Taming the Fire (13 page)

“Rik, I—”

“My name is ‘Mistress.’ Yours is ‘boy’”

His heart beat in a frenzy and, in his mind, he was ready for escape, looking for the exit. “I can't do this,” he whispered. If she heard the words, she ignored them.

His breath caught at the sight of the heavy chains hanging on the wall—and at the look in her eyes. Even though she was in danger, he knew he was about to be bound with those chains, at her complete mercy.

What was more, that was exactly what he wanted. For the first time ever, he was going to truly submit and not just fake it.

“Touch them.” She gestured to the nearest set. “Feel the strength. You're going to be intimately acquainted with them in a moment.”

He did as she'd told him, and held their weight in his hands—heavy enough, no doubt, to hold her when the beast came out. Which meant they'd hold him tight.

He heard her whimper, and he spun around to see her tugging at her collar.

“Rik?” He stepped toward her, but she bared her teeth at him. Her hands curled into fists, and her eyes were gold fire. He immediately bowed his head and corrected himself. “I mean… Mistress.”

“Good boy… very, very good.” Her words of praise ran through him, hot and fast, his dick jumping with the approval in her tone.

“Clothes off. Now.” She spoke in a barely controlled rasp that had become thick with a German accent, and he made eye contact with her briefly, to see if he could work any of his own magic on her. Like the first time, she cocked her head to the side and then shook it off, looking angrier than ever.

Shit
. He stripped quickly, folding his clothes and leaving them on the chair in the corner.

“You're shaking,” she noted. “Are you frightened?”

The words tumbled out before he could stop them. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Are you frightened of me?”

“I'm frightened by what you can do to me.”

“And what can I do?”

“Unravel me,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Yes, I can do that. I will do that. But you need to trust me to take care of you. I've done that so far, haven't I, boy?” Her hand trailed up his cock as she spoke and he fought a moan as her finger stroked the drop of pre-cum, working it into the soft skin.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Don't you want to fly?”

“I'm afraid I can't,” he said honestly.

“Or maybe you're afraid you
can
. On the mattress. Now.”

He complied, stretching out on the twin-sized mattress on the floor. She stalked toward him, and it was then that he noticed she'd chained one of her own ankles.

Ulrika shuddered at the sound of the chain scraping the floor as she moved. She hadn't wanted to do this, but she was too close to the edge. Often, the feel of the cuff around her ankle was enough to keep the monster at bay; she was larger in beast form, and the cuff hurt like hell when she shifted.

She tucked the key to the cuff's padlock into a special slot inside the toy chest next to the bed. The hiding place allowed her to retrieve the key while in human form, but was too small for her pawlike beast hands to manipulate.

Keys. Her life was so full of keys. But the one she needed most was the one she'd never have—the key to the collar.

Cursing under her breath, she turned back to the bed, where she often slept while chained. Heck, she spent most of her nights here, chained to the wall and hoping a nightmare didn't trigger a shift. She tried sleeping in the bedroom sometimes, so she could pretend she was normal, but ultimately, that's all it was—pretend. She wasn't normal, would never be normal, and she definitely didn't deserve the simple comforts normal people enjoyed.

Not after all the evil she'd done for Itor.

The mere thought spun up more anger, and her vision grew sharper as her human side began to fade. She looked at Trance through eyes she knew had gone glowing amber. The wolf wanted to hurt him. To make him pay for everything humans had done to her while she'd been held captive.

He watched her, his body tense, as though he knew he was in some serious danger.

And then, in an incredibly brave—and intuitive—move, he relaxed and slowly lifted his chin toward the ceiling.

He'd exposed his throat, acknowledging her dominance.

He'd probably just saved his life.

The alpha canine inside Ulrika settled down, just enough for the woman to gain control once more. Thank God she hadn't physically shifted, but that was the closest she'd been without it actually happening.

Still, the beast wasn't completely satisfied. It wanted to know that Trance understood who was boss. Giving in to those desires was easier than denying them, and Ulrika was too weary to try.

Silently, she clapped wrist and ankle restraints on Trance and secured them to the chains attached to the cement wall—chains she used on herself when she was feeling the call of the full moon, which had a tendency to heighten her wild blood.

“Tell me,” she said, in a voice that didn't sound like hers, “when you make love to a woman, do you worry about hurting her?”

He stiffened. “I'm careful.”

“Careful. That must be fun.” She trailed a finger over his muscular chest. “Or not. It sucks to use restraint, doesn't it? To not let yourself go.”

She knew how that was, because she'd never once made love to a man. She wanted to, but tender feelings, gentle touches… no, those didn't work for her other half.

“But now you can let yourself go. I'm going to take you to the edge again, Trance. You're going to have to watch me do it. I know you'll try to control yourself. You'll try to stay calm. But you won't be able to.” She stroked the metal cuffs around his wrists. “So we have these. Now,” she said, as she pulled a sounding kit out of the chest that held her key, “it's time for you to fly.”

Trance jerked out of reflex, making the chains holding him rattle. He tried to picture Rik chaining herself—maybe when the moon turned full and she didn't want to be running loose and vulnerable with the Itor collar around her neck. He wanted to rip it off of her, to free her.

Wanted to free himself too, and he probably could if he really, really tried, but the chains were reinforced and Rik was really holding him down as she coated the metal sound with lubricant. When she was done, she took his cock in her hand and introduced the cold metal end to the tip.

She was soothing him, soft little growls, telling him that he was such a good boy, her sexy boy. That he was safe.

Safe
. Could that ever be true?

Within minutes, she was sounding him and he was aware that he was yelling, something about
holyfuckingmotherofgod
and attempting to tear himself away from the mattress in order to meet the sensations that twisted his body inside out. “Rik…”

“Let it go,” she commanded, pulled the sound out slowly and he began to come in hot, white spurts that seemed to overflow from his cock while he thrashed and gasped for air.

As promised, she released his arms and legs from the chains while he floated in that white zone, not wanting to ever come down. It was rare, if not impossible, for him to get into subspace, and he'd always watched his own subs with a hint of jealousy when he could help them achieve it.

And he was there. With Rik.

U
LRIKA BACKED AWAY
as Trance lay there, his body and mind in that place all subs sought. She'd been clueless about the BDSM lifestyle when she'd first come to it—heck, she'd been clueless about everything for weeks after she'd escaped from Itor.

She'd grown up in an isolated wilderness village, had been taken as a child to Itor, and they'd kept her even more isolated. Tutors had taught her the basics she'd need to interact with her targets and the people around them, but their training had proved extremely inadequate when she found herself on her own.

Her first couple of weeks of freedom had been spent merely surviving. She'd had to break into houses to steal clothes and food, and she'd slept wherever she could find shelter. In the country, that meant barns and abandoned cars. In Manchester, where she'd eventually gone in hopes the mass of people would help her blend in and keep Itor off her tail, that meant abandoned buildings and park benches.

Unfortunately, the life she was living put her in contact with a lot of violence, and twice she'd awakened covered in blood in strange places, with no memory of what happened the night before… but the daily papers had filled in the blanks.

Some said wild dogs were on the loose in the city. Others cried werewolf. It had been only a matter of time before Itor or some other agency caught wind of it. She'd run, but on her way out of the city, she'd caught the heady, musky odor of sex and pain. The scent trail had led her to a seamy sex club, and what she'd seen had been the answer to her prayers.

She hadn't been able to stay in Manchester, not with the rumors that were already circulating about a vicious creature, but she'd learned that the BDSM scene was big in London, so she'd stolen bus fare and gotten herself there as soon as possible.

Things had gone well—until now. Now she was on the run again, and she had the added complication of having to ensure the safety of another person.

Legs feeling rubbery, she sank down in one corner and curled up on the cold floor. Sometimes she wished she could give up, just lie there and let herself fade away. But revenge and hatred were powerful fuel for the will to live, and the animal side of her would never allow the weaker human side to succumb.

She heard the squeak of mattress springs and then the rasp of clothing, knew Trance was getting dressed. Something rattled and creaked… The chest. The key!

She sat up, saw Trance standing just out of reach with the key to her ankle cuff. A sense of panic and dread reared up in her, shot through her veins in a cold tide. He could leave her here. He could hurt her.

He could turn her in to Itor or sell her to the highest bidder.

As long as he held the key, he owned her.

* * *

T
RANCE WAS SURE
she could hear his heart beating—the sound filled his own ears even as the rest of his body remained languid. He'd wanted to remain on that mattress, chained or not—wanted more from Rik.

More than she was prepared to give.

What were the chances of finding a woman who could actually handle what he had to give, only to have to turn her in?

She'd never forgive him. And still, this was the perfect opportunity, a way to be done with this before he got in further, before he thought any more with his dick than he already had.

It was for the mission. But still, no matter how many times he told himself that, he didn't quite believe it.

He drew a deep breath as he flipped the key back and forth between his fingers and prepared to grab his phone, to tell ACRO he needed transport.

“Trance…” Rik's voice was soft, the fear evident as she clutched her collar. She was shaking, pale, and he was by her side in seconds.

“What's wrong—are you sick?”

“I feel them,” she whispered. “They're coming. Oh, God, they're coming.”

Shit
. If she was right, Itor could be coming in force, and then they'd both be screwed. “You're sure?”

She held the collar with both hands, trying desperately to hold it away from her skin as she nodded. “We've got to get out of here.”

Without hesitation, Trance unlocked the shackle from around her ankle and massaged the warm flesh for a second. “I liked you tied up,” he told her. “I had plans for you.”

She swallowed, hard. “Would I have liked them?”

“You'll have more chances to find out.” He helped her up.

“We've got to leave town. Right now. I think it would be best if you came with me. I told you I'd help you—but you don't just need help submitting, Trance. It goes so much deeper and I don't have the time to explain right here.”

“I'll call in to work, tell them I need a few days off.”

“It might be longer than that.”

“They don't need to know that now. Where are we going?”

“I haven't figured that out yet.”

He nodded, because that was good. He'd figure it out for them. “Can we stop by my place so I can grab a few things?”

“Maybe. Just hurry and make that call. And watch the door.” She waved her hand distractedly as she began to throw things from a drawer into a bag she'd pulled from the closet.

He leaned against the wall next to the window so he could see the street and anyone approaching as he dialed his cell—Devlin O'Malley was on speed dial.

“Hey, it's me. Listen, I'm going to need to take a few days off from work,” he said when Dev answered the phone.

“Keep talking, Trance.” Dev sounded sleepy, but Trance knew he was a man used to running on empty, used to his operatives calling in with strange requests and languages and was quick to decipher what the hell they were talking about.

“I know the boss will be pissed, but I've got a friend with an emergency,” Trance continued. “You know how that goes.”

“You're with Rik.”

“Yeah. Oh, and before I forget to tell you, guess who I had dinner with tonight? Our long-lost friend.”