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Wait, were they moving? Jezzie’s breath suddenly seized completely, catching her off guard and she was forced to swallow air, which left her wheezing and coughing as she ran for the glass of water she’d left by the remade bed. Surely she’d been seeing things, maybe she’d just been caught up in the sheer eroticism of the scene. She rubbed her eyes, her temples, and rolled her neck and shoulders before she turned back toward them. That sneaky prick! They were actually moving! Ballzy had put up actual ‘fucking’ curtains, porn curtains. As she crept closer to the image she’d found so intriguing she could see every detail so clearly against the light blue brocade. Sweat glistened on their skin, the contours of their muscles as they flexed, rosy nipples being licked to rigid peaks. Hell, she could even see how wet the woman was as one of the men plunged in and out of her pussy, another buried to the hilt in her ass. Yet the surprises kept coming as her head tilted, her ears honing in on soft sounds. Her body angled closer, her eyes taking in every nuance of the beings fornicating on her curtains. One erotic scene at a time.
Yep, the closer she looked, the louder they got. Her brand new ‘fucking’ curtains came with surround sound too, no silent movies here. It was just too good. Ballzy probably thought he’d won this round. Too bad for him she had nothing against some sexy pornography, moving or not. Plus, she’d technically gone without for eight years. Dreams didn’t count, right? Might as well take some notes; there were a few things on display she’d never seen or tried before.
Just when she thought she was all laughed out and couldn’t be any more surprised, the guy right in front of her, whose cock she’d just been eyeing off, winked directly at her, and off she went again. When she made it out of here she knew exactly what she’d send Ballzy as a Christmas gift. Knew just the witch to help her do it too.
When she finally calmed herself down she looked back up, gave the guy a wink right back and watched his smile grow even larger. He turned back to focus on the woman, judging by the point of her ear peeking through her silky auburn hair, she was one of the long-banished fae. Come to think of it, all of the males with her were, except the one with his cock thrusting in and out of her open mouth. He had soft downy looking hair covering his lower body and cloven hooves, a faun then. By gods, his cock was glorious to behold. He pulled out as if sensing her eyes upon him, pre-cum beaded at the tip and as the female flicked her tongue out to lick it up, she locked eyes with Jezzie. Her brow lifted, excitement shone in her forest-green eyes, and then as her tongue traced her lips with the glistening droplet, she winked flirtatiously at a blushing, panting Jezzie.
Fuck. She needed a nice long bath and a decent set of toys. Thankfully she had access to the former. Unfortunately, there was zero fucking chance she’d ever ask Ballzy for the latter.
Thirty minutes and four very nice orgasms later, Jezzie stepped out of the ivory and gold claw foot bathtub filled with tepid water, but which had been steamy and filled with cinnamon and patchouli scented bubbles when she’d first hopped in. Her legs felt weak and all she wanted was to pull on some soft comfy PJ’s and fall into bed with a good book. Luckily for her, Ballzy had an extensive library and all she had to do was walk in, think of a title, author, genre, or trope, and a selection would appear for her to choose from. If he wasn’t such an asshole she’d consider staying and marrying the guy just so she could keep his library. That was how much she loved to read.
She’d once been asked by a guy she’d dated why she loved reading so much. She’d responded, “Books are like friends. They are there when you need them, can lift you up in moments when you need lifting, they can understand your pain, teach you so many wonderful and helpful things. They can release the stopper when you need to cry, and make you laugh when all you feel is the urge to cry and rage at the world. In some ways, they are better than friends, they don’t get angry when you’re busy, or need to set them aside on the shelf. But they are always there again when you come back. Never judging you for your absence.”
The idiot had looked at her as if she’d had two heads, called her a weirdo, and hailed himself a cab. Leaving her standing on a busy sidewalk on a Friday evening with a bag filled with new books she’d just treated herself to. She’d gone on to have an amazing weekend making new friends, while he probably slithered home to fap one out to the nudie mags he’d thought she hadn’t known were hidden beneath his bed. Moron.
After toweling herself dry she wrapped the thick, soft, burgundy towel around her torso securely and opened a drawer in the provincial french armoire standing against the far wall intent on sliding her body into a set of soft comfy pajamas as planned. Only, there were none. No soft, fluffy, silky, or even just comfy pajamas lay folded within its drawers. None hung on the hangers. There were no tight leather pants, no boots, no clothing fit for a badass rebel, no slinky lingerie. Nothing but plain cotton shorts, pants, tank tops and one threadbare robe hanging on a hook on the back of the door. What the hell was going on? Sure, she was a prisoner, but Ballzy had never done this before. Was it some new game? A new tactic to throw her off? Well, it wasn’t going to work, damn it. So, she pulled on some cotton panties, added a pair of gray drawstring pants, and donned a basic gray tank top which thankfully had a shelf bra built in, because heaven knew her tatas needed the added support. Not the look she originally had in mind, but beggars and all that jazz. Ballzy wasn’t going to mess with the rest of her plan though, so she strode out into the other room to grab one of the books on her nightstand and snuggle under the covers. Determined to lose herself in a world far away from here, the kind of romance that would make a girl long for a love that could tear the world asunder but would instead save it, just for her. Holy heck, she was a sucker for a good book.
Her feet froze on the bare floor. No more plush carpet to take away the chill of the cold concrete. Gone too was her large, warm bed, replaced with a prison like cot and some manky looking blankets. The bathroom door chose that very moment to swing shut and hit her in the ass and out of her stupor. It also allowed her to take note of the greatest travesty thus far, the one thing that tripped her over the edge and into the stratosphere of completely pissed off. There was no bedside table. In and of itself not a big deal, but where there was no bedside table there were no books, not even a single sheet of paper.
A low growl started within her chest as her hands clenched into tight fists, her nails biting into her flesh and drawing blood. She might not be one of those typical vampires of legend, but blood still held power. It held ancient magic, and the scent of it, even her own, enhanced her rage, her frustration, and her confusion. Was she hurt he would do this? Yes. Was she kicking herself for letting her guard down even slightly? Absolutely, one hundred percent she was. Not a single luxury was left in the room.
Her body trembled, her agitation pushed her forward, back again, her pacing taking her further into the room with each back and forth, until . . . Smack! What the fuck! She’d barely made it halfway to the opposite wall when she was stopped in her tracks and found herself basically making out with a clear glass wall. A wall that definitely hadn’t been there prior to her bath.
A door, exactly like the one to her bathroom stood at the far end of the other room, slightly ajar. Another bathroom? A similar prison style cot sat against the wall, again just like hers, and a metal door like you’d see in a psych ward was firmly shut.
Wait, if all the luxuries she’d been afforded were gone . . . She raced back to the door and breathed a sigh of relief, the bathtub still sat there in all its glory at least.
“Not for long, I’m afraid, luv, and I am sorry for it all too.” Ballzy sighed.
“Why? What the fuck kind of game are you playing now, Balthazar?” she sneered, taking in his tense form as he feigned a casual lean against what appeared to be a newly reinforced cell door frame, similar to the one next door. She instinctively sent out her powers to taste his emotions. The guy was so freaking wired, worried, and more than a little pissed. Something had crawled up his ass, and he wasn’t a happy camper. But right now he felt trepidation as he stood there waiting for her to explode. She’d always refrained from tasting his feelings. Partly to avoid giving herself away and partly to avoid wading through the quagmire of his sordid and sullied emotions. Well, mostly the former if she were being completely honest with herself.
He should be scared. Right now, as angry and confused as she was, she was liable to unleash her psychic tendencies and devour his mind whole, turning him into a pretty little vegetable. Except, as she delved a little deeper, she felt absolutely no evil in him, she still couldn’t sense his soul, but his heart was pure, if a little battered and bruised, and a lot broken. It didn’t mean the soul he had hidden from her was pure though, just that his intentions were pure toward whatever goal he had in the moment. A warm gust of fondness washed over her, she looked up to find his eyes trained on her, a wry tilt to his lips.
“You only ever call me Balthazar when you are beyond pissed, and this time I cannot say I blame you.”
He stepped into the room and two demons followed, they watched her with interest and fear as they each placed a chair facing the other before they turned and left the room. Yeah, she noticed how their tongues flicked out toward her slightly, their amusement seeped out of them in waves. They found great enjoyment at her change of circumstance.
“Sit. I will explain as much as I can, but not enough to lose it all.”
“What’s with the cryptic bullshit, Balthazar?” she huffed as she practically flounced onto the chair. She knew she couldn’t kill him, else she’d be stuck in the contract forever with no way out.
“Just tell me what’s got your jocks in such a twist, that all this”—she gestured around her bare room and to the one on the other side of the partition—“is necessary?”
He took a deep breath and rested his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward toward her.
“It seems I had a little bit of a leak in my house. Thankfully that leak has now been plugged. With extreme prejudice. I had kept your presence here a secret for the most part, for both our sakes. Unfortunately, you haven’t revealed yourself as I required, and this ‘leak’ has now been spread to others. Others I don’t want in my affairs, that I don’t want near you.” Ballzy stood and paced behind his chair.
Her eyes tracked his movements as she tasted the truth of his words. Balthazar was being completely honest with her, as far as he could be. There was no hidden agenda tainting the flavor of his emotions.
“Raum is arriving within the next week. He is not a decent male. He is Fallen, and he is cruelty personified. He will stop at nothing until he has the answers he seeks; the ones either his puppet master wants, or his sick and twisted psyche demands. I don’t want to scare you, Jezzie, but you should be scared. The Praesidium has been after him for more than 900 years, with no luck, and now he and his boss know about your presence here.” He paused, looking at her for a reaction. Her face felt drawn, almost heavy and blank, even as confusion whirled inside her brain. What was he getting at here?
“And just what’s this all supposed to mean to me, Ballzy?”
“Raum is coming to interrogate you, luv. And his means of doing so are endless and more than likely excruciating. He is a male without morals, and he enjoys his job. If he thinks you have any luxuries here, that I show you any extra considerations, he will not hesitate to exploit them. You will have to shore up your defenses, hide your pain, and ignore everything he does to others in an attempt to cause you to break . . . Unless you tell me first what we’ve been dancing around these past eight years. Which I doubt you will do.”
“You could just release me from the contract and let me go, you know.”
“Would that I could, but I can’t. I am held to the letter of the contract just as you are. I need to know what you are before I can dissolve it, unless the end date of the contract comes into effect first. Which, as we know, is too far away to avoid our current problem.”
