Chapter 6

Six

In no time at all, we’re back at Duval House and in the Anneliese with me chained to our bed.

The chain clanks against the frame when Bran clamps a metal cuff around my wrist. I don’t even ask where he got a metal cuff with a perfect eye ring welded into the side on such short notice.

Once the cuff lets out a loud ting as the teeth lock into each other, Bran darts away.

“Where are you going?” I ask, not even bothering to hide the eagerness or flare of disappointment in my voice.

He drops into the wingback chair in the corner of the room and slouches into the curve of the wing, watching me with a cool, distant interest.

“Bran.”

“Now what, little mouse?” he challenges.

“I thought…” I pull myself up into a sitting position and lean my back against the headboard.

“You thought what? That you’d disobey me and reap some kind of benefit from it?”

Oh, the devil is here, ladies and gentlemen, and he’s taunting me. It causes a flare of joy to light in my chest. This is the Bran I know and love and it gives me hope that we’ll be all right, no matter how much things are changing.

“It was certainly implied ,” I say.

His long legs are bent at the knee but splayed open, giving me a clear view of his crotch where a bulge is showing.

“Why torture us both?” I ask.

“You must know by now, little mouse, that I can be a very patient man.” His voice is husky, his eyes glinting with a hint of the vampire gold I’ve come to love.

But he’s right—I do know just how patient he can be.

“So you’re just going to sit there with a hard-on and watch me suffer?”

“Yes.”

I try to cross my arms over my chest in an act of annoyance, but the chain isn’t long enough and I’m too far to the center of the bed. The chain snaps and rattles. I scoot closer to the edge.

Bran props his elbow on the chair’s arm and brings his long, elegant fingers to the curve of his jaw.

It’s hard not to stare at him when he’s at rest, when I can appreciate every sharp edge, every masculine curve, every dark shadow that makes up the whole of Bran Duval.

My heart beats a little harder and I get a flash of when he had me on my knees in the bathroom, ordering me to stick my tongue out for him.

I feel new slickness between my legs and close my eyes, trying to draw the thoughts away and somehow overrule biology and instinct.

But it’s useless.

I can feel the weight of his gaze on me. His hunger. I can smell him everywhere in this room and everywhere on my skin.

I may be, apparently, an extremely powerful being, but I am powerless against Bran.

If I were a drug addict, my drug of choice would be the very hot-as-hell vampire sitting just out of my reach.

I want to fuck him.

I want to fuck him all of the time.

And he knows it.

I arch my back purposefully, letting my legs drop open so that the skirt of my dress slips up my thighs, revealing the now damp triangle of fabric at my center.

His gaze immediately sinks to my panties and his nostrils flare, taking in my scent. But his body is held impossibly still.

I grab the hem of my dress and pull it even higher until it’s bunched around my hips.

Still, he hasn’t moved, but the hard ridge of his cock is clearly straining against the front of his pants.

With a wiggle of my hips, I shimmy out of my panties, taking my time slipping them down the length of my calves, then over my feet. When they’re off, I sink back against the pillows, ball the fabric in my free hand, and toss them.

Bran blurs out of the chair and catches them before they hit the floor.

His eyes are bright gold now, and when he brings the bunched fabric to his nose and inhales, his irises flare like flames.

I shiver beneath the heat of his stare.

“Naughty little mouse,” he says, his voice scraping over a raw throat.

“Your turn,” I suggest.

He takes another breath of my damp panties and then straightens his spine, looking down the sharp line of his nose at me. “Make me.”

I frown. “What?”

“Use your talents, Mouse. Make me do as you please.”

A lump immediately forms in my throat and I swallow it back. “You’re serious?”

He says nothing as his eyes pulse with hunger.

“You made me promise not to use it.”

“This is under controlled circumstances, when I’ve given you permission.” He tosses the panties to the floor and comes closer to the end of the bed. The under-cabinet lighting in the bathroom sends a soft glow into the room and it skims the left side of his body in a hazy white light.

“Besides,” he adds, “you have to learn how to use it if we’re going to infiltrate the fae house. Best start now.”

“Infiltrate? This isn’t a covert mission.”

“Everything is a covert mission, Mouse.” He leans over and lets his fingertips trail up my bare leg. “The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”

I lick my lips, goosebumps lifting on my arms and legs. “Are there any rules to this exercise?”

His fingers come to the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh and I grow wetter.

“No.”

My eyes pop open. “None?”

“I’ve done a lot of dirty things in my lifetime.” He smirks. “There isn’t much that will turn me off.”

I narrow my eyes. “I don’t like thinking about you doing those dirty things with other women.”

“Then think about me doing them with you and make it so.”

His hand is now just a few inches from my pussy, and I spread my legs for him, thinking he’ll give me a tease at the very least.

But no.

He darts away, back to the chair.

“Bran!”

“I’m waiting,” he says and looks ridiculously smug and patient as he stretches out his legs.

I sit up again. The chain rattles. For some reason I feel like I need some leverage to get this right, so I curl my legs beneath me and sit on my knees.

The chain settles.

At my Pledge, there was no thinking about my power. I just used it. It was almost involuntary. And I still have yet to be unbound. Will I even have access to it now? Rita still has my necklace captured in her magical jar, so that’s something at least.

Clearing my throat, splaying my hands on my thighs, I say, “Take off your clothes.”

Bran doesn’t move an inch and I grumble with frustration.

“Try again.”

I shake out my hands like I’m getting ready to throw a pitch at a softball game. The chain complains more loudly.

Expanding my chest, filling up my lungs with oxygen, I say, “Bran, take off your clothes.”

Still nothing.

“Goddammit.” I fall back on my butt. “This isn’t working.”

“You’re barely trying.”

“I just want to fuck you,” I say with a pout.

“Then try harder.”

With a grumble, I close my eyes and try to put myself back at my Pledge. I was afraid then. Terrified of losing Bran and my sister. The fear made the blood pump fast through my veins.

I can’t replicate that same feeling, but maybe if I latch onto that memory, if I let all of the muscles and tendons in my body tense up, maybe I can get close.

I imagine the smell of the Pledge Hall. The floor polish on the pine floors. The fresh water of the river nearby. The smell of all those shifters and vampires and witches. A mix of spice and musk and sweetness.

In my mind, I see Kelly go down again and Bran under attack, and my heart skips.

I take in another long breath as heat races up my arms, then down my torso and into my core.

“ Bran ,” I say and open my eyes, “ take off your clothes .”

I know I’ve found it by the uptick in his face, the fine lines around his eyes creasing with frustration as he loses control of his own body.

He stands up, kicks off his boots.

My heart races a little faster.

He never takes his eyes off of me as his belt comes out of the loops with a snap of leather. He tosses it next to my panties, and the metal clasp clanks loudly.

His pants are off in a second and then he yanks off his shirt, exposing all of those hard packed ab muscles.

The breath in my lungs rushes out in a moan of delight.

Just two seconds after that, his black boxer briefs are gone and his thick cock stands erect in the open air.

I lick my lips. I can’t help it.

This is too much power for one person to have, but goddamn, am I enjoying it.

“Now what, Mouse?” he says on a husky rasp.

“Stroke yourself.”

He tilts his head. “Try again.”

“Take yourself in your hand.”

“Again.”

A frustrated grumble rumbles in my chest. “Stroke your cock.”

He stands in the middle of the bedroom, his hands at his side.

“You’re killing me,” I say.

“You have until the count of five and then I’m putting my clothes back on.”

“Wait—”

“One.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Two.”

I crawl down the length of the bed, but the chain yanks me back. I forgot about it already.

“Three.”

The urgency takes root in my gut.

“Four.”

“ Get over here ,” I say.

He’s suddenly beside me on the bed.

“Better,” he says and wraps his hand in a length of my hair and gives it a sharp yank, forcing me to bend to his control. “Keep going.”

I reach between us for his cock, but he smacks my hand away.

I take another deep breath, focus on the beating of my heart, and then, “ Grab your cock .”

With my hair still wound around his left hand, he uses his right to take control of his shaft. Excitement burns in my belly.

“ Stroke yourself from base to tip .”

He does as I command and I can hear the soft rasp of his hand on his cock.

“ Faster ,” I say, and he picks up the pace.

Our eyes are locked on one another as he pumps himself harder, muscle and bone twining in his shoulder as he works himself. His irises burn brightly, and pleasure makes his lids heavy, his fangs sharp against his puffy lips.

“ Don’t stop ,” I say.

He keeps going, racing close to the finish line.

“Mouse,” he warns.

“ Don’t stop until you come ,” I say again.

He pushes me back against the bed and the chain clanks loudly on the headboard. He bats my knees open with his free hand, but keeps pumping himself with his other.

His breathing is ragged now, his teeth clenched tight.

He lines himself up at my center so that every stroke of his cock brings the backside of his knuckles against my clit.

The first graze of him makes me jolt, but he quickly wraps his free hand around my throat, driving me into place beneath him.

“You said faster, didn’t you, Mouse?” His assault on my clit is bringing me too close too quickly.

“Yes, but… Bran ?—”

He clamps his hand over my mouth.

“My turn, Mouse.”

The head of his shaft swells in the cup of his hand and rubs against my clit.

He keeps up the pace until he growls above me, body tensing, the tendons in his neck straining as he clenches his teeth.

“Come for me, Mouse,” he says as he pumps against me.

Oh fuck.

Fuck.

I wrap my hand around his wrist, his own hand still clamped on my mouth as I come hard and fast.

The pleasure is sharp, more a bolt of lightning than a growing crash of thunder, and heat races through my body.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath heaving out around Bran’s fingers.

And then he shoots his load all over my pussy, turning me into a slick mess as he growls above me and then slides his length up my wet slit. Another bolt of pleasure shoots through my core.

I clench up and moan into his hand.

“That’s my good girl,” he says at my ear and then kisses the sensitive flesh just beneath my lobe, his fangs grazing over my pulse point.

Oh god.

Oh fucking hell.

Eyes closed, I sink into the sated heaviness that makes me feel like I’m floating.

Bran curls up beside me and then rubs his wet, sticky fingers over my bottom lip. “You did well, Mouse. Taste it.”

I dart my tongue out to clean off his cum.

“You may have the power to command me,” he says, “but I will always control your pleasure.”

“Yes,” I say on a breath, still lost to the calmness that has washed over me.

He turns me, then wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him.

“Take off the chain,” I tell him.

“No,” he says. “Go to sleep.”

I want to argue, but I’m suddenly too tired. That took a lot out of me and I’m not entirely sure if it was using my power or coming.

I guess it doesn’t matter.

Both felt ridiculously good.

Maybe too good.

I might like using my voice more than I want to admit.

I drift off quickly, held safely in Bran's arms. But it doesn't feel like I'm asleep for long.

A pounding at the bedroom door forces me to lurch awake. Bran is out of bed before I can orient myself in the sleepy haze.

"This better be good," he says when he whips the door open.

Jimmy is on the other side. "Get dressed,” she says. “And hurry.”

“Why?” he asks on a growl.

“Because Damien is awake. And something is wrong.”