Dark Allure
Contents
1 - Eve
2 - Az'ralon
3 - Eve
4 - Az'ralon
5 - Eve
6 - Az'ralon
7 - Eve
8 - Az'ralon
9 - Eve
10 - Eve
11 - Az'ralon
12 - Eve
13 - Az'ralon
14 - Eve
15 - Az'ralon
16 - Eve
17 - Az'ralon
18 - Eve
19 - Eve
20 - Az'ralon
21 - Eve
22 - Eve
23 - Eve
24 - Az'ralon
25 - Eve
26 - Az'ralon
27 - Eve
28 - Eve
29 - Az'ralon
30 - Eve
Captive Allure
End of Book
Chapter 1
Eve
It's not like I ever like being woken up in the middle of the night, but it's extra terrible when I'm in the middle of an amazing dream. The kind that makes my toes curl and my nipples hard, and the kind that I've been consistently having nearly weekly since I came to this god-forsaken island.
It's not the island's fault, really, but when you're off the coast of Alaska in February, it's so hard to want to leave the house to socialize. It's hard to want to leave the house to do anything at all, really. Which means that I've been living a lonely, celibate life for nearly six months now.
I sit up in bed--not my bed, but the bed belonging to the rich old lady who only lives here during the summer and hires me to stay here during the winter--and stretch. I'm not sure what woke me up because I'm usually the best at sleeping uninterrupted for long periods of time. I reach for my phone and click it on. Four in the morning, which is way too freaking early. But I have a text from my best friend, Allie, who still lives in the house that we briefly lived together in in Florida, where it is a much more reasonable eight o'clock.
She's asking about some design software that I cared about in another life, and it's too early to form a coherent response. I can whine about the fact that I'm awake, which I promptly do. I contemplate going downstairs for a snack, which seems like a lot of work, but it's probably worth it for some cheese.
My phone vibrates to let me know that Allie is just shocked that I'm awake, and I can't help but agree with her. The sun doesn't rise until close to nine, which means that it's way too easy to stay in bed until eleven.
As I open the fridge and contemplate my cheese stash, I realize what woke me up. The light in the fridge isn't on. This fridge is usually so noisy that I can hear it from upstairs in bed, but now, right in front of it, I hear nothing. There are none of the usual house sounds, either: no furnace struggling against the cold outside, no water heater keeping itself hot. Aside from the sound of my own breathing, it's silent.
I don't think it's the electricity because the heat in the house isn't being sucked out through the minuscule cracks in the walls, like it did the time I bumped the thermostat and didn't realize I had turned it off until an hour later.
I frown at my cheese. The silence is really unsettling, and I glance down at my phone. 'It's possible I'm in the beginning of a horror movie', I text Allie. 'Going outside to investigate'.
'Have you learned nothing from our repeated viewings?' she asks, and I grin at my phone and then promptly ignore her.
I mean, the entire reason I get to live here is to make sure the house doesn't burn down or have the pipes freeze, so in exchange for six months of free rent, I really should make sure that nothing is seriously wrong. I pull on my fleece-lined leggings and heavy sweater, and my hat and long coat that are hanging by the front door. Because of course the breaker box has to be outside.
The night is eerily still, but to be fair, that's not entirely out of the ordinary here. Snow is falling, and the full moon illuminates the entire world. It's still strange to me how bright a snowy night is, even after six months of intense exposure to it.
The breaker box is around the back of the house, and I shine my phone's flashlight on it while I wish I knew more about it. Nothing looks out of place, so I frown at it because who knows what's going on.
I'm headed back around to the front door when I hear the strangest sound--low and mournful, and almost like a song. It's so loud that after I've stood for a minute listening to it, I'm surprised that none of the neighbors have stepped outside to hear. Surely, they can hear it from inside.
It seems to be coming from down the street, down by the docks. I feel almost as if I'm in a trance as I make my way down the snow-covered sidewalk, my gaze firmly fixed on the lights reflecting off the ocean.
I wonder suddenly if I'm dreaming. The whole night has been so weird, and the noise is so loud, and no one else seems to even have noticed. I decide firmly that I am actually dreaming, if only to stop myself from panicking about the fact that I feel vaguely as if I'm not in control of my own actions.
I don't stop until I reach the end of a small dock, and I can't seem to look away from the water. The choppy waves of the north Pacific are so different than the warm water of the Gulf of Mexico that I grew up with, but the smell is the same--it's home.
I watch the water and have no idea what I'm doing. The sound is loud here, louder even than it was back at the house, and what started as a haunting tone is suddenly discordant and ominous. With great effort, I look away from the water, and turn around to head back to the house and write this all off as a dream.
Or I try to. But the dock is snow-covered too, and my crappy boots with terrible grip slip as I turn. And I really shouldn't have been down here, and I don't know why I was, and all I can think about as I absorb the icy shock of the water surrounding me is how much that fall hurt my head.
Chapter 2
Az'ralon
My dreams are pleasing and endlessly frustrating, as they've been each time I've slept over the last half-year. My cock is hard and aching, yet I know that there is no way to satisfy it. It just wants her.
My people, the Yremy, sleep only once a fortnight. We do not dream, or we are not supposed to dream. That is best left to the realm of humans. But my dreams haunt me, because they shouldn't be. And because I need them to be.
I don't know her name, my dream-girl. I know only vaguely what she looks like. But I know the feel of her skin against mine, and the way that her breath hitches when my claws skim over her ribs, and the way that she clutches at my horns when I take her. I know the way she feels around me as I sink into her tight heat.
But she's not real, and I shouldn't be dreaming, and aside from Nox, who I trust with my life, I cannot share this problem with anyone. Because as much as I look forward to these dreams, they are a constant distraction and becoming more problematic by the day.
I suspect that this girl and the dreams are the work of the Council of Seven--the human witches who oversee the link between our worlds. Our relationship has grown more tenuous over the years; what was once a serviceable working relationship has devolved into something that's nearly outright hostile. I don't know exactly what purpose sending me these dreams serves for them, but I don't know who else could be capable of such a thing. As I oversee my people in this region, setting me off my guard can only benefit them.
I trace a black-tipped claw down the length of my shaft. I know that the pursuit is fruitless; my countless nights with women and my hand haven't managed to satisfy me since the dreams started. Still, when I imagine the dream-girl's small hands on me, it's pleasing. I lean back on my other hand and close my eyes. She had been sitting as I am now, but her legs were spread wide. Her oddly pale skin was tinged with pink all over, and her strawberry tinted hair had fallen over my thighs as she--
A knock on my door int
errupts the memory, and I swear violently and quickly wrap the saty that the revered of my people wear around my hips. I open the door to find Nox. He knows what the dreams do to my mood, and he's smart enough that he wouldn't bother me here if it weren't important.
Nox has been with me since we were children. He was never good at the tasks we were set to then, but he was charming enough to get away with never doing anything. As we grew older, we both learned that his charm was far more useful a skill than anything else that he never bothered to learn properly.
I have none of the charm, but I don't need it.
"One of the girls found something," he says. "I think that you need to see for yourself."
We stride through the castle halls and out to the courtyard. I prefer to spend my time in my own house on the other side of town, but it's safer to sleep within the defensible walls of the castle.
I follow Nox across the massive terrace, trusting him that this isn't a waste of time. He leads me to the cliffs above the sea, and steps over the edge of the sharp drop with his usual flamboyance. I spread my wings with a sigh before following him off the edge.
"I don't trust this," he tells me when I land. "I think that your suspicions about the Council are correct, and well...I'm worried that my suspicion about what has just washed up on our shore is correct."
"What is it?" I ask.
He moves away from me toward the cliff side and waits until I'm next to him before he answers. "A woman. A human woman."
I suck in a sharp breath. "Do you think it's--"
He pauses at the mouth of a small cave. "I suppose we'll find out in a minute. I don't think it's a coincidence that you start dreaming about a human and the first one in five hundred years washes up here right after. But if it is, Az, you really need to keep in mind that she is a tool of the Council, and--"
I move past him into the cave, watching where one of Nox's girls stands over a dark mass on the rocky ground. I approach it slowly, and as I get closer, I can see that there's a long, dark coat covering her. But strawberry colored hair peeks from the top, and I already know it's her before I see her face.
And I'm right. Of course I'm right. The only ones with the power to send someone across the link are the witches of the Council.
Her face is pale, with none of the pink that it's usually tinged with while I dream. Her body is much smaller than it appears under the coat, I notice as I'm turning her. I doubt she would even reach my shoulder if she were standing. She's asleep, or more likely, knocked out, but she's here and whole and breathing.
Fuck. I shouldn't be elated about this, because she's not what I want her to be. She's a tool of the Council, and she's here to bring me down. The violence of my thoughts surprises me in this, because wanting to tear her apart and end this threat is warring with the overwhelming urge to hold her against me.
And then she makes a tiny noise, something between a groan and a sigh, and it's as if my arms decide before I do. I tuck her against my chest without another thought.
Her clothes are heavy and wet, and she's shivering even as she sleeps. Her breath is warm against my skin, and every single instinct inside of me is telling me to take her somewhere safe and warm.
Nox approaches, and I find myself turning to bare my fangs at him. He frowns at me, his jaw tense. "This is exactly what I was fucking afraid of, Az. You know what this is."
And I do. That knowledge doesn't matter, though, all that matters is that she is mine, and she is cold, and I haven't fixed it yet. I stand with the girl in my arms and stalk out of the cave without saying a thing to Nox. I don't know if I can be in my right mind enough to say anything right now. I spread my wings, clutch her close, and fly for home.
Chapter 3
Eve
I can't see. I wonder for a minute if I'm awake, I try to think of the last thing I remember, but all that I can remember is the sound. Not chasing it or wondering about it, just the constant low tone buzzing through my skull as I try to breathe and try to move and wonder why the hell I can't see.
I try to feel along my body and assess myself. I'm whole, I'm unhurt, and I'm lying on something very soft and warm. In fact, there's a blanket covering me, and I try to remember if I made it back to my bed.
I'm counting my breaths and trying to remember the events that I can when the door swings open. I can tell because it's the only source of light, and suddenly, the black room is flooded in what should be a soft light but is blindingly bright to me from the room beyond.
There's a man in the doorway. He's lighted from behind, so I can only see his silhouette, but I can see that his shape distinctly male and that he's massively tall. Massively broad, too, and that stirs some feeling in me that I'm not capable of comprehending right now.
"Where am I?" I ask, sitting up in the bed.
The moment that the lights in the room turn on is the same moment that I realize that I'm nude...like completely. I gasp out loud, pulling the blanket up over my chest, and then I scramble out of the bed and wrap it around me.
I turn to confront this man, my bare feet sinking into a soft rug as I grip the blanket around me. I'm furious at the realization that I've been undressed, and more than a little unsettled at not knowing how I got here. I look up from my covered chest, and then I don't know what to do.
He is...not human. Not even close. He has moved closer and is facing the light, so I can make out the details. His skin is a dark, muted purple, stretched over bulging and rippling muscles. His chest is bare, and around his waist is tied something that looked like a thin sheet. The result looks like he's wearing the bottom half of a toga. I'm eye level with his nipple, and I tilt my head back to look up and up and up at him. His features look mostly human--his jaw might be a little too broad, his eyes a little too deep-set--and then I see a flash of fangs behind his lips. His hair is black and hangs to his shoulders, but I can hardly focus on that compared to the two massive horns that sweep from his head, curling back into sharp points.
"Oh my god," I say, taking a step back but unable to tear my eyes away from him. "What are you?"
His eyes are so dark that I can't tell the pupil from the iris, but they flare with annoyance at my question. He reaches for my face and holds my chin in his fingers--which are tipped with black claws, I notice with alarm--and tilts my head up as he bends slightly so that his face is closer to mine. "God has nothing to do with what I am," he says. His voice is a low rumble, but almost warm. There's a hint of amusement there, and that gives me enough confidence to talk again.
"Where am I?" I ask again, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.
He doesn't let go of my face. "It's an interesting act that you've chosen. I assumed you would try to seduce me," he says. "It would have worked," he adds, almost as an afterthought.
I have no idea what he's saying, and it seems safest to just keep quiet, so I do.
A moment passes in silence before he bares his teeth at me in frustration. "I am not an ignorant fool, little witch," he says. "Those dreams that you or your master sent to me were to keep my patience low and my tolerance to you lower."
I still stare at him, my eyes wide before I realize what he's said. "The dreams?" I say quietly. "Are you having those dreams, too?"
He frowns at me. "This act you put on is as arousing as everything else about you, witch."
I shake my head quickly. "I'm not a witch," I say. "I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not. I'm a house sitter. I water people's plants. I'm not--"
"What you didn't count on is that I don't care if you want to kill me. I don't care if you want to overthrow me. You're still mine."
I'm trying to figure out his meaning when his hands close around my arms. He bends down to me, his dark gaze intent on my face. I don't know what he's doing--I wonder if he's going to bite me, I wonder if whatever he is eats humans--when he presses his lips to mine in a searing kiss.
It's like something unwinds inside of me. Something warm and fluid and exciting, and I don't realize that
I'm standing on my toes or putting my hands on his shoulders until I've already done it. His lips feel amazing and I want more of it, and somehow flicking my tongue into his mouth feels right.
He seems to think so. His tongue runs along mine as his hands move from my upper arms around to my back, settling finally on the curve of my hips. My heart is pounding and all I can think about is how much I want this, and I find myself putting my hands on the back of his neck to pull him even closer and pushing my whole body against his as closely as I can.
My blanket is slipping without my arms down to hold it in place, but I find that I don't care. In fact, I want it gone, because then I can feel the delicious stretch of his skin against mine. It gets caught around my hips, and I shimmy slightly until it slides down my legs, and then I'm completely naked.
I have a vague sense that I know that this is ridiculous, that I know that I'm not acting like myself, that I have no idea who or what the fuck this guy is, but that feeling is in the back of my mind and completely dwarfed by my intense need to rub against him and devour him.
I'm not particularly short, but he's so tall that none of our body parts match up. When he's not bent to kiss me, my head reaches his chest, so as I move against him, my hard nipples press against his deliciously sculpted abdomen.
I can't stop moving my fingers over his skin. He feels so good, like warm sculpted marble under my palms, and I want to touch him forever. His hands move on me, too--from my hips to my back to my butt, and I don't even care that he's holding my bare ass in his palms. The only thing I care about is that he's not touching me between my legs, which feels painfully neglected.
His back is warm and flexes under my touch, and his mouth has left mine to drift down my neck, kissing and sucking and biting softly--not breaking the skin, but he certainly could.
And then my hands reach his shoulder blades, and there's something strange sticking out of his back. An umbrella, I think nonsensically, because it feels like a folded umbrella with the rods all folded together with thin fabric stretched over. It's not an umbrella, of course, but that doesn't lessen the shock I feel when I realize what it is.