Chapter 26
Emmy wanted to keep Toby close, but he desperately wanted to get back to the outpost to make some changes to his equipment.
She didn’t want him walking the half-mile in the sub-freezing cold, so on a day the temperatures clawed their way a few degrees above zero, she changed to her dragon so she could fly him there.
She explained how to climb her side, what to hold onto once he was on her neck, and then the two went outside, where she dropped her coat, stepped out of her boots, and released the grip that kept her in human form.
Once Toby was in place and holding on, she leapt skyward, her massive wings beating against the dense arctic air.
Seconds later, she lit at the outpost, talked him through coming down, and watched security welcome him into the outpost before she took off again.
She had a nearly hour-long window without camera-laden satellites overhead, but she wouldn’t stay out anywhere near that long in this cold.
She aimed for the ocean this time, flying over the vast expanse of open water rather than going inland. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink, and those colors reflecting in the shimmering tapestry of blues and greens in the vast ocean.
The ice had begun to form, delicate tendrils reaching out from the shore like shattered glass, a preview of the frozen world to come.
Seals bobbed in the water, their sleek bodies breaking the surface, and far in the distance, her sharp eyes caught a pod of orcas breaching, their powerful forms arcing through the air.
In another direction, she spotted belugas, flashing white, while walruses clustered on shore, tusks glinting in the low light.
The sun skimmed lower, and the colors changed to fiery smears of oranges and pinks that painted the ice edges in molten gold, the light stretching long and oblique, turning the sea into a canvas of twilight fire before it dipped away in a fleeting moment of beauty in the harsh Alaskan landscape.
Mealtimes were a boon, a chance to catch up with her friends and revel in the simple joy of shared company.
Felix, his cheeks still gaunt but his spirit unbroken, sat with them, his laughter a balm to their worried hearts.
He was better, his strength returning with each passing day, even if he couldn’t yet feed the vampires.
Emmy felt a surge of protectiveness, a fierce mama-dragon instinct that made her want to shield him from the world.
Eventually, he’d return to his level-three status and she’d have to be okay with it. Felix didn’t belong to her, he belonged to himself, but he was still her friend.
Today’s meal was a hearty reindeer stew with lots of root veggies along with thyme and juniper berries, and it warmed her all the way to her toes.
She got a small bowl of the vegetarian offering just to try it out, full of beans, egg, and she had no idea what else, but it was pretty yummy, too.
Didn’t compare to the stew, but watching Felix eat his fill of it made her happy.
He hadn’t even been able to hold egg drop soup down a few days earlier without puking his guts out, and now he was eating like a starving man who could finally find sustenance again.
He even used the flatbread to sop up the last of it, that he couldn’t get with his spoon, and she couldn’t help but smile.
Hours later, she went to the Lupanar on schedule — a vampire had purchased her for a quick thirty-minute feed-and-fuck, but it turned into a huge exercise in frustration.
The bastard injected the orgasm denial cocktail at the very beginning, make her need to come in the worst kind of way, but unable to edge over the pinnacle to find release.
And so, strapped to the bondage table, she screamed her frustration while her hips writhed under the pounding he gave her, brutally edging her toward madness, her insides a conflagration she couldn’t put out, her clit throbbing away, swollen and screaming, denial coiling tight throughout, with nowhere to go. No hope of release.
He drank from her in the final moments of his time, rose off the table, dressed, and left without releasing her bonds. Security came in seconds later, disconnected the attachments, told her she had three minutes to vacate the room, and left.
She quickly dressed and made her way to the showers, where she tried to get herself off while she was in there alone, but the venom was still blocking her, leaving her aching and unfulfilled.
Hours later, her body still trembling with tightly coiled need, she stood in a cramped toilet stall and finally brought herself to a silent release with frantic fingers, her breath ragged.
The Robber Bridegroom night arrived, her costume a delicate blend of lace and silk that clung to her curves, the fabric a soft caress against her skin.
She applied her makeup with careful precision, au-naturel except for a tiny bit of eyeliner and a touch of color on her lips and cheeks.
She did Rhea’s bun first, and then her own, both adorned with jewels she had a feeling were real.
She was on a table in the audience tonight since the stage performance called for a level three, but still, dark excitement vibrated through her in anticipation of what was to come.
The stage was set as a forest, with a few fake trees in the audience, and flickering lanterns all around them.
The vampires came in single file, walking to their tables without nearing others, and she looked at yet another vampire she hadn’t had sex with yet.
He met her gaze and spoke with a thick, eastern European accent. “A level one; how disappointing. I will keep the rules, but you vill fight me, and you vill scream.”
She gave him a brief nod, and then he was on her, ripping her clothing away, exposing her. Her heart pounded in her chest and she fought him — not because he’d told her to, but because it was instinct.
Still, she didn’t use her full strength. She was being paid quite well to play the part of the damsel in distress, not the damsel who can free herself and easily kill the bad guy.
But twenty seconds in, this was no longer a performance, it turned into a brutal, visceral experience, the vampire’s movements savage and unrelenting.
He drove into her with a force that stole her breath, each thrust a violent claim, a conquest that scorched her from the inside.
Emmy’s body responded with a wild, primal fire, the pain and pleasure intertwined in a dance as old as time.
She gasped and arched her back, the intensity of his thrusts pinning her down.
She screamed, legs kicking, but the pain twisted into a dark, forbidden fire, her body arching into him despite the violence.
And then without warning, he came out of her pussy and drove into her ass, the invasion brutal and unyielding, stretching her wide as she clawed the table and begged him to give her a moment, but her pleas only increased his savagery.
Her asshole burned and her guts twisted — the pain both excruciating and exquisite.
But it was too much all at once, and she couldn’t stop her screams, her pleas.
And yet, the brutality of his cock pistoning deep and his hands holding her down flipped her switches exactly right, and an orgasm crashed through her like a storm, her body convulsing, pussy clenching on nothing while waves of scorching bliss ripped and undulated through her until she collapsed, gasping,
But the vampire didn’t slow, he kept going despite the fact her arousal levels dropped.
Her screams were of agony now, but it didn’t matter.
He had her for the duration, and he’d take his pleasure of her until he was finished.
In fact, she became certain he took even more pleasure in her pain, the only kind he could give a level one.
Eventually, a violin screeched a horrible high-pitched scrape in a discordant flourish that signaled the actual feeding frenzy, and the vampire lowered his face to her neck, sliced his fangs through skin and muscle, injected a cocktail to make her needier than she could ever remember being, and held her upper body still while her lower body writhed and throbbed.
He drank deeply before injecting the orgasm cocktail, and then pounded her once again, but now she welcomed it, her screams raw and primal, a million sensations roaring through her body, overwhelming her, consuming her from within, amplifying every nerve ending.
Her body convulsed, waves of pleasure crashing over her in relentless, mind-shattering spasms. The venom coursed through her, heightening every sense, making her aware of every inch of flesh, every breath, every heartbeat.
Once again, she stayed put after the vampire was gone, basking in the bliss, the pain, the mindfuck of enjoying what had just happened all over again.
What did it mean that she enjoyed the whole faux-rape thing, now?
She wasn’t a submissive, and yet, the scenario had once again worked for her.
She never enjoyed handing over power, but this had been play-acting that she gave it over. How did that make it different?
She wasn’t sure, but she was hungry, so she sat up, walked to the wall, turned in the torn dress and the jewels, and made her way to the showers via the center pole.
She found Felix playing video games in the flock’s common area after her shower, and she walked to the cafeteria with him.
The cafeteria had once again outdone themselves, and she devoured endless pork chops with a molasses glaze, and she thought she picked up a tiny hint of mustard.
The sides of mashed potatoes with cheddar and chives, roasted beets with an orangy-thyme flavor, and beans that had clearly been cooked in pork fat just added to the explosion of flavors.
She tried a taste of Felix’s faux meatloaf, which he said were made from lentils, mushrooms, and breadcrumbs. It was good, but once again, couldn’t hold a candle to the pork chops. He had sauteed greens with pecans instead of her beans, but she had zero interest in tasting them.
“Did ya’ll see the notice about the next ball, the Versailles Carnivale, being postponed a week?” Rhea asked, fork pausing mid-air.
“Yeah,” Emmy answered. “Does that mean they’re close to nailing the poison bastard? Or bitch, I suppose.”
“Women poison more than men, right?” Toby asked. “Might not mean anything for this, though.”
“Could mean they’re just buying time and are clueless,” Felix said. “In which case, we’re all fucked. I’m not sure I can go through that again. My heart felt…” He shook his head. “It was scary the first time, but terrifying during the worst of it this time.”
“Wasn’t that bad for me,” Toby said, “but still exponentially worse than the first time. I figure postponing means they’re circling in, though.”
Emmy wasn’t so sure about that, but she didn’t want to add negativity to the conversation, so she went back for three more pork chops and a little more mashed potatoes, the echoes of her last orgasm still thrumming through her veins.
Twenty minutes after she finished her meal, Emmy was reading in their room when her insides twisted like they were about to eject everything in her stomach and bowels all at once.
She raced out of her room and into the bathroom, barely making it before diarrhea exploded and vomit surged, burning her throat raw and making a mess on the floor.
The room tilted with the sour reek, and she wretched into the floor again while she continued to fill the toilet bowl.
Felix came in behind her, and she managed to tell him, “Get out,” before another wave hit and more partially digested food came out of her stomach.
“Spence needs to know you’re sick,” he told her while his fingers moved over his phone, but she pointed to the door while she puked. She did not need an audience while she was sick.
He shook his head at her, looked at his phone again, and then turned and left with his shoulders hunched, which she figured meant Spence was on his way.
Sure enough, Spence arrived within minutes, worry carved into his face. “What can I get you?”
“You can get out. Now! And make sure no one else comes in. Fuck!”
She puked again, mortified Spence was seeing her like this, and he backed out, but Rhea came in minutes later, telling her, “Don’t bother telling me to leave.
Spence won’t let anyone else in, but someone needs to have eyeballs on you.
You aren’t the only one who’s sick. What could do this to you? A different kind of poison?”
Emmy nodded. “Shit. Yeah.” She took a closer look at what she’d puked up and didn’t see any blood in it, but still, puking and shitting her guts up and out wasn’t good.
She’d never before been sick in her life, and had never puked.
Never had so much as a sniffle, much less an actual cold or the flu.
Rhea checked her phone and shook her head. “A king cobra, crocodile monitor, Galapagos tortoise, and you. All sick. All reptiles.”
Technically, Emmy wasn’t a reptile or a bird, but a chimeric hybrid straddling both phyla.
Her dragon genetics had undergone adaptive divergence to create the two clades, birthing the avian grace of birds and the grounded resilience of reptiles from a lineage snuffed out millennia ago, during the horrible night when all the natural dragons had been killed, and all but three dragon shifters who happened to be away at the time.
Killed by fucking poisoning.
“Technically,” Emmy told Rhea, “I’m neither reptile nor bird. I’m genetically kind of both, but neither. It’s like the dragon genetics forked to create the two families.” She sighed. “But if you aren’t sick, this was clearly aimed at reptiles.”
Another wave of sickness hit and she puked again, the force of it leaving her even shakier, and tears rose and then streamed down her face. Poison could kill her. Was she going to die?
She wanted to live, dammit!
More shit came out in an explosion, and she sobbed, her body a battleground of pain and humiliation.
“I’ve asked Felix to bring a washcloth,” Rhea said. “I’m going to the door to get it from him.”
Emmy nodded, her elbows on her knees, eyes closed because just looking at the puke on the floor might make her add to it.
Rhea stopped at a sink to wet the washcloth on her way back, and Emmy gratefully accepted it, and wiped her face and mouth with it. Rhea took it back to a sink, cleaned it under the water, and brought it back.
“Thank you. Fuck, I hate this.”