright purple candy bowl. So excited, I practically skipped to the door, I didn't even check the peep hole before flinging the door open.

The bright light of the full moon shone between the dense trees and sparkled off the ice crystals beginning to form on the branches from an earlier rain. It looked enchanting and mysterious. The fact that it was a full moon on Halloween made the night feel even more entrancing. Though as captivating as the cold evening looked, my smile fell and my shoulders slumped as I realized no one was there. Of course, there's no one here, I chided myself. The temperature was below freezing. Who would want to come out in this weather?

Pulling back, I began to shut the door when something caught my eye. I stepped forward onto the old wooden porch, and though the moonlight lit up the sky so bright, it seemed almost daytime, whatever was lying at the foot of my porch steps was in shadow. I could only see a small piece of something ghostly white.

I went a little closer, trying to make out the figure, and froze when I realized what I was seeing. A person lay on the ground, perfectly still, and completely naked as the chilling wind blew across his or her skin. I shivered from both the cold and fear. Who would be out here in this weather? And naked? But more importantly, why wasn't I helping them?

I dropped the candy bowl and jogged down the creaky wooden steps, looking around to make sure no one else was out there. Maybe someone hurt them or... something. My brain wasn't functioning right as I tried to think of what I needed to do. The way their body lay so still, I knew they were suffering from hypothermia. They should be shivering. It was below freezing out.

I knelt down beside the body and immediately shook my head. I wouldn't think of it as a body. It? No, not an it. A man, I realized as I my eyes scanned him for injuries. He lay on his stomach, but the way his muscles bulged in all the right places and the breadth of his shoulders let me know it was definitely a man. A very naked and good looking man.

Licking my lips, I touched his shoulder and gently pushed, trying to get a reaction. Nothing. Okay, I thought. I had to get him inside and warm. Then I'd call an ambulance. I nodded, satisfied with my plan, but how in hell was I going to get him in the cabin? He was well over six feet tall, and all that muscle I had just been admiring would weigh a ton.

A deep groan had me focusing back on the frozen man laying in my yard. I began rolling him over, talking the whole time, so that maybe he'd wake enough to help me.

"It's okay," I said softly. "I'm here to help. We need to get you inside and warm. It's way too cold to be out here, especially without clothing. What were you doing out here naked? I'm sure that's one hell of a story," I continued to ramble.

I purposefully kept my eyes trained the other way as, with my support, he slowly began to get to his feet. The trip up the stairs was grueling. My back felt like it was about to break in half, but I lugged along as his feet shuffled up each step little by little. It felt like hours had passed, and though the chill outside was biting, sweat had my sweater sticking to my skin as I panted from the excursion. But finally, we made it.

I kicked the door shut and helped him to the rug in front of the fire place. Once he was lying comfortably, I ran to the bedroom and grabbed as many blankets as I could find.

When I got back, the man was passed out again and completely still. That wasn't right, I thought, and began unfolding the blankets and throwing them over him with haste. As I tucked the last blanket around him, I mumbled, "I've got to call an ambulance."

"No," a deep voice croaked. My hands froze as I glanced up into the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. A dark ring surrounded irises the color of the Carribean Ocean, but the amazing starburst of gold that radiated from the pupils made them hypnotic. I sat, mesmerized, unable to look away, until he whispered, "No, ambulance."

I cleared my throat and began tucking the blankets in again, trying to keep my gaze off of his. "I have to. I'm pretty sure you're-."

A cold hand suddenly grasped my wrist in a weak hold. "No... Please." His gorgeous eyes pleaded with me, and I finally nodded. Surprised at the sadness that filled me as his eyes closed and his hand fell away, I shook my head at my own silliness.

Tucking in the blankets once more around his arms, I stood, stretching out my sore muscles. He might not have wanted me to call an ambulance, but I had to do something.

The television blared as Susan Sarandon's high pitched voice sang out, "Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch-a, Touch Me," and I scowled in annoyance. Turning it off quickly, I grabbed my cell phone, tapping the internet button to search hypothermia.

After reading the symptoms and treatments, I was even more worried. His breathing was shallow and he wasn't shivering. I was right, that was bad. I didn't have any heating pads and as I pressed on his shoulder, I couldn't get him to wake up again to give him something warm to drink.

As minutes passed, it seemed he wasn't getting any better, so I did the only thing I knew. I stripped down to my panties and bra and climbed into the blankets behind him, hoping to share my own body heat.

As soon as my front touched his back, I gasped and pulled away from him. It was like I had snuggled up to an ice cube. A big, six foot or more ice cube. Taking a deep breath, I pressed against him again and held still. Though I wanted to bolt, I wrapped my arm around his waist and placed my hand on his chest.

His breathing was still slow and shallow, but I could feel his heartbeat against my palm and it was strong. That was a good sign, I thought, as I closed my eyes, willing my warmth to seep into him.

As time went by, I began to feel the heat of the fire on my arm and knew it was doing something, but my arm was the only thing warm about me. Shivers began to wrack my body the longer I pressed against his still icy back, but when I tried pulling away, he moaned and grabbed my arm, holding it against him.

At least he was moving, I thought, before a particularly painful shiver rattled my teeth. The man in my arms moaned again before beginning to shift. He turned over, pulled me against his warm chest, and I sighed. Thank goodness! I was beginning to feel like a popsicle. His front was more than warm, it was almost hot, but I cared little as I pressed closer, now absorbing his warmth.

"You're freezing," his husky voice whispered across my cheek, and I jumped slightly, not realizing how close his face was to mine. How crazy was it that I felt more than comfortable snuggled up to this stranger? He was warm, hard, completely male and smelled enticingly good.

His solid arms tightened around me a millisecond before he rolled, bringing me closer to the fire. "No," I began to protest. He was the one that needed the fire. I was more than happy to let him continue to keep me warm.

"Shh," he said. "I'm fine, but you need to warm up." He began fixing the blankets that had twisted as we rolled, and I saw the exact moment he noticed I was nearly naked underneath.

My cheeks warmed as he looked up at me. His eyes were dark with obvious appreciation, but his brows were furrowed with confusion. "Why are you half dressed? No wonder you're freezing."

"I was trying to get you warm, and you wouldn't let me call an ambulance," I defended lamely.

"So you got naked to warm me up?" His voice was incredulous as his eyebrow rose wickedly.

"I didn't know what to do, okay? And when I looked up hypothermia online, it said to use my body heat." I licked my lips and pulled the blankets closer around me, not feeling as comfortable as I had minutes before.

Maybe I should get up and put some clothes on. Obviously he was uncomfortable with my nakedness. I had only wanted to help him. I wasn't thinking properly, and I could tell by his expression that he thought I was half short of a full deck. I was far from stupid, but I did do things without thinking sometimes. This was one of them.

I started to pull away, but his arms tightened, banding around me like steel, until I couldn't move a muscle. My gasp caught in my throat as I looked up into a pair of dark, piercing eyes. They stared so deeply into mine, I thought for sure he knew what I was thinking and feeling. Like he could see my past, my future. It felt as if, in a small amount of time, he would be able to know everything about me, right down into my soul.

"Have I told you thank you for saving me?" He asked as his face dipped closer to mine.

His lips were full, though a little chapped. I didn't care. I wanted them on mine more than anything. Had I ever felt like this before? My whole body tingled and not from the cool air, or the crackling fire behind me.

"N-no. No you haven't yet." My heartbeat sped up as he pressed impossibly closer. I could feel his arousal against my stomach and my lips parted as my eyes fluttered. Just that small move had my eyes close to rolling back in ecstasy, so how the hell would more of his touch really feel? Amazing, I answered myself as his thumbs began rubbing circles seductively across my back.

"You're very brave to do what you did, helping a stranger like that." His face was so close to mine, I breathed in his warm breath and almost moaned at the delicious taste.

I shrugged my shoulder. "I did what anyone would have."

"No, I think you're special."

I snorted and shook my head. Yeah, right! Special? I was nobody.

"Yes, you are special," he insisted, his palm pressing my lower body impossibly closer to his. A little whimper escaped my mouth as his cock pressed more firmly against my belly. I could feel the hot head rubbing precum against my sensitive skin and my stomach clenched. When my nipples hardened against his chest, I wiggled uncomfortably, hoping he didn't notice, but it was futile. The lust rolled off of him in waves, to the point it was almost suffocating.

I had never been so close to someone as I was him. His arms wrapped around me, keeping me pinned against him. My hands gripped his shoulders, as if holding on for dear life, and his head was tilted down, the tip of our noses touching as he spoke to me. I sucked in much needed air, not realizing I was holding my breath and got a lung full of this beautiful stranger. The taste of his breath, his scent, was like an aphrodisiac. I knew if I tasted his skin, I'd be a goner.

"You're amazing," he said. "Thank you." The words were whispered against my lips. I could feel them moving against mine, and I licked my lips, hoping to get a small taste. Instead, my tongue flicked against his mouth, and I watched, wide eyed as his eyes grew impossibly darker.

"Let me thank you properly," his deep voice ground out. "Let me make you feel good." His cheek brushed against mine as he leaned in to rub his nose against my jaw.

"I can make you feel so good," he whispered just before his tongue slowly licked up my neck to my ear, causing my whole body to shudder.

He pulled back to look at me. "Are you still cold?" He asked.

"No." Definitely not cold, I thought.

"Good," was all he said before his lips descended upon mine.

Taking control, he pillaged my mouth, as he licked and sucked my upper then lower lip, before forcing my mouth open to plunge his tongue inside. Though I really wasn't fighting him at all. I wanted him to do all those things, but it caught me by surprise. No one had ever kissed me like this. It wasn't hesitant like a first kiss usually was. No, he ate at me like a starving man, and I gave him more and more, enjoying every bite as I did the same.

My fingers clenched and dug into his shoulders as small whimpers came from my throat. His lips, teeth and tongue continued their passionate assault and my insides clenched right along with my fingers. How was this possible? How could I ache so much, to the point of pain, needing to be filled, just from a kiss?

Without permission, my hips began rolling, seeking, needing. Answering that need, the amazing man in my arms lifted my leg and pressed his pelvis against mine, sliding his cock against my soaked panties. God, I almost came right then and there, it felt so good.

But I was wrong, I didn't' almost cum, I did cum. He ground his hips against me one good time, the head of his cock hitting my clit, and I went sailing. My mouth broke from his as my head flew back, my neck arched, and my eyes squeezed shut as I cried out. My body convulsed, hips thrusting against his, wringing every single piece of pleasure I could out of the moment, until it slowed to a low throb, though my body continued to shake as I caught my breath.

"Wow," I whispered. An orgasm just from a kiss. What would his touch feel like? What would his cock feel like? Would he allow me to find out? I took a deep, much need breath and thought, he better.

His lips were at my neck again, kissing and sucking the sweaty skin. He moaned and continued to grind his hips against mine, sending shock waves through my body.

"Do you want more?" he asked, though I wasn't sure he'd take no for an answer. The way his voice sounded... The control I could tell he was trying to hold on to was slipping with a need so deep it astounded me.

"Yes," I all but shouted. "More."

His moist lips descended down my chin, and I lifted my head as he caressed my neck, stopping to nibble on my collarbone. The sounds coming out of my mouth, from deep in my throat sounded like nothing I'd heard before. This man, this beautiful stranger was everything I'd never known. And I did want more. More of him.

He rolled me until I lay flat on my back, looking up at him with lazy, half closed eyes. His own gaze was drowning me with lust, causing every other thought to fly out the window. I didn't care that he threw the blankets off of us, and I was surprised to not give damn that I was wearing plain cotton underwear. He looked down at me as if I were in the most expensive lingerie.

He didn't look long though. My panties were stripped off of me, and he pulled my bra straps down, trapping my arms as he set my breasts free, the underwire holding them up perfectly for his enjoyment.

Caging me in with his arms on either side of my head, he settled between my legs, letting the briefest touch of his cock caress against my wet folds. A deep, grunting, almost growl came from his throat and rumbled in his chest. I pressed my palm there, the vibration making a direct line to my pussy. I quivered with excitement. "More," I whispered.

He growled again and dipped his head to take one aching nipple into his mouth. "Yes!" I pushed my breast toward him as he sucked and bit down on the hardened nub. His mouth devoured my breast, sucking in as much as he could before slowly letting it pull out. Then he turned to the other and I arched back with a cry on my lips. Damn, it felt so good.

I wrapped my arms around him to grip his ass and pull him closer until I brushed the hardened rod between his legs. I was so lost in his mouth, in the way he rubbed against me that I hadn't realized he moved until I felt fingers inside me. I rode them unashamed, seeking to be filled more. His thumb rubbed my clit and my heart sped in anticipation of the climax coming closer.

Then he pulled away, and I gasped at the loss. I watched as he looked me over, starting with my face, then down my heaving chest, across my fluttering belly until he reached my jerking hips. His eyes made their way back up, latching onto my own hungry gaze.

"There is so much more I want to do to you, and I will, but I'm taking you now." His voice broke no argument. He'd take me, and yet I felt completely at ease with him. I wanted him to take me, take me hard, soft, fast or slow. Anyway I could get.

"Yes," was all I could say.

Though he made it sound like he would thrust into me right then, he didn't. His big hands reached for my breasts, teasing them with soft caresses. My fingernails dug into the rug underneath me as my head shook back and forth. The pleasure was surprisingly intense.

When his hands left my breast to trail down, I sighed in relief. I needed him. I needed him now.

He gripped my hips, lifting them so his cock could rub against my swollen nub. I was wet, aching and wasn't sure how much more I could take. "Please,"

His eyes held mine as I writhed beneath him. "Please what?" he asked.

"Please, I need..." I was too breathless to finish.

"You need my fingers?" He asked as his thumb rubbed my clit. I whimpered, but shook my head no. "You need my tongue?" He lifted my hips again until I was practically upside down, and I gasped, though my surprise dimmed when he speared me with his tongue, fucking me until I was on the brink of exploding.

Once again he pulled back, lowering my hips. His cock continued to rub me, keeping me right on the edge. It was madness. Enjoyable, blissful and tormenting madness.

"Or do you need my cock?" He asked just before plunging into me. My back arched so far, I thought it would break as I screamed, "Yes!"

He thrust fast and hard, stretching me to my limit. The burn felt exquisite and with my hips at that angle he hit a spot I hadn't known existed. I had been too close to the edge for too long and fell off the cliff in one quick plunge. A guttural scream tore from my throat as I met each of his pounding thrusts.

I reached up sightlessly, finding his shoulders and pulled him down. My nipples felt raw as they rubbed against his chest, making the pleasure even more intense. His hips never stopped as our lips smashed together. It was my turn to devour him as he groaned his own release into my mouth.

Thinking that was the end of our lovemaking, I relaxed and leaned back to look at him, but I was wrong. He pulled out and before I could utter a protest, he went down on me. I gripped his hair, pulling at his long brown locks as he licked my swollen lips, biting, until I began to twist and turn. I was wet, dripping, aching. It felt so dirty, so naughty and so good, he had me climaxing again in seconds.

How was this possible? I had no time to wonder as he pulled me up, effortlessly holding my weight as he turned me around.

My palms connected with the couch cushion, my hips in the air. His warm hand pressed against my upper back, urging me to lay down. "Relax." His warm breath blew over my ear, causing me to shudder. "Just feel, baby."

I obeyed without question. How could I not after the way he made me feel? I laid my head down and relaxed my body, starting with my shoulders, until every muscle loosened all the way down to my toes.

"That's a good girl," he said as he gripped my hips and plunged into me.

Relaxing went out the window. How could I relax when he pumped into me so hard? One finger found my throbbing clit while another brushed over my ass, circling, as my hips lifted for more?

I gripped the cushion, my breaths panting against the fabric. I was going to come again, and I wasn't sure I could handle it. My body shook, the pleasure too much, too soon, and I began to panic.

"Shh," he hushed, never ending his pounding cock. "Just feel me."

I closed my eyes and tried to relax all over again. As impossible as it seemed, I did it, focusing on the slide of his cock inside me. In and out. In and out. Then his circling finger breached my forbidden hole, and I dived once again. God, I felt like the bottom just dropped out from beneath me, the climax coming so hard and fast that I never saw it coming.

"That's it, baby," he growled. "Feel it."

I felt it alright. I felt it in every nerve, every hair follicle, all the way to my bones, and I never wanted it to end.

***

I lay in his arms, resting my head on his solid chest, sated, sweaty and exhausted. How many times had I climaxed? How many times had he for that matter? I didn't know. All I knew was that over and over again, he took me to heights I'd never seen before, and I wanted more, more, more, more...

I felt him tremble beneath me, and I look up to see so much tenderness in his eyes, I felt my own eyes stinging with unshed tears. I knew this was only one night. I wasn't sure how I knew, but I could feel it.

"I have to go soon," he said, confirming my fears.

"Why?" I had to ask or I would wonder for the rest of my life.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me," I pleaded.

His sigh was long, deep and filled with resignation. What could be so bad? And why was he shaking so hard?

"Once the sun comes up, I won't be me any longer."

I glanced to the window in the dining room. It was still dark, but it wouldn't be for long. "What will you be?" I asked.

"A wolf."

"A wolf?" He nodded, and I stared at him, searching his face. Not a single sign that he was lying betrayed him. Could he be for real? A Wolf? "Like a werewolf?" I asked.

He nodded again. "Yes, but not like you think. Wait," he stopped and stared down at me. "You believe me?" His deep voice was incredulous, yet hopeful.

I swallowed hard, thinking about his question. Did I believe him? I didn't even know him, but... but, "Yes," I said simply. I couldn't explain it, but I did believe him, like no other.

His smile was breathtaking, transforming his rugged features to something more than beautiful, but it was short lived as a shiver wracked his body.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling him closer. "Are you cold again? I knew we should have gotten you to a doctor."

"No. No, I..." I he licked his lips nervously. "I'll change soon. That's why I have to leave."

"Oh," I looked out the window again, noticing how the dark had lightened a bit. Then it suddenly hit me. "But it was a full moon last night. Shouldn't you have been a wolf then? Not turning into one now."

"I only turn human on the night of the full moon." His voice was low, almost apologetic.

I shook my head at the crazy notion. "So you're only human one night a month? That's..." I couldn't even wrap my head around how crazy and awful that had to be for him. "I.. I don't know what to say."

We were quiet for a moment before I asked, "Can I watch you change?"

He shook his head no, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you see me that way."

I glanced out at the lightening sky. The night was more than I could hope for. I'd only hoped for a tricker-treater or two, and instead, I got this man. This amazing, sexy man that would be gone in minutes.

Though I was sad I had to snicker at the whole thing. "What?" He asked, his brow furrowed at my laughter.

"I just realized it's Halloween, or it was, and you're a werewolf. Well, a reverse werewolf," I laughed again, and he smiled at me. "What a night," I exclaimed.

"Yeah," he whispered, his eyes darkening. "What a night."

"Why were you here?" I asked him.

"I have a safe place to go. I'm not sure how far it is from here. I lost track of time and didn't make it." For some reason I didn't believe him. He wasn't lying completely, but the way his eyes flickered, I knew there was more to the story, but I wouldn't push. Not tonight.

"I shifted back to human before I made it to my safe house. I was so cold, and when I saw your cabin, all lit up and welcoming, I took a chance. I'm glad I did," he whispered, nuzzling my neck.

"Me too."

His body shook again and he groaned, closing his eyes as if in pain. "What can I do?" I pleaded, rubbing his back and arms, savoring the feel of his skin beneath mine as I tried to soothe.

"Nothing. I need to go, though."

"Will I see you again?"

"I don't know." He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it and shook his head.

"What?" I pushed.

"I want to see you again, but this life is too hard to bring someone else in. Only seeing you once or twice a month, maybe, that's not the life you deserve, and I'm not sure I can handle that either."

"Don't you think I should be the one to decide if I deserve it or not?" My voice was brisk, angry. How dare he make a decision like that. If he didn't want to see me again, fine, but he didn't have to make it seem like it was for my benefit.

"Please," he shushed me. "Let's end it just like this. With the memory of me loving you fresh in both of our minds. Please, for me?"

His lips claimed mine for the hundredth, maybe thousandth time that night, but it was so much sweeter than any other kiss we'd shared thus far. I felt him. I felt the emotions, the connection we shared. Though it was only brief, I knew I would carry that connection with me for eternity. The anger evaporated before the kiss had even begun. I couldn't hold on to it, no matter how hard I tried.

The kiss ended slowly, neither of us wanting to part. But we eventually did, and I nodded my understanding before we both stood. We faced each other, naked, unashamed, staring into each others eyes for a mere heartbeat before I turned around and faced the wall.

As soon as he groaned, I closed my eyes, but I couldn't get away from the pained sounds behind me. There was a wet sucking sound as loud pops echoed throughout the tiny cabin. Tears stained my cheeks as I imagined what I was hearing, only knowing he had to be hurting. Knowing I would never see him again.

It was mere minutes when all went silent. I swallowed hard, trying to hear something, but all I heard was the pounding of my racing heart. Then I felt him. A brush of something warm and soft, and furry? Caressed against my calf. I should have been scared, confused, but I wasn't. I knew it was him. And when his tongue took one long lick of the skin behind my knee, I smiled.

I didn't care what he'd said, I needed to see him. Only hesitating for a second, I turned around, prepared to see a beautiful dark haired wolf staring at me, but instead I saw nothing. He was gone.

A gust of cold wind blew my hair and I turned to see the front door cracked open. He was truly gone, and I never felt more alone in this isolated cabin as I did in that moment.

Walking slowly over, I shut the door and leaned against it, shivering at the cool wood at my back. Never, I thought. I would never forget him. Even if I didn't know his name. I smiled at myself as I thought about it. He came to me on Halloween night, a night that would forever be etched into my memory.

"I'll never forget you, Hal," I said aloud and smiled when I heard the distinct sound of a wolf howling outside. My heart felt a little lighter, and I knew. This wasn't the end. We would see each other again. One day.

**About C.E. Black**

C.E. Black has a full time job keeping up with her husband and two children. Between bouts of writing, they keep her more than busy, so she sneaks in reading whenever she can. She loves romance, of all genres, but so far her works have only included Paranormal Romance.

C.E. Black likes to write stories she wants to read, so her books include steamy scenes, Alpha males, and dangerous circumstances, but also holds the sweet romance that makes you melt. So, If you're looking for a fast paced story, full of action, heat, and plot; one you can't put down until you've turned that last page, then pick up a book by author C.E. Black

Also by C.E. Black

If you liked HAL, be sure to check out _Shifted Perceptions_.

Find _Shifted Perceptions_ online and view C.E. Black's author page.

For more from C.E. Black

Twitter @CEBlackbooks

Website

Facebook

#  True to Her Nature

# by Will LaForge

# Chapter 1

"Jimmy, watch out," a voice screeched.

The warning startled him. "What?"

In slow motion, Jimmy Olstein looked up from his smart phone and what he saw froze him where he stood. His blood pressure skyrocketed and his sphincter muscles clenched. The text he'd been so engrossed with no longer seemed so important. A car hurtled straight toward him and he had seconds to live or die. Apparently, texting while walking could be just as hazardous to a person's health as texting and driving. The folly of not paying attention was about to become painfully clear, because he'd just stepped off the curb, against the light, into oncoming traffic.

How fucking stupid can you be, he screamed in his mind? His unintended game of chicken with the homicidal drivers on the streets of Boston was pedestrian suicide. Terror flooded his veins and rigor mortis seized his entire body. Got to move, got to move he silently screamed. There was just one problem...his suddenly addled brain wasn't sending signals to his legs.

Thirty feet – The text had been the best news he'd received all year. He got the promotion he'd coveted and the Chief wanted him to come in early tomorrow to discuss his new duties. He briefly wondered who would get the promotion now. The cabbie stepped on the gas and the grill of the yellow demon seemed to smile at him.

Twenty feet – His mother would be happy he'd put on clean underwear this morning. He should have told Lois he loved her. The cab's horn blared a warning that reminded him of a charging bull.

Ten feet – He could see the maniacal gleam in the cabbie's eyes. Who would feed his cat? Something warm tricked down his leg. Time to die.

A strong hand grabbed his arm and snatched him back on the curb a split second before the speeding cab could splatter him all over the street. As the cab streaked by and splashed water all over his slacks, the cabbie gave Jimmy a finger as if pissed he missed hitting him.

A gush of air exploded from Jimmy's mouth as he remembered to breathe. He looked wildly at his friend as if he'd just awakened from a bad dream. The reality of what happened...or almost happened slammed into him with the impact of a punch to the gut. His legs trembled and he started to slump to the ground.

That same vice grip held him up and kept him from falling. "Jimmy, are you okay?"

Jimmy swallowed a deep breath and gathered his male ego. "No, yes...yeah, I'm fine. What the fuck, now I look like I pissed all over myself," he screamed. "Damn asshole cab drivers."

Clark, his rescuer, started laughing. "Dude, you were almost killed and you're worried about your pants getting wet. You're lucky I was paying attention and not playing with my phone. What the hell was so important?"

"Huh?"

Clark's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Who were you texting? Or were you sexting somebody? Please don't tell me you were sending Lois a selfie."

A myriad of emotions swept over Jimmy, relief, happiness and...embarrassment. "I got the promotion."

"Out-fucking-standing," Clark said. "You've been pining over Lois and stressing about that promotion for weeks...maybe months. Well, now you'll get the desk right behind Lois and you can stare at the back of her head all day."

Jimmy frowned. "I don't pine."

Clark snorted. "Right. Ok, come on. Let's get out of here before lightning strikes you for lying."

"That's not funny, Clark."

The streetlight changed and Clark led his young friend across the street. Jimmy's eyes darted left and right as he crossed the street, just like his mother had taught him. They reached the other side and continued walking toward the designated employee parking area. Jimmy carpooled with Clark and this was Clark's week to drive.

"Bullshit Jimmy, you do pine. You've been pinning after Lois from the moment you set eyes on her and I don't blame you. She's smart, ambitious and she's not a drama queen. Oh, and for bonus points she's freaking gorgeous. Anyway, today is your lucky day. You got your promotion and I...or Fate, saved your ass from being squished on the windshield of that cab like a bug. We need to celebrate. Let's go to Bukowski's for a drink. I'm buying."

Jimmy rolled his eyes skyward. "I don't know why you like that dump Bukowski's so much. There's never anyone there but losers and lonely, bored soccer Mothers I'd like to Fuck (MILF). MILF's with big tits and bigger asses, which I will never get to fuck." A laser bolt of insight shot up Jimmy's ass and he slapped his forehead. "Duh, I must be suffering from post-traumatic shock. Of course you like going to that hole-in-a-wall bar. Hell, you should go there every night, those MILF's love a good-looking ex-jock like you."

Clark stopped by his car and ran a hand through his thick, curly blond hair. A dark cloud shadowed his countenance and his whole face changed. Gone was the affable smile, now replaced by a grimace and a look of anger. Suddenly Jimmy wished he hadn't teased his friend.

Jimmy's best friend had never recovered emotionally from the injury that had cost him his professional football career. He found out quickly who his real friends were when the cheers of the crowd died. Those so-called friends stopped calling and his fiancée called off the wedding once she realized he wouldn't be signing a million dollar plus contract. Now Clark worked a nine-to-five job like everyone else and he no longer felt special. A string of one night stands satisfied his carnal needs, but he clearly needed something more. Jimmy could tell his soul was in despair.

"Well, do you want to go or not? I'm not begging you to go," Clark said in a brusque tone that Jimmy was unused to hearing from his friend.

"Sure, I want to go. Like you said, today is my lucky day. Maybe one of those MILF's will take pity on a scrawny guy with freckles and take me home, so she can mother me. But first, we need to swing by my apartment so I can change these wet pants." _And my soiled underwear._

A trace of a wicked smile graced Clark's face. "Alrighty, I've got a feeling this is going to be a night to remember."

# Chapter Two

"Oh my f'ing god, would you look at what just walked through the door," Clark said.

Jimmy looked up and almost choked on his beer. The two women who had sauntered into Bukowski's were definitely nobody's MILF's. They were tall, shapely and one of them was dressed like a stripper. She had flowing red hair and her full breasts were evident even through the coat she wore. As she walked toward the bar, her coat parted and Jimmy could see flashes of creamy white flesh. Her friend was a gorgeous blonde with piercing blue eyes. There was something about her that made Jimmy think of a slutty Barbie doll. They scanned the room as if they were predators, sharks searching for a meal.

Clark's blue eyes darkened as he watched the new women. "See, I told you Jimmy, today is your lucky day. I've got a feeling we're both going to get laid tonight. The redhead looks hungry. She's eyeballing me like she wants to swallow me whole. Well, I've got plenty of cock to feed her."

Jimmy shook his head. "Yeah, I know...I've seen you naked in the shower at the gym."

Jimmy was embarrassed to admit he'd checked out his friend's cock. Clark's manhood was at least seven inches flaccid and probably nine inches or more when he was hard. Jimmy hoped the two sex goddesses believed size didn't matter and they'd find his six and one-eighth inches adequate. Ok, yes...he measured his cock when he was hard with a tape measure. Hey, that eighth of an inch was important.

"Damn, all this beer is running right through me. I've got to go to the john," Jimmy said.

Clark took a sip of his double malt scotch before he said, "You know what happens once you break the seal. You'll have to piss ever ten minutes."

Jimmy pushed his chair back from their table in the corner and stood up. Clark had strategically selected a table in the back of the bar, so he could watch the women who came in and study his potential conquests.

"Well, I can't fight biology. I've got to go."

"Ok, I'll be here when you get back. If I'm reading the stars right, I'll probably have company by the time you empty your bladder."

Jimmy groaned. "I wouldn't be surprised. Save the blonde for me. Be right back."

The men's room was dingy as always and Jimmy didn't linger any longer than necessary. He stood in front of the mirror and stared at his reflection. Maybe he didn't have Clark's chiseled looks, but he had a boyish charm a lot of women found appealing despite the freckles. He'd flicked a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. When he'd heard Lois talking about how she liked men with long hair, he'd started letting his grow. Of course, his Mother didn't like the new look, but he didn't care...if Lois liked his hair, that's what mattered.

Jimmy walked out of the men's room into a nightmare. A dark fog wrapped around his brain and just like earlier, he froze, unable to move.

A silky voice dripping with lust whispered in his mind, "Stay right there, I have plans for you."

Before his eyes a lurid scene unfolded. All the women in the bar were huddled around the sexy blonde he'd secretly hoped would make him her sex slave, if only for one night. _I'm sorry Lois, but I've gone six months without being laid and it's doesn't look like you're going to give me some anytime soon_. Barbie fondled each woman and they all had a look of rapture on their faces. The scene was surreal and Jimmy sprouted a throbbing erection as he watched the hot as Hell vixen slip her hand down the pants of a pretty brunette. The brunette whimpered as Barbie fingered her to a climax. When Barbie finished, she sat back on her bar stool. All of the women suddenly turned, grabbed their possessions and walked out of the bar. Now there were only half a dozen male customers left along with Clark and Jimmy.

"Come to me," the silky voice whispered in his head.

Jimmy's legs moved without his help and he found himself walking toward the gorgeous blonde. He fought the pull and managed to steal a look toward the back of the room. Lo and behold, the redhead was straddling Clark's lap and bouncing up and down on his cock. The room was deathly quiet, so he could hear her pussy squish every time she slammed her hips down.

He reached the blonde siren, now bare breasted, and the voice in his head directed him to her left breast. His mouth watered as he started at her pencil eraser sized nipple. Yes, this is my lucky day. He bent to suckle on the tasty looking treat, when a scream pierced his fog.

He turned toward the source and gasped at the sight of the redheaded seductress with fangs protruding from her mouth. Clark had a demonic look on his face and his shirt was covered with blood that dripped from his neck. The redhead looked his way, or rather at her blonde friend...for just an instant.

"Aline," the redhead said with her eyes trained on Barbie.

Just the one name, then she sank her fangs in his friend's throat. Clark clutched her ass as he bucked and kicked. He slammed her up and down on his cock and howled, "I'm coming you bitch." The redhead held on and kept her mouth clamped to his throat. Jimmy cringed with horror at the loud slurping sounds the redhead made.

"Suck my nipple...now," the voice in Jimmy's head commanded.

He turned from the haunting and salacious spectacle as the sound of Clark's groans grew weaker. A cold dread crept over him, a premonition of bad things to come. Barbie chuckled and images of his wet dreams with Lois swam in his mind. Still, or in spite of his growing fear, a torrid craving unlike anything he'd felt before sang in is veins. His carnal hunger reared up and true to his base nature, he quickly wrapped his lips around the turgid nipple as his cock pulsed in his pants. His eyes drifted up and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the fangs glistening in Barbie's mouth. Perhaps today wasn't his lucky day after all.

# Chapter Three

"Hey Brick, when did your sexy ass get back in town?" A boisterous voice bellowed.

I favored Mamma with a weary smile. "I just now got back and I'm dead tired, but I had to stop by to get some of your delicious barbeque ribs. I'm so damn hungry I could eat a couple of racks with double sides."

If you wanted real, authentic Chicago style barbeque ribs, grilled over a charcoal fire, you came to Momma's Rib Shack. Humans, shapeshifters and other non-humans from all over the city came to Momma's. I made a point to stop by and pick up an order whenever I could. In my line of work, I did a lot of traveling and to me coming home meant good eating.

I dropped my camo backpack by the counter and eased onto a stool. I quickly scanned the room. There were tables scattered between the door and the counter. A few of the tables were occupied. I scent tasted the air and all I smelled were humans, except for the faint scent of vampire coming from an empty table in the far corner. Momma served barbeque flavored beef and pork blood to vamps who wanted a different dining experience. To my left and out of my line of sight, was a small alcove where Momma had set up a pool table. I could hear the faint clink of pool balls.

Momma smoothed her hands down her sides and her womanly figure was obvious even under the apron she wore. Her luxurious auburn hair, streaked with grey was pulled back in a bun. Momma's one concession to age was she refused to dye her hair. When she wasn't working, she usually let her hair flow down to her shapely ass. She wasn't wearing any makeup, but her face was free of wrinkles or blemishes. Damn, she was a good looking one hundred and fifty-something year old were-cougar. Momma wasn't shy about telling people her age.

She rested her elbows on the other side of the counter, cupped her chin in her hands and gave me a bird's eye view of her milky white cleavage. A wicked glint twinkled in her large grey eyes.

I chuckled inwardly, Momma's real name was Beverly, but everybody called her Momma for reasons that became obvious when you saw her entourage of hedonistic young men. All the help working at Momma's were cut from the same cloth, young men barely legal and full of 'stamina'. I had no illusions about Momma wanting me, she just liked to flirt. I was forty-something in human years, which made me much too old for her needs.

"Well damn, I'm glad to see you, Brick," she said with a mischievous smile. "You haven't been around in a while and I was beginning to worry if something bad had happened to you. I heard through the grapevine you'd taken another bounty from the Alliance."

An androgynous looking young man with bright blue eyes and slicked back hair poked his head out of the kitchen. "Momma, that pick up order for Jones is ready." He appeared to be on the cusp of twenty, so I guess he was legal.

Momma batted her eyelashes at her youthful lover. "Thank you, Jean-Luc. Brick wants a double rack of beef ribs with double sides. Be a dear and get it ready for him."

"Yes Ma'am, right away."

She turned back to me and said, "Jean-Luc is such a sweet-pie. Now, you gorgeous hunk of a man, tell me about the hunt." She paused and looked to make sure no one was paying us any attention. "Did you bring him in dead or alive?"

I did freelance bounty hunting for the Alliance of Supernatural Beings (ASB). The Alliance did it's best to maintain a fragile peace between the human populace and the growing number of supernatural beings coming out of the closet every day. When a shape shifter, vampire or some other supernatural being started doing stupid shit, like killing civilians, what we called humans, the Alliance was quick to respond.

The Final Death Givers were the Alliance's enforcement arm and they dealt severely with wayward miscreants, but sometimes they found it expedient to offer a reward. Hence enterprising freelancers like me. I didn't think of myself as a bounty hunter, I preferred the term independent contractor.

"The hunt went well, I worked with Leila. She sub-contracted me as her back-up. The perv we were tracking had a thing for slender women with pretty faces, so we used Leila as bait. To answer your question, we brought the rabid werewolf in dead. I dropped him with silver bullets in both his knees. Then I watched as Leila carved him up with those custom Kukri Knives of hers, before she ripped his heart out with her hand. He won't be raping and torturing any more young girls."

Momma's eyes grew wide and she licked her lips. The thought of violence excited her. Jean-Luc and the rest of Momma's virile harem were in for a treat later tonight.

"Hmm. You shot him, "she said. "That means you didn't...?"

"No Momma, I didn't shift. Leila did, but I didn't."

I had once again resisted shifting into my were-tiger form during the hunt and my reluctance to shift had almost cost Leila her life. I hated the beast inside me and I fought the urge to change on a daily basis. My issue with changing was common knowledge in the shapeshifter community. Momma and others thought I was nuts to deny my true nature and reject such a major part of who I am. They didn't understand my reasons and I didn't feel compelled to explain.

"I see," Momma said. "Ok, well...how is Leila doing? I haven't seen that sexy shapeshifter in quite some time."

Momma swung both ways and she wasn't quite as hung up on age when it came to women. She's been trying to get into Leila's pants for years.

"She's fine."

"Oh hell yes she is," Momma enthused.

"Do I have any messages?" I asked, changing the subject. I was so not going to discuss Leila's business. Leila was a she-wolf with a bad attitude. She'd rip my heart out.

"Hold on, let me check. I think one of the guys said something about an envelope for you." She ducked her head under the counter and I could hear paper shuffling.

I didn't have an office, so I used Momma's place as a dead drop for messages from would-be customers. There was a mail slot in the back door that you wouldn't notice unless you were looking for the opening. I didn't trust post office boxes and I didn't give out my personal address to anyone but a select few. I also rotated burner phones regularly, again only giving the new number to a select few. Bounty hunting is a precarious business.

Momma stood up and handed me a plain, white envelope. "Here you go."

The envelope was the no-see-through security type. My name was on the front and I could feel something inside in the envelope, the contents felt like a card. I flipped the envelope over and what I saw caused the small hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. The envelope had been sealed with an emblem I knew all too well. The seal was the stenciled crest of a heart, a heart that had been pierced clear through, but not by cupid's arrow. A silver dagger had pierced this heart and a trail of blood drops dripped from the mortally wounded organ. This was the emblem of the Final Death Givers.

Momma saw the emblem too. "Another hunt?"

I bent down and stuffed the envelope in my backpack. "Probably, but I'm not going to think about another hunt now. I haven't slept in almost forty-eight hours. I'm dead tired and I'm hungry." Right on cue, Jean-Luc came out of the kitchen carrying a large bag reeking of goodness.

Jean-Luc sat the bag on the counter. "Mr. Brick, I put a couple of containers of extra sauce in the bag and plenty of wet wipes." He paused and stole a quick look at Momma. She was smiling with pride. Momma the Dominatrix trained her staff to be courteous. "I grilled these ribs myself, I hope you like them."

I wanted to pat him on the head like a good pet. "Thank you Jean-Luc, I'm sure they'll be delicious."

"You're welcome Sir." He turned and headed back to the kitchen and I'll be damn if he didn't wiggle his hips just a bit.

"How much do I owe you Momma?"

Momma had been watching Jean-Luc's ass and she almost didn't hear me. "Don't worry about paying me, honey." She winked at me. "I'll take it out in trade later. You just take care of yourself."

I smiled. "Thanks, Momma. Ok, I'm out of here. I'll catch you later."

# Chapter Four

"Good evening Mrs. Kravitz," I said. "What are you doing out so late?"

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised to see my nosey neighbor sitting in her rocking chair on the front porch of my three story brownstone. I checked my watch. The witching hour was just minutes away. I looked closer and spotted the broom in her lap partly hidden under a quilt. Of course she was up and about.

"Good evening Mr. Mason," she said in a flat voice. "What's that I smell?"

"Barbeque ribs from Momma's Rib Shack."

She made a decidedly un-lady like sound. "I see. I wouldn't eat anything that immoral were-slut cooked. Who knows what she puts in the food."

I groaned. "I completely understand, but I like to live dangerously."

"So you do, so you do."

I unlocked the door leading up to my unit on the third floor. "Goodnight, Mrs. Kravitz. I hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."

She mumbled something under her breath I couldn't quite make out, then she said clearly, "Goodnight, Mr. Mason."

***

"Brick, wake up and invite me in."

The voice was melodious and low. It pierced my sleeping brain and danger jabbed me between the shoulder blades. The faint scent of vampire ticked my nose and I was wide awake. I rolled out of bed in a crouch. The cold comfort of my 9mm Glock filled my hand faster than human eyes could follow.

I'd wolfed down my food in record time. Even though I rarely changed into my were-tiger form, I still have a shapeshifter's metabolism. I could consume a boatload of calories and not add an ounce to my 225lbs frame. The food was delicious and I'd made a mental note to tell Momma her boy-toy had done well. A quick shower and I'd plopped in the bed less than an hour after I'd walked in the door.

"Brick, I am at your back door," the voice whispered in my head.

Silently I padded on the balls of my feet to the back of my apartment, the Glock at the ready. I'd left the curtain on the window in the backdoor pulled back and a pair of glowing amber eyes stared at me. I fought the impulse to double tap two rounds between those eyes. If they'd been blood red, I would have fired.

I flipped the light switch and the floodlights I'd installed lit up my back patio like a Christmas tree. The sudden glare caused both of us to blink and then I locked eyes with Serena, High Priestess of the Final Death Givers. Oh fuck, this was not good.

I lowered my weapon, unlocked and opened the door, knowing she couldn't cross the threshold without my invitation. "What do you want? Do you have any fucking idea what time it is? I was trying to sleep."

Her eyes had changed to their normal chestnut color. Despite the pained expression on her face, she was just as beautiful as I remembered. Her porcelain skin was flawless and looked soft as falling snow. Her jet black hair draped the shoulders of her customary long black trench coat. She was clad in a black leather cat-suit that left no doubt there was a curvaceous woman underneath. Black boots with three inch heels rounded out her outfit.

She smiled. "Hi Brick. How are you? I'm glad to see you too. I'd have come by sooner, but I had to wait for the old witch on the first floor to fly off. What happened to the basic human pleasantries?"

I growled. "I'm not human and neither are you. Besides, you don't make house calls...unless you're looking to kill something and I don't invite vampires into my house. Which reminds me, how did you find me?" Shit, the envelope I stuck in my bag. "You left the envelope for me at Momma's so you could find me?"

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Smartass. Ok, you have thirty seconds to tell me what you want or I'm closing this door and going back to bed." The smile faded from her face and I was glad she dropped the sweetness and light routine, because she was just too freaking hot when she smiled.

"Have you heard about the massacre in a Boston bar?" She asked.

"No, I've been on an Alliance sanctioned hunt and I've kind of been out of the loop."

"Even if you'd been around, you probably wouldn't have heard the true story. The Alliance and the local authorities have covered up what actually happened by blaming the deaths on a gas leak. Only a few people in high levels know vampires committed the atrocity."

I frowned. "Okay, it was vamps, so what? I can't believe you came to Chicago and to my home in the dead of night to offer me a bounty to track down some rogue vamps. You could have done that through the normal channels."

"Victor is dead," she said simply.

I had a delayed reaction and then my mouth dropped open. "That means..."

She cut me off. "Yes, it means Aline and Meri must have killed him and the bat-shit crazy bitches are on the loose. I've been tracking them since they escaped Victor's lair, but they've stayed one step ahead of me. I got to the bar in Boston just after they left. They drained six civilian men in that bar. I trailed them here to Chicago. I think they're coming after you because you're the one who captured them and turned them over to the Alliance the last time they went on a killing spree."

The grip of the gun in my hand cracked under the pressure as I unconsciously squeezed it too hard. The popping sound snapped me back to reality.

"Come in Serena. I invite you into my home. Close the door behind you."

I turned and walked away as a torrent of conflicting emotions battered my mind. Once upon a time I had loved Aline, before Victor turned her into a vamp and she became the self-proclaimed Mistress of Pain & Illusions.

# Chapter Five

"I take your reaction to mean neither Aline or Meri have tried to get in touch with you," Serena called to his retreating broad back.

Brick didn't respond, just kept walking. He moved with the grace of a beast of prey and barely restrained aggression oozed from his pores.

She stepped over the threshold into his home and closed the door as he requested. Serena lost sight of him when he turned a corner. She stood in his kitchen and pondered what to do next. He did invite her into his home, but maybe he only wanted to kill her inside for some unknown reason. Vampires and shapeshifters had been mortal enemies for centuries. Sure, she'd successfully worked with Brick in the past and they had a mutual attraction, but he was still a shapeshifter, even if he fought his true nature.

If Serena could've breathed, she would have drawn a deep breath before following him. Instead, she trusted her instinct and proceeded down the long narrow hallway. She found him sitting on a white, leather couch in the living room with a haunted look on his face and the gun still in his hand. For the first time since she arrived, she took notice of his appearance. He wore only a pair of old sweatpants and his muscular upper torso was bare. He looked up when she entered the room.

"Sit over there where I can keep an eye on you," he said and pointed to a recliner directly across from the couch.

She sat down with both her hands in the pockets of her coat. "Brick..."

He raised a hand, the one not holding the gun. "Wait, stop. For reasons I never quite understood, instead of sentencing Aline and Meri to a final death, which was a fate they richly deserved. The Alliance, in all its infinite wisdom, decided to turn them over to Victor, a sadistic pervert with delusions of grandeur."

"Brick, the council had its reasons."

He shot her an evil look. "I wish you'd stop interrupting me. I'm pissed and I'm venting. Ok, so yes...he was a Master Vamp, but Aline and Meri are incredibly powerful together. They feed off each other somehow. I'm not surprised they managed to overpower him. Now Victor, one of the Elders, is the one who suffered the final death and those two soul sucking nutcases are running around killing civilians. To make matters worse, you tell me they've come to my town. What a clusterfuck. Were there any survivors in Boston?"

Serena wanted to argue, but she knew he was right. He had a commanding yet approachable presence about him that made her want to yield to whatever he said. The white leather couch was such a striking contrast to his dark chocolate countenance. His body rippled with muscle and she couldn't help staring at the exotic tattoos covering his chiseled chest. Sitting this close to him was having an unexpected effect on her. A surge of hunger flared up in her with a rush of sexual energy. The same thing happened the previous times they'd worked together, she just wanted to lick him from head to toe and take a bite out of him.

"May I speak now?"

"Sure, knock yourself out."

Serena gritted her teeth. "Yes, there were two survivors. I've heard they're going to live. Thankfully, they can't remember what happened, a handy side effect of Aline's mind-fuck. I totally agree with you, the Council made a huge mistake."

"You mean Mykael made a mistake," Brick corrected.

Mykael Korvine was the head of the Alliance council. He effectively made all the major decisions. Mykael was the glue holding the Alliance together. His leadership was responsible for keeping the vamps and shapeshifters from engaging in an all-out war against each other that would certainly result in civilian casualties. Killing humans, even as collateral damage, could ignite a war between humans and supernaturals that would lead to the destruction of both species. Mykael and Serena were also lovers.

Serena sighed. "Yes, Mykael made a mistake. As you would expect, there were politics involved. He still needed Victor's support on the council and since he turned them, Victor wanted to have Aline and Meri as his playthings."

"You mean his fucktoys."

"Victor had certain...needs that Aline and Meri were ideally suited to satisfy, so Mykael turned them over to Victor's custody. Now I have to clean up the mess and I need your help."

Brick pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm too tired to think straight. What do you want?"

Serena was in a precarious position, but she had nowhere else to go. She'd been so engrossed following Aline's and Meri's trail, she'd lost track of time. Now she needed a safe place to spend the daylight hours. There were very few people, human or otherwise she trusted and Brick happened to be one of them.

"In light of what happened in Boston, plus the final death of a Master Vampire at their hands, the Alliance has decreed Aline and Meri are to be executed. I want you to help me track them down and I...I need a place to stay during the day."

Brick ran a hand through his closed cropped hair and then looked at his watch. "Daybreak is just about two hours away. Do you have a backup plan?"

"No, not really. I suppose I'd rest in the trunk of my car."

Brick placed the gun on the couch beside him and sat with his legs spread apart, both hands resting lightly on each knee. He leaned toward her, his honey brown eyes smoky with a promise of carnal delights and rough sex. He stared at her with a predator's intensity. The look in his eyes had turned feral and she half expected him to shape shift at any moment. If he did change, she doubted she would survive in such an enclosed space. He'd rip her to shreds.

Her eyes drifted down his torso and stopped at the juncture between his legs. A huge lump trailed partly down his thigh and she bit her lip when his erection rose and fell. She flipped the safeties off the guns she gripped in the pockets of her coat. The click of the safeties was soft, but Brick must have heard the sound, because he tilted his head in that peculiar way animals do when they're listening to something.

He smiled and his eyes returned to normal. "I assume you know of the twenty-one foot rule?"

"Yes," she said.

"Well, that rule applies to claws too. The distance between us is about fifteen feet. You'd never get off a shot."

"Maybe, but I have to try."

He inhaled sharply and yawned. "The blackout curtains in my bedroom are sun proof. Don't ask. You can stay. I'll sleep on the couch. Can I trust you not to feed on me in my sleep?"

She flipped the safeties back on her guns then slipped her empty hands out of her pockets. "Yes, you can trust me, but why the change of heart? For a minute there it looked like you were going shape shift and tear me apart. Or throw me down and fuck me into submission."

He laughed and even his laugh sounded tired. "I had no intentions of attacking you, but I wanted to see if you still had your edge."

She arched an eyebrow. "Well, do I?"

"Yep, your edge is still as sharp as ever."

"You're just going to ignore the part about fucking me."

"Serena, don't think the thought of fucking you hasn't crossed my mind since the first time I saw you, but I wouldn't force myself on you. Well...not unless you told me that's what you wanted. Besides, I don't think Mykael would approve and I don't need the hassle."

"What about Pepper? I doubt she would approve either."

He exhaled sharply, but it sounded like a sigh. "Pepper and I are history. I broke it off. She deserves better. Now keep your nose out of my business. Look, I'll probably sleep all morning myself. The bedroom door locks. I'm not saying that would keep me out, but you'd hear the noise if I broke in. Anyway, goodnight...or rather good morning."

"Thank you. I'll see you when the sun sets."

"I'm looking forward to it." He pointed to an open door to his left. "The bedroom is that way, the sheets are clean. Towels are in the linen closet in the bathroom. Oh and there's a bottle of Blood Wine in the mini frig in the bedroom. I confiscated an entire case on a bounty hunt last year. I keep it for my vampire informants, they love the stuff. It's fifty percent human blood, supposedly from willing human donors, thirty percent grain alcohol and twenty percent fermented grapes. I think the crap smells like sweaty gym socks, but I've been told Blood Wine will take the edge off your hunger. Help yourself."

"Brick Mason, you are an interesting man."

"Yeah, so I've been told."

She walked toward the bedroom, the weight of his gaze heavy on her back. She paused just inside the door and turned back to see him stretching out on the couch. She stepped into the bedroom and closed the door.

# Chapter Six

"Brick, are you okay?" Serena asked from the bedroom's doorway.

Sunrise was still an hour away and just as she'd started to drift off, she'd heard Brick cry out. Now that she was no longer on guard against his possible aggression, the sound of his strong heartbeat was impossibly loud in her ears. Each beat of his heart sent waves of need racing through her veins. The Blood Wine had indeed taken the edge off her hunger, but she was hardly sated by the mixture of blood and alcohol.

If Brick were to open his eyes now, he'd see her standing there completely nude, her nipples pointed nubs of desire. She hated to sleep with any clothes and apparently Brick had the same aversion. It was dark in the room, but with her preternatural eyesight she could see clearly. He'd pulled off his sweatpants and now he lay on the couch completely nude. His tumescent cock was on full display and the sight of his manhood triggered a pulsing urgency between her legs.

Brick groaned in his sleep. "Pepper, baby...I miss you."

Serena knew about Brick and the shapeshifter Pepper. Amelia Winters was her full name, but she earned the nickname Pepper because of her fiery disposition. She was a petite blonde with flashing green eyes, but the were-snow-leopard was a real hellcat when she got riled. Serena didn't know all the details of what had happened between Pepper and Brick, but there was little doubt he still carried a torch for her.

Serena promised Brick she wouldn't feed on him, but her nature was singing a wanton song in her mind. What she failed to tell the trusting were-tiger was that she hadn't fed on human or non-human blood in over a year. Mykael said she needed to wean herself off human blood, so to please him, now she only fed off animal blood, mostly beef blood. Still, the hunger to sink her fangs in the flesh of a living, breathing man or woman lay dormant inside her, it would never entirely die. She would always be a predator, a vampire and vampires needed to feed on living beings.

She glided into the room and stopped by the couch. A part of her knew what she was about to do was wrong, but her hunger was strong. Brick trusted her and he'd given her sanctuary. How could she betray him? Her conscience died when she did long ago and any shred she had left, she pushed back to the far recesses of her mind.

"Pepper, I want you so bad," he said in a voice husky with sleep.

Brick wrapped his large hand around his cock and began to slowly stroke his meaty shaft. Serena's mouth opened and closed as a pearly drop of pre-cum formed on the head of the cock she so dearly wanted to wrap her lips around.

The relationship she had with Mykael was complicated by her duties as a Final Death Giver and his role as the Head of the Council. They hadn't been together for months now and they'd finally come to a mutual agreement to have an open relationship. She'd heard Mykael had wasted little time taking a succubus to his bed, but she'd held off on taking another lover. She looked longingly at the size of Brick's cock and knew he'd fill her up and hurt her just as Mykael had. She needed to be hurt and to feel pain before she could experience pleasure.

Normally a powerful shifter like Brick wouldn't succumb to her hypnotic vampire glamour, but in his current state, Serena was confident she could sway his mind. Was what she planned to do so wrong? Maybe she was taking advantage of him, but she was hungry and she had needs that had been denied too long. Once she engaged his subconscious, she could keep him in his dream state and manipulate his mind. All she had to do was touch his flesh without him waking up and killing her. She knew exactly how to accomplish her goal.

She flowed to her knees and knelt by his side. "It's me Brick, it's Pepper."

"Pepper...?"

Serena whispered in his ear, weaving her hypnotic vampire glamour around him to make him pliant and ready for her touch. "Yes baby, I'm here. Mmm, has my big, horny man been thinking about me?"

"I've missed you so much."

"I know you have, but I'm here now. What do you want me to do?"

He groaned. "I...I need you to suck my cock. Suck my cock Pepper."

"Ok baby, move your hand."

Brick's hand dropped away from his hunk of flesh. Now there was nothing separating Serena from what she desired. She tried to wrap her hand around his girth, but her fingers didn't touch. Slowly she began to stroke his length as she listened to the intoxicating beat of his heart and inhaled his scent. Her fangs threatened to distend, but she willed them back...not yet.

"Are you sure you want me to suck your cock?" She asked demurely. Just like she imagined the real Pepper would.

Serena's glamour was strong now that she held him in her grasp. Her power over of his mind would become psychic chains woven with silver once she took him in her mouth.

"Yes," he groaned. "Do it now Pepper, or I'll spank you with the tawse."

She chuckled. "Yes Sir."

Brick's dick was throbbing continuously now and a steady flow of pre-cum oozed from the slit in his bulbous cock-head. She used two hands to stroke him hard as his nectar dribbled down his shaft. She stuck out her tongue and lapped up the sticky sweet drizzle. Each time her tongue touched his skin, Brick's cock jerked in her hands. She controlled him now. The taste of him laced her blood with fire.

"Stop playing Pepper, suck..." He didn't finish the sentence because Serena engulfed his cock in the wet heat of her mouth.

His eyes squeezed shut. "Oh fuck, Pepper," he said. "That's so damn good."

Serena laved the underside of his cock with her nimble tongue. She had no gag reflex and she swallowed him whole. His entire body vibrated with lust when she scraped the soft skin of his perineum with the nail of her middle finger.

"Arrrg," he groaned and clutched her head with both hands.

His hips pumped and he slowly fucked her face. Serena clutched his bloated balls and squeezed gently to coax his lava to spew forth. She slipped her other hand between her legs to feel her dripping cunt. She pressed two fingers into the deep wetness and the walls of her pussy wrapped around the digits.

The hunger, the thirst that ruled her, rolled beneath her skin, so hard her flesh ached and burned. She could tell Brick was on the edge, because his movements were jerky as he frantically fucked her mouth. Each time his cock hit the back of her throat, her clit pulsed like a sore tooth.

He lifted her head off his cock and she moaned as his cock slipped from her mouth. "Pepper, say the magic words. I need you. Tell me you want me to come."

"No baby, not yet."

He pushed her back down on his cock and her mouth happily welcomed him. Her teeth intentionally scraped his flesh and drew warm blood. Her hunger was consuming her now and she drank greedily as the blood flowed. She circled her lips around his crown and sucked his creamy cocktail of blood mixed with pre-cum down her throat. She rubbed her clit, causing ripples of pleasure to wash over her.

"Pepper...oh, Pepper."

Her pussy reluctantly released her fingers with an audible slurping sound. She grabbed his hands and pulled back as his cock popped out of her mouth. "Hold on baby, I want you to come inside me."

She scrambled up on the couch and straddled his hips. His cock stood straight up and looked huge from this angle. A wet beat pulsed in her pussy and her fangs sprouted. Her pupils dilated and the walls of her cunt contracted. A warm ache traveled straight to her lower belly. Her clit pressed through the hood and throbbed with the beat of his heart.

He instinctively grabbed her hips and poised her over his cock. Dream state or not, he still topped from the bottom. He slid his hard shaft through her wet lips and she moaned as the swollen head of his cock bumped repeatedly against her clit. Her hips rolled and rotated as she tried in vain to suck his length deep inside her. He squeezed her ass and forced her to be still.

"Pepper, put it in," he ordered."

She almost sobbed with relief. "Yes Sir, your wish is my command."

Serena touched his cock and she was astonished at how hot he felt. She placed the swollen head against her pussy and slowly moved it up and down her wet slit. She wished his eyes were open, so he could see her wet and swollen pink lips. With a sigh, she sank down on his shaft and her opening parted. He groaned and squeezed her ass hard. She gasped when he pulled her down and pushed up with his hips to force his way into her hole. Pain and pleasure rippled through her as he buried half his cock inside her.

"Tight, Pepper you're so damn tight," he moaned.

He took control and his strong arms began lifting her up and down. Her walls clenched and quaked as he fed her more of his raging cock. The sweet agony of pleasure and pain threw her senses into overdrive. She could smell his blood flowing through his veins and every beat of his heart caused her hunger to swell.

She leaned forward and pinched his nipples between her thumbs and forefingers. The pain spurred him and he slammed her all the way down on his unrelenting shaft. Serena's eyes widened as delirium rocked her body. Her pussy fluttered and went into rapid spasms as he filled her to the bursting point.

"Oh, oh...that hurts so fucking good," she whimpered.

He slowed his pace and commanded her, "Rub your clit, Pepper. Now."

She touched the swollen nubbin and a fresh tide of pleasure and hunger crashed into her core. He made her ride his cock so slow she was going mad with the need to come. He was teasing her with gentle thrusts. No, she didn't want gentle, that's not what she needed.

"Harder Brick, fuck me harder! Hurt me, make me come! Show me the beast inside you. You're an animal. You'll always be an animal, no matter how hard you try to deny your nature," she shouted while she continued to furiously rub her clit.

She raked her nails down his chest and rivulets of blood trickled down his flesh. She leaned forward and licked the tasty treat. The blood of a supernatural was like ambrosia to a vampire, especially the blood of a shapeshifter. A shapeshifter's blood was rich in oxytocin and endorphins. Oxytocin is the hormone that promotes deep connection and bonding. The only thing sweeter or more potent was faerie blood.

He growled. "Okay Pepper, if that's what you want."

Her ass slammed against his thighs, as he used the shifter power in his arms to pound her up and down on his impossibly hard cock. He growled and roared as he ground his cock deep into the farthest reaches of her convulsing pussy. He corkscrewed his powerful hips and stirred her up inside. When his cock banged against her cervix, he held it right there, bruising the depths of her core. His pulsing cock filled her and she pushed back to swallow everything he had to give.

She buried her face in his neck and suckled on the pulse in his throat, as he thrust in and out of her wet heat. A collision of fire and desire crackled in her core as a desperate need built inside her. Each powerful thrust of his hips sent a bolt of pure pleasure through her, launching her higher and higher. Tiny orgasms rolled through her on a seemingly endless tide of ecstasy. Every time he pulled back, the withdrawal left her pussy feeling empty and longing for the return of his cock. Her legs trembled and anticipation crested inside her. He fucked her hard and rough, the way she liked, the way she needed. She was so damn close.

She moved her mouth from his neck and flicked her tongue inside his ear canal. "Now Brick, now...come for me my-Beast."

His breathing was ragged. "Now, Pepper...you want it now?"

Serena leaned back and dug her nails in his chest. Blood spurted in the air and the hungry monster inside her roared. Brick slammed into her one more time and a massive eruption exploded inside her. She dug her nails deeper into his flesh and his eyes popped open. Recognition slowly spread across his face

"Ooooooooooh," she shrieked as her pussy contracted around his shaft.

"You're not....," he started to say just as the tsunami of pleasure roiled within his balls.

"Arrrrrg," he shouted and his cock began to jerk inside her.

Serena squeezed her walls around him as her own orgasm crested again. Brick spewed one jet of cum after another inside her core.

He grabbed her throat with both hands and tried to choke her as his body shuddered through a rolling climax. Serena couldn't believe he had so much nectar to give. He was tired and still partially under her control. She pried his hands away from her throat with her vampire strength and stared into his surprised eyes.

"I'm sorry, Brick. I had to be true to my nature."

Before he could react she clamped her mouth to his neck and bit deeply. His hot, rich shapeshifter blood spurted into her mouth just as another climax racked her body. She sucked and swallowed while Brick's body jerked beneath her as he emptied himself deep inside her.

# Chapter Seven

"Brick, open the damn door. Brick, I know you're in there. I checked and your car is in your garage. Brick??"

The pounding in my head was incessant and loud. I wanted to strangle the persistant demon hammering away at my skull, but I'll be damned if the little fucker didn't sound like Leila. I latched onto the sound of her voice and grabbed it the way a drowning man clutches a lifeline. I clung to her voice as though my life depended on it. Slowly, I pulled myself up, back to reality and out of my nightmare.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I lay on my back with a light blanket covering me. My training kicked in and I didn't move. The room was dark except for the light from the streetlight outside spilling through a window. I opened my senses to scan the room. I was alone and in my home. I recognized the feel of my leather couch on my back. I rolled over and landed on the floor with a thud.

"Brick, I hear you in there. Open the door. If you've got a hoochie in there with you, tell her to get dressed and go home."

I staggered to my feet and shook my head trying to clear the cobwebs. I looked at my watch, 10:00pm. Fuck. I'd slept the entire day away.

"Stop pounding on my door, I hear you," I shouted.

I stumbled to the door on wobbly legs and flung it open. "What the hell is your problem?"

Leila looked me up and down. "Why are you coming to the door butt ass naked? Do you really have a hoochie in here with you? She sniffed the air. Hmm, somebody has been fucking."

"Huh?" I looked down and she was right, I didn't have on a stitch of clothes.

"Don't get me wrong, I admire the human body in all its glorious forms, but I don't need to see your cock waving at me when I come by to discuss business. Besides, you're not my type, you know I only date humans. You shapeshifters have got too many damn issues. I should know, I'm fucked up myself."

I growled. "Come in while I go find my pants and no I don't have a hoochie in here."

"Why is it so damn dark? Haven't you paid your electric bill?" Leila asked as she closed the door behind her.

I turned on a lamp, snatched my sweatpants off the floor by the couch and marched into my bedroom. The lamp on the nightstand by the bed was on and next to the lamp was an empty bottle of Blood Wine. I pushed the door shut and leaned against the frame as memories came flooding back to me...Serena. I walked over to the bed and sat down. The bed was made up and lying on the pillows was a folded piece of paper. I snatched up the paper and opened it.

Dear Brick, by the time you read this note I will be on my way to St. Louis. I received word from one of my sources that Aline and Meri never made it to Chicago. They tricked me by planting a false trail. I hope you got enough sleep, though I suspect you'll have a bit of a headache when you wake. It should go away after you eat something.

Your memory of what happened last night wasn't a dream, it was all very real. You fucked me, not your precious Pepper and damn it was good. I hope it was good for you too. I suppose I should feel sorry about using you, but I was only being true to my nature. Yes, I also drank from you. Please don't think too badly of me. Your shifter recuperative powers should help you fully recover from the blood loss in a day or two. Hopefully, what happened won't affect our working together in the future.

Sincerely – Serena

I crumbled the piece of paper into a ball and threw it in the waste basket. Flashes of memories danced in my head and I gritted my teeth at the lurid images.

"Brick, are you alright in there?"

I inhaled a deep breath. "Yeah Leila, I'm just peachy. The door is open." She poked her head around the door. "What's so important you had to come by banging on my door at this time of night?"

"I need you on another bounty and you weren't answering your phone, so I came over."

"Who are we looking for?"

Leila's eyes sparked flames. "A child molester named Jeffries, he's a demented werewolf. I got a tip he was seen in St. Louis. This hunt should be interesting, especially if we run into Anita and her menagerie of freaks."

I jumped to my feet. "Get out of here and let me take a shower, I'll be ready to roll in thirty minutes."

**About Will LaForge**

I love to write and up until now, flash fiction has been my forte. This is my first venture at writing a 'short' story and it turned out longer than I intended. My thanks and profound gratitude goes out to Ms. Suzy Ayers for inviting me to participate in this anthology with so many amazing authors. I also have to thank Ms. Ayers for indulging my long windedness. One day I will finish some of the assorted work-in-progress projects I have going concurrently. When that happens, I will share with you all the mystical places, eclectic characters and wondrous worlds my imagination has created. The first of which will be my novella _Brick By Brick_ , where you will learn more about Brick Mason and the varied characters who inhabit his world. Until that day, I hope you've enjoy _True To Her Nature_.

Also

A special thanks to Ms. ER Pierce for allowing Aline and Meri to cross over into Brick's world. Read her _Mistress of Pain & Illusions_ to learn more about and what happens in Bukowski's bar in the Backbay of Boston.

If you liked _True to Her Nature_ , be sure to check out _Mistress of Pain and Illusions_ by ER Pierce.

Find _Mistress of Pain and Illusions_ online and view ER Pierce's author page.

For more from Will LaForge

Twitter @SaveTheLastDan2

Website

*****
