Read Bozena and Sveta (Neuripra) Online
Authors: Poppet
Chapter 5
Zarak
:
She sashays across the dance floor, lingering her touch on the arms she walks past, pausing to smile, wink, her sexy laugh igniting libidos and interest as she maneuvers strategically from human to vampyre, sliding hands over muscles, staring lust into male and female eyes without prejudice.
Cloaked in the deep shadows which are the hallmark of all Pravus clubs, I survey the owner of the megalithic nightclub chain seducing anyone who gets close enough to her intoxicating poison.
The closer she hip sways to me, the taller and tenser I stand, until I'm so rigid my muscles ache.
Her smile freezes and ice blue eyes ringed with a circle of blood-red peer into the darkness wrapped around me.
It gives me substantial satisfaction when her nipples harden under the flimsy silk stretched across them and long platinum hair is clutched in her hand, exposing the only betraying movement of fear.
I step into the dim sanguine light, staring down at the tall vampyre. She's 5'9, but still midget by my standards. I hold out on the smile, waiting to see if she runs, or swallows that fear and puts on the mask of bravery.
Come closer, Ellindt. Come on... I dare you.
Long legs polished to a sheen pause on crippling white stilettos, and then they move, taking the steps in mesmerizing deliberation, hollowing out her hips as the silk-soft skirt clings in all the right places, and cleavage bounces provocatively.
Her mouth is open, pouting full lips glossed with sin and breathless with dread. I can hear her gasping even though the music in here could deafen the sane.
She's terrified, but has the good sense to try to hide it.
I'm in a bastard mood, so wait for her to come to me without moving. Here kitty kitty, come to the lion's den.
Nothing says 'I own you' more than having the most powerful woman on earth responding to my presence, beneath me, just the right height for....
It was fun the first time, but now... She used to be a challenge and now she's scared of getting hurt. She can dish it out but she's never been gifted at taking the pain she savors in others.
“
Zarak?” she whispers, staring up at me with eyes widened by passion and terror.
Sometimes the physical response is the same to both.
I incline my head, inhaling the signature celestial perfume she always wears. Just the scent of her reignites an old flame that's been smoldering in my subconscious.
“
Ellindt,” I smile, finally unlocking my folded arms and opening them wide in a hug invitation.
This is the true test.
She swallows and her slow heartbeat races with uncharacteristic speed. Her breath becomes ragged and her fingers tremble.
It makes me sadistically hard to catch her response to me.
This is the moment of truth. She either takes the bait and risks her life, or, she yells for my brother to come and save her.
Which will it be minx?
I manage to hold the poker face when she submits to dominance, to the summons, and swans into my arms, pressing her quivering form against mine when she embraces me.
“
Why now?” she murmurs, looking at me with the vulnerability of a child while I close my arms around her and lock her in.
There will be no escape this time. Your freedom just ran out of leash.
Caressing palms down her arms, I snare her hands in mine, moving them from behind my waist, to behind hers, looking to any observer like a couple cuddling.
Lacing my fingers through hers I tighten the grip with her arms caught behind her back, flexing my left hand until I hear the socket on her finger pop.
She weakens, sagging into me, the cry of pain so close to her cries of pleasure it widens my smile.
“
Do I have your attention, Ellindt?”
She nods.
“I beg your pardon, did you say something?”
God, I am so tempted to laugh.
“Yes,” she whimpers, nodding again.
I tighten both hands and listen to the glorious rhythm of every finger in her hands dislocating.
“It's time you were declawed,” I laugh softly into her ear.
She should be able to vanish from any embrace at will, but because I outrank her, she is powerless.
Perusing the crowded club, I wonder where her watchdog is. It's unlike Ellindt to not be shadowed by the male they call Arelstin. I step with her imprisoned in my strength back into the shadows, moving us through space - to the crypt.
Hard nipples engorge deeper into my torso when she realizes where we are. The shudder is poetic and I adore the trembling bottom lip as tears fill her eyes.
“Zarak please...”
“
Now now Ellindt, you know I love it when you beg.” Chuckling silently, every jolt from my hold causes her hands pulsating pain, and I bend to speak intimately into her ear again, “But I love it more when you scream.”
Her shaking is eliciting minute squeals of agony and I tighten the grasp on her hands, pulling them forward and up, protruding voluptuous breasts to rise against me.
Fear bleeds the red across her pupils and her fangs elongate, slicing her lip and causing a trickle of blood to cascade down her chin.
Desire filters toxins through my system at the sight and I lower again, shoving her against the padded wall to snake my tongue over the elixir of pain.
Savoring the rich fluid, it burdens my senses with wildfire.
She's always done this to me, and finally I have an excuse to push her to the ledge of insanity.
Thrusting her arms against the wall, I hold them over her head. Real tears course her porcelain pale skin while she stares at me with accusing eyes.
“
Nice try sweetheart, but we both know you won't give me the satisfaction of hearing you beg, scream, or cry.”
To emphasize my point I impale the hooks through her forearms just to watch the searing pain make her convulse.
Her knees give in and she hangs heavily on the hooks, slicing through flesh. Leaving her with the maximum anguish for a moment, I take my time shredding the blouse off her body.
Sobbing seduces me when I squeeze her breasts and bite her right nipple, leaving sharp imprints on the unmarred skin.
She hasn't worn my mark for too long, this is overdue.
Pressing my leg between hers, I knee up, hoisting her to my level to prevent the hook from slicing all the way to her wrist.
The shocked gasp is an aphrodisiac I seldom hear.
“
That hurts, doesn't it?” I laugh softly at the pain ramming up from her groin to her nipples.
Her eyes are squeezed shut, her perfect beauty scrunched in a twist of pain. The challenge is too great and I grind her nipple between my fingernails. “I didn't give you permission to close your eyes. Open them and gaze at your master, or risk tasting my ire.”
She struggles but manages to reopen her eyes, now so saturated in red they look fake.
“
Why?” she breathes at me.
Inhaling, I delight in the raw emotion riding the airwaves of her voice.
“It's time you were taken out of the public. I need you to myself for a little while,” I say, being deliberately obtuse.
She slumps, banging her head against the padded leather at her back, staring at the ceiling with desperation.
Aaaah, the ceiling. The crypt has a ceiling of a thousand mirrors that fracture every image and plays on aversions, magnifying them until your courage fails and you believe you are in the grip of true misery and punishment.
Following her gaze, I read her deepest fear in the mirrors.
Enthralled, the hilarity of what awaits me bursts laughter out of my chest, and I rip her off the hooks, leaving her hands helplessly mutilated and unable to protect her from the assault. It's time for me to masquerade as that fear, reducing her to terror.
Twisting, I hurl her into the pit, watching the long mermaidesque mane flay around her, veiling perfection from my greedy gaze.
It's not all that's feeling greedy now. I have so many desires that require satisfaction, this night will cause stars to fall in meteor showers across the heavens.
Surveying her in the undulating waves of fabric catching at her and holding her under, I wait for her face to reemerge. I want to watch her eyes as I walk down there.
She breaches the bed with a desperate scream, her blood spraying across the pearlescent satin from the gouges in her arms.
Once her eyes are on me I bind her mind to imprison her focus, and slowly descend the stone steps.
Every footfall of my boots echoes and ricochets louder and louder, the excruciating stroll I take induces her heartbeat into pecking so hard and erratic, my dick starts hurting with an anticipatory throb.
I sit down on the stone lip, taking my time peeling off my shirt, pulling off my boots, choosing painful slowness to prolong her anxiety.
I know what she fears and I'm going to give it to her. Looking at her with my black eyes, I let the inkiness swirl outward to smother the corneas, over my skin, marbling it charcoal gray all the way to my fingertips. This is a stereotype and I can't believe a woman that intelligent falls for such cheap melodrama.
I'm 7'2 on a bad day, but now I unfurl, expanding my build and height until her breathing is shut off with a terror induced tourniquet. Training my now empty eye sockets on her, I gift her with a sharp smile.
“Ready for a love bite?” I growl, deep and demonic.
“
No!”
“
Aw, come on. Just a
little
love bite.”
“
No!
” screeches hysterically.
The bed incarcerates her for me, and my will prevents her from looking away from her worst nightmare come to life.
I take the next step lower... closer, then the next, each increment drawing panicked gasps from her burning lungs. I know they're burning because the bed is toxic to vampyres and right now she feels like she's taking a sulphuric bath in hydrochloric acid.
“
If you bite me, I'll stop the burn,” I offer a bargain, dangling it between us in the mere space left between me and the stripped naked queen of the vampyres.
I love that bed, it does the dirty work for me.
She nods, imperceptibly. It's more of an agreement made mind to mind than an actual motion witnessed with vision.
Yesssssss... now we're talking.
Stepping knee deep into my bed, I lean over my favorite victim, offering her my neck, “I'm waiting.”
Pleasure blasts through my veins when her elongated vampyre teeth sink into my neck, and I close the wound, locking her in my flesh, preventing her escape.
I'm tall, my body is impossibly enormous, so it's with ease that I twist and return the love bite, sinking my own teeth into fragile skin, releasing the living lust that pumps in her veins across my taste-buds and into gushing down my throat like a newly tapped keg.
I battle overriding pleasure to dim the cauterizing scorch the bed has on her body. Slipping into
telepathy
, I swim over the satin, covering her with the heat that makes her suffer, sliding my impatient libido inside her.
Pain makes her so wet it tempts me to lick her, but that's a delicacy I have to save for later, after I've broken her in.... again.
Ramming the volcanic heat up, smashing against her in tempest, her neck locked in my bite, mine in hers... I take my satisfaction, patiently biding my time to hear her pleading for pardon.
Why do I hurt you, Ellindt?
I ask her softly, using the tone of a lost lover returned from Styx.
Because you're a bastard! An evil, demented, cursed, bastard!
Wrong
, I sigh gently, completely contradicting the violence I'm inflicting on her tearing and saturated sex.
Exploding searing heat into the inflamed canal between her legs, loving the way her body is unnaturally twisted to accommodate me while imprisoned by the magical properties of
my bed, I whisper into her mind,
I give you pain for the same reason it gives you pleasure.
I hate you!
Ignoring the tirade of venom she bursts into my thoughts, I continue with a sedate tone,
Pain reduces you to a pinpoint of existence. It's only in that tiny space of life that your true heart is exposed. If you weren't such a manipulative bitch I wouldn't have to resort to these extreme measures.
Fuck you, Zarak!
Most people are reduced to that state during orgasm, it's only you Ellindt who finds her true identity in a lake of agony.
Heat hurts the vampyre more than anything else, so I turn my temperature up, and up, purging my lust into her body to scald her from the inside out, smothering her in a furnace so furious it could vaporize the sun.