Chapter 9

Chapter 9

F uck .

How the fuck did he get in without me seeing him?

The Vamp standing in front of her wasn't at all what Fey pictured when she'd envisioned the owner of this club. For one, he was young, though with Vamps you could never really tell their true age, not well anyway. And secondly, he was jaw-droppingly gorgeous.

Easy there, Fey .

His ink-black suit looked obscenely expensive and was a perfect color match to the shade of his hair. Tall, well-muscled, and dangerous-looking, he would have been exactly Fey's type if he didn't look like he was about to murder her.

Okay, Fey, relax. Remember your training.

The first rule of fighting a Vamp is you never do it unless it's your only option. They're faster and stronger than Demons, and even Shifters can't hold a candle to them in a fight. Fey tried to calm her pounding heart and held her hands out in front of herself, palms first, in the least threatening stance she could muster. When he didn't immediately rip her throat out with his teeth, she took it as a good sign.

"I'm so sorry," Fey told him, her voice husky and breathless. There is an art to appearing non-threatening. She had never really mastered it, not the way Joy had, but Fey was doing everything she could to channel Joy's feminine power to appear nonthreatening as she silently prayed to the Goddess to help her pull it off. "I was looking for the washroom, and I must have gotten turned around." Fey flashed him the ditsiest smile she could manage. "This place is just, like, such a maze, you know?"

One look in his eyes told her he wasn't buying it for a second.

Fuck.

His nostrils flared.

"You're lying," he said, his voice full of cold rage. He took a step toward her.

Shit . Hands still raised, Fey tried to take a step back but found the desk pressing against the small of her back, blocking her retreat. Double shit . "I'm not lying, I swear. I had no idea this was your office, and I'm so sorry?—"

He was on her before she could blink, moving faster than she could register to stand over her. The sudden appearance of him towering above her cut her off mid-word.

In the training yards, they teach Witches that the single deadliest thing about Vampires wasn't their strength or even their bloodlust. It was their speed, something no Witch could counter without being prepared.

Fey had never faced a Vamp one-on-one before, and she sure as hell didn't feel prepared for it tonight.

The Vamp reached up between them and took Fey's face in his hand, his fingers digging painfully into her cheeks.

"I can smell that you're lying," he hissed. His eyes burned into Fey's and his gaze was piercing. She felt like she was being swallowed by the golden ring of his irises.

Huh, well, that's something they didn't bother to teach us at training. Good to know.

"Get the fuck away from me," Fey warned him, dropping the ditzy drunk girl act. She registered a brief flicker of surprise in his face at the sound of her real voice. At the surety of the threat in it.

But he didn't move. He squeezed his fingers tighter, and Fey felt the split in her bottom lip reopen. The Vamp's nostrils flared, and his eyes immediately left hers, darting down to where a single drop of blood began to blossom from the tear in her skin. The anger in his amber eyes turned to hunger as he watched the drop slide down onto her chin.

That was the opening Fey needed.

"I warned you, you know."

With her hands against his chest, Fey summoned Air, feeling the power rush through her and out her palms, flinging him off her and straight into the back wall of his office. His pained grunt brought her a small shiver of satisfaction, but Fey didn't bother waiting to see him hit. She was already leaping over the desk, running for the door.

Fey's fingers just barely grazed the doorknob when he slammed into her, knocking her off balance and sending her careening against the wall. He pinned her there, pushing her front against the wood while his hands struggled to find her wrists.

Fucking Vampire speed . Fey fought against him, knowing she couldn't let him immobilize her hands.

He managed to catch one of her wrists, squeezing it in his grip and twisting her arm behind her back. The moment he managed it, though, Fey brought her heel down with her entire weight on the top of his foot. The Vamp roared in pain, and she managed to twist far enough to send another gust of air against his shoulder, throwing him off balance and giving her enough leeway that she tried reaching for the door again.

" Stop!" he growled, and her body went instantly rigid against his, every muscle tensing. Fey tried to move, tried to fight, tried to do anything, but her body ignored her.

No, no, no.

"Did you just use persuasion on me?" Fey snarled between her clenched teeth, forcing the words out. Her muscles were slowly relaxing, back under her control, but when she tried to struggle, tried to fight back, and shrug him off, they refused to listen. She was helpless. The Vamp took the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, pinning her hands against her chest where they were useless against him.

Fucking vamp , Fey thought, filling with rage and power.

Very few Vampires still had the power of persuasion—the ability to force others to act against their will. It was an old talent, one nearly diluted out of their power set. Still, Dameon had trained them for it. Just in case.

Fey squeezed her eyes shut and focused, bringing her awareness to her body. At first, all she could feel was him, the hard muscles of his body pressed against her back, the strength of his arms pinning her against him. He smelled like whiskey and wood smoke, and the combination momentarily distracted her.

He felt… good pressed against her, like this.

The moment she thought it, her nerves flared to life, and she became aware of every point of contact between them, every place his body touched hers. It was an effort not to sink deeper against him, deeper into that smell, into the heat of him.

Focus!

Water.

Fey summoned her power, visualizing it as she gathered her strength inside herself. Water rushed through her, washing away his commands. She imagined his words as a sheen of oil, pooling in her, and she washed them away bit by bit until there was nothing left.

"Why were you in my office?" the Vamp growled, and his persuasion roared the command through her mind. Her tongue moved of its own accord to answer him, but Fey clenched her teeth together and let her power wash the words away. He could use all the dirty tricks he wanted, but she sure as fuck wasn't going to tell him anything.

His arms tightened around her when she didn't answer, and Fey couldn't help but smile at the victory.

"Go fuck yourself," she purred at him over her shoulder.

With a growl, he turned her away from the door and threw her back into the room, pushing her against the desk. Fey let out a gasp in shock, pinned between his body and the wood.

He released her arms, bringing one hand down to hold her in place by her hip, while the other swept her hair over her shoulder and off her neck.

"My people used to have a way of dealing with thieves," he threatened. The heat of his breath against the back of her neck made her shiver. With him pressed flush against her back, she could feel every hard muscle of him, and her body responded with a flood of heat under her skin. His hips were keeping her pinned in place, making the lip of the desk press below her hips. Press against her in a way that wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Fuck.

He brought his hand up and curled it into her hair, grabbing a fistful and using it to wrench her head backward. Fey gasped in shock, completely immobilized against him.

"If a thief was caught in the act, they used to pay the price in blood," he growled. His lips brushed against the skin behind her ear, and each word sent a violent shiver across her too-sensitive skin. She felt a heat rising in her and tried not to think about the last time she'd had a man this close to her. Tried not to pay attention to where the desk pressed against her, tried not to imagine what he would feel like inside of her.

Her tongue ran across her bottom lip, and she tasted blood from where he'd split her lip open.

Fey felt it, then. A razor-sharp whisper against her neck as his fangs drifted over her skin. It was a bluff, and they both knew it. Nonconsensual feeding was outlawed, and the Crown took the penalty seriously. By feeding on a Witch without her consent, he would be signing his death warrant.

A bluff, Fey tried to convince herself. He wouldn't dare do it.

His fangs slid across her skin again and Fey couldn't stop herself from letting out a whimper. Her skin was on fire, her pulse quick and panicked.

"Is that what you want?" he asked her. His voice was full of barely contained rage, and suddenly Fey wasn't so sure he was bluffing after all. Her mouth went dry with terror. He might do it, he might bite her right here and now, and pinned between him and his desk, there wasn't a single thing she could do about it. " Is that what you want?"

Fey felt his persuasion wash over her, and she could do nothing as she heard her treacherous voice answer him.

"Yes! " she gasped.

The Vamp went instantly still behind her, and at that moment, Fey wasn't sure which one of them was more shocked by her answer. She hadn't been expecting him to use persuasion, hadn't been ready to wash his words away before she could answer.

And she sure as fuck hadn't been expecting to say that .

Fey clenched her mouth shut, embarrassment replacing the desire that had been building in her body. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she prayed to the Goddess he would just let her go. Or maybe the ground could open beneath her and swallow her up. Maybe she could just drop dead. Anything to get her out of this humiliation.

She couldn't even feel him breathe anymore; he was so still behind her. But something in his stance had changed, and when he pressed her forward against the desk again, she felt something hard against her back that she hadn't noticed there before.

"I didn't mean that," Fey said. His hand shifted against her hip, gripping her harder, and she whimpered. He still held her hair in his fist. When he pulled her head back again, he brought his face to her cheek.

"Oh, I think you did, little Witchling."

His lips were torture, a soft caress against her skin. Fey trembled against him like a bird, feeling the heat return to her blood.

"And do you want to know why I think that?" he asked.

Fey couldn't answer. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

She felt him take a deep breath, inhaling her scent, his nose against the space between her ear and her neck. "You smell like sex, Witchling," he purred into her ear, and a moan escaped her throat before she could stop herself.

This time it wasn't his fangs she felt against her neck, it was his lips. The barest touch as he whispered against her skin. "Tell me, Witchling—are you wet right now?"

"No." she snapped.

His laugh was a taunt. "Lying, again."

His hand moved from her hip and onto her stomach, pressing hard against her abdomen and moving lower. Every movement of his fingers as they snaked down her body felt like a threat.

"I think you are. I think when I reach my fingers down there, I'll find you dripping wet and ready for me."

He moved his hips back, peeling her away from the desk just enough to slide his hand down the front of her dress a little more. Fey knew he was right.

Without him pinning her against the desk, she had more freedom of movement, and she used that freedom to grind herself back against him. She found his cock hard against her ass, and he hissed through his teeth as she moved against it.

"I don't think I'm the only one who got a little turned on," Fey taunted, craning her head so she could look back at him with a mocking smile. "So why don't you let me go, and we'll call it even?"

He growled, and Fey briefly wondered why she would be stupid enough to make him angry again when he suddenly spun her around to face him, the desk now against the small of her back.

His fist still clutched her hair, angling her head up so she was forced to look him in the eyes. His stare was full of anger and lust, and Fey wasn't sure which one terrified her more.

Fey brought the tip of her tongue out once more, poking at the wound on her bottom lip and wetting the drying blood she found there, her eyes never leaving his.

The noise he made was nothing short of animalistic as his lips crashed against hers. Every thought in her brain abandoned her as he bit down on her bottom lip, drawing a fresh burst of pain and blood to the surface. He took her bottom lip between his and sucked greedily before kissing her.

He kissed her like it was a battle, and Fey could taste her blood on his tongue. She found she didn't care. She didn't care that he was a Vampire, didn't care that her lips would be bruised tomorrow. Fey didn't care that her sisters were waiting for her. Joy was probably beside herself with worry. She didn't care about anything but what his lips and tongue were doing.

Letting go of her hair, his hands moved to her ass, lifting her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. He pushed her legs open to bring himself closer, pressing himself flush against her body. His hands moved up her thighs, shoving her dress to her hips.

Fey moaned against his mouth, pulling him closer by his shirt. His thumbs were a searing heat on the inside of each of her thighs. He started to move them in slow, luxurious circles against her skin, and Fey thought she'd go mad if he ever stopped.

She wanted . More than she'd ever wanted anything in her life. The heat of him was driving her insane .

He broke the kiss then, moving back just a fraction to look her in the eyes as his right hand moved higher up her leg. The hunger was still there, burning in his golden eyes, and so was that cold rage, but both were nothing compared to the lust she saw in his stare as he looked down at her.

"You're going to tell me what you were doing here in my office," he told her. His right thumb moved up to the top of her thigh, brushing over her panties. Her back arched involuntarily as he touched her.

"Fuck you."

His fingers traced her slit through the fabric, and Fey moaned, grinding herself against them and squeezing her eyes shut. He was right—she was wet for him, already soaking through her panties. He hissed as he felt it too, and he pulled her even closer to him, crushing her against him.

His left hand reached up to grip her hair again, and he pulled her head back.

"Look at me," he demanded. Goddess help her, she did. Fey opened her eyes and stared at him.His amber eyes glittered menacingly, and his black hair was messy from their fight.

His thumb teased her through the fabric.

"You're going to tell me what you were doing in my office," he repeated. His eyes bored into hers, his hips moving in time with his thumb.

The light touch of his finger was driving her mad. Fey could feel herself already building to a release, but he was wrong. She wanted this, wanted this sensation to never end, but nothing would make her give up her sisters.

He must have seen the defiance in her eyes because he bared his teeth in a snarl, flashing those sharp and deadly fangs at her, and moved his thumb faster. Fey groaned, fisting her hands into the fabric of his suit jacket.

"You're going to tell me what you were doing in my office, and then you're going to beg me to fuck you." His thumb pressed harder, and her breath hitched. "And I will make you beg me for it, Witchling."

Fey stared into his eyes and knew she was close to shattering. She wondered if he was right. Wondered if she would beg him for it. She opened her mouth to say something, her thoughts lost to the sensation of him –

A hard knock against the door burst through the moment, and Fey jumped with an involuntary gasp.

"Sir?" a gruff voice called from the other side of the office door. "Sir, we need you out here."

"Fuck off Ferus!" the Vamp snarled, his eyes never leaving Fey's as he answered, his touch never stopping. He was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world right now. Like he wanted this even more than she did.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I can't do that," the voice called back.

Even with the interruption, Fey was climbing closer to her peak, whimpering as the pressure between her legs built. He must have realized it too, because he bared his teeth in a snarl.

"Ferus, I swear to the Goddess if you don't fuck off right now, I will rip your arms off, and I will fucking enjoy it."

Her hips bucked and moved as his hand tightened in her hair, before lowering his head to lick the blood dripping down her lip. Oh Goddess, this was heaven.

"Ignore that Wolf fucker," he purred into her skin, lips soft against her own. "Ignore everything but me, Witchling. Everything but this."

His touch was fire, and she lost herself in it. Then the voice came again.

"I understand that, sir. But you should know that I have a name. And he's here right now."

That did it.

The Vamp froze, and those delightful circles against her skin stopped.

" Fuck !" he barked, involuntarily tightening his grip on her hair. The bouncer at his door must have taken that as some sign of assent. Fey heard heavy footsteps move a few steps away and stop at the end of the hallway.

Fey gasped as the Vamp released her hair and wrapped his hand around her throat. The finger between her legs pressed down against her clit and her back arched painfully.

"I have to take care of something," he said, restrained violence coloring his voice. "But I'm not done with you, Witchling." His hand moved away from between her legs, and she whimpered at its sudden absence.

He brought his hand to her face and pressed his thumb against her lips—the same thumb that had been teasing her. Fey could taste herself as he pressed it to her lips like a kiss.

Her tongue snaked out between her lips, and she licked the tip of his thumb, earning a groan of surprise from him.

" Stay here ," he commanded, and this time when the persuasion washed over her, it felt like a caress. Fey whimpered, closing her lips around the tip of his thumb to suck on it in response.

"I want you ready and wet for me when I get back. Do you understand?"

" Yes, " Fey purred, the persuasion answering in her voice.

His other hand tightened around her throat. " Yes, what?" he asked, and her body shook with the command in his voice.

" Yes, Sir," Fey heard her voice respond.

He sucked in air through his teeth at her answer and ground his body against her one more time. Fey closed her eyes, lost in the sensation of him pressed against her core.

"I meant what I said, Witchling. I'm going to enjoy making you beg for me."

She shuddered in his embrace, and then, just like that, he was gone. The weight of his body against her, that deliciously thick feel of him against her thigh, was gone. The office door shut with an audible click and only then did she open her eyes.

It took a minute for her breathing to calm and her pulse to drop back to normal. Longer still for her thoughts to return. Somewhere nearby a clock ticked by the seconds, as piece by piece she returned to her body.

Fey let her power slowly build inside of her, washing against her thoughts in a gentle lapping rhythm. The heat from his touch cooled, and the throbbing between her legs dulled to a quiet hum.

Over and over, she let Water run over her mind until she was Fey again.

Fey stood, shocked by the way her legs wobbled and almost bucked underneath her. She tugged her dress back into place, shivering as her thighs clenched together.

Her hand reached up to touch her neck where he'd pressed his fangs, and desire flooded back into her body so hard her knees almost buckled. Fey almost considered finishing herself off, then and there on his desk, but she had no idea when the bastard might return. No. She needed to leave while she still had the chance.

She was soaked, more aroused than she'd ever been in her life. The fabric between her legs was uncomfortably wet, and she shimmied her panties down her legs and stepped out of them. Fey wondered vaguely what to do with them before deciding to toss them on his desk.

Fuck you and fuck your persuasion , Fey thought, her lips twisting into a smile.

Feeling smug in her decision to leave that little gift for him, she slipped Joy's thumb drive out of his computer and palmed it. She'd head to the nearest safe house and send Joy a text from there to let her know she was safe.

His office window wasn't locked and thank the Goddess the drop to the ground was close enough that she only needed a little gust of air to slow her fall. Fey wasn't sure how much more strength she had left in her after all of that, and she didn't trust herself with anything more complicated than a simple spell.

As she walked through the city, Fey kept running her tongue over the split in her lower lip and thinking about him.