Chapter 14

Days pass in a blur of sleep, food, washing, and more sleep. I'm in a loop, repeating the most basic necessities to live. I have no wants or needs beyond that. No desire to stay awake a second longer than necessary. They check on me occasionally, ensuring I'm still breathing and forcing me to eat and drink. They talk in murmurs about things I'm not interested enough to hear and each time I find myself in a nightmare, Shaw's voice whispers to me, and I'm left with nothing but the sea by a pristine beach.

‘Thank you,' I tell him as I sit in the sand, watching the endless waves gently break on the shore.

‘You're welcome, Pixie,' he replies, his voice drifting on the gentle breeze. ‘Wake up soon. It's somewhat dull without you.'

The waves reach my toes, and I smile.

My captor, who can turn men mad as he walks through their dreams… giving me my own little slice of heaven.

Washed, dressed and fed, I'm led downstairs to fulfil my part of the bargain I struck.

Speak to the dead in exchange for answering a question.

I should negotiate for more answers next time. It will take me years to find anything out at this rate.

The castle is quiet, and as the banshee leads me to wherever I'm being summoned, she refuses even to acknowledge me.

She stops at the same door that leads down to the dank cellar they made me find my kindred in. She opens up the heavy metal door. Then she just stands there.

‘I go down?'

She rolls her eyes with dramatic effect and tuts loudly.

Take that as a yes.

I head down, and she slams the heavy door shut behind me.

‘Fucking bitch,' I hiss, feeling my way down the darkened passage.

A long corridor lies at the base of the stairs, lined with steel doors sealed shut with heavy locks. Light floods the hall as a door opens at the far end.

‘There you are,' Archie grins. ‘Come on. It's cold and creepy down here.'

‘Then why don't we do this upstairs in the sunshine?'

‘Because we can't have anyone knowing what you are, and if you go all psycho, we already have you in a cell, silly.'

Oh.

Great.

Inside, the body of the murdered earth witch lies naked on a slab. There are no windows and only one door, which, as soon as I step inside, all three guys block as if I'm about to make a break for it. The dead man's skin is like melted wax. His eyeballs are gone. His mouth is open, and a black, shrivelled tongue sticks out.

The stench of burnt fat is disgusting.

I stand by his head.

‘What do I do?' I ask. ‘And what the fuck are they doing here?' I gesture to the basket of rats by my feet.

‘Well, you need blood and a life force to drain in order to make your blood magic work. The same as you need to be touching the natural earth to access earth magic.' Dorian nods to the basket. ‘It was a toss-up between rats, rabbits or a deer. We thought you wouldn't feel so bad about rats.'

‘You think I feel happy that I have to kill a load of rats to talk to a man I killed?' I ask, unsure if he's being a sarcastic arse or just an insensitive twat.

He simply shrugs.

Insensitive twat it is.

‘I'm not killing a rat.'

But all three of them just stand there, staring expectantly at me.

‘Seriously. Please don't make me kill a rat.'

With a tired groan, Dorian strides to the basket and pulls out a dagger. Several squeaks later, he slams the basket by the dead witch's head and thrusts one of my hands into the mess of dying rodents.

‘There,' he grunts.

‘Great. Thanks for the help.'

‘You're the first squeamish blood witch I've ever met,' he adds, watching my scrunched-up face.

‘Well, this is the first time I've had my hand in rat guts. Perhaps I'll get better the more I do it,' I bite back. ‘What do I do now?'

‘What did you do with the guy in the woods?' Archie asks.

‘I don't know.' I shrug. ‘It just sort of happened.'

‘Trust your instincts,' Shaw says. ‘Touch him. See what happens.'

‘Touch the dead man's melted head and see what happens. That's fantastic advice. Thanks for that.' I rest my hands on his head. ‘Gross…' I look down into those empty eye sockets. ‘Hello?' I offer. ‘Is anyone in there?'

The guys are all sniggering, amused at my naivety. I have no idea what I'm doing. All this follow-your-intuition shit is easily said, but not so much when put in action.

I take another deep breath as I press the tips of my fingers harder to the cold flesh beneath. I do my best to ignore the writhing rats and focus on the blood seeping between my fingers.

‘Speak.'

The corpse jolts, and their laughter quickly stops.

‘She fucking did it…' Archie whispers.

The connection between the corpse and me is intense. Painful. Like the air is being pulled from my lungs and my heart is being crushed. The more I wield the power, the more the corpse moves. Until he groans and splutters, twitching and moaning as if in agony.

‘Ask your fucking questions!' I demand, straining against the pain. ‘HURRY!'

Shaw surges forward, peering down at the man.

‘Why did you attack us?'

A raspy and rattling breath comes from the corpse.

‘Answer him,' I command.

‘Kill… wolf…' he replies, his voice hollow and dry. Empty of life and anything that made him living. It's a soulless voice and will haunt me in my dreams.

‘Who sent you?' I ask.

‘My… Coven…'

‘Earth Coven?' I ask.

‘Yessss. We come to kill the wolf who murdered our leaders. Come to kill the eye thief. Come for revenge.'

I'm thrown backwards and crash into the wall, my head pounding and that raspy voice still ringing in my ears.

A pair of boots stops before me. Dorian crouches down.

‘You okay?' he grunts.

‘Peachy,' I groan back.

‘What happened?' he helps me up.

‘I couldn't hold on.' I stride back to the corpse and rest my hands on him again, but the connection won't come. I feel it, but I can't get a grip.

‘We could bring in something else for her to drain? Archie suggests. ‘A cat or something? See if that gives her more of a boost?'

‘Why don't you let me use your blood,' I suggest. ‘That worked nicely last time.'

‘No thanks, Pix,' Archie smirks. ‘That gave me the headache from hell.'

‘I'm not killing a cat to talk to a dead man. Not now we know he definitely came for you. And the eye thief. Whoever that is.' Shaking my head, I let go. ‘I can't get a grip, and it's hurting my head to try.'

‘It's fine,' Shaw says. ‘You did what we asked.'

‘I'm curious to know about the missing eye thing, though.' I look at the corpse. ‘Why would someone dig up a bastard like LeSaint and take his eyes?'

‘Do you care?' Shaw asks. ‘You pissed on the man as he lay dying at your feet. He tried to violate you with a knife.'

‘I'm not exactly sad that someone stole his eyes, but I think we should know why. That's dark magic. Are you sure I can't use Archie's blood again? See if we can find out what he was talking about?'

‘No, you fucking can't!' Archie scoffs indignantly. ‘And if you want to use my blood, you can bloody ask me. Not Shaw.'

‘There's no need,' Shaw replies. ‘We're pretty certain we know what it was. It was a wraith. We killed one whilst you slept when it wandered onto our lands.'

‘A wraith?'

He nods. ‘They stray from the mountains sometimes. Like to eat eyes and such. Especially from fresh corpses. We killed it, so there's no need to worry, Pix.' He holds open the door and gestures for me to leave. ‘We're done.'

I watch him for a moment, uneasy at this sudden revelation. Unsettled by how easy it's resolved.

A wraith. That's it?

‘Come on, Pixie,' Archie says, taking my chain and tugging at it. ‘This place smells like dead arse. Funny story. I actually know what that smells like. Five years ago-'

‘Oh gods,' I groan, following behind him. ‘Please, not another disgusting story.'

Waking, I sit and stretch my sore and sluggish muscles and see darkness seeping in through the window. It's the third night to pass since I was attacked at the waterfall and several hours since Shaw blew that strange sleep dust in my face. One minute, we were talking. The next… lavender and dreams.

The chain around my neck is untethered, and I'm free to move as I wish.

I rise, wash myself, and dress. They've left some clothes out for me at the far end of the bed. A couple of dresses and some trousers that are much smaller than anything they would wear. Trousers my size. Made for me. On some hangers are a few shirts, jackets, and warm cloaks. Again. My size and brand new.

I've never had clothes bought for me. I've only ever worn hand-me-downs or things I stole from girls who pissed me off back home. The material is excellent. Smooth and feminine but thick and durable. On the floor are two pairs of shoes. Some black lace-up boots and some silver sandals.

I pull on a pair of dark blue trousers and a black shirt, tuck the chain necklace in, and head out the door.

In the kitchens, I pick at the leftovers I saved from the meal the guys made me. It's on the cusp of going bad, but it will do for now.

‘Hello,' greets a familiar voice.

Looking up, I see the banshee. Her bright eyes look at me closely, seemingly intrigued.

‘Evening,' I reply. ‘Can I help you?'

She smiles, her red lips wide and sharp teeth glinting. ‘I heard you had a little trouble with some soldiers, and you got hurt.' Her lip pouts out in mocking sympathy. ‘Are you okay?' she coos as if talking to an infant.

‘Fine.' I take another bite of bread. ‘Strange you didn't sense the danger. Isn't that the whole reason you're here?'

‘It's one of the many reasons my masters keep me. But I hear you have found another reason to be kept, too. Master Archie got to play with you.'

I swallow the bread in my mouth.

‘I wonder. Was it the soldiers who left you bedridden for three days, or was it our master?'

‘Archie could have died because you didn't raise the alarm quick enough.'

‘I raised it quick enough to save him.'

‘I wonder. Is that black eye you've covered crudely with paste because you failed to do the one thing you are supposed to do? Or because you waited in the hope that I would die?'

Her eye twitches beneath the slight swelling. She watches me as I stand, taking in my clothes as her gaze travels up and down the length of me.

‘They brought you clothing?' she asks, her voice dripping with jealousy.

‘Shaw left them on his bed for me. You know, the bed I just spent three nights in.'

I don't care that I was unconscious and probably alone the entire time. I just relish in her sneer.

Before I can blink, she's faded to orange smoke and reappeared right in front of me.

‘Why are they so interested in a filthy little mud witch like you anyway?'

‘Maybe you should ask them.'

There's a flash of light from outside. It's a sudden burst of fire. But she doesn't seem to be bothered by it at all. The orange glow remains in the distance.

‘My masters sent me to fetch you if you awoke,' she says, suddenly sweet and gentle. ‘Simply follow the path beyond the line of trees, and you will find them.' She smiles a sickly smile. ‘Enjoy your evening.' She fades into smoke.

I really hate her.

I eat the last salvageable pieces of food and leave to follow the path.

Let's see what my masters want this time.

The pyre reaches high into the sky. The vibrant flames exude intense heat, and the air is filled with the smell of smoke and burning wood. All around me, creatures talk and drink. Plumes of smoke spill from their mouths as they inhale something strange that makes them laugh deep and long. To the side, several are starting to play instruments, preparing to entertain. Logs lie on the ground; many sit on them as makeshift seating, drinking wine.

The wet soil beneath my bare feet feels warm and grounds me to the world. I like the connection to the earth much more than my connection to Blood. I like the smells in the air. The sound of conversation and joy around me. Inhaling deeply, I relish in this odd freedom. Considering I'm technically kidnapped, I feel far more alive and free here than I ever did back home. I would be in my room now, locked in. I would never be permitted to join a fireside party like this.

I shudder at the memory of the last one I attended and scan the area for any large trees I may be tied to or for any sign of a blade that might cut me.

No one here seems armed. No one here seems even to notice me.

Someone passes by with several goblets of wine in their hands, and I take the opportunity to relieve them of one. I sip. It's cool, just like the one Dorian gave me. So happily, I down it all.

I glance around, searching for Shaw or the others, but all I see are unfamiliar faces.

‘Good evening,' says a smooth, deep voice. I turn to see the male that speaks. He takes my hand and softly kisses my knuckles. ‘You must be the…' He smiles and clears his throat. ‘The Earth Witch.'

‘Holy shit!' I whisper, stunned at the beautiful man looking at me. Compared to the others gathered around the fire, many of whom look ragged, filthy, scaley or green in some cases, everything about him is stunning. His skin is smooth and unmarked. His dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. A pair of light green eyes meet mine, and a full set of lips hold a sweet smile.

‘The attractive male from the waterfall,' I breathe.

‘Excuse me?'

‘Wow. You are gorgeous.'

‘Why thank you.'

‘Oh gods…' I slam my free hand over my mouth. ‘Apparently, the filter between my brain and mouth is gone.'

His deep laugh ripples from his chest. He has countless talismans around his neck, and his wrists are smothered in beads, cuffs and bracelets.

Beneath his hair, pointed ears peek out.

‘My name is Kieran Doheron. Sixth son of Lord Hearth. And may I say, meeting the beautiful earth witch from the waterfall is a pleasure.'

‘Kieran,' I repeat, a little too preoccupied with staring at his perfect face. Then, the bare, muscled, sculptured skin beneath his jacket. And finally, to those perfectly curving lips still close to my knuckles. ‘Kieran…'

‘That is indeed my name. May I enquire as to yours?'

‘Mine?' I ask.

‘Yes,' he chuckles. ‘All we know is you are a runaway earth witch.' He winks. I know he saw me take control of the dead. He knows I know, but his winks and smile tell me he has no intention of saying anything about it. For now, anyway. ‘May I have a name to go with that beautiful face?'

‘I'm… Ashe.'

‘Ashe? Just Ashe?'

‘Ashe Nectan. Erm… only daughter of a piece of shit I would rather not name.'

His smile widens.

Sweet fuck. How can one man be so delicious to look at?

‘An absolute pleasure,' he replies, lowering my hand and thankfully ignoring my furiously blushing face. He quickly collects another goblet of wine as several pass by in the hands of a male with dark grey skin and places it in my hand.

‘You're a Faerie.'

‘I am,' he replies, offering a slight bow.

No one has the right to be this entrancing.

‘I've never met a Faerie before.'

‘There aren't many of us left,' he shrugs. ‘I've met many an Earth Witch, however. You seem to be all over the place.' He looks me up and down slowly, dragging his gaze over me and taking in everything he can. ‘But I guess that's what happens when you have human protection.'

‘Now, now, Kieran,' The banshee giggles, appearing from her smoke form at our side. ‘No using your powers on the mud witch. You know she's out of bounds for tonight's festivities.'

She slaps our hands and separates us. That irresistible sense of attraction fades in a second. He's still as beautiful as ever but not as entrancing. I can form a sentence without sounding like a love-struck child.

‘You were using magic?' I ask.

‘Never let a fae touch you,' the banshee groans as if it's obvious. ‘Not only can they force you to speak the truth, but they can have you filled with lust and obsession in the blink of an eye. One more minute, you would have been naked and pleading with him to take you right in front of everyone here.'

I glare at the faerie and step away.

‘You use your magic to seduce others?'

He winks and faces the banshee. ‘You want something?'

Before she answers, her eyes drift past him to something over his shoulder.

Following her gaze, I see Shaw, Dorian and Archie walking into the clearing. Shaw and Dorian are conversing as Archie drinks from a bottle, scanning the party.

‘Want to dance?' The banshee croons at Kieran, gesturing to the others slamming on drums and a few dancing in the clearing between them and the fire. She slides her fingers down his bare chest but never looks away from Shaw as she talks. ‘I'm bored.'

‘I'm talking to Ashe.'

‘Do my masters know that you are talking to their witch?' she teases, her voice childlike and bratty. ‘Do they know you touched her?'

‘I'm being friendly. Not seducing her.'

‘Be friendly with me.'

He groans.

‘You won't leave me be until I've danced with you, will you?'

With a giggle, she shakes her head.

‘Fine,' he says. ‘Excuse me, Ashe. I'll return shortly.'

He takes her wrist and joins the revellers.

I watch him take her waist and pull her close. Their bodies move as one, their hips swaying and grinding to the heavy beat. Everyone moves with grace.

With seduction. The dancing is almost erotic, but no one cares. Hands grab at arses. They kiss and moan. The banshee slides her hands through Kieran's hair, and their foreheads meet.

Fuck. It looks intense.

Realising I'm staring, I glance at the guys. Shaw and Dorian have sat on a fallen tree. They each have a bottle of drink in their hands and carry on talking to one another. Archie is speaking to a man I don't recognise.

Not a man. Male, certainly, but not human nor witch. He has horns. Great, big curved things that shimmer gold in the firelight. I'm about to head over to see why they summoned me here when all three look to the far left, where the trees have a path leading into the woods.

When I see four human men in the king's colours step through, I expect screaming and panic.

But no one pays any attention.

Shaw spots them. I prepare, sinking into fight or flight, but he simply nods and draws Dorian's attention to them. Surprisingly, Dorian stands and heads to meet the men, taking one of their hands in greeting.

When they come to our village, it's to arrest, punish or question.

It almost always ends in pain, blood and screams.

The soldiers part, creating a pathway.

Five young women walk through. Their hands are cupped behind them. Their heads are slightly bowed. All have long hair perfectly falling down their backs, and their bodies are draped in sheer black dresses that trail to the floor.

The dresses remind me of what I wore the night of the Rite. I can see everything beneath the thin material. Their curves. Their nakedness. Their pristine skin. I pull my sleeves down and feel disgusted at the marks on my flesh. At the scars none of them have. At the Rite markings I have to hide.

I may wear my glamour bracelet, but I know they're there.

I'll always know.

They stand in a group, waiting.

With a few words from Dorian, all the girls head towards Shaw. He sits with his elbows on his knees, watching them with a dark smile. They stop before him and courtesy low. One by one, Shaw lifts their chin and inspects their face. He takes the middle one, pulls her into his lap, sweeps her hair over his shoulder, and sniffs her neck.

‘Payment,' Kieran says, suddenly at my side. He watches the soldiers joining the party and glances at the girls surrounding Shaw and Archie. Dorian continues talking to one of the guards.

‘Payment?' I repeat, watching Archie peer down at a blonde.

‘In exchange for their services, enforcing the laws with the covens and keeping the peace between us lot and them, they get blood every few nights. Blood wrapped in the prettiest of flesh.'

‘They force the girls?'

‘Oh no. They have an endless supply of volunteers. The girls are most eager to spend time here and get paid generously for the stimulation they provide and receive.'

‘They fuck them?' I ask, a pit growing in my stomach.

He shrugs. ‘Sometimes. Sometimes, they just feed. And if the girls want to party with the rest of us after, they can.'

Dorian grabs one of the girls and bites her neck. He's rough as he drinks, pulling her hair to the side so her neck is completely exposed. He clamps down on her shoulder to keep her still. After a minute or so, he shoves her away, wipes his mouth, and carries on talking to the guard.

Her wound heals instantly and she stumbles into the crowd to join the others in drink, food and company.

A female with shimmering skin takes her hand and pulls her onto her lap. After a minute, I see her slide her long fingers between the human female's thigh and start finger fucking her. A male sitting close by reaches over and opens her legs wide, letting everyone see her exposed cunt get serviced.

‘How often do they come?' I ask.

‘Twice a week. The fire is lit. The wine runs freely. And we get some entertainment.' He nods to the brunette, who is thoroughly enjoying herself.

Why the fuck did they tell me to come here? Do they want me to watch them fuck these girls? Bite them and drink from them?

‘Anyone here can have the girls?' I ask Kieran.

‘The girls can leave whenever they wish. But they never do.'

The brunette moans loudly.

Shaw takes another girl's wrist and bites her. His other hand rests on her hip.

My insides constrict, and my throat burns at the sight.

Jealousy. I'm fucking jealous.

Hatefully jealous.

When I look at Archie, he's sliding off one of the girls' dresses. It tumbles around her ankles, leaving her curvy body utterly naked. The girl looks up at him with nothing but desire.

‘Dance with me,' I blurt, turning to Kieran. ‘But don't use your magic on me.'

‘It would be my pleasure,' he replies, taking my hand and leading me on.

We weave between the others who grind and sway. The smell of sweat, alcohol and smoke is intoxicating. The lust in everyone's eyes as they touch and kiss one another is enough to have my skin alight.

Kieran turns to face me and pulls me close. His hips press into mine. His hands settle on my waist, and his beautiful eyes meet mine.

Then he starts to move. My body becomes his willing puppet as his forehead meets mine, and his hooded eyes stare into my fucking soul. I'm unsure if it's his powers or the tension in the air that has a need for touch building in my core. I need friction. Warmth. Hands and hips. He pulls me closer, pressing his front into mine as the drums continue to sound around us.

He spins me. With his palm flat on my stomach, he pins me to his body. My back to his front.

‘Thank you,' I say breathlessly as we move together. I look back at him, relishing how he looks at me. ‘For helping me at the waterfall. You saved my life.'

‘I've been ordered not to mention it. But you are most welcome, Ashe.'

We dance as one. Moving in a fluid motion.

‘Do you belong to them?' he asks.

‘I belong to no one.'

Especially if they're playing with others, I can play too.

A faerie. A real fucking faerie.

‘I know what you are,' he whispers.

My body goes rigid, but he keeps swaying with me.

‘Your secret is safe with me. You saved my friend. Archie would have died without your help. I will never betray you.'

I relax. At least for now. I don't get the feeling he's about to execute me.

His lips start to work my neck, and a warmth travels the length of my spine.

‘Are you using your magic?' I ask.

‘No. But good to know you're enjoying it.'

I reach back, my fingers sinking beneath his hair, urging him closer.

My eyes close, and my other senses take over. The sounds. The smells.

The feel of firm hands belonging to a powerful and beautiful male set every one of my nerves alight and eradicate the jealousy that was there moments ago.

I'm free. Actually free to drink, dance, and enjoy others.

My body is my own for the first time ever. I will not be shamed for finding pleasure. Pleasure seems to be all that matters here. After all, they ordered me to come here. To join them. And if they can enjoy others… so can I.

Kieran's hand slides down, resting at the waist of my trousers.

‘Get. The fuck. Off my Witch,' snarls a dark voice.

I open my eyes to see Dorian's wrathful face glaring murderously past me to Kieran.

‘Step away now, Faerie. Before I break every single finger you have touched her with and rip your fucking lips off for daring to place them on her neck.'

‘No offence intended, My Lord,' Kieran says in that same silky tone.

He removes his hands and steps back. Dorian's finger hooks into the waist of my trousers and gently tugs. I stumble towards him, my body rigid.

‘I was unaware she belonged to you,' Kieran adds. ‘I thought she was nothing but a little mud witch you have been stuck with.' His sarcasm drips from every word he speaks. ‘Clearly, I was wrong.'

‘Clearly.'

Dorian's anger spreads out and ripples through the air around him. Absolute and sheer rage that I swear I can taste. Dorian watches Kieran step away, and when he's gone, his dangerously dark eyes look down at me.

‘I don't belong to you,' I manage, despite a crippling terror making me immobile. ‘I can do whatever I want as long as I keep up my end of the bargain.'

He keeps pulling me until he's close enough to have me pinned to his body, and his breath moves the loose strands of hair over my face. I don't dare look away. My head is tilted back to keep his gaze, frightened to move away in case he tears my throat out.

His palm settles on my lower back before he yanks me towards him so hard I stumble and fall into his chest.

He drapes my arm around his neck. Then he starts to move, swaying slowly from side to side.

Our hips sway as one as we fall into a fierce and intense rhythm.

‘You're dancing with me,' I whisper.

‘Hmmm.'

‘But you hate me.'

‘Shut up and dance with me, poppet.'

I'm acutely aware of those around us watching, stunned perhaps at the most terrifying man amongst them dancing with the "runaway earth witch".

‘I'm not your poppet.'

‘Yes, you are. What are you doing down here?' he asks, not breaking eye contact with me. ‘You don't need to see this shit. You should be resting.'

‘You sent the banshee to fetch me. If you don't want me to see you fuck and feed on other girls, then don't summon me to watch.'

The corner of his mouth hitches.

‘You smell fantastic when you're jealous.'

‘I'm not jealous. You're the one threatening Kieran for touching me.'

He leans into my neck and inhales. ‘Relax. I'm not going to tear your throat out.'

‘You sure about that?'

His hand grabs my backside as he presses his erection into my stomach.

‘Shit,' I gasp.

‘Relax. Move with me.'

His body moves to the music as his face buries in my neck. He starts kissing my nape deeply. I let my body move with his, hooking my arm tight around his neck to keep him near.

To keep him mine.

‘Relax,' he whispers again. ‘Listen to the music. Feel the earth beneath your feet. Follow the flow of my body.'

It takes a few moments until I ease up. My head falls back as his lips and tongue work their magic. His arousal digs into me, making my core clench and need spread between my legs.

‘You've made flowers,' he tells me, looking at the ground around us.

By my feet, dozens of daisies have sprouted, but their petals are blood red, and the centre and stalk are jet black. They bloom instantly, facing me as if I were their sun.

‘What the…' I gasp. ‘How… They're beautiful.'

But Dorian refuses to let me go enough to focus on them. He wants my attention, all of it.

His sharp tooth drags up my throat. I feel his tongue lap up the light bead of blood he's let free, and I revel in the low growl that rumbles through his chest.

‘You taste heavenly,' he admires. ‘My Poppet doll.'

Knotting my fingers in his hair, I encourage him closer.

His mouth claims mine. My blood is still on his tongue when he dips it into my mouth and kisses me hungrily.

Never. I have not been kissed with such skill and possessiveness in my entire life.

Of all the men I thought would kiss me like this, he was at the very bottom of the list. As we dance, kiss and grind, sweat coats my skin. My hair sticks to my damp body. I don't care that we're surrounded and being watched when I feel his hand dip into my trousers and sink straight into my pussy.

‘Fuck. You're so wet, Poppet.'

His words have me biting his lip and breaking the skin. I lick at the bead of blood. With a dark smile that promises trouble, he buries them deeper. My head falls back, and my eyes close as he eases them in and out, fucking me so wonderfully.

‘You like them watching you?'

I pant in response.

‘Do you like seeing them wish they were you, my sweet little blood whore?'

‘Don't… don't call me that.'

‘But you are my little blood whore,' he says in my ear, twisting his fingers and making me moan. ‘You like it when I drink from you, yes?' He walks forward, guiding me back through the crowd who step aside. Even as we move, he doesn't stop. He watches my face. His fingers keep working. ‘And you like the taste of us, yes?'

My back hits a tree. Behind him, the party continues. Many glance at us.

‘Eyes on me, whore.'

‘Stop calling me that,' I answer breathlessly.

My words get me another finger.

‘Oh gods…'

‘You're my whore. I get you when I want. However, I want. And you'll take everything and so much more. Now. Take my cock out.'

My trembling fingers fumble around his buttons. He springs free, and I take him in hand.

My eyes widen as I feel the sheer size of him.

‘On your knees.'

Again, I glance over his shoulder at the others. The log Archie and Shaw were sitting on is empty. They're not amongst those still grinding and swaying either. The guards are drinking and flirting with those living on the castle grounds. The human girl Dorian fed from sits on the siren's lap and has three sets of fingers easing in and out of her spread legs. Another is on her knees in front of Kieran, taking him in her mouth. The air is alive with sex and desire.

I don't see Archie or Shaw. Nor do I see the girls they had.

Dorian uses his finger to return my focus to him.

‘When I'm inside you, I'm all that matters. I'm all there is in your universe. My cock is your god. If you want me to have you writhing and screaming in pleasure, you will worship it. On. Your. Knees.'

I lower myself, falling to my knees for him.

‘Open your mouth.'

‘I've never done this before,' I admit.

He raises a brow. He knows.

I open my mouth and take him in. His soft, warm length slides along my tongue and the tip of his cock meets the back of my throat.

Sealing my lips around his thickness, I flick my tongue around him and flush with heat at his pleasure-filled moan.

‘Good little whore,' he mutters, taking my hair in both his hands. ‘Now. Worship me.'

He starts to slowly thrust, gentle at first, testing my ability to take him. Seeing how far he can go until I gag. But each gag makes his grip on my hair tighter and his breaths more jagged.

He likes making me gag.

And I love it. I love how he's oblivious to everything except me. How I'm all there is. I was sure he loathed me. Maybe he does. He's called me his whore, and as he encourages himself deeper down my throat, he holds himself there, making my eyes stream as I choke around him.

He pulls free, utterly enchanted by me, and waits.

‘You okay?'

‘Yes,' I reply.

‘More? Or am I too much for you… whore?'

I open my mouth for him.

‘That's a good girl.'

I won't back down. I take him back in my mouth and work him hard, my head going back and forth. He hisses and swears, utterly consumed by me. Enthralled.

‘That's it. Just like that.'

He looks up, watching someone behind me.

‘Come to play?' he says.

‘Absofuckinglutely,' Shaw replies, cock in hand as he strokes himself. His dark, hooded eyes look down on me.

He's here. With me. Not with some human girl.

Here.

‘Pixie. You look so beautiful on your knees.' He nods to his length.

‘No. You were just with another,' I reply.

‘We haven't touched anyone. We're all yours. I swear.' He steps closer.

Without looking away, I lean over and take him in my mouth. My free hand wraps around Dorian, and I stroke him, my thumb sliding over his tip, which makes him swear in pleasure.

I flinch when someone gathers my hair up from behind.

Archie looks down at me, admiring my mouth on his friend's cock.

After a few minutes, I'm thrust onto Archie's waiting length.

My thighs clench together. I have a hand on Dorian and Shaw, and my lips are sealed around Archie. They completely surround me, blocking me from everyone and encircling me entirely.

‘You think you get to try and tease us by dancing with another man?' Shaw says in a deep, husky voice, tinged with anger and brimming with lust. His fingers join Dorian's in my hair, and they both move me, manoeuvring my mouth along Archie's cock. ‘You thought you could make us jealous? Try to pretend you don't belong to us?'

‘Now, everyone here will know who you belong to,' Dorian adds. ‘You're our little whore.'

They push my head onto Archie, pulling back and forth at my hair. Back and forth. Each time, he hits the back of my throat. Then they force me onto him hard, and he goes straight down my throat.

‘We should strip you naked and all fuck you. Show you who you belong to. Show them all that you belong to us.' Shaw forces me harder onto Archie. ‘Don't you ever let another man touch you again.'

I can't breathe. I can't fucking move!

I slam my hands onto their abdomens and shove them back.

All three step away and let me go immediately, their hands raised as if in surrender.

Tears stream down my cheeks, and I gasp and groan as I attempt to keep the contents of my stomach inside me.

‘This… this was punishment?' I manage, looking between all three. ‘Because I danced with Kieran?' I'm on my feet and staggering away from the bastards, utterly humiliated. ‘You… you made me come here. You… you were with other women.' I wipe my face clean. ‘I don't belong to anyone.' I turn and walk back towards the house.

‘Pixie!' Shaw calls after me. ‘PIXIE! Get the fuck back here now.'

‘FUCK YOU!' I yell back over my shoulder.

‘You do as you are fucking told!'

‘I don't belong to you.'

‘Yes. You fucking do!'

To prove my point, I grab one of the human guards who watches my approach hungrily and slam my mouth onto his. I grab his hands and press them onto my breasts. He doesn't hesitate and grabs them before sticking his tongue down my throat.

I own my body. I will not be punished for touching someone else when they were minutes away from screwing some human bitch brought to them as payment.

The human is pulled off me. Shaw grabs his hands and snaps them all the way back. The sound of crunching bone and tearing flesh echoes all around me, followed by the agonising cry of the guy who falls to his knees screaming. Shaw keeps twisting, his face contorted in utter rage as I stagger back, looking on in horror as bone starts poking through flesh.

‘STOP!' I scream.

He keeps twisting until, with a blood-curdling cry and a stomach-turning snap and squelch, he tears his hands off completely.

As the guard's mouth remains open in a harrowing scream that will haunt me long after this night, Dorian reaches in and tears the man's tongue clean out of his head before tossing it to the horrified spectators.

‘Anyone who touches her ends up like him!' Shaw roars, dropping the severed hands to the floor and looking at the many, many eyes on him. ‘She. Belongs. To us! Does anyone have a problem with that?'

Everyone shakes their head and steps away.

Then, all three men look at me.

They're furious.

And all that anger is aimed straight at me. My mouth is dropped in horror. They've torn a man apart, and no one is doing anything about it! No one is defending him or screaming for justice.

‘Come here,' Shaw growls, pointing to the spot before his feet.

I shuffle back.

‘Don't you dare,' he warns. ‘If you run, you won't like it when we catch you. Come. Here. Pixie.'

Fuck that. I turn on my heel, and I fucking run.