Mistress of Souls, page 6
She is perfect, so goddamn fuckable.
My cock stiffens, and my knot throbs lightly as she nears. I try to tame it down, but that’s just not happening, especially as her scent reaches my nose: chocolate, petrichor, and hazelnut.
I rake my eyes over her body, practically salivating.
Does she dress like this for all her clients or just me?
The thought makes anger churn in my gut. Mariax is too sexy for her own good. Sex on a goddamn stick.
I can’t believe I’m becoming territorial over a female I just met.
I mentally slap myself on the back of my head, reassuring myself that I only want her so I can fill her holes with my cum. The irrational anger I’m feeling toward how she is dressed makes no sense.
I already feel myself wanting to give in, if just for the chance to taste her cunt. My cock continues to lengthen and harden into a piece of granite, and my knot throbs and aches, making me groan. The weight of it presses against my jeans.
“Hunter, I see you had the courage to come after all.”
“It doesn’t require much courage to visit a gorgeous lass.”
“You keep thinking that, when I have you chained to my table,” she says with a wink.
Even her threats are a turn-on.
The werewolf and orc speak over one another as they fight to be the first to explain my presence. The intensity of their explanations growing in fervor.
I smirk and shake my head. Pathetic.
Mariax bites her lip and tries not to smile, her smoldering gaze landing on mine. She opens her mouth to say something but instead arches one adorable, shapely eyebrow and lowers her eyes down my body. Undressing and sizing me up, probably making her own assumptions about me and wondering if she can take me on.
I’ll enjoy watching her try.
She zeroes in on the strain in my pants. The python-like appendage is hardened along my leg. I’m not exactly sure what will happen here, but there has to be sex involved, right? I was told she’d explain everything when I got here, whatever that means.
She drags her gaze back up my body and turns toward her wee bulldog. “Lauren, I’ll be in P7 with the pup.” She gestures toward me with a flip of her hand. “Absolutely no interruptions.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
I glance back at Lauren and wink.
“Fuck off,” she hisses. I like her pluck.
Mariax then swivels on her gorgeous thigh-high boots without another word. She peeks over her shoulder and crooks a finger at me, beckoning me to follow her.
I almost refuse. I am not a puppy falling at her heels. Yet I find myself walking behind her.
I don’t know what I expected the room to look like, maybe similar to a porn setup, but again, she surprises me. We stand in what is essentially a large concrete box. To my right is a giant mirror, which takes up the entire wall. A metal table is anchored to the floor in the center of the room. Thick chains hang from each corner, each with a leather cuff attached. There is a coil of rope lying on top of the table. No, that’s not just rope. A colorless aura pulses around it, displacing the air just enough to be visible. Interesting.
I sweep myself around the rest of the room, noting the absence of anything else. There are no whips or any other kinky fuckery hanging on the walls.
Mariax leans against the mirror, running her hand along the length of her tail as she analyzes my every move. When my eyes meet hers again, she gives me a mind-blowing smile, her teeth gleaming from the lights overhead. Wee fangs shine along with her straight teeth. Hell, if she wants to bite me with those…
My cock and knot are swollen and throbbing, edging the line of pain and pleasure. I reach down to adjust myself, but she’s in front of me between blinks.
Her tail wraps around my wrist and jerks it away. The fuck?
She hisses. “Did I say you could touch yourself, Hunter?”
She can’t be serious.
“If I want to touch my cock because yer arse is too sexy to ignore, I will.”
She raises on the toes of her boots and plants a hand on my chest to grab the material of my shirt. As she settles back on her heels, she drags me down to her. My face is close to hers, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, it seems to empower her.
She brings her lips to my ear and whispers, “Pup, if you didn’t realize, you’re in my domain now. Do you understand what that means?”
The low rumble of my growl is the only answer I can make. She is testing my limits. I have no problem pinning her to the ground and showing her her place.
A slightly manic aura shines in her eyes.
“Are you sure you’re the alpha of your pack?” she asks sarcastically. “You shifters are all fond of rules and territories. Well, I have my own set of rules. And you will not break them, or I will take it out on your ass. Maybe I’ll even peg you with my tail as a punishment.” Her seductive voice is at odds with her harsh, belittling words. “Although, I think you’d enjoy that.”
The constant low hum of my growl is a warning; a warning she is choosing to ignore. A sudden sharp sting emanates from my lip. The wee bitch bit me. And hard enough to draw blood.
A warm drop of blood hits my neck just before her tits graze my chest. I inhale sharply as the pain centers and goes directly to my dick. Fucking hell. I am both angry and turned-on, to the point where my vision is blurred.
My wolf sneaks a glance at her as I lose focus.
Mariax watches the shift of my eyes with intrigue. A small amount of blood remains on her plump lower lip. The tip of her tongue slips out to taste it. I did not know the intensity of an alpha female would be like this, especially a demon.
I’ve never spent much time around demons, so this is different.
Mariax turns away from me and moves toward the table. I try to think of a quick response to this weird situation, something smartass and meant to force her back into her place, but my mind remains a blank slate.
Clearing my throat, I grab Mariax’s attention.
Her eyes zero in on me as she ties an intricate knot in the rope. She smiles, a mischievous glint growing in her eyes. She places the rope back on the table and plants her hands on her hips. Her stance and the swish of her pink tail scream brat. I’m usually into that, but I ignore my cock’s line of thought.
I narrow my eyes. “I’m done with this shite. Why am I here, Cheetie? What’s the point of all this?”
“You’re going to do this because I command it. That’s it, and that is your first lesson as a sub.
“Except I haven’t agreed to be yer sub yet,” I growl at her.
“That may be true, but in here you will listen to what I have to say, sub or not. I am Mistress Mariax in this space.” She gestures around the room. “And when you’re here for a future session, you don’t have the privilege to give me shit like you just did, walking in that door like you are still in control. This is my territory, not yours.”
“The next time I hear some cocky, dick-headed, no-filter dribble come out of your mouth, my tail will have its way with you. I’m tempted to make you misbehave so I can bask in the pleasure of my tail whipping across your flesh.”
As she speaks, my cock jerks in my britches. In a millisecond, I’m throbbing, my pulse making my head swell with every beat. But I refuse to be turned on by a wee bitch giving me orders. Fuck that.
I feel like I’m back in training to be an alpha and I’m floundering. I have not been belittled like this in decades. Rage heats my blood, a hot flush creeping up my neck. My wolf is readying himself to tear through my body and make his presence known.
No one should have this much control over parts of me that only I should be able to control. Maybe it’s her age. I know some demons can be old and have unseen powers, but I am used to being the alpha in every scenario. I take. I conquer. I claim.
“I know you’re about to say something really stupid. I dare you.” Her lips curve into a taunting smile. “Go for it. See what happens. Today was only supposed to be an introduction, so I could tell you exactly what happens and the relationship between a mistress and her sub, but you are already pushing the boundaries.”
She leans back and eyes me, and a growl tears from my chest. I wrap my hand around her throat as my control slips. “What do ye want, woman? Am I to grovel at yer feet and beg ye to punish me?” I shout. “That’s not something I’ll ever do.”
“You need to tell me if you’re okay with this. Because I’m not doing anything until you agree to the rules, and I only told you the first one. Consent is how a sub keeps their control, even as we test their boundaries.
“Screw this. Ye know, I was insanely curious about everything ye do here. But listening to that never-ending taunt and allowing ye to play with me like a fly caught in yer web? No. Only a wee brat like ye could severely piss off a male while wearing a sexy get-up.” I’m seething, which thickens my accent. I lower my eyes to her prominent cleavage and come back up to meet her glare.
“This shite is over.”
I make three steps toward the door before her tail wraps around my wrist, halting my progress.
I snap.
My vision becomes blurry as my wolf takes control. Fur erupts from the skin on my arms, quickly traveling up to my shoulders. Bones break and reorder themselves as I take the shape of my wolf. I’m halfway through the transition when I feel her sharpened nails dig into my forearms.
She kicks one of my legs out, dropping me to the floor and following me down. She’s straddling me the next second and has her tail pressed against my neck.
My breath comes out in pants as my shift slows, but doesn’t halt entirely. Excruciating pain pulses throughout every nerve in my body as I try to stop my shift.
Her tail is not just a tail anymore, it’s a mother fucking blade. Hells yes! Usually I’m the one drawing blood, but I can work with this.
I refocus on her. The fury I felt moments before has vanished. The edge of her blade presses deeper into the skin of my throat. A drop of blood trails down my neck and into the little dip between my collarbones, pooling there.
It’s unreal how she threw me around like that.
Supernaturals have not gotten our information about demons correctly, because she moved me around like I was a goddamn rag doll. It turns me on and pisses me off at the same time.
The moist heat of her pussy seeps through my jeans and boxer briefs. Only her excuse for panties and fishnets cover her. I imagine tearing them to shreds with my teeth…dipping my tongue into her dripping cunt and sucking her clit into my mouth.
The scent of her arousal makes me groan in frustration and need. I know she won’t act on it, her and her godsdamn rules. Her braids have fallen forward, dangling over her shoulders and dangling down each side of my face. Her knife-bladed tail is still held against my throat, but she’s not saying anything.
I push up on my elbows, cutting myself on the sharp edge of her tail. “Listen, Cheetie, I know this is yer domain, but I cannot submit. Ye can talk and explain all the rules ye want, but the thought of submitting when it’s in my very nature to rule and give orders is just wrong. Weaker beings submit. Why should I willingly grovel or whatever a submissive does?”
Mariax sits back on her heels, inadvertently pressing her pussy deeper against my cock. I have no doubt she can feel the hardness under her, because she smiles. But this is not a smile I’ve seen before. This smile seems genuine. There’s no calculation behind it, no other objective.
I’m struck by the thought that I want to grab her by those horns and kiss her stupid. I want to taste every inch of her beautiful, tattooed skin and trail my tongue between her breasts and down her stomach.
I place her braids back over her shoulder and remove her bladed tail from my neck. I groan, but it’s not from relief. It’s from the fact that I want the knife back on me to keep drawing blood through minor cuts.
Mariax takes a deep breath and says, “Why don’t you be a good boy and listen to me? Because I really would love to show you why you need this.”
Somehow, the praise calms me when it would have aggravated me from anyone else. Perhaps it’s the distraction of her tail, how sharp and deadly it appeared, and yet her features were gentle and understanding.
“Fine. I’ll listen to ye. Ye have five minutes.”
She rolls her eyes at my command before drawing a claw under my chin to tilt my head back and meet her eyes better.
“It is going to change your life, and I’m positive you will learn to accept it. Hell, even enjoy it. Thinking you’re going to control me, and do whatever else it is you think in your testosterone-laced mind you’re going to do, is not happening right now.” She taps the sharpened nail on my forehead. “You need to let go of the control. That is part of the reason. I think you would enjoy being submissive. Do you ever feel overwhelmed with all of the responsibility? Taking care of all those other wolves has got to be a lot on your shoulders. Don’t you ever want to be in the moment? To not have to think and worry for a while? To expel all thoughts except to do what you’re told? It is a freeing experience; I want to show you how and why you might love it.”
I reply with a sound Scots can make to convey any number of feelings, and she doesn’t stop me from leaving this time. Making my way out of the room and up to the exit I stew in my thoughts.
Maybe I do want to listen to her. I mean, I still don’t like the thought of submitting, but she does make a good point.
I’m always on the clock, twenty-four-seven. I am the wolf everybody brings their shite to, from actual crises to basic pack problems. Most of it is minute bullshit issues that they could honestly solve themselves, but they don’t have to because they have me. It’s what I was bred for.
The whole point of a pack is for us to rely on each other, but I don’t have a partner to share the burden. In traditional pack structure, there aren’t two alphas, so I can’t even have one to share this load. Even if I claimed a male as my spouse, the pack wouldn’t acknowledge him as an alpha because two males cannot breed. But I’ve turned the construct on its head by staying single for a long time. Our pack continues to grow through the betas and members of our pack. I know I’m still expected to produce at least one heir. I just don’t know if it’ll ever happen.
I realize the stress of my life has been slowly smothering me. I never realized how bad it had gotten because I didn’t allow myself to sit and think about it.
The tension in my neck and shoulders hardens my muscles painfully. A boulder nestles onto my back as my anxiety grows.
Maybe I do want to know what it’s like not to worry over every decision I make. For all the bullshit and swagger she was throwing at me earlier, it seems like she’s genuinely trying to help me… or at least she thinks she can.
I didn’t even know I needed help, but I feel that her experiences have shown her I do. I don’t want to admit it to myself though, so she’s sure as fuck isn’t going to hear it from me.
Chapter 6
Mariax
I breathe in deeply, allowing the scent of books to lessen my ever-present anxiety. I blow the breath back out through my lips and wander down the small, packed aisles at Tightly Bound.
I pick up a book at random, breathing in deeply. The scent notes of cardamom, vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee always permeate the space. When I take a book home from this shop, the pages always hold onto a hint of the store’s essence, and I love it.
This bookstore is unique in more ways than one. Its primary clientele are supernaturals, and it is owned by a witch named Morgan. I’m not sure if she is a light or dark witch, but I know she knows how to style the space.
The walls are painted a beautiful lavender with a black damask pattern on top of it. Across the ceiling flowering vines weave and interconnect, hanging down at random. There is no way to tell if something holds up the plants or if it is by magical intervention.
On occasion one of the flowering vines will drop down low enough to tickle a patron’s ear or ruffle their hair, like they just want to play.
Bundles of herbs, plants, and flowers hang on every wall dispersed between bleached animal skulls. Candles sit on floating shelves and line the front window of the shop.
This is my favorite bookstore in Philly. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall business, a diamond in the rough cesspool we call a city.
I don’t hate Philadelphia itself, but crowds of humans, the constant loud noises, and the stench weigh heavily on me every day. Little bookstores like these bring me joy in an otherwise dismal world.
“Do you need help finding anything, ma’am?” the clerk asks me with a toothy smile.
“No, thanks. I’m meeting someone,” I say to politely dismiss her. Plus, I wasn’t lying. Hunter is due to arrive any minute, and I have a serious bone to pick with him.
Every werewolf I employed for security at the Snuggle Palace was replaced the other night. When I questioned the unknown lycan stationed by the front, arguing with Jeffry, my ogre doorman, he said his alpha ordered it so here he was. He then shrugged, as if I wouldn’t go on a warpath for Hunter fucking around with my business.
My fury has only matured.
I sent him a deceptively nice text message a day later, to invite him to Tightly Bound. My Pup mentioned he’s also a book lover, since I asked him about the bookshelves in the background of his dick pics; a weird thing I picked up on later when I went back through them. So, what an excellent way to invite him for a friendly afternoon of books and coffee before I remind him of the capacity I have for less-conventional punishments.
Continuing my perusal of the stacks, I wander down each aisle. One of the coolest parts about this store is they have a small coffee shop by the register and an entire display of books written by indie authors. The best books I have ever read were written by indie authors.
I was ecstatic to find several of my favorites displayed: H. D. Carlton, Rebecca L. Garcia, Kat Blackthorne, Avanne Michaels, Opal Reyne, Bea Page…just to name a few.
