Sundown, International 4: Maneater Read online

  I was just wondering where the light feeding the garden was coming from, since it didn’t seem to be affecting the vampire, when the screen changed to show the little blue woman. “You’re awake!” she chirruped.

  “Apparently,” I said, and then when she cupped her ear, realized she also couldn’t hear me. I typed it instead, and added, “Although I’d prefer to be asleep and having a nightmare.”

  She made a sympathetic face. “I know how you feel. Are you really a siren?”

  Her hair was blue too, and her big eyes were a solid green, like a cat’s.

  Only half, I replied. I didn’t know if Starne was monitoring this. Maybe he’d be disappointed with only half a siren, and let me go.

  Hah.

  Her eyes were wide. “I didn’t know sirens could mate!”

  What did you think, that baby sirens are brought by storks?

  She laughed, a sweet, tinkling sound. “Well, I don’t know. Greek myths are full of people being born from oak trees and things, aren’t they? I thought maybe you’d been sort of created.”

  No, I typed. I was born. My father was human. I drummed my fingers, then typed, My name is Chloe.

  “Lliadra,” she said, a wonderful musical sound. “I’m an Elf.”

  No, really?

  It’s hard to be sarcastic when you’re typing.

  “I’ve been here three years,” Lliadra volunteered.

  Have you ever tried to escape?

  She shrugged. “My cell is lined with iron. I can’t even touch it.”

  Iron for Elves. I thought iron was for Fae? I typed.

  “It works on both of us. Of course, they’re lucky,” she said. “There are three of them. They can be sociable.”

  Are they allowed out? I asked.

  “Oh, no. Well, apart from when Starne has a client.”

  A client? My stomach turned.

  “Yes.” Her sweet face turned glum. The tips of her pointy ears drooped. “Then he comes and takes one -- or sometimes two of them -- out, and puts them in the garden, so we can all watch. Do you have a window?”

  No, I told her. It’s soundproofed.

  “Oh, shame. I mean, well, not shame, really, because you probably don’t want to watch other people having sex.”

  I might if they weren’t being rented out.

  “Really?” Her ears perked up. “You can, you know. The Fae are usually having some sort of sex. Touch the bottom of the screen and it’ll give you options for opening windows on the other rooms.”

  I did as she said, and was offered thumbnail views of the cell where the vampire paced, snarling, and the room where Lliadra sat, swinging her legs on a bed which dwarfed her. She couldn’t have been more than four feet tall. Elves are weird.

  A third room contained a dark shape, skulking in a corner. I zoomed in, saw fur and a tail, and realized it must be a full moon.

  “Oh, and try not to watch Ursula too much,” Lliadra said. “The werewolf. She’s very picky about her privacy. Whenever a client comes to see her she goes ballistic. She’s covered in scars from throwing herself against her bars. They’re silver, you know.”

  I nodded vaguely, and hit the fourth room, which contained a very large bed indeed, and three lithe, pale people, writhing in the centre.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” Lliadra said. “They don’t mind us watching.”

  She disappeared, leaving me with a widescreen view of the three Fae, a female and two males, all with skin so white it gleamed. One man had black hair, the other pale blond, and they were both enthusiastically licking the breasts of the woman, whose elegant head was thrown back in delight.

  I could hear them too. Hear her sighs, hear the wet sounds as the darker man sucked her nipple deep into his mouth. The blond licked a wet trail down her body and moved between her wide-open legs, running his tongue in a circle around her clit.

  I started to get hot. I was naked, but that’s not really a big deal for me. Before I’d entirely realized it, my fingers were caressing my own breasts, stroking the insides of my thighs.

  Once, a good few years ago now, I was in Venice. Around the time of Casanova, I guess. Plenty of sex for everyone. I spent a delightful afternoon with a pair of lotharios who initiated me into the joys of threesome sex. It’s not for everyone, and it is exhausting, but damn, it’s fun. What’s better than having one man worship your body? Well, two, clearly.

  A few weeks later I attended a party where everyone lost their clothes after an hour or two. Then I found out the joys of three lovers.

  The three Faeries were clearly well-versed in ménage sex. As I watched, my fingers idly stroking my pussy, the Fae woman turned over and took her dark-haired lover’s cock in her mouth. His sigh of pleasure filled the room. His cock was thick and long and it filled her mouth completely. From behind, the blond continued licking her pussy, stabbing his tongue deep inside her.

  My fingers dipped inside my own pussy. Dammit, right now I wasn’t wishing foul things on Alexius. Right now I was wishing he was here with me, all naked and sweaty and hard.

  I banished that thought and concentrated on watching the Fae. Now the blond was fucking the woman, kneeling up with her body pulled back against his so I could see his cock disappear inside her. The dark-haired man dipped his head and started licking her pussy, licking them both as they bucked and moaned.

  Alexius was fantastic at oral sex. He could lick me to one screaming orgasm after another. And, damn -- I peered closely at the blond’s penis -- Alexius was better-hung than any stupid Faery.

  No, Chloe, stop it. Stop thinking about Alexius. If you’re ever unfortunate enough to run into him again, you’re going to eat him. Starting with that big fat cock of his. Bite it off and chew it into ribbons. It’s all he deserves.

  I glared intently at the three Faeries, fucking madly, changing position so the dark-haired man was fucking the woman while the blond rimmed her ass, probing with his fingers.

  But somehow I wasn’t turned on any more.

  Alexius had betrayed me. Fucked me into the ground and then delivered me to a man who wanted to hire me out like a penny whore. He deserved to be stuck like a pig and roasted alive. My aunts and I could share the meal.

  I could carve him like a Sunday roast. Could plunge a knife into that perfect unblemished golden skin and hack him to pieces.

  That perfect, unblemished skin…

  …which healed any wound.

  Except the arrow, which had caused him such incredible agony.

  Switching off the Fae, who were now practicing their double penetration, I grabbed the keyboard and started typing. Starne? Are you there? I want to talk to you.

  “And I want to watch you.” His oily voice filled the room, a second before his face appeared onscreen.

  Fuck off, I replied. Then, in case he took me literally, I want to know about Alexius.

  “Do you indeed?”

  Why don’t you want him for your zoo?

  “I don’t have anywhere to hold him.” Starne considered this, then added, “Yet.”

  So you shot him? That’s going to make him pretty angry.

  His smile was smug. “I doubt it.”

  I know he heals pretty well, but --

  I got no further. Starne’s words cut me off. “He won’t heal from this. Heracles’s arrows took down Adonis, and he was a full-blown god.”

  My hands froze, and when I got them moving again, I couldn’t manage to type anything coherent. Finally, I managed five letters. Hydra.

  “Yes, well done. Arrows dipped in the blood of the Hydra are poisonous to everyone.” He looked thoughtful. “Wonder if they’d take down the Pantheon?”

  They’d probably do some damage. And Alexius wasn’t of the Pantheon. He was only the son of an Olympian, divine blood mixed with human.

  The Hydra’s blood would kill him.

  The keyboard fell from my hands. Starne said something but I didn’t hear, and eventually the screen went blank.

  Alexius was dea
d.

  Chapter Six

  I cried for three days.

  Yes, I know, it’s pathetic. And stupid. Alexius was a bad, bad man. He’d done a bad, bad thing to me.

  And yet…

  And yet… he was like me.

  He was mythical, but he was human. He was divine, but mortal. He could live forever, but he could also die.

  He had died.

  Over and over I kept seeing him fall, kept seeing the shock and agony on his face. I remembered the scent of his skin, the way his body felt against mine, the silk of his skin over hard muscle. The softness of his mouth. The heat of his touch. The steel of his arms as he held me close. The steady beat of his heart lulling me to sleep.

  We’d only spent one night together, one night and one turbulent day.

  The way he could send a thrill though me like an electric current. The deep, hard throb of his cock inside me. The taste of his kiss, the cry he made when he came, the pleasure he stroked into me, the weight of his body on mine. The fathomless blue of his eyes. The crimson stain of his blood.

  I don’t know what was worse. That Alexius had betrayed me, or that I was dumb enough to have fallen for him.

  I cried so long and so hard Starne started shouting at me, so I smashed the TV screen, and cried some more. With no way of communicating, therefore, it came as a slight surprise to me when the steel door opened and one of the deaf henchmen stood there. I looked up, bleary and wretched, and allowed him to take me by the arm and lead me through a sort of airlock -- a sound-lock I suppose -- and into the garden.

  It wasn’t a real garden, of course. Everything in it was fake, from the leaves to the sunlight that came courtesy of a few large, high lamps. The ceiling was painted like a summer sky, the grass was forever green and the lilies always in bloom, but there was nothing living in it.

  Nothing, that is, except the dark-haired Fae lounging naked on a padded chaise by the fountain.

  The henchman led me over to him and fastened a chain around my ankle. A sort of cage rose up out of the ground to surround us. The Fae flinched, and I realized the bars, fine and wide-spaced as they were, were iron.

  The henchman backed away, through a heavy-duty door with a keypad, and Starne’s voice came from an unseen speaker.

  “In case you’re wondering, that’s another example of Hephaestus’s handiwork,” he said, and I looked dully at the chain. “Can’t have you flying away now, can we?”

  To be honest, I was so depressed the thought never even crossed my mind.

  “Oh, and our Faery friend has had his ears blocked. The rest can hear you though. This will be interesting.”

  I sat down on the chaise. My deafened Faery friend came to sit beside me, and put a companionable arm around my shoulders.

  “You two make friends now,” Starne said, and there was a snigger in his voice.

  I looked at the Fae. He was beautiful, as all Fae are, but his was a chilly, uneasy beauty. I couldn’t imagine this man ever offering to bring lunch into a lion’s enclosure with me.

  The memory of that brought fresh tears. Even I was getting annoyed with them now.

  Hey, don’t cry.

  The voice arrived straight in my head and frightened the life out of me. But some instinct prevented me from looking at the Fae.

  We’ve heard you weeping. What’s making you so sad?

  I opened my mouth to reply, then thought better of it and attempted to think out loud. You mean, apart from being imprisoned in this zoo with no actual physical, visual or aural contact, and brought out here as sexual entertainment?

  His gentle laugh filled my head. Well, at least that saves us an awkward conversation. Why were you really crying?

  I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. It doesn’t matter. Do they know you’re telepathic?

  Hah, he said, which was all the answer I needed. Do they know how loud you can actually sing?

  Even I don’t know.

  Maybe you should find out someday soon. Just… not when I’m in earshot.

  That earned a smile from me, which got one from him in return. His fingers were tracing circles on my shoulder.

  You know, he said inside my head, they’re going to be wondering why we’re just sitting here silently.

  I glanced around. The other cages were visible to me now, and behind the bars of them the vampire, Elf, and other two Fae watched silently. Of the werewolf there was no sign.

  Won’t your friends mind you having sex with me? I asked, glancing at them.

  They might be jealous.

  Smooth.

  I turned to face him, and ran my fingers over the sharp angles of his pale face. My name is Chloe, I told him.

  Ruarc, he replied. He kissed me softly. Will this stop your tears?

  It already has.

  We kissed, and I tried not to think out loud that I’d surely be even more miserable later, because I couldn’t help comparing Ruarc’s kisses with Alexius’s. Couldn’t help noticing that his blue eyes lacked the Mediterranean warmth of my demigod’s. Couldn’t help that when Ruarc lay me down on the chaise, I wanted his body to be Alexius’s.

  But it wasn’t. And it would never be. Even if Alexius was alive, I’d shortly have him killed in a slow, painful manner. What I needed to do was get him out of my stupid head, and the best way to do that, I figured, would be with this very handsome, very skilled Fae.

  How comfortable is that fake grass? I asked him.

  Reasonably, he replied. Why?

  I want to move.

  He grinned and rolled off me, tugging me down on top of him on the grass, which was entirely too green to be realistic. The chain on my ankle clinked.

  Ruarc’s cock was already hard, a long pale length -- which wasn’t as thick as Alexius’s, not that it mattered in the slightest. We kissed on and on. He was good at it, his lips soft, his tongue gentle. I guess he’d had a lot of practice.

  My glance stole over toward the Faeries’ cell. They were watching us, stroking each other with their eyes glued to us.

  Are you really sure they don’t mind?

  They like to watch, Ruarc replied. Now stop thinking. Clearly I’m not doing my job properly if you are.

  To prove this, he rolled me onto my back and started licking my breasts, rolling and pinching my nipples between finger and thumb as he did. It was good. It was really good.

  But it still wasn’t keeping me from thinking.

  How come there are three of you, and only one of everyone else?

  We were captured together, Ruarc told me as he sucked my nipple deep into his mouth. Starne was only after Eliadne, but she was…er, busy with us at the time. I guess he thought three were better than one. He’s certainly had his money’s worth out of us.

  I made a face. Charming.

  He has plenty of clients who just come to watch us. I heard his laughter. Makes me laugh how they get uncomfortable jerking off in front of the cameras. How do they think we live our lives?

  They probably don’t, I said, and he looked up at me for a brief second.

  No, he said. You’re right. They probably don’t.

  He then stepped up the stop-Chloe-thinking program by settling between my legs and rubbing his cock against me as he made love to my breasts. Long, hot and hard, it was a delicious pressure against my clit as he rocked rhythmically against me.

  More, I told him. I want you inside me.

  Ruarc looked up and grinned at me as he teased my pussy lips with his cock, stroking the sensitive folds with just the head, but not entering.

  “No,” I said out loud, even though I knew he couldn’t hear me. “Inside. Now.” I closed my eyes, and, grateful it wouldn’t be heard, murmured, “Make it go away.”

  I flipped him onto his back and slid down onto his cock, taking the whole length of him inside me and feeling his balls against my ass.

  “That feels good,” Ruarc said aloud, his eyes on mine, and I smiled, and leaned down to kiss him.

  Do you think Sta
rne can hear us? I asked, my tongue in his mouth and his cock in my pussy.

  Doubtful. He won’t want to be affected by your siren song.

  Oh. I allowed him to roll me onto my back and start pumping hard into me. Yes. I’d forgotten.

  Well, that’s something, he said, toying with my breasts.

  Ruarc?

  Yes?

  Make me forget more. Fuck me really hard.

  He lifted my legs high around his waist. Love to.

  And he did. He fulfilled his promise with mighty enthusiasm. Hooking my ankles over his shoulders, he drove into me like a piston, massaging my clit as he filled me. Then, when it seemed he might come and spoil the fun, he withdrew, propped me on the edge of the chaise, and started licking my pussy.

  He was very good at that. Very, very good. My hands gripping the edge of the chaise, I felt the first tremors of my orgasm build.

  Scream, Ruarc told me. It won’t give Starne any pleasure as he can’t hear you, but the others can, I think.

  And I did scream. I yelped and cried as I came, and realized as I came back down to earth that the Fae in the cell were applauding me. Lliadra the Elf was whooping, “Go, girl!”

  I rolled my head back and saw the vampire on her back, her hand between her legs, her eyes glazed.

  “You scream much louder, girl,” she said, a heavy South American accent coloring her words, “you’ll shake the building down.”

  I blinked.

  “And she’ll deafen us all,” the female Fae -- Eliadne? -- put in.

  “Small price to pay for freedom,” the vampire said.

  “Not for you, you stupid vampire,” the blond Fae said. “It’s daylight out there. You’ll be dust.” He thought for a second, then called, “Scream, siren.”

  Lliadra and Eliadne laughed. The vampire shouted a string of Spanish curses.

  “Do you mind?” I called. “I was having a nice orgasm here.”