9. Vincent

CHAPTER 9

Vincent

T he zombie has a point—as much as I long to truly taste the blood pulsing between her thighs. Never have I harmed a human by taking their blood as it seemed I did Autumn.

"Maybe you're wearing a curse," I say.

The zombie—Theodore—I suppose I should learn names if we're all going to share—grunts in approval.

"A curse?" Autumn says, her voice small. "The only enemy I've ever had wants to fuck me now, so who would put a curse on me?"

The werewolf— Fenrir , I suppose—and I lock eyes. The Blackwood witch brought him here. It wouldn't be a surprise to learn he had discovered Fenrir's mate was Autumn. I curse under my breath, recognizing that our new lover spoke to many a being as she danced around the ball before meeting any of us. I search my memory trying to place any who could have been the witch.

"Perhaps they snuck it into your clothes," Fenrir says quietly.

Autumn laughs, "Yeah, okay. You know you don't have to play tricks anymore. I'll just get naked if you ask."

"No funny business, I promise," Fenrir growls.

"I won't make false promises," I say to her with a wink. "You'll have to move out of the way, lapdog, unless you plan on ripping her out of that corset."

He looks tempted, and truth be told, I'm tempted to watch.

"Please don't, it was expensive," she protests, spinning her backside to me.

It takes me a moment to hold myself together, presented with the sight of her arse, covered in lacy cloth and striped stockings up to her thighs. Bury my face in it, bite it, clasp it between my hands, smack it… the possibilities seem endless. But unlike that werewolf, I'm no brute.

"Vincent?" Autumn prods, turning to look at me.

I flash a grin up at her, rising higher on my knees. "Sorry, lass, it's a fine arse. Thoroughly distracting."

"You really don't turn it off, do you?" she giggles, blushing furiously.

"I'll stop trying to charm you once you stop giving me reasons to," I tell her, running my hands through the laces. "Who tied this? This is abysmal. Have you been having trouble breathing the whole time?"

The tie's at the top, the whole thing cinched tight. While the boning isn't made of that flimsy plastic stuff they put in a lot of corsets nowadays, the shape's all wrong for her—too long below and too high up, forcing all of her squishy bits into one very restrictive package.

"You let me, lass, I'll buy you a hundred corsets all custom fit to your exquisite shape. This one's all wrong for you, but you wear it well enough."

I untie the laces slowly, though I can see Fenrir wants me to move faster.

"You go too quickly, you send the body into shock," I tell him. "As sexy as you may think it is to just rip it off of her—not when it's tied this tight."

But as I pull at the laces, they don't seem to get any looser. Or rather, it doesn't seem as if the corset does. It's almost as if it's plastered to her skin.

Or… worse.

It's getting tighter.

"I take it back, pup, slash away," I growl, turning her towards him.

Fenrir doesn't skip a beat as he runs a claw down her back. She lets out the softest little moan as his claw glides gently along her back.

"You're gonna have to give me some back scratches later," she sighs.

Watching her breasts heave with each breath is quite the distraction. So too is the sight of the corset as it falls forward, urged on by the werewolf. Autumn takes a shaky breath as the cloth separates, leaving behind the off the shoulder chemise she wears beneath.

"That's one cursed object down," I say. "Should we test if it's why our magic doesn't work on you first, or just assume all of your clothes are cursed? I'm good with either, to be honest."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Yeah, we may as well test it—for science."

I pull her close, press my mouth to her neck before the werewolf can catch on to what's going on. There's a poison in my venom that eases the pain, why so many humans become willing victims. I let it pool at my canines, drop my teeth slowly into her skin as I lap at it with my tongue, ready to catch the blood.

But I don't even break the skin before she twists her shoulder down and pushes me away.

"Fuck that hurts!" she whines. "It's not just because I'm a baby about pain, right? There really is something wrong?"

I pull her close, press a soft kiss to her mouth.

"It's not you. We'll figure this out. And if it is you, we'll learn to live with it."

My eyes dart to the werewolf, just as greedy as I am to mark her. He squints his eyes at me, mutters under his breath about my "dirty trick."

"There's still more to test," I tell her, pulling off her chemise.

I nod to the wolf. "Your turn, cú allta ."

He tries to hold himself back, but at his heart, he truly is a wild dog, pushing me out of the way as he bends low, licking at the other side of her neck. I can imagine the side I barely nicked is forbidden territory to him. Wolves are territorial, staking their claims. But everywhere he bites, I long to bite. A show of dominance. We all have our toxic traits.

My cock twitches at her soft moans, sure that this is is our chance to finally take her. But then she shrieks and pulls away from Fenrir. There are tears pooling in her eyes.

"Is it my shoes? My stockings?" she sobs, pulling them off and shoving her wrist towards the both of us after the removal of each item. Each time, it still hurts.

"How could it be my underwear?!" she sobs, pulling it off. "Does whoever cursed me need to touch the item? Did I buy cursed underwear?!"

Her bra goes next, and then she's naked, save for the necklaces. The one that Fenrir said she never removes, and the new one. I reach for her wrist, offer it to Theodore. He shakes his head, his eyes wide—though they're naturally wide with the decay. Amongst all of us, he seems the most affected by her pain—which only makes sense, if they've been in love this whole time. My heart pangs for what they have. There will be time. Especially if she lets me turn her. It might change the arrangement with the others, but at least she'll be immortal.

"I have a theory, lass, and I'm sure you're not going to like it," I whisper, pressing my teeth to her wrist.

Even with the build up of venom, she pulls it away nigh immediately.

"It's one necklace or the other," I tell her.