Page 25 of Fangs & Freaks
“Are you going to tell me what I’m supposed to be guessing?”
“Oh, that. Warrick and I bit him. Drank his blood. He’s ours now.” She sits up and I raise up on my elbows. “Now, I’d love to know how you keep getting in here, but before that, why don’t we get you out of those clothes so I can fuck you.”
“You bit him!Mytoy? He’s mine, and you dared to pierce his skin, drink from him, when he already bears my mark!”
“We did.” My words are firm, showing her I’m not scared of her.
“You dare to defy me again! Be prepared for the wrath you’ve brought upon yourself.” With those parting words, she vanishes in a poof of black and red smoke. The acrid scent of brimstone and death fills the air, stinging my nostrils. The smoke twists and writhes like a living thing, an angry, malevolent presence that lingers before dissolving into nothingness.
And just like that I’m alone, with a hard cock and no pussy to bury it in.
Chapter Thirteen
Varys
I’min my shifted form. My snow white coat sparkling in the bright sun and my hooves clicking against the cold, mirror-like ground. The air is heavy, laden with the coppery tang of blood and the sweet, cloying scent of decay.
I’m not alone.
She stands before me, her silhouette lit by a pale, ethereal glow. Bloody Mary. Her name alone sends a shiver racing down my spine, but seeing her here in the flesh—if this can even be called flesh—is something else entirely. Her skin is porcelain white, flawless except for the faint spider web of cracks around her lips, which are painted a deep, violent red. Her eyes are dark pools, endless and hypnotic, and when they meet mine, I feel like I’m falling.
“Varys,” she says, her voice a melody wrapped in razor blades.
I try to step back, but my legs don’t respond. My heart’s racing, a wild, uneven drumbeat that drowns out every rational thought. I should be afraid—Iamafraid—but there’s something else, something darker and more primal stirring in me. Herpresence is intoxicating, a heady mix of danger and allure that I can’t resist.
“What do you want?” My voice is shaky, barely a whisper.
She smiles, and it’s a terrible, beautiful thing. “Want? Oh, my sweet unicorn, it’s not about what I want. It’s about whatyouwant.” She steps closer, her bare feet gliding soundlessly over the reflective floor.
I’m rooted in place, unable to move as her fingers trace the curve of my jaw down to my charcoal muzzle. Her touch is ice and fire, sending jolts of arousal coursing through me. My breath catches as she leans in, her lips brushing against my ear.
“You called me,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with accusation and seduction in equal measure. “You betrayed me. I can feel it in your blood, your dreams. You’re curious. You’re hungry. You’remine.”
Her words unlock something inside me, something raw and unrestrained. My fear is still there, sharp and biting, but it’s tangled with a desire so intense it’s almost unbearable. As her fingers trail down my neck and over my withers, a shiver races through me, and the shift begins. My horn retreats, my coat melts away, and my body shrinks and twists until I’m human again, naked and vulnerable beneath her gaze. Her fingers trail down my neck, over my chest, and every nerve in my body screams for her even as my mind rebels.
“No,” I gasp.
She laughs softly, the sound vibrating through me. “Oh, darling. We’ll see about that.” Her lips press against mine, and for a moment, the world blurs. I’m lost in her, drowning in a sea of crimson and black. The kiss is demanding, consuming, and when she pulls away, I’m left trembling, my knees threatening to give out.
Her form starts to dissipate, her laugh echoing as she fades into the shadows. “I’ll see you soon, Varys. Very soon.”
I wake with a start, my body drenched in sweat and my heart hammering against my ribs. The room is dark, but I can still feel her presence, like a ghost of a touch. My breaths come in shallow, uneven pants as I try to make sense of what the hell just happened. Was it real? A dream? Both?
I’m still shaking as I make my way down the hall toward Warrick’s room. His presence steadies me, and right now I need that more than I care to admit.
His door is slightly open, the faint glow of a light dancing across the wall. I knock and his deep, gravelly voice answers. “Come in.”
Warrick is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirtless, with a wineglass of blood. His piercing eyes lock onto mine and his brow furrows as he takes in my panicked state.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I hesitate, unsure of how to even begin. “I…she was in my dream. Blood Mary. She–”
Before I can finish, Blackwell’s voice cuts in from behind me. “She got to you too, huh?”
I whirl around to find him leaning against the doorframe, his smirk intact despite the gravity of the situation. “You don’t look surprised,” I snap.
“Because I’m not,” he says, stepping completely into the room. “She’s been a busy little myth tonight. Came to me too. Except it wasn’t a dream.”
