Chapter 86 Danica
Danica
Ican feel Rhyland's discomfort through our bond like a giant neon sign flashing, "I'd rather eat glass than do this." He's already given me quite the show on that table.
I know he's doing this for me, and I love him so much for it—I snap out of it.
I stop short, grabbing his arm like it's a life preserver in this sea of sexual tension. "Rhyland," I whisper, looking up into those baby blues that could make a girl forget her own name. "I... I don't want this."
Rhyland's eyes soften. "Are you sure?" he asks, probably wondering if I've been body-snatched.
"Yes," I nod, tugging him like a stubborn puppy on a leash. "Take me home, you big Viking lug."
We zoom through the city, the lights blurring like a neon fever dream, my mind racing faster than Rhyland's driving.
Sure, that room probably would've been hotter than Satan's sauna, but I can't push Rhyland into something he's not comfortable with.
Even if the thought of it makes my lady bits sing the cha-cha.
I know he's still itching to punish me for my little flirting stunt earlier. The way he's gripping my thigh, you'd think it was the steering wheel. His eyes are glued to the road like he's afraid it'll disappear if he looks away, and he's giving me the silent treatment.
Oh boy, I feel I'm in for one hell of a "talking to" when we get home.
Should I even consider pushing my luck with what I've got up my sleeve?
Rhyland parks the car and opens my door like the chivalrous Viking he is. As we enter the mansion, he takes my hand, clearly ready to drag me upstairs for what I'm sure will be a very... thorough discussion about proper restaurant etiquette.
"Hold your horses, Romeo," I say, my heart pounding. "I'll meet you up there. Gotta grab something first."
Rhyland gives me a look that's part suspicion, part 'what are you up to now?' It's like he can smell the mischief brewing. He drops my hand. "Okay, baby. Be quick," he says, rounding the corner and heading upstairs.
The moment he's out of sight, I bolt for the kitchen like my ass is on fire. I grab what I need—a little surprise Sable and I have been cooking up. Part of me is excited to try this on Rhyland, but another part is wondering if I should start writing my will now.
I stand there, biting my lip hard enough to leave marks, pouring two glasses of bourbon. My hands shake like I'm diffusing a bomb instead of making drinks.
Fuck it.
I'll deal with the fallout later. Now, it's time to flip the script and cash in on that bet. I won fair and square, so I'm collecting my winnings.
As I head upstairs, drinks in hand and secret weapon cleverly disguised as innocent bourbon, I can't help but grin like the cat who got the cream. Oh, Rhyland has no idea what's coming. Let's see how Mr. Alpha Viking handles being caught with his horns down for once.
I open the door carefully, trying not to spill his spiked drink.
And there he is, my Nordic Adonis, staring out on the balcony like he's contemplating world domination or maybe just how he's going to punish me.
His back to me, all muscle and man in that tailored suit that should be illegal in at least forty-nine states.
He looks over his shoulder, and holy hell, those baby blues are blazing hotter than a supernova.
There's heat, there's hunger, and there's definitely a promise of retribution for my little stunt tonight.
His dark hair and neatly trimmed beard frame those chiseled features like Michelangelo himself carved them.
Holy hell. This man could make me come with just a look, and I'm already more wound up than a jack-in-the-box after hours of denied orgasms.
Alright, Dani, keep it together. You've got a plan, remember? Time to turn the tables on our resident Viking vamp. Let's see how he likes being the one left breathless and begging for once.
"Brought us a drink," I chirp, sauntering towards him like I'm not about to unleash chaos in a glass.
Rhyland smirks, taking his glass like it's not laced with vampire kryptonite. "Hmm... need to take the edge off, baby? Worried?"
I swallow the knot in my throat. Worried? Ha! I'm about as worried as a mouse in a room full of cats. But Sable and I tested this on Erik—our willing guinea pig—and it worked like a charm. Who knew vampires were so susceptible to magical roofies?
I smile, trying to look innocent. "Yeah, you know, all that edging. I need a stiff drink."
Rhyland's smirk turns predatory. "Oh, I'll give you something stiff, alright, baby, right after I turn that pretty ass of yours red for your little stunt tonight. And don't think I've forgotten about your heroic bullshit in Aquaria."
I groan, rolling my eyes. "Seriously? You're still pissy about that? It's not like I could just stand by and watch The Moron—aka Lucian—go in half-cocked to get Seraphina."
"You went in blindly, and it was not safe Dani," he growls, his alpha male showing. "We're supposed to do things together, remember? When will you get it through your pretty head that my job is to protect you from harm? You went against me."
I roll my eyes again, this time with extra sass. "Yes, oh mighty Thor," I drawl. "When will you realize I don't always do as I'm told? Shocking, I know."
Rhyland moves closer, his heat wrapping around me like a blanket made of pure sex. "Oh, I'm well aware you don't do anything you're told. Not even when it means staying safe—for that, you'll learn, Angel."
I swallow hard, feeling like I just poked a sleeping dragon with a very short stick.
He leans down, his breath hot against my ear, "Roll those pretty eyes at me one more time, sweetheart, and I'll give you something to roll them about."
I take a shaky breath, raising my glass like I'm about to toast the end of my sanity. "Cheers."
Little does he know, school is about to be in session—and I'm the headmistress tonight. Bottoms up, big boy!
Rhyland steps back, smirking like he's got this shit in the bag. "Cheers." He raises the glass to his lips and gulps it down like it's the elixir of life.
I hold my breath, waiting for the fireworks to start.
Rhyland's face morphs from smug to utterly bewildered as he starts swaying like he's on the deck of Gideon's ship during a hurricane. He stumbles to the chair, looking up at me with those blazing blues now clouded with confusion. "What the fuck?"
"Sorry, babe. All's fair in love and war, right?"
I quickly approach him, helping his stumbling ass to the bed before he becomes a Viking-shaped puddle on the floor. "Up ya go, big guy," I grunt, maneuvering him onto the mattress.
"Dani... what... did... you...?" He falls back on the bed, his eyes drooping fast.
Sable and I worked our asses off on this little witch's brew.
Turns out, Sable's grandma—a witch so powerful she could probably turn you into a toad just by thinking about it—knows of an herb that can knock a vampire on their supernatural ass—Shadows Grasp (because, apparently, witches aren't big on creative naming), and it's been a secret weapon for centuries.
Sable and I turned it into a magic potion that can be slipped into a drink with no muss, fuss, or telltale smell or taste. I figured this was easier than trying to stab my vampire with a needle. Plus, way less chance of me accidentally stabbing myself in the process.
I couldn't believe my eyes when we tested this little cocktail on Erik.
It worked like a charm, turning our resident stoic vampire into a pile of undead goo.
It's our ace in the hole now, and tonight, it's my secret weapon to turn my Viking into putty in my hands.
For the next few hours, he'll be about as threatening as a kitten on catnip.
I maneuver him into position on the bed, feeling like a naughty kid rearranging the furniture while the parents are out. Only in this case, the furniture is a 6'4" vampire who usually calls all the shots.
As Rhyland slips deeper into his forced siesta, I can't help but grin. Oh, how the mighty have fallen—time to see how Mr. Alpha handles being the submissive for once. Let the games begin, and may the odds be ever in my favor.
I leap off the bed like a ninja and dash to grab my secret weapon, numero dos—rope.
Time to undress the sleeping beauty. And holy hell, who knew an unconscious vampire could weigh more than an elephant?
"Come on, big guy," I grunt, wrestling with his jacket like it's trying to eat me. "Work with me here!"
Rhyland flops back onto the bed, out cold. I attack his clothes with the determination of a woman on a mission. Shirt? Gone. Pants and boxers? Sayonara. Shoes? See ya!
And there he is, in all his glory. All yummy tatted chest, skin golden from his newfound ability to sunbathe without bursting into flames.
His colossal cock, lying at half-mast on his stomach.
Those chiseled abs rise and fall slowly as he snoozes away in la-la land.
Christmas came early, and I got the world's sexiest present.
Time for some creative gift wrapping. I tie Rhyland up by his hands to the headboard, feeling like a naughty girl scout earning her bondage badge. Then I work my way down to his feet, securing them to the bedposts. He's spread out like a Viking buffet, open to my every whim. Bon appétit!
For the finishing touch, I cup my hands over each rope, channeling my power. My hands glow as I seal the bonds. Unless I say so, he's not getting free. There's no telling what he'll do when he gets his strength back, but that's a problem for future Dani. Right now, I've got a Viking to ravish.
This ride's about to get wild, and I'm holding the reins. Who's giving orders now, huh? Spoiler alert: it's not the guy currently drooling on the pillow.
Sorry, babe, but class is in session, and Professor Dani is about to teach you a lesson in humility.