Sanibel Sizzle - Vampire Werewolf Menage Page 2

  “Who am I, naughty lass?”

  A kidnapper, murderer, definite pervert, and all around asshole, she answered sweetly, “The Alpha of Scotland.” Struggling to no avail, she was helpless.

  Claws instantly gone, air whirled above her exposed flesh before a hearty smack hit Rebecca right between the cheeks. Son of a bitch, it smarted.

  Rebecca opened her mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out. After her parents were killed, her brother raised her, and Bren never lifted a hand to Rebecca in anger. Although he probably thought about it enough, her teenage years drove him nuts.

  So until now, she was never spanked by anyone.

  “Why am I punishing you?” Growling, he gave her another slap. A little harder that time, he was definitely working up to something. Whack. Up another notch - whack. A softer smack, random patterns, three more in rapid succession, Ciaran’s breathing changed. So had hers, she was humiliated. And she really wanted to gouge his eyes out at the first opportunity and stomp them with that temperamental foot of hers.

  “You will answer the question, now.”

  “Stomping your foot,” she answered. So you’re going to quiz me, as well?

  Muscles tensed his thighs, hardening under her stomach. Forebodingly, he demanded, “Why did you assault your Alpha?”

  At that very moment, her ass was burning, and she couldn’t remember the logic behind her move. “You consider that an assault?”

  More with the spanking, she was mortified, ten additional smacks in quick succession. Debased with a sore backside, no doubt, he intended her to remember this punishment much later. Days later when she couldn’t sit her butt down, she’d be reminded. “Argh!”

  “Those that hear your cries know your punishment. You will not attack your Alpha ever, Renee Shirley. This is a taste of what I will do,” his voice lingered on taste. Scorching breath hit her enflamed skin as he spoke. With blinding speed, he tore through her bound wrists. Flipping her over and pinning her to the mattress beneath his solid body, Ciaran grabbed her hands before she had time to respond. He was that fast. A lethal animal aimed solely at her. “Look at me, lass.”

  She couldn’t. Even if she could, she wouldn’t. Another childish move, maybe, but keeping her face turned away felt right. Ciaran spanking her felt wrong, violating. She wasn’t the criminal here, and his punishments were beyond strange. A heavy weight all the way down, he rendered her helpless again. Still, she knew Ciaran supported most of it on his elbows. He was simply that big. Fear, humiliation, and anger took a left turn and hit hate. Hate to push down some other sensation she couldn’t yet name. “You need a shower.”

  “You don’t like me,” he breathed, “and you shouldn’t.” His quiet speech contradicted the death promise his body foretold. She couldn’t miss the tension, static power that pulsed beneath his skin. “It would be madness on your part,” he admitted.

  “No, really, you smell. Blood, guts, sweat, it’s disgusting, and I’m getting nauseous.” To her utter shame, it was a total lie. He smelled like a man. He smelled like a beast. He smelled like the back of the wind, wild and untamed, running free across the highlands. If it were possible, she hated him even more for his smell alone.

  For what it could do to her.

  But she wasn’t turned on. Since werewolves could smell a hint of arousal for at least a mile, arousal for Ciaran would rank high on her mortification scale, probably would top it. Yeah, it would definitely top it. Thankfully, he hadn’t that morsel of satisfaction. Hooray for her. Not that he wasn’t the finest thing she’d ever laid eyes on, he was. Any other circumstance she might want him. Might.

  The arrogant ass.

  But the tiny irritating fact that she was dying by his hand was one giant setback for her libido. A coupling they would not have – ever. Rebecca didn’t do murderers, and she wasn’t lowering that bar anytime soon.

  Rebecca didn’t want to die, either.

  Without another choice, she’d continue the charade as Renee. If she didn’t, they’d go back for Renee, get it right the second time around, and both would die, because she had seen and heard too much. Rebecca was a liability for Ciaran.

  In the world of Weres, liabilities didn’t survive.

  “Your anger is strong,” he continued with that eerily calm voice of his, syrup drizzling over warm pancakes. “Your fear is negligible, so I’m going with stupid, not brave at all.”

  He was back to the stupid or brave speech. Shifting her leg, she felt his. Of for the love of God, he was hard. Celestial beasts or humans, males were males. So…thickly…male. Only then did she turn, meeting his eyes. Surprised, they’d gone strangely metallic. “I want you off me,” she enunciated every word, locking on his stare while not batting an eyelash.

  Growing up, Bren and Jayce taught her well. She could fight, not an Alpha or species vampire. But she could take on her fair share of wolves. Not showing fear was the best weapon of all. It’d taken her a couple of days in captivity to compose herself around him, get a grip, understand her circumstance and stay calm.

  She owed it to Bren.

  For everything he taught her. For giving up his young life to raise her after their parents were killed. He’d become one of the toughest werewolves she’d ever known, and before she went down, she’d use every dirty trick, every cunning lesson Bren and Jayce blessed her with to make an escape. Only then could she remain proud and honorable before death. A dishonorable death because of an outdated and barbaric blood vendetta, in this day and age, it was unthinkable. Yet here she was….

  “Eyes of emerald, hair of fire, spirit of the strongest wolves, yet you are of mixed blood. It’s hard on the mind, am I to believe you’re part human?”

  Well, hell. It was obvious he’d unraveled something. Rebecca licked her dry lips nervously. Silver eyes fringed with inky lashes followed the movement. “My dad is a Halfling,” she offered. Lie.

  Silver darkened to thunder clouds, eyes lazily drifted over her face. “I sense deception.”

  “Escape,” she answered, still not blinking, “it’s on my mind every second. I want to get back to my males and the home we share. Oh, and I would love to kill you before I leave.” Keep him talking, distraction needed, problem would be deterred.

  Ciaran pushed his thick knee between her knees and then wedged himself in the middle of her thighs. Lowering his head, black silky strands curtained their faces like nightfall. She thought he would kiss her. He didn’t. Dipping his face, he took a generous breath right over her throat. He stiffened and did it again. Inhaling deeply, he released his breath slowly. Darting back, visibly stunned, his voice graveled. “You are a mystery, Renee Shirley.”

  Now that could mean two things, she thought. The worst being he knew, beyond a doubt, she was full werewolf and not Renee. The other would bring him down a notch. Her lack of arousal to his erection pressed against her sex, probably a first for him. Yeah, it had to be a first for someone who looked like him. Mentally crossing her fingers and saying another prayer, she studied his wary reaction to her. A lot of emotions flickered over that perfection he called a face, finally settling on disbelief.

  Slowly easing off her, he stood and raised an index finger, stabbing it in the air toward the window. “Stay out of sight. Don’t tempt the beasts walking about. Others might not care that you’re frigid, lass. They’ll take you any way they can have you. Think not to test them.”

  Frigid! Chewing her jaw, she said nothing. Eyeing the vase next to her and gaging the top his head, she wondered if she could make an attempt.

  Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Another stupid move, you aren’t fast enough. Know you’ll be punished more thoroughly next time. Understand your limitations.”

  Coming from someone who has none, she smiled satirically while sitting up. “Why, if I did, would it keep me alive?”

  Silence.

  Swinging her legs over th
e side of the bed, she stood. “I didn’t think so.”

  Reaching around her, he took the vase. The smartest move he’d made all day. Bending his knees, he met her eyes. “You will stay here.”

  Holding up her torn pants, she saluted him with her free hand. Renee always saluted Granny to piss her off and Rebecca couldn’t resist the silly urge. “Aye, Alpha, I will stay here.” You’re such a soulless dick. He straightened, but she refused to bend her head back to stare way up at him.

  “I haven’t a doubt that I’ll be sorry for permitting your stay in this chamber, but I cannot allow you below. Torturing a lass isn’t my forte. And make no mistake, that’s what would happen to you if you were to disobey and try an escape.”

  “Another threat?”

  “A fact, the males are starving for you,” he answered, drawing closer while tossing the vase up and down. “I can’t be with you every minute, offering protection.”

  She couldn’t hide her exasperation. “Protecting me so you’re the one that gets to off me instead of someone else.” He suddenly zoned out. Rebecca watched as he eyed the room. Ciaran seemed to relive distant memories. His face fell, clouding over in seconds. Horrid reminiscences, Rebecca thought; his demons were many.

  “You couldn’t begin to understand how I never wanted any of this,” he confessed awkwardly. Stilling his hand, he studied the delicate object sitting in his broad palm.

  Maybe it belonged to his mother or a sister; she supposed. But Rebecca didn’t pity monsters. “You wanted your home back, your throne. Three battles you’ve marched me through. Two of which I’ve been covered, but I heard. At no time did you express remorse or empathy for those who lost their mates, their fathers, or their brothers. So, no, don’t tell me you never wanted any of this.” She shook her head. “I don’t believe a word of that.”

  “The battles, yes,” he murmured, drawing closer. “Your death? No.”

  Only then did she bend her neck back, staring up, she spoke more freely. “You’re a cruel bastard, and a sick walking contradiction I loathe. That lie is the biggest of all. If your words were true, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

  Crystal shattered. Resulting shards bloodied his clinched fist. Now the vase was another memory added to his list of shame. Blinking slowly, he popped his jaw before he spoke. “There’s many a day I would go back to, changing decisions for the better and correcting what’s necessary to make things right. Declaring your death is a bottomless regret that will haunt me the rest of my days.”

  In total disbelief, she blasted him, “At least those days you’ll have left to live; I won’t!” Only then did her voice crack. “You don’t forgive the forgivable; you absolve no one!” She shook her head no, quieting her voice. “Know this, Ciaran - Alpha of Scotland, the day you murder me won’t just haunt you, but forever stain your soul, matching your cold black heart. By the life you lead, death soon approaches your door – immortal or not. When you’re finally on your knees pleading for its mercy, who hears your confession then? When you forgive no one, who will forgive you of your sins?”

  He stepped forward. She stepped back. Forward again, herding her, Ciaran flattened Rebecca against the wall. Leaning in a little too comfortably, he placed his bloodied palm above her head and rested on his forehead while staring down, seemingly coming to a conclusion.

  The other hand wandered. Fingers stroked Rebecca’s neck, inching down her shoulder, sliding to her inner elbow where the tips twirled. The same sensation mimicked inside her womb, tightening and twisting. Oh, you are good.

  In a blur, he was cupping her throat. “I could just snap your neck right now. Get it over with… Get. On. With. It,” he graveled, clenching his teeth.

  Swallowing against his palm, she dared him. “Why don’t you?”

  Slowly pressing his open mouth to the corner of hers while staring straight into her eyes, he pushed in without a kiss, lingering, inhaling. Ciaran brushed her lips with his reply. “Your passion blisters me.” Unhurried, he nipped her chin with an undeniable Alpha warning. “Maybe I will have it for my own.”

  3

  “Hmmm.” Afanas stood sentinel outside Rebecca’s threshold.

  Closing the door softly behind him and waving a hand over the lock, Ciaran secured the treasure inside. “Hmmm, what?”

  Afanas chuckled, “It’s strange not hearing your brogue, the Scottish burr I was treated to many years ago has nearly left you.

  “Live as long as I have, in as many places as I’ve resided, and let’s see if you keep a singular dialect,” he snarled.

  “Tense much?”

  Ciaran lifted his bloodied palm pierced with crystal fragments, staring as he replied, “Not at all.”

  “The female calls you.”

  “Has lunacy inflicted you?”

  “I hope not. I sure don’t want the same punishment she got.” Wagging his eyebrows, Afanas cracked a grin. “From what I heard, she wasn’t clothed, flesh on flesh. Considering how easy you went on her, I think it wasn’t punishment at all but provocation you intended to inflict. Now most of us are left hard and aching.” He waved his hand toward the great hall.

  Down below, a hundred or so wolves stood silently. “What the devil is this?”

  “They want rights to mate,” Afanas answered, voice filling with tension.

  “Again they try? And petitioning me scant moments after battle? Madness runs amuck.”

  “Not madness at all, but a primal desire for what’s locked away,” Afanas quieted his voice, turning towards Rebecca’s closed door and trailing long fingers down the grain. “You haven’t ridden with her, a sexual punishment wrapped in a lushly curved package. Every bump, every sway of the saddle, had her succulent backside rubbing my throbbing cock. Stroking and enticing my werewolf, it fought me for hours, yearning to stop in passing fields and take her under the very sunshine, no less. My head is pounding alongside my hurting balls. The beast is nigh enraged. God help me, I won’t be able to sleep this night.”

  “I thought you stronger than most,” Ciaran muttered, scrubbing a palm over his chin in thought.

  An unaffected shrug lifted Afanas’s heavy shoulder. “It’s natural, as Renee’s an exquisite Irish mixed-blood with a plush stature promising hearty bed play and plenty younglings for a true mate. If it weren’t for her scent, I’d swear she’s full blood.” He shook his head as a man lost. “She has fire running through her veins, passion untapped.”

  “More like venom,” Ciaran barked, pushing thoughts of his captive’s divine ass on horseback out of his head. “You won’t be tapping her passion, Beta.” Her passion belongs to me.

  “I want her.”

  Ciaran bent over the stone half wall. Taking a second glance below, he came to an obvious assumption. “There seems to be a line.”

  “There’s only one way to eliminate this particular line.”

  Ciaran leaned back, carefully studying his old friend and newly chosen Beta a few long moments. “You’re serious.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Are you daft?” Only then did he lose it. “She’s scheduled for execution!” Well, no one knew Ciaran’s very recent change of plan.

  “How shocking is that? For the love of God, our females are few and far between. Are you so blinded with vengeance you can’t comprehend what I constantly remind you? A mixed blood or not, she’s far stronger than a human, able to sexually satiate a full male werewolf. That would be me. She’s bodily spectacular. And after calming her from this horrific ordeal you put her through and showering her with essential affection, she’ll love me in return. I want her for myself, under my protection no less.” He firmly corrected himself, “I will have her.”

  Ciaran’s shoulders knotted, bewilderment washing his exhausted face. “You say you want more than to lie with her a time or two?”

  “Yes.” Afanas met Ciaran’s height, wolf to wolf.r />
  “She can’t be yours.”

  “Why not?” Afanas asked irritably.

  “She has two mates already, both full werewolves: one Beta and one Nordic Pureblood of royal descent. Plus, a vampire claims her as his bride. A bred species he is, not the undead,” Ciaran stressed.

  Afanas eyes widened, asking in clear disbelief, “You took her from two easily feral wolves and a species vampire, but you think we’re crazed?”

  Brooding, Ciaran continued, “My point is, the odds she’s yours are negligible.”

  Gesturing toward the waiting crowd, Afanas retorted, “None of us would know as of yet.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I didn’t want to bring this up, Alpha. Arousal didn’t blossom in your presence. How would any of us not challenge rights to claim when each has yet to scent her?”

  Ciaran was thoroughly insulted and didn’t bother to hide it. “No one can have her, as she’s but a memory soon.” Get the other females in, and then he’d make the announcement. Renee would be in his bed under his protection.

  Not hiding his astonishment, Afanas whispered fiercely, “If I have to challenge your blood vendetta - your oath, by my hands, I will defeat every kin who demanded that promise of you, wiping the slate clean for Renee Shirley and her clan. Opening the door for her to remain mine, I will do this.”

  “Problem is, Beta,” Ciaran hissed, not liking yet another threat he was hearing, “Principia led the vendetta, and rightfully demanded the oath, as her children were killed by the American Alpha and his co-mate. Principia - a female, you will not contest. I won’t permit male to female challenges under my rule, since it’s unfair as male beasts are physically stronger. So by all the fighting you clear the males and defeat them by your insistence, Renee is still marked for death. As Principia lives, Renee Shirley dies.”