Mystic's Run

I can't believe I'm going along with this, Mystic thought as Roman opened the door of an exclusive shop and she stepped outside. Cool night air glided over her bare legs before traveling upward to caress her exposed cunt and bare back. There was hardly enough material clinging to her to be considered a dress, much less one whose price tag had made her cringe. But Roman had insisted, in fact he'd picked the thing out and refused to let the clerk bring a selection of panties into the dressing room.

"They'll only get in the way at Wyldfyres," he'd said.

She shivered thinking about it. Her nipples were already tight points against the thin, clinging material of the dress. She didn't pretend it was only because of the temperature.

Roman's hand settled on her arm in a possessive, guarding gesture as he guided her to his sports car. She turned into his arms as he opened the door for her.

He was stunning in black. Elegant and deadly.

"If there was time, I'd insist on making you my companion before we go to Wyldfyres," he said, his voice one of purring menace.

Mystic's palms settled on his chest. Lust poured through their link and pooled in her cunt lips. "I'll be safe with you."

He cupped her breasts and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples until she was shivering, unable to keep her eyes open under the onslaught of need his touch evoked.

"Always," he whispered against her lips. "You will always be safe with me."

She opened her mouth for him, welcomed his tongue. He was gentle despite the fierce desire raging through him.

The kiss lasted forever and not long enough. Her lips clung to his when he tried to leave her. Brann and Rafe are waiting for us, he said, though she could feel how tempted he was to use their passion against her and avoid the trip to Wyldfyres. They both knew Brann could easily handle Marta by himself.

Mystic forced her hands away from Roman's chest. She ached for him, knew how much he wanted to be alone with her. She wanted the same thing, but she also wanted to see this hunt through.

With a sigh she slipped into the passenger seat. As he closed the door and walked around to the other side of the car, she could only shake her head at how quickly her life had changed, at how needy she'd become for the mates she'd been convinced she didn't want only days ago.

Roman chuckled. "You hadn't met me then."

Mystic bit her lip to keep from smiling. The last thing she intended to do was feed his ego.

He laughed again then started the car before taking her hand in his. "Promise you'll stay by my side at Wyldfyres."

"I will."

Rafe and Brann were waiting for them in front of the private vampire club. The entranceway wasn't visible from the street, which was probably for the best considering the outfits the fledglings guarding the door were wearing.

The female was bare-breasted, her nipples pierced and adorned with loops. The male's cock protruded from a slit in his leather pants, studs ran along the top of his penis and through the tip. When his eyes settled on Rafael, he began to harden despite the fear Brann's presence evoked.

"Open the door," Brann growled, making Rafe's smirk widen.

The relationship between the council's executioner and his companion fascinated Mystic, even as it stirred dark fantasies. She couldn't imagine her mates having sex with one another, she wasn't even sure she'd like them to, but watching Brann and Rafe together...

The doors parted to reveal an elegant, tiled foyer, its walls lined with erotic paintings and photographs. There was a choice of open doorways. From the right came the sound of leather striking flesh, of chains subtly clinking and voices commanding submission. Mystic couldn't resist the temptation to move toward the door and look through it.

A red-haired woman wearing a companion's necklace was bent over a vampire's knee and being spanked. A blonde companion was tethered to a narrow bed, at the mercy of the vampire who claimed her as he alternated between feeding from her femoral artery and sucking her clit.

Mystic's cunt clenched and Roman's hand tightened on her arm. When we get to the hotel, I will show you what it's like to submit to a vampire master if you're still curious. But this place is not the place to explore that pleasure.

Her cheeks heated at how easily he read her, at how a lifetime of knowing without actually doing had left her feeling like a sex maniac.

Roman laughed. I take exception to that thought, as would Hawk and Christian. It's not lack of experience driving your lust, but the presence of mates who would happily fuck you night and day.

His words served to increase the aching emptiness she felt between her thighs. "Can you sense Marta?" she asked, changing the topic before she started shaking with the need to have him inside her.

"No, not yet," Roman said. "But I doubt we will in this place. We'll have to rely on our eyes. Because of the sorcerer, some of the old mage magic has found its way into Marta. How much of a hold it has gained or will gain on the vessel containing it, how much awareness Marta has of it is unknown, but the magic itself will in all likelihood subside to levels that aren't easily detectable."

"Why?"

It was Brann who answered along their shared link. It would mean death if the taint of Brallin's magic surfaced here. The youngest vampires might not recognize it, but the old ones would. A fledgling, especially one with no master and no understanding of our rules would have no chance of avoiding insult and ending up in a challenge that would result in death. Just as the magic Syndelle carries within her can cloak and hide itself when necessary, the mage's magic can do the same.

He glanced at the blonde and red-haired companions then at the open doorway beyond them. "Rafe and I will take a moment to check the playrooms." His voice was a dangerous purr. "It has been a while since my companion was reminded of how lucky he is to have fallen into my hands."

Rafe's eyelids lowered to hide his thoughts. But he went willingly with Brann.

"Shall we?" Roman asked, nodding toward the door to their left.

Mystic looked down the wide hallway in front of them. It ended at a staircase guarded by vampires.

"Unless Marta is in the company of someone very old or very powerful, she will not be allowed in the rooms above us. They are held apart for those who prefer to share their pleasure only in the presence of peers," Roman said.

"Is that where you go when you come here?"

"I have been upstairs. What takes place there is not so different than what takes place down here. There are just fewer people to witness it." He urged her toward the door to their left and she suddenly found herself reluctant to go, to see for herself this part of his life.

I have warned you about that direction of thought, he said. Do not force me to punish you here. There will be no other women for me. There can be no other, nor do I wish it. But if it will ease your mind, I will tell you this has never been a favored haunt of mine.

She let him guide her through the door and into a room where a human slave in a minuscule dress was stationed to collect coats. The room beyond it contained a number couches, loveseats and chairs, all wide, heavy pieces of furniture meant to sustain a variety of abuse. Twosomes and threesomes were scattered around the room, men and women in various combinations, all feeding on humans wearing the bands of slaves, all fucking as they did it.

"Who do they belong to?" Mystic asked, finding the sight of so many blood slaves disturbing.

"The slaves?"

"Yes."

"Some are tied to Wyldfyres. Some are brought here to be used at will-either as reward or punishment for service to their masters."

Mystic shuddered. She'd spent time around vampire companions and humans bound for their own protection or because they were held in high regard, but she'd never spent much time around slaves-those considered completely disposable by the majority of the vampires who owned them.

Music throbbed from the next room, low and primitive, its beat inviting the rub of flesh against flesh. Mystic laughed as soon as they stepped through the doorway and she saw the dance floor.

It was surreal, a mix of modern lighting and ancient architecture. Color danced off rounded columns that made her think of Greek and Roman temples. Dancers bumped and ground and rubbed against each other on the open floor until the primal beat drove them to the columns. And there they fucked, men and women both with their back against the smooth stone and their legs wrapped around their partner's waists.

She saw no slave bands on the dancers, only rich jewelry and companion necklaces. Without conscious thought Mystic's hand went to her bare neck and she felt the absence of something she'd never had.

I can make you my companion tonight, Roman said, leading her to the dance floor and taking her into his arms.

The heat of his body and the persuasive purr of his voice tempted Mystic. She wanted to be his companion, to take what he offered, to join with him in a vampire's most sacred bond.

She ached to feel his fangs sliding into her neck, to feel his lips against her skin as he drank deeply. She longed to touch her mouth to him and take his essence in a covenant that could never be broken. But she had other mates, and feminine intuition whispered their names, insisted they be present when she became Roman's companion.

I want Christian and Hawk to be there, she said, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around Roman, giving herself over to the music.

Roman rubbed his chin against the luxurious softness of Mystic's hair. He accepted her desire to include her other mates, understood it, but he wouldn't wait much longer. The need to bind her was too deeply ingrained, the compulsion to do everything in his power to keep her safe pervasive.

Vampire instinct and animal urges pounded through his veins, making his cock pulse in time to the primitive, heady beat filling the air along with the scent of sex. He wanted Mystic, here, now, always.

Her blood called to him. Her body wept for him.

She was aroused. Wet. Ready.

Roman could feel the interest in her, her presence noted by fledgling and ancient alike. He didn't intend to leave any doubt in their minds as to whom she belonged to.

Possessiveness filled him along with a savagery he'd rarely experienced in any form but the gryphon's. His fangs elongated. His cock throbbed.

With a growl he maneuvered her backward until they reached one of the columns. Her heart thundered against his chest and the scent of her arousal deepened. She knew what he intended. Her acceptance rippled through their bond like waves of shimmering heat.

He jerked her dress up and unzipped his trousers before plunging inside her, his movements fast and sure, commanding. Satisfaction buffered the rawness of his hungers when she wrapped her legs around his waist and offered him her neck.

Dominance radiated from him as his fangs pierced her, as he took what she freely offered and sent a message to any watching. She was his.

Pleasure poured into Mystic, so intense there was no room for embarrassment. Roman's bite was ecstasy, his cock an exquisite organ created for the sole purpose of filling her.

A moan escaped. Then another. She clung to him as his penis forged in and out of her sheath. Deep. Hard. Each thrust a claiming, a declaration.

There was no resistance in her. No thought other than to welcome him, love him, yield to him.

When his fangs retracted, she wanted to beg him to keep feeding. But then his neck was against her mouth, the mating mark she'd given him earlier throbbing against her lips in temptation. All restraint vanished when she bit him. Reality narrowed to sensation, to hungry flesh writhing and reaching, and finally gaining release.

If it weren't for Roman pinning her to the column, Mystic didn't think she'd be able to stand. Then again, if it weren't for the support of the column, she wasn't sure he'd be able to pin her.

The thought widened her satisfied smile. He might be really ancient, but-

Careful, he warned, the amusement in his voice making her think of warmed honey. His hands reached between them, tucking his penis back into his pants before zipping his trousers and smoothing her dress down.

He straightened and led her from the dance floor to where Brann was now waiting. Brann's eyes met hers. When one elegant eyebrow lifted, Mystic's cheeks heated. It was a human reaction, at odds in a place like Wyldfyres-but when it came to fucking, the Angelini were modest, preferring privacy or to share intimacy only in the presence of those they were emotionally close to.

She glanced away just as the throbbing, primitive beat segued into a strip show theme song. Couples moved off the dance floor. Brann and Roman both stiffened.

The music changed again, this time to a song with a sensuous, swaying beat. A big breasted human stepped through a door set in a wide column next to the disk jockey's booth. Her smile was enticing, her steps sure as she slowly peeled her clothing away.

It was obvious from the start that she wasn't dancing for the watching audience. Her attention was split between three male vampires.

Mystic's eyes narrowed when she noticed the faint imprint on the woman's wrists as if only moments earlier she'd been wearing slave bands. Her uneasiness grew when the music came to a stop and the woman's eyes flashed with a hint of panic as a thin, unattractive male vampire stepped forward and slipped a collar around her neck before leading her away.

Another song started. Another female stepped through the column doorway and began stripping, this time to a jazzy beat.

"What's going on?" Mystic asked, hating to ask, but unwilling to ignore her suspicions.

Roman fingers circled her wrist. His thumb stroked back and forth over her pulse. "There is no escape for a human who becomes a vampire's slave-except in insanity. They will always need a vampire's blood in order to survive."

"I know that."

"And you also know how badly it can end for the human involved. Some vampires simply kill their slaves when the novelty or usefulness wears off. Others give them away or trade them-but some prefer to avoid negotiation and bargaining and implied alliance altogether or it suits them to distance themselves from the fate of their slaves for other reasons. This woman and the last have been freed by their masters." Roman shrugged. "They might well belong to the club and have been replaced by fresh stock. But they won't survive unless they're claimed. They dance to entice interest and they come with no strings attached."

Mystic's stomach knotted. She'd guessed as much, but it still horrified and sickened her.

The song reached a crescendo and the dancer pulled her g-string off and went to her knees. Her back arched to display her breasts while her fingers plunged into her slit, pumping in and out to the rhythm of the beat.

Two vampires stepped forward as the last note faded. The crowd stirred with interest, perhaps hoping for a fight. But one of the vampires yielded his claim by retreating.

The woman was led away and the music began again, this time with a fast, primal, beat. Mystic's heart nearly stopped when Rafael stepped through the door. Her breath did freeze in her chest until the light glinted off his companion necklace.

Her glaze flew to Brann's face. His features were tight, his eyes burned with the promise of retribution-but there was no denying the lust. It was in every line of his body, including the rigid length of cock pressed against the front of his expensive trousers.

Rafe once did this for a living. I believe that's how he and Brann first met, Roman said, amusement and anticipation sliding down the link with his words.

Mystic couldn't take her eyes off Rafael. She'd instantly understood Syndelle's attraction to him. He was innately sensual and definitely lust-worthy with his long blond hair and tanned, lithe body.

She'd had to guess what the draw was for Brann. Attitude mostly. But now...as Mystic watched Rafe command the floor, defiant, alluring, taunting and enticing. Now she understood. If she weren't already mated... If he weren't already claimed...

Careful, Roman warned again, pulling her back against his front as the music ended with Rafe stopped in front of Brann in a provocative, challenging take-me pose.

Mystic saw the flash of purpose in Brann's eyes as he stepped forward and grasped Rafe's golden braid, forcing Rafe's head back to emphasize the companion necklace fitted like a tight collar around his neck. Brann traced the links of chain until he got to the coin-like medallion etched with protective script and a warning that Rafe was claimed. When he brushed his thumb across the surface of the metal in a sensual caress, Rafe's hips jerked, his face tightened and arousal beaded on the tip of his cock.

Mystic's cunt clenched. Earlier thoughts of seeing them together returned.

They were engaged in private conversation along their bond, but the conversation played out in their bodies. Brann's free hand cupped Rafe's balls, fondled and squeezed until Rafe moaned and closed his eyes.

"You are free to join us," Brann said, not taking his hand off Rafe's hair as he guided him away from the dance floor.

Mystic saw the row of doors along the far wall and guessed they led to bedrooms. Instead she found a smaller version of the feeding room.

Her breath caught when Brann stripped out of his clothing and forced Rafe to his knees. Her cunt spasmed as she watched Brann's fingers curl around his cock in the instant before Rafe's mouth found him.

Roman's hands tangled in her hair. She could feel his desire, his need.

Mystic knelt in front of him. Her hands went to the front of his pants, teasing him through the fabric before a command along their link had her freeing his erection.

She tasted herself on him and found it darkly erotic. Lust pulsed between them and beat against her tongue as she rubbed it over the heavy veins and smooth skin of his cock.

Thoughts of Rafe and Brann faded though the sound of their pleasure fed her hunger. Arousal slid from her slit, filling the air with her scent. She could feel what it did to Roman, how it made him quiver with the desire to put her on her hands and knees and mount her.

Do it, she whispered, cupping his testicles and holding his cock head between her lips, sucking him.

His fingers tightened on her hair in response. His hips jerked, shallow thrusts as he fucked into her mouth.

The heat in the room built. Mystic's moans joined Rafe's.

Her cunt lips were flushed and parted, her clit erect and throbbing. But when she put her hand between her legs to ease herself, Roman ordered her to stop.

"While we're here, your pleasure is mine to command," he said, making her whimper as he pulled from her mouth.

He guided her to her feet and turned her toward the back of a heavy leather chair, forced her to bend forward and grasp it. Mystic spread her legs without being told, lowered her upper body so he could see how ready she was for him, how much she needed him inside her.

Brann and Rafe had gotten on the couch in front of her, Rafe on the bottom, his legs spread, his hips jerking as Brann's cock rubbed against his. They were both so masculine, so beautiful that Mystic couldn't take her eyes off them as their lips met in a ravenous, hungry kiss.

She gasped when Roman's penis slid between her legs, gliding back and forth over her clit and belly, rubbing in the same rhythm as Brann was playing with Rafe. She endured it as long as she could before reaching through her legs and taking him in hand, guiding him to her entrance.

Please, don't make me wait.

Roman filled her with a single thrust, then held still. In front of them Rafe's hand found Brann's cock and guided it home.

His face was a mask of agonized pleasure. Brann's was fierce possessiveness. The image of them together burned into Mystic's mind before she closed her eyes and gave herself over to the ecstasy of Roman thrusting in and out of her.