Chapter 2
Her room was basic, but the view was nice. A bathroom was between her and the room next door, so she’d have to share it, but at least it wasn’t down the hallway shared by a dozen or more people.
She didn’t recognize the scent in the bathroom. Prey for sure, some fear, but a musk she’d never scented before. Lots of orgasms, but not a rabbit. Wilder than rabbit. Still, the scent wasn’t terribly far off, but something that lived in fields rather than burrows.
The instructions for prepping to feed a vampire were simple enough.
Lube your holes, report to the assigned room, undress completely, and fold or hang your clothes in the armoire.
Bend over the first steel bar and stretch your arms out to grasp the one several feet in front of you, and then wait while bent over.
Do not stand. Do not move. When the vampire arrives, do not look back — stare at the floor beneath your face.
Answer whether you wish for the bite to give pain or pleasure.
When the vampire finishes, he or she will redress before leaving.
Do not move from the feeding station until the vampire has left the room.
Do not attempt conversation. If they ask a question, answer it, but do not speak unless asked a direct question.
A vampire returned her phone and explained the apps he’d installed. She figured he’d put a tracker in while he had it, but didn’t bother looking for it. She also had the numbers of the vampires she’d be feeding, so she’d know who they were when they texted her.
There was also an entry for her assigned security person, which would apparently change automatically depending on who was assigned to her on any given day. Her contract stated she’d have a guard anytime she left the property.
The good news was there was no need for her own car because she’d be driven everywhere. The downside? She’d have a fucking chaperone everywhere she went. It was couched in security requirements, but she understood she was going to be watched and monitored.
When the text from Byron came, it just gave a room number.
Nothing else. She followed the directions Spence had given her, going through a hidden, locked door in the pantry that opened with her palmprint and a code, and then took the second door on the right, labeled F3, which might mean feeding room three, or fucking room three.
No silk sheets, no candles. Not even a bed or a bondage table.
Just a small, harsh room big enough for a feeding/fucking station, an armoire, and a few people.
The feeding station was brutal in its simplicity — a steel bar at waist height to lean over, and another positioned a few feet in front of you to grab.
No music, nothing soft. Just concrete walls and a drain in the floor.
And a bottle of lube in the armoire when she opened it to put her clothes inside.
She’d worn slides and a dress to simplify the process. She hung the dress, settled the shoes inside, squirted lube into her left hand, and reached back to work it inside her ass with clinical efficiency.
Whoever stepped behind her had the right to choose, and she wasn’t about to let her first fuck in Alaska be a dry, tearing mess. She enjoyed anal when she was horny, but she wasn’t sure arousal would be part of the equation.
She used her right hand to put some around the mouth of her pussy, and then used a provided baby wipe to clean her hands.
And then walked to the two bars and stared at them. Finally, she leaned over the first, and had to stretch uncomfortably to reach the second. Spacers forced her hands only a few inches apart, so her face nestled into her arms, her nose clear so she could easily breathe.
Fuck, but she understood the position more than she wanted to — spine stretched to lengthen her torso, and when she looked at the floor, her arms held her head to stabilize her neck just right for the bloodsucker to bite the side of it.
She’d never felt so vulnerable.
She stared at the floor and waited.
And waited.
Long enough her shoulders started to ache and her hips felt the harsh steel she was bent over. Long enough to wonder if they’d forgotten her. Perhaps this was some kind of initiation, or maybe a test.
So she waited. She heard no footsteps. Felt no air shift. But suddenly the door opened and closed, and a presence was behind her, silent and intense.
A cool hand brushed over her lower back, and then came words in an odd accent. “Pleasure or pain.”
She swallowed. “Pleasure.”
She heard him undress. Heard the armoire open and close, footsteps return. He folded his cool body over hers, and she felt his erection on top of her butt.
Teeth pierced her skin, between her ear and shoulder. An instant of pain, and then heat arrowed through her veins and arteries in dizzy, spiraling need that flooded her clit with a pulsing demand she couldn’t ignore. Her mouth opened on a gasp, and she barely caught herself before moaning.
And then the vampire shoved into her ass. No prep, no teasing. A single thrust and he was inside, but the venom in her bloodstream made it glorious. She wanted more from him. More friction, rougher use, more stretch. More pleasure.
She could only hear flesh slapping flesh, her own rapid heartbeat thundering through her veins, and the sounds of her breathing. It was like being fucked by a statue, something carved from old marble and ancient arrogance.
And still, her body responded.
She needed to orgasm so bad she nearly begged for relief, but she clamped her mouth shut. Not because the rules said not to speak, but because dragons do not beg. It was bad enough she’d had to lean over to be a feed-and-fuck for a vampire.
She didn’t manage an orgasm until his teeth were inside her again, but first, he drank — his teeth deep in her neck, sucking her blood, his lips sealed around her flesh.
And then, just before he removed his teeth, fire in her veins, and then her orgasm hit like a tornado ripping through a damned trailer park.
Like her Aunt Mab sharing her orgasm with everyone at the ball.
Or like her Aunt Kirsten sharing her orgasms with all of Alfheim.
Violent pleasure detonated through her body in a brutal, endless series of waves while she shook apart on the two bars, and while he emptied himself in her ass.
And then he was across the room, using a baby wipe, then dressing. Two minutes later, the door closed, and she was alone with echoes of the orgasm still radiating through her insides.
No thank you. No goodbye.
Just emptiness behind her, and jizz threatening to leak from her ass.
She dressed slowly. Not angry, and not ashamed, but … unsettled. She’d been food. Not a partner, not a woman. Barely more than an object. Just … food.
Nothing more than blood, flesh, and a hole to fuck.
But it hadn’t been terrible. The orgasm had been phenomenal, and it isn’t like she hadn’t fucked vampires before. Hell, that was the reason she’d agreed to this, because vampire sex is fucking awesome.
But she hadn’t counted on being a thing. She’d had romantic notions about how it would be, and this had not been what she’d expected.
But Spence had said some would order her to their room. She wasn’t always going to be on the fucking station.
She returned to her room and showered, and then thumbed her phone awake to start a list of things she’d need to buy when she got her first paycheck. Hair dryer, towels, and a laundry basket, to start, since she’d been living out of a suitcase for months. She dried with a clean T-shirt.
She stared at herself naked in the mirror, and her gaze landed on her belly button ring, with just enough silver to keep the hole from healing.
She had to pierce herself again when she changed to dragon, since she came back to human healed.
But she only got to fly in Faerie, and she hadn’t been in a while.
She needed to fly, though.
Dragons aren’t like most of the other shapeshifters, who consider themselves two-natured. A werewolf is a human who has a wolf he has to push down. Same with the birds, they have this inner animal they have to either hold down or let out.
Emmy is always the dragon, it’s just that sometimes she’s human-shaped and sometimes dragon-shaped.
She put her wet hair into a French braid, donned leggings and a crop top, and made her way to the kitchen.
Two people were already there, and a quick sniff told her the guy was a deer shifter and the woman an eagle, though she couldn’t be certain what kind. One of the big ones, though.
The guy was probably mid-twenties with shaggy brown hair, strong forearms, and the nervous energy of someone who moves like a prey animal even when relaxed.
He had a massive bowl of greens in front of him and was slicing cucumbers with ridiculous precision.
Carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower were waiting to be cut.
The woman was tall and wiry with a long ponytail going down her back, a streak of white through it. She was flipping salmon fillets in a cast-iron skillet.
Neither said anything while Emmy looked through the steaks in the fridge and picked four, but when she headed toward them, the girl said, “There’s a grill out back if you want actual charcoal, or the indoor one if gas is fine. There’s also cast-iron pans, or sheets you can put them on in the oven.”
Emmy saw the grill inset into the counter, and walked to it. She wasn’t up for the whole charcoal thing at the moment, but she’d give herself more time before she was starving the next day and do that.
“Thanks. I’m Emmy.”
“I’m Rhea, this is Toby.”
“You’re the dragon,” Toby said. “All kinds of rumors out there about you.”
“Let’s just assume they’re probably ninety percent bullshit,” Emmy said, and in an effort to change the subject away from her, asked, “What are the two of you majoring in?”