Chapter 2
As Emmy prepared to begin getting ready for The Nutcracker Ball, she shook her head at Zander’s ability to turn potential disaster into triumph.
He’d been so persuasive, practically mesmerizing, standing on the theater stage, voice carrying authority without arrogance as he explained that the security net had been in place for two and a half seasons, and this was its first deployment.
“Today proved its value. Both vampires are alive, unharmed beyond their pride. The injured daywalkers are healing, when a gazelle not attached to either combatant would have been killed if they’d been allowed to continue.
Property damage is minimal. That’s a win. ”
And the offending vampires, each with their daywalker shackled to the top of their box, had already been flown to Japan. They’d have to find their own way home from there.
Rules enforced, problem solved, and the silo’s inhabitants had moved from crisis mode to anticipation for the evening’s ball.
She’d learned how to give a polite telepathic ‘knock’ today, working with Spence. This is, apparently, how Spence contacts Zander much of the time, and it’s the equivalent of a text that says, ‘call me when you can talk’.
Zander has a way he can divert incoming telepathic conversations to another person, but that’s apparently something only the vampires can do.
Emmy would have a conversation with her mom about that, soon.
And maybe her dad. If your dad is the best security specialist on the planet, maybe you should ask him questions, when you have them. Even if he’s being an asshole.
She shook off thoughts of parental disapproval and focused on the task at hand.
Her ballgown had been delivered from the off-site storage.
Not the one she’d tried on before leaving Anchorage, but this one was better, so it was fine.
She had her shoes, and since she was aiming for an elegant no-makeup look, that part would be a piece of cake.
An hour later, she was nearly ready, and Spence’s scent out in the living room screamed arousal, frustration, and discomfort — all in equal measure. He stood with his arms out while a makeup artist turned him into a living Nutcracker.
The process had started hours before. Zander had shaved Spence’s head, ordering their wolf to slowly jack himself while he watched his Master shave his head in the mirror.
The combination of vulnerability, objectification, and raw submission had been so hot, Emmy had demanded he eat her out the moment Zander finished.
Now, the artist was completing her masterpiece. Spence wore a blue plastic cock cage, his trapped balls held high by the ring, everything not enclosed painted the same vivid blue.
Right off the bat, she’d made him bend over and spread his cheeks, and then had painted the crack of his ass, his taint, and the backs of his balls — and then made him hold position another ten minutes, until she deemed the paint was dry. She’d painted his shins and calves while he was bent over.
Clearly, she’d done full-body-paint jobs before.
She’d worked her way up his body, spending time getting his shaved balls exactly right, as well as every carved wooden joint, expertly shaded to complete the illusion of wooden shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and ankles.
Red-painted wood mittens had been affixed to his wrists once the paint on his lower arms dried.
He looked magnificent and creepily inhuman.
In the ballet, Clara is in a ballgown for the party scene, but then she’s in her nightgown for the rest of her evening and night, so Emmy’s gown was all ivory lace with tons of fabric, though in all honesty, it looked more like a ballgown than a nightgown. Still, it worked to get the right look.
Her hair was down and curly in back, pulled away from her face, with an enormous ivory lace bow at the back of her head.
The makeup artist seemed to be finishing up, doing the final shading on the wooden joints.
Mine, Emmy thought, and felt the word echo through their new telepathic bond to both Spence and Zander.
Ours, Zander corrected gently, and she felt his satisfaction warm through the connection. Seconds later, he stepped into the living area from his office, and Emmy looked him over from head to toe. And back.
Her vampire was devastating in midnight blue tailored to perfection, silver accents catching light like moonlight on ice, his presence cool and commanding, all that power wrapped in modern elegance.
The modern suit made him look too much like her uncle Abbott, though, and it was so disconcerting.
She turned to focus on Spence again, who was still standing with his legs spread and arms straight out to his side despite the fact the makeup artist was packing her things away.
“How long until he can move?” Zander asked.
“He’s probably fine now, but another three to five minutes, to be safe.”
“You’ve done a marvelous job, and you’ll find an extra tip in your pay. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She stood with her many bags all organized on the bottom roller. “Anytime.”
When she was out the door, Zander told their wolf, “You are not Spencer this evening. You are our Nutcracker toy.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“Toys do not speak out loud. Only through telepathy.”
Spence gave a tiny nod and telepathed, Of course, Sir. I should be spanked.
Emmy laughed, and then asked Zander, “Out of curiosity — I was originally supposed to be a Sugar Plum Fairy tonight. Who was supposed to be Clara?”
Because there could only be one Nutcracker, one Prince, and one Clara. Everyone else was free to choose from the remaining characters.
Zander shook his head. “It was something the female vampires would’ve bid on. You didn’t take it from anyone, it was only removed from auction.”
“How many Clara costumes do you have, so they’ll fit whoever wins the bid?”
He smiled. “Many, but we also have fabric on hand, so a seamstress can whip one up if we don’t have one that fits.
” He handed her the red leash, his cool fingers brushing hers in shared possession.
“We’re taking the elevator up. Our Nutcracker’s paint will last about a thousand steps, and I don’t want to waste any on stairs. ”
Emmy clipped the leash to the attachment at the top of the ring locked behind Spence’s balls. The metal clicked louder than expected, and Spence’s sharp inhale sent heat flooding between her thighs.
She looked him over again, toes up to his face, and his eyes were the only thing about him that appeared human.
The full picture was something to behold, blue plastic cock cage, the ring biting behind his balls, painted wooden joints with expert shadowing.
Her gaze followed the leash running from his trapped balls to her hand, and the whole thing made her pulse throb low and steady in her clit.
Zander offered his arm, and together, they ascended through the silo — Master Vampire, dominant dragon, and their willing toy.
The ballroom had been transformed into winter’s darkest fantasy.
Enormous nutcrackers — towering figures carved from dark wood and gilded in gold — flanked the entrances like silent sentinels, their painted eyes gleaming with menace under the fractured chandelier light.
Silver and gold garland draped the chandeliers, and an orchestra played Tchaikovsky’s familiar strains with a sensual undercurrent that promised the night’s darker delights, every swell of strings a caress against bare skin.
Guests swirled in a riot of costumes and flesh — Mouse Kings, toy Soldiers, Sugar Plum Fairies in glittering tulle that barely veiled nipples and thighs, Spanish dancers with lace and fans, and the men in matador pants with slits for easy access.
Arabians in sheer harem silks, veils drifting over oiled skin, and belly chains tinkling softly with each hypnotic sway of their hips.
Chinese acrobats, Russian Cossacks, Marzipans, and scattered throughout, body glitter generously covering the naked flock members with various faux flowers on their heads, dancing and twirling in a decadent Waltz of the Flowers.
Emmy moved through it all at Zander’s side, her Clara gown flowing around her in whispers of lace, the leash in her hand linking her to Spence — naked, painted, and caged.
The night’s glamour wrapped around them, the orchestra’s sensual strains pulling them deeper into the wonderland, throbbing with raw decadence.
The silo’s twist on the traditional theme lingered in every glance, every brush of bodies.
Tonight’s adventure would be no children’s tale.
Heads turned. Whispers rippled outward like rings on water.
They’re staring, Emmy telepathed to both her men.
Let them, Zander replied, satisfaction evident. You’re claiming your place publicly. They need to see it.
I’m proud to be yours, Spence added, his mental voice warm. Both of yours.
Emmy’s throat tightened with emotion, and she could’ve sworn she felt love pulse through whatever pathway Zander had created to connect her mind with theirs.
The base of a giant Christmas tree was at the edge of the room, huge branches with giant ornaments, and the dais in the center of the room was decorated to look like a wrapped present, the frame in the center a gilded gallows, spreader bars ready at top and bottom.
Emmy’s pulse thrummed as she led Spence through the ballroom’s swirling chaos, the leash in her right hand while her left held Zander’s arm.
They mounted the steps to the dais and Spence stepped into the frame without needing to be told, his gaze meeting hers with that quiet, burning devotion that made her clit ache and her heart squeeze tight.
I love you, she thought at Spence, unable to stop herself.
I know, he replied simply. I feel it.
And she realized he could, through the pathway, the same as her.