Chapter 7

My back is pressed against a tree. The bark scratches my skin, and I wince at the discomfort between my legs. Cole kisses me. He's a good kisser, but his fingers are uncoordinated and clumsy as they dig around in my underwear like he's trying to find some lost treasure before someone else. His heavy breaths land in my mouth as he moans, relishing as I stroke him back and forth in my hand. I try to set the pace. To show him what I like.

He doesn't give a fuck.

His fingers slow. They always do when he's close to finishing. He's incapable of focusing on more than one thing at a time.

He'll cum and slump against me, leaving me not only unsatisfied but probably with a burning sensation when I pee.

But Cole doesn't cum. Instead, he grabs my wrists and pins them behind me, wrapping them around the trunk.

‘Got her?' he asks.

‘I do indeed,' my father replies. He grips my wrists tightly, pulling and pulling until there's a stomach-turning pop.

‘Stop!' I scream, agonising sobs strangling my voice so nothing comes out but a gasp. ‘Please!'

I can't move. Cole is suddenly covered in blood. His face is half melted away. With a sneer, he plunges a knife into my side. I scream, pulling against the ropes and thrashing as he twists the blade.

‘Blood witch,' he snarls. ‘I'll make you pay. I'll make you scream.'

I throw back my head and scream as he stabs me, over and over, counting with each thrust.

One. Two. Three.

‘Look at me!' he demands. ‘I SAID LOOK AT ME AS I KILL YOU!' I try to pull away, avoiding his fingers as they grab my face. ‘Furatus aer, Ashe. Now you belong to me. You are mine! Furatus aer.'

‘No!' I sob, knowing he has me under control. Knowing I belong to him. ‘LET ME GO!'

He grabs my face. But when I look, it's not Cole.

Now it's Shaw.

‘It's a nightmare,' he says.

There's no blood to be seen. No anger on his features. His vivid green eyes search mine, flicking left to right as he reads me.

His palm rests flat on the place Cole just stabbed me. There's no wound. No pain.

‘I'm dreaming?' I ask.

He nods. ‘Just a dream, Pixie. Your dream. You tell it what to do.'

I slam my forehead into his, punch him in the face, and when he falls, I leap on top of him. Before he can react, I lean down and kiss him. He doesn't hesitate and rolls me over, so he's on top. His kiss is deep and demanding. I want his kiss. But not on my mouth. My fingers knot in his hair, and I push him down. His crooked smile goes willingly, and his face gets lost between my thighs.

‘Fuck…' I whisper, feeling his tongue in all the right places. My hips lean into him, and he moans as he devours me.

Why not? It's my fucking dream.

And what a dream…

Iwake with a start, sitting with the same moan escaping from my lips that I had in my dream.

I slam my hands over my mouth to stop it from being heard. To stop it shaking the walls. My thighs press together, and I swear I can still feel him there. Feel his tongue and fingers.

A soft chuckle has my gaze on Shaw. He's sat on a chair with his feet on the end of my bed. His arms are folded, and he looks at me with amusement.

‘Good dream?' he drawls.

‘Not particularly,' I lie, still feeling the fading promise of the orgasm.

I pull the silk sheet up higher, covering my naked body as I shuffle further up the bed, keen for any extra distance between us.

My senses are returned. My body, although aching, is mine once more. I have strength. Awareness. And thankfully, the urge to vomit has passed.

‘How are you feeling?' he asks. ‘Hungry? Tell me what you want, and I'll see if we can get it for you.'

‘I'm not eating anything you give me,' I retort. ‘Filthy bloodsucker. I won't fatten myself up to feed you and your friends.'

He releases a soft laugh and shakes his head.

‘We shall see how long that lasts, Pixie.'

‘Quit calling me Pixie. My name is Ashe.'

‘I'll call you whatever I like.'

‘Then so shall I.' I try to think of a witty remark. But all that comes out is, ‘You fucking… fuck face.'

‘Such a wickedly forked tongue, Pixie,' he laughs. ‘Did it take you long to come up with such an eloquent insult?'

Admittedly, not my best.

I look around the room. It's spacious, very luxurious and elegant but relatively empty. A chest of drawers is in the far corner. Beside it is a full-length mirror. The bathtub they put me in is under a high, floor-to-ceiling window. Black silk drapes hang on either side, letting in the daylight. The floors are dark wood. The walls are painted black. Above us is a grand chandelier decorated with lit candles. This ridiculous four-poster bed with curved wooden posts stretching up to the ceiling and the chair Shaw is sitting on are the only other pieces of furniture.

Behind him is a door.

It's wide open.

He's too busy looking at his fingernails, seemingly bored, to notice me staring at it.

‘Go on then,' he says. ‘Ask your questions.'

‘Where am I?' I ask, my eyes taking in every detail of my surroundings.

Open door. Closed window. Nothing I can use as a weapon. And between that door and me… a vampire warlord who made his fortune killing my kind.

‘Our home. The fourth floor, in case you were wondering. So I wouldn't recommend leaping from the window if I were you. We patched up those cuts. We won't be able to patch up your mangled and splattered body from a drop that high, though.'

I look under the sheet and see the cuts have all healed. All that remains are thin pink lines etched into my flesh.

‘That dust from your hand. What was that?'

‘What dust?' he shrugs, smirking like an arsehole.

Guess that's a question he's not going to answer.

‘How long was I out?'

‘Two days.'

‘Not possible. How? These cuts should be fresh.'

‘We have our ways.'

He's not going to answer. I tighten the sheet around my body.

‘I need clothes.'

‘We have some stuff for you in your drawers.'

‘My drawers?'

He nods to the chest and then gestures to the room. ‘This is your bedroom.'

‘My bedroom?' I repeat.

‘You a fucking parrot? Yes. This is your bedroom. Your space. Your bed.'

‘Did you fuck me when I was unconscious?'

‘No.'

‘Are you going to fuck me?'

The corner of his mouth twitches.

'Only if you ask very, very nicely.'

‘You touch me, I will kill you.' I cling tighter to the sheet.

‘You've said that already. Be warned, Little Pixie. You are not going anywhere. You are ours now. This room is yours. We will feed you and protect you from your coven. We will give you some freedom. We will help you learn to use and control your magics. Both blood and earth. But if you act up or misbehave, that will change. You'll lose this room and find yourself in a cage instead. You carry on not doing as you're told, you'll find yourself in a hole with no light, wishing for death.'

I swallow dryly as he speaks his threats with a velvet-smooth promise.

‘But if you're a good girl and do as you're told, you'll find this much more tolerable. I have minimal patience, and if you need to test its limits, I recommend preparing yourself for a drastically different experience than the one I promised Archie and Dorian I would try to give you.'

Fight or flight consumes me in the blink of an eye. Before he can react, I've thrown myself from the bed and sprinted to the door, abandoning the sheet and any dignity left to me.

‘Stop!'

That's all he says. One fucking word, and my body obeys, freezing an inch from the door. My neck burns hot as I look back at him, gasping in panicked breath after panicked breath.

He hasn't moved an inch except to slowly turn his head in my direction. Nothing holds me. There are no chains or weapons.

Yet, I can't move!

‘Come back here,' he sighs, pointing to the spot between his legs as he remains leisurely in his chair.

I twitch with rage as I obey, my body returning to him despite everything inside me, desperate to refuse.

My feet plant at that precise spot he points to between his feet. He widens his legs, giving me room to fit where he wants me to be.

‘Pretty sure I just told you to behave, or you would regret it. I'm damn certain I didn't say to try and run off before I've even finished threatening you.'

‘How are you doing this?'

‘The more important question is… where do you think you are going?'

He rises from his chair and stands so close his chest brushes against mine. When he's at full height, my head is tilted back so I can keep looking into those dangerous eyes.

‘Turn around,' he orders.

My teeth grind as I obey. He leads me to the full-length mirror with his hands on my shoulders.

I take in the sight of my body, bare and exposed.

Red lines mark much of me. Cuts from my own coven.

My hand rests on the deepest of them all. The stab wound on my side.

‘This here,' he says, his fingers tracing along my neck where a silver mark lingers. The same place my skin burns. ‘This is my Mark. I put it there. Injected you with my venom.' He moves his fingers so they rest under my chin, lifting my head so I look at him in the mirror. ‘You are Marked by me. Claimed by me. Owned by me. My word is law to you. As far as you are concerned, I am your god. Your lord.' He lowers his voice to a whisper. ‘Your master and universe.' His other hand circles the second silver scar on my shoulder. ‘This one belongs to Dorian. His Mark. His claim. His word is your law, too. A word of advice. Don't piss him off. You won't enjoy it.' He trails the tips of his fingers down my body, between my breasts. I grip his wrist when he gets to my lower abdomen. He's too strong and carries on, avoiding anything intimate until he rests on the silver scar on my thigh.

‘This mark belongs to-'

‘Archwin,' I breathe.

‘Correct.'

‘He's a wolf.' Images of his teeth flash through my mind. The sound of flesh tearing and blood squelching rings through my ears.

‘He's a shifter,' he says. ‘Man and wolf. He can transform at will.'

‘There's no such thing except in stories,' I reply. ‘Shifters are children of the ancient war gods. They don't actually exist.'

‘Okay. I'll tell Archie. Remind him that he's not real and that you imagined seeing him transform from a giant wolf to a man.'

My head spins as I try to find a place for this information to settle in an already buzzing brain.

‘Any words of advice for dealing with him?' I ask, failing to think of anything else to say.

He laughs deep from his chest. ‘Oh. A lot. The main warning I would offer is to know your limits. Because he sure as hell has no idea what his are. He's never reached them yet. And never call him Archwin. He hates that name. Start with Archie. See how he likes the sound of it coming from your lips.'

I turn to face him.

‘You can all control me? My actions?'

‘Yes.'

‘I have to obey whatever you say? Anything at all?'

‘Would you like to test it out, Pixie?'

I shake my head. ‘No.'

‘I'll ask you again. When you tried to run, where were you going?'

‘I…' I think. I really try to think.

Where would I go? Who would help me? Humans will add my bones to the gates of their village. The covens want me dead.

His hand settles on the scar on my side.

‘This mark belongs to your fiancé.'

‘Ex,' I correct.

‘What about this one?' he asks, tapping another scar. ‘Whose mark is this?'

I try to breathe around the lump in my throat.

‘How about this one?' He gestures to another.

‘Is there a point to this? I know who put every single one where.'

‘Then tell me. I'll make you if I must.'

I grab his hand and slam it onto one of my scars.

‘Sebastian. He helped teach me to read.' I put his hand on another mark. ‘Lillian. She helped me the first time I got my period.' I move it to another. ‘Theon. He was my father's best friend.' With a shove, I push him away. ‘I get it. I'm not welcome back home. And if humans find me, you'll be greeted by my bones at the village gates. I still want to know what the fuck you want with me. I know who you are. I know what you are. If you want blood, you have an endless supply available to you. There are humans contracted to you. If you want a woman to screw, I'm sure there are more willing ones. Unless you like them fighting back and screaming for you to stop because that's all you will get from me.' He just holds that smirk, finding my anger amusing. ‘And if you want me to use this vile blood magic I have, then think again. I will not have it consume me and turn me into one of those soulless monsters who tore this world apart.'

‘You will do as commanded.'

I step closer. He doesn't move, so now we're entirely nose-to-nose.

‘I will not make myself a monster for you. I will not tear apart the living to get access to my powers. So bite me. Humiliate me. Push my limits. What the hell do I care? I'm already dead no matter what I do.'

I shove him hard. He allows himself to fall back a couple of steps, still fucking laughing.

‘Why am I here?' I repeat, snarling every single word. ‘What do you want with me?'

‘Everything. I want everything, Pixie. And I'll get it too. We all will.' He opens one of the drawers and tosses me something. I catch the material. ‘Get yourself dressed.'

I throw back the pathetic excuse of a dress he's thrown at me, and it smacks him in the face. He lets it slide to the floor, and his eye twitches as he attempts not to lose his temper.

‘Or don't,' he grinds out. ‘Be naked for all I care. I'll be back up later. Do not try to leave this room without permission from one of your masters.'

‘You are not my master.'

‘I'll get something sent up for you to eat.' He heads out into the hall.

I grab his chair and toss it. The bedroom door shuts before it can find its mark, and the chair falls to the floor minus a leg.

‘That's the only outburst you'll get with me, Pixie,' he calls back through the door. ‘Remember I've said that. I will not repeat it.'

I hear his footsteps fade, leaving me behind in this room. In this uncertainty. All their words race through my mind in an incoherent tirade.

They want my blood. That's for sure. And they're right. I've nowhere else to go. Nowhere to run. Even if I could disobey them, I'm fucked out there.

My chest becomes painfully tight, and spots blur my vision.

I can't breathe! I can't fucking breathe!

Clawing at my throat, I search for something that will help me avoid a panic attack. It's been so long since I've had one. I'd almost forgotten how they feel!

When I turn to face the bed, I see a large mirror above it. My eyes widen as the shadows inside start to descend.

Not a mirror. Not now!

I can just about cope when I'm at peace, but with my emotions out of control, it's hopeless.

I grab the remainder of the chair and toss it hard. Shards of glass explode everywhere, covering the bed and dancing across the floor. My throat continues to close and the room spins. My heart feels ready to explode.

The bed.

I make for it, but my legs buckle. So I crawl, naked and desperate, and slide beneath it. I sink below the wooden frame and sturdy mattress, where the light doesn't fall, and no one can see me. Where there are no mirrors. No monsters.

Curling into a tight ball, I close my eyes and focus on breathing.

Small. Keep small. Keep hidden. Back against the wall so you'll see who is coming. Don't listen. Don't look.

But I know who is coming. I know what awaits me.

Pain. Imprisonment. Three masters who should have already killed me.

Is this it? Is this the rest of my life? Trapped in a bedroom where three blood-thirsty men will feed on me at their whim, with nothing left to do but wait for them to kill me or for the covens to finish what they started?

I remain huddled under here, feeling like a child once more. Scared. Alone. Weak and helpless.

Now what? What do I do?

Then I see the shard of glass from the broken mirror just ahead of me.

And I get a thought.

A terrifying yet blissful and freeing thought that instantly lightens the unbearable weight that was crushing my heart.

I don't have to live my days out like this. In whatever hell they have planned. The first time I met them, they had a pixie nailed to a table and took immense pleasure in torturing it to death.

I'm their pixie now. Shaw vowed I would be.

I ended that poor creature's life to spare it its suffering.

I can do the same for myself. End my suffering whilst I can and stop them from getting another thing from me, be it my blood, my magic, or my body.

My father abandoned me to my fate. My fiancé stabbed me and fucked another as I watched on, bleeding and being cut by our family and friends.

I have nothing left and I had so little to start with.

I press the glass into my wrist, forcing the jagged point through my flesh, and drag it along, ripping myself wide open.

Blood spills quickly from the wound, and a cold wash of fear ripples through me.

I don't want to die. But I want to live this life even less.

I take the shard in my other hand, ready to cut myself open again.

The bedroom door shatters. From beneath the bed, I see three sets of feet charge into the room.

‘Where the fuck is she?' Archie demands. ‘WHERE IS SHE?!'

A pair of boots head this way, and Dorian kneels. His eyes meet mine.

‘She's under here.'

I scream, desperately trying to end my life before they can reach me. The bed is fixed in place, both to the floor and the wall. So Dorian reaches in to grab me, wrapping his hand around my ankle before I can pull it away. Still screaming and trying to finish what I started, I'm yanked from under the bed. I skid across the room, stopping at Shaw's feet. He looks down at me, rage radiating from him. The veins in his neck are throbbing, and his fists are clenched as he sees what I've done.

I move quickly, stabbing my other wrist with the glass.

He roars so loud that Archie, who is standing beside him, covers his ears and steps away. Shaw, moving so fast he's a blur, hauls me to my feet and bellows furiously in my face. His teeth have sharpened, and he grips me so tight my bones crunch.

I scream, utterly filled with horror and fear, looking at those lethal teeth and the murderous rage behind those eyes.

He stops and says in a low warning.

‘Drop. It.'

Terror has me transfixed into a rigidness that means I can't. I fucking can't!

He bends my hand back. The bone snaps with a crunch.

The glass falls, and I wail in agony, looking at my wrist bent so far back it's touching my arm and bone sticks through.

‘Y-you bastard!' I scream.

His other hand secures around my throat, cutting off my screams and insults.

‘Ronan,' Archie tries. ‘You're going to kill her, man.'

‘No,' he growls in my face. ‘She's not going to be that lucky. Don't say I didn't fucking warn you, Pixie.'

I'm like a doll in his grip, dangling from his hand. He pulls me from the bedroom and carries me across the hall to another room. He kicks it open and takes me inside.

‘Shaw! The girl can't breathe,' Archie says. ‘Ease up. It's nothing we can't mend. She's not hit any veins. It's an easy fix.'

Shaw tosses me on the bed, releasing my airway so I can take in much-needed air.

I look up at him, frozen in terror.

He never looks away from me, pointing an angry finger at my face.

‘I warned you. Disobey me, there will be consequences.'

‘I'm sorry,' I try, clutching my broken wrist close to my chest. ‘I-I won't do it again.'

‘Oh, I know, Pixie. I gave you fair warning. I offered you a room. Space of your own. A level of freedom. Something a blood bitch like you doesn't deserve. And minutes later, you try to end your life? We're blood drinkers, girl. We can smell your insides a mile away. We knew what you had done as soon as you broke the skin. You're a fucking idiot.'

‘I don't want to be here.' I desperately sob. I hate that I do. I loathe it. This weakness and vulnerability. I hate that they see it. See me shaking from the fierceness of my wailing. ‘I'd rather die with dignity!'

‘Well, if that's what you wanted, why didn't you just say?' His teeth sink into my neck, tearing at me like a wild animal. Blood seeps down my chest, past my legs, and over my toes.

‘Help me!' I cry as the two others stand there and watch.

Shaw pulls back, blood dripping from his lips as he looks down at me.

‘No one will help you now. This is the only home you have left. We are the only family you will ever know.' He roars his words in a demonic voice, making the walls tremble.

I close my eyes and cry. His fingers wrap in my hair, and he yanks my head back.

‘Open your eyes,' he orders. ‘I will command you if I must. LOOK AT ME!'

My eyes open, and tears spill down my cheeks.

‘I'm sorry,' I whisper. ‘Please just kill me. Please.'

‘Open your fucking mouth.'

I shake my head, still crying painfully hard as he towers over me.

‘Open it, or I will break your jaw so it never shuts again.'

It takes all my focus to get my body to obey. My lips part. His eye twitches.

He bites his wrist and thrusts his bleeding wound into my mouth, holding me in place by my hair. The metallic taste of his blood seeps into my mouth.

‘Drink,' he commands.

Shaking my head is pointless. He's got a firm grasp on my hair. I'm not going anywhere. In the silence, the sound of my blood splattering on the floor echoes around us. My muffled sobs carry through the air.

‘Drink,' he repeats in my ear.

His mark on my neck tingles as he wields his power to control me.

I swallow and am disgusted by the taste. Repulsed at the thick, warm fluid sliding down my throat.

Behind him, Archie has started to laugh, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he watches us.

The first swallow makes me gag. The second goes down a little easier.

The third is warm. My head gets fuzzy, like I've drunk too much wine. My heart slows. The panic fades. Every sip. Every bit. It all feels better.

I grip his wrist, keeping it pressed to my lips. This I can take. Gladly. Over the fear and pain and dread? I'll take it.

I let the blood wash the world away. Let it devour my suffering and leave me drunk.

‘Look at me,' Shaw says quietly, his tone still formidable but softer. Almost seductive. ‘Eyes on me, Pixie.'

I meet the heat of his gaze as he watches me drink from him. His breath has become shallow and jagged. His lips part as he hisses in a breath, and his fingers ease up in my hair. They're still knotted there but just holding now.

I have no idea what this is, but it's as close to heaven as I have ever been. My skin tingles and my insides hum.

I let out a moan, desperate for this peace. This ease his blood fills me with. My fear is gone. My dread vanished. All there is is him and this.

He steps forward, placing himself between my legs.

I wince as the broken bone in my wrist snaps back into place. I pull away from him, gasping in a deep breath and look to see the bone slowly sinking back beneath my skin. I check my wrists. The cuts I made are closing.

The euphoric lightness lingers but is not as strong as it was when I was drinking from him.

‘Y-you healed me?' I peer up at him with a confused frown. He's still towering over me like some angry god. ‘I didn't know you could do that. How… why…'

‘Did I say stop?'

‘What?' I breathe, still half aware of all that's happening. That I'm healed. That his blood healed me.

His blood. Fuck. His blood was good…

He leans down, his face in mine.

‘Get. Your fucking mouth. Back on me, Pixie,' he growls.

He pulls his wrist back to my lips and holds me by my hair again.

I become weightless and warm. I lose all self-control. Hell, I throw it away and do so gladly.

For this? For this peace and stillness? I'd give anything. Anything at all not to be that frightened little girl back under her bed, quivering and sobbing. The terrified little girl who would rather slaughter herself than breathe another day.

I grip his arm and keep him close, falling back as I sink into this unnatural depravity.

I take him with me, drinking deep as I do. My back hits his bed. Shaw, the vicious warlord who slaughtered my kind and countless others, comes willingly, leaning over me with his elbow sunk into the mattress by my head.

‘Fuck…' he hisses, smirking and kicking my feet apart. ‘I forgot how much fun this is.'

They all inhale something in the air.

‘She likes it,' Archie admires. ‘You smell that? Do you smell her arousal?'

‘Of course she likes it,' Shaw replies. ‘She's a little blood whore, aren't you, Pixie? Just like the others were when they were alive.' His free hand sinks between my legs. I outwardly gasp as he plunges them inside me with no warning. My mouth falls open, and I grip his intruding hand, trying to stop it from going deeper. ‘You're just like the others. Bloodthirsty hearts with a carnivorous cunt, consuming everything and everyone around them.' His fingers go deeper, his knuckles pressing into my entrance. ‘You want my cock, Blood whore?' he adds a third finger, and I cry out at the intrusion. At the pain. At the fullness. And when he starts massaging me deep inside, I let out a shaky breath of pleasure. ‘You want all of our cocks?'

I pull away, taking in deep breaths. I think my lungs will pop. Archie and Dorian have placed themselves on either side of him. All three are looking down at me with salivating lips and hungry intentions. I don't know where to look.

‘I'm a virgin,' I tell them. ‘I don't want-'

‘We know you're a virgin,' Shaw shrugs. ‘We can smell it on you. Never met a virgin Blood whore before. Tell me. Do you want to cum?'

‘W-what?'

‘You heard me.'

‘I don't want sex.'

‘I didn't ask that.'

I look between them all and find myself nodding.

‘Restrain her!' he orders.

Dorian and Archie each take a wrist and pin them at my side.

‘If you want us to stop, say so. Got it?' Shaw says. ‘Say you understand.'

‘I-I understand.'

He thrusts his wrist back into my mouth, filling me once more with his sweet, delicious blood.

‘Arch. Since you have a nasty taste in your mouth from killing so many of her coven, why don't you do the honours?' Shaw says, side-stepping around my legs. ‘It's the least you deserve for what you did and endured.'

‘Really?' Archie whispers. ‘I get first taste?'

‘Before I change my mind. Taste only, Arch. She's not ready for us completely yet. Just make her cum so hard, she can't see straight.'

Archie falls to his knees, spreads my legs, and seals his mouth on my exposed pussy, sucking in my clit as Shaw keeps his fingers swirling inside me, massaging and stretching.

The moan I release is degrading. My eyes lock with Shaw's as he fingers me and feeds me. I'm seeking something from him. Comfort? Permission?

Is this normal?

I know women are shared among witches. But this? Them? Do they kill as a group as well as fuck?

Other than me, all that's ever touched me has been Cole's uncoordinated fingers. Now, three monsters surround me as I lie beneath them, at their mercy, naked and covered in blood.

And I am so turned on I could scream. I should be scared.

I am.

But that only makes this better. The thrill. The uncertainty.

The idea of them all entering me has my thighs trying to close. But Archie grips my knees, keeping them wide. They're all dressed. No one is making attempts to free their manhood.

Yet.

I continue looking into Shaw's eyes, and he knows my fear. My unreadiness of what they could do to me.

‘This is for you, Pixie. Your pleasure. We want you to see the stars and scream in bliss. Relax. Let us do what we do best. Okay?'

I nod and try to relax.

‘Don't be shy, Dorian,' Shaw says, still looking me dead in the eye. ‘Make her feel welcome. Enjoy our prize.'

Dorian's hand takes my breast firm in hand, working my nipples until they peak.

‘You like that, blood whore?' Shaw asks me, watching my back arch as Archie nips my clit with his teeth. ‘Having the three of us work on you like this?'

He slides his fingers into my mouth and glides them up my blood-coated tongue, mixing the taste of my arousal with his blood.

Shit. It's delicious…

Archie wastes no time and delves his tongue over my entrance before easing it inside me. I grip the bed sheets, fisting them tightly as these three men work my body in ways I never thought possible. In ways that frighten me.

In ways that have me utterly delirious with desire and want and shame and helplessness.

It has an orgasm building in my core.

Dorian sucks my nipple into his mouth. I whimper as he bites.

Yet, none of them attempts to fuck me or pleasure themselves.

Shaw removes his fingers and sucks them clean.

My stomach does a million summersaults at the sight, especially as he seems delighted at the taste. His eyes widen, and an incredulous smile appears.

‘That's delicious,' he mutters before plunging them back between my legs to join Archie's glorious tongue.

Shaw holds his wrist above my lips. Droplets of blood land on my cheek.

‘Open wide. That's a good little Pixie.'

‘P-please…' I manage.

‘You want us to stop?' His eyebrows raise as he awaits my reply. ‘The truth now. I command it. Do you want us to stop?'

I shake my head. I want to cum. I want to scream in pleasure.

‘Please… more!'

I swear in a breathy whisper as they go harder.

Hands. Fingers. Tongues.

It's sensation overload.

‘Ready?' Shaw whispers.

But not to me. The others nod and keep working. Keep sucking and licking and massaging.

Heat courses through me. Strength and a rush of something. My panting gets more desperate, and as I feel the orgasm rise and rise, the room begins to shake. The chandelier trembles. They growl, and all three sink their teeth into me as I climax.

It's not like the last time when it burned in my veins and had me screaming. This is divine. A sharp pain, yes, but mixed with the pleasure of it all to perfection.

Shaw bites my neck. Dorian bites my breast. And Archie bites my inner thigh.

My eyes roll into the back of my head as I cry out in pleasure.

It tears through me and makes me scream.

Shaw's hand slides into mine and grips me tightly. I hold on for dear life before slumping back, utterly spent.

They wipe their lips and peer down at me.

Dorian reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin silver chain. It's so delicate and slight I wonder if it's a long necklace of some kind.

He holds it in his palm, spits a mouthful of blood onto it and mutters some words in a dialect I don't understand.

Then he hands it to Ronan.

‘There you go,' he says, taking a minute to readjust his erection and roll the muscles in his neck. ‘That will hold her. Man, being strong enough to use my magic again feels good.' Dorian pats Shaw on the shoulder and heads to the door. ‘Have fun.'

‘Wait for me,' Archie calls. He gives me a wink. ‘Thanks for the boost, Pixie. You taste fucking incredible, by the way.'

He jogs after Dorian and the two leave.

Shaw leans down and wraps the chain around my neck.

Then he takes his time lapping up all the remaining blood on my skin, running his tongue over me slowly and firmly as I lie there utterly spent.

‘I don't… understand…' I whisper.

He settles himself over me, his elbow sinking into the mattress beside me as he looks me in the eye.

‘You did good, Pixie. Rest now.'

‘Good?'

‘As a reward, I'll allow you three questions, but I will only answer one of my choosing. And you have my solemn vow that my answer will be the complete truth.'

Three questions? I have a million, but none seem to be able to form one clear and concise sentence.

‘Are you going to kill me?' I ask finally. ‘How did your blood heal me?' I think for a moment. Of all the questions, one screams at me. ‘Are you or the others going to rape me?'

In a surprisingly soft gesture, he brushes the hair from my face.

‘I will answer your second question. Our blood is designed to heal you. Just you, Blood Witch. Anyone else drinks it, they burn from the inside out. I made you drink so your broken bone would heal and the cut you inflicted would close. If I hadn't, you would have bled out from your idiotic self-inflicted wound within the hour.'

‘You broke my wrist,' I remind him.

‘And then I healed it,' he bites back coldly. ‘I broke your wrist because I was angry. Do not anger me again.' My lip trembles. His face relaxes a little when it does, and the muscles in his frame unclench. ‘I am sorry I broke your wrist, okay? It was not my finest moment. It will not happen again. You have my word. I just wanted you to drop the glass. The idea of you killing yourself… I couldn't deal. I am sorry.'

I give a slight nod.

‘You are not to tell anyone I blood-shared with you, Pixie. They will know what you are in an instant if you do, and you will be taken, torn apart, and placed with the rest of your kind at the edge of the village. Am I understood?'

I nod again, feeling a warm tear slide down into my hairline.

‘Seeing as you did such a good job for us just now, I will also answer one of your other questions. We will not rape you.'

I let out a heavy breath of relief.

‘Our cocks will never enter you without your consent.'

‘Then they will never enter me.'

‘So be it.'

‘Your fingers entered me. I don't recall you asking permission.'

‘I said cocks, Pixie. And if I remember correctly, you came so fucking hard, your pretty little cunt almost broke my fingers in two.' I blink and feel my face flush with heat. ‘Didn't you enjoy it? The truth now. You and I? We're not going to lie to each other, are we?'

‘Fuck you.'

He scoffs and stands before heading across the room, striding through another door. I yelp as the chain around my neck tugs me after him. The slight silver chain seems to have grown in length. When I hold it, it feels delicate. I try to snap it.

‘Dorian enchanted it. It's unbreakable and can stretch on for miles if needed,' he calls after me before giving it another tug. On my feet, I follow. Like I have a choice. My legs are weak and shaking as I join him in his bathroom. He's at a sink, washing the blood from his wrist. His bite is healed, and his skin is perfectly smooth. He looks back at me in the mirror.

‘What the…' I gasp, rushing towards it. I run my hands over myself. There's still a little blood there, but no marks from where they just bit me.

‘You think we'd leave you gushing blood every time we bite you?' he chuckles, still rinsing his hands. ‘Or all scarred up? Our bites close up as soon as we stop, and the skin is left as good as new. But watch out if Archie gets you in his wolf form. Those bites will definitely leave a mark.'

‘Then why are these marks still here?' I ask, pointing at the silver scars.

‘Because they're claiming marks. They also hurt more, seeing as we injected you with the poison needed to make you our little bitch.'

As I open my mouth to throw back an insult, he cocks his brow, daring me to.

I close my mouth instead.

‘Good choice,' he says. ‘Get yourself cleaned up.' He nods to the water and cloth.

After a few minutes, my skin is clear of blood. As I dry myself, he strides back into his bedroom, tugging me along after him.

‘You've told me to stay in the room. I can't leave. The chain isn't necessary,' I argue, staggering to a stop.

‘You disobeyed me. This is your consequence. If you want to act like a disobedient bitch, I'll put a leash on you. Prove that you can behave, and maybe I'll ask Dorian to remove it.'

‘How did he even make this? You're vampires. You don't have magic.'

‘It's a strange thing to be in the company of a blood witch who has no fucking idea who we are.' He tosses me a dress. The same one from before. I happily put it on, relieved to cover myself. ‘We're not typical vampires. It's complicated and, frankly, none of your business. All you need to know is that your blood gives us access to certain powers. Dorian's speciality is body manipulation. So if you see him playing with a doll that looks like you, be worried. Archie is a shifter. That you saw. He hasn't been able to transform until now. One drop of your blood, and he's back to coughing up hairballs and avoiding fleas.' He sits and starts lacing up a pair of boots. ‘I nicked you at the pub and gave a drop of blood to him so he could save you from your coven. I was a little surprised you didn't feel it.'

‘I have a high pain threshold,' I tell him. ‘What are you?' I ask.

‘What do you think I am?'

‘I don't know. My education is non-existent in any of this. I don't even know what I am.'

‘You are a blood witch. You gain access to magic through the life force of living things. You use blood, bones and organs to access and increase your power. Just like your mud witch coven uses the force of earth to manipulate plant life and such. Or water witches use the sea to manipulate water.'

‘My magic is dark. It's forbidden.'

‘Yep.'

‘Using it turns the soul black.'

‘It sure does.'

‘Are you going to make me use my magic?'

‘I have already answered enough of your questions today.' He stands. ‘Try again tomorrow.' He ties the chain to the foot of the bed and barges into my shoulder as he passes me. ‘I'll send some food up for you. I'm pretty sure we've got something you can eat. We tend to live on a liquid diet here.'

‘I'm to stay here?' I ask, looking around his room.

‘Until I can trust you, yes. You will stay here. It takes effort and energy to hold a compulsion. I have no intentions of doing it long-term, so until you prove to me that you're not a pathetic coward who will try to kill herself again rather than seeing what you could become under our guidance, you'll stay tethered to my bed. And change my sheets whilst I'm gone. There are spares in the wardrobe.'

‘Shaw, wait,' I call after him.

He growls under his breath but turns to see what I want.

‘Before you go, can you take that mirror with you?' I point to the freestanding, full-length mirror by his wardrobe.

‘Why?'

‘I don't like mirrors.'

‘Why? You're not that bad to look at.'

‘Please,' I grind out, hating that I have to ask. That I have to beg. ‘Please. Take it out. I don't like mirrors.'

‘Tell me why.'

I chew on my lip.

‘When you have a good reason, I'll take it out. Until then, behave.'

He leaves, slamming and locking the door behind him.

I scoop up the bloody sheet and quickly toss it over the mirror, completely hiding the glass from view.

I sink into the bed and fall back with an exhausted sigh.

Shit. Fucking fucking fucking shit!