A Sinister Game (7 page)

Victor’s gaze darkened. H
e stood.

“You need to start drinking
out of metal goblets, Black.”

Victor turned to face John Storm as the captain came through the archway that led
from
the rooms beyond. Storm was smiling a wry smile that told him he knew good and well what was going on inside of his
t
eam leader’s head.

He should
have
; h
e
’d been Gray captain for a
very long time.

“Nonsense. They don’t shatter nearly as well
,
” Black replied as he made his way to the adjoining restroom, opened a cabinet door, and pulled out a roll of bandages.

“You’re not going down to the MRU to get patched up,” Storm said.
It wasn’t a question.

The Medical Research Unit could heal Victor on the
spot. They employed people who had at one time been
L
ight
T
eam leaders and possessed the natural ability to mend
wounds. It was a necessary boon, as
Gamers were constantly
injured on the battlefield
.

“Not at the moment. No.”

“So I was right, then.
She’s getting to you.”
Storm sat down in the seat that Black had just vacated and propped his legs up on the ottoman across from him. He laced his fingers over his taut stomach and cocked his head to one side.

Victor turned an irritated glare on the man.

John Storm shrugged and smiled. He was a handsome man who bore the very rare regality of one older than the maturity age of most Gamers. Because Game Control had not noticed him and his talents until he was in his late forties, he
was more aged
than most of the players on the Field. However, he was locked in at this age now, and had been for hundreds of years.

He was a natural on the Field. People automatically followed his orders. No one ever doubted his abilities and no one challenged his authority.
Black was lucky to have him as his captain.

Even so, the man could be a trifle annoying at times. He simply knew too much about the human condition. Chalk it up to age. Wisdom.
Whatever
– i
t was grating.

Storm chuckled low.
“From the look you’re giving me right now, I’d say she’s more than gotten to you, lad.”
He shook his head in wonder. “Aye
. I’d say she’s well under your skin
. Either that, or….” He considered his lead
er for a moment and narrowed his gaze
.
“There’s something you’re not telling me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Storm.” Victor moved to the hook that held his black leather jacket and shrugged it on over his broad shoulders. “As usual.”

The
captain
was silent.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Out. And then to bed
.”

“Aye, but not alone,
I reckon. What poor unknowing
lass will
be temporarily quenching your thirst for
Red this time?”

Victor had no answer for that. His look said it all though, as it burned
a verdant
fire into hi
s captain’s very soul. John Storm
stared right back.

Until he couldn’t any more. And then he looked away.

And Victor walked out the door.

* * * *

The woman was not what he wanted that night. She was not what he wanted
any
night. But she would have to do. Either that, or he would go mad.

Four hundred and thirty-one years on the Field and he’d been waiting all that time. He’d waited for
the right Gamer to come along, the one who would
possess enough strengt
h, enough power. W
hen that Gamer
did
finally
come along, it was in the form of a young girl, gangly and tall, with freckles and caramel-gold hair that literally smelled like honey.

Ten years later, it still smelled like honey.

She must bathe in it
, he thought to himself
as another woman gently ran her fingernails along the muscles of his back and nipped with her teeth at the taut skin on his neck.
He barely felt it. He was lost in his own mind.

She must,
he thought,
b
ecause
her skin is
touched with gold. It shimmers.
He closed his eyes
as a woman who was
not
Victoria Red nibbled his ear lobe and exhaled softly beneath his touch.
It glows as if flecks of the metal were
embedded in her flesh.

He had watched Victoria grow and
her powers grow with her. And he’d known. He’d known for ten years that she was the one. She was the only one who could give him what he wanted and grant him the reprieve his spirit so desperately desired.

She’ll never give in to you,
his thoughts chided. They were u
nwelcome, disturbing. His jaw tensed under the weight of the voice in his head.
She’s too responsible
to go up against Game Control
. She’ll always defy you.
She’ll always r
un from you
.

Fine!
h
e roared back.
Let her run. I can run too. I’ll hunt her dow
n until she can run no more
!

His grip tightened on the woman’s wrists, pinning them to the bed above her head. She gasped, surprised by his sudden forcefulness. And then she slowly smiled. And so did he. It was not a kind smile.

Victoria will never accept the challenge,
he thought.
Not without a little… persuasion.

Victor thrust deeply into the woman beneath him and she sucked in a
hard breath at the sudden painful
pleasure. He closed his eyes and reached out with his powers.

What he was about to do
was
so strictly against Game regulations, it was never spoken of.
To enter another’s dreams was the ability of many
d
ark team leaders. They used these abilities to weaken their opponents on the Field, sending nightmares to disrupt their rivals’ sleep patterns
in-between
battles and
debilitate
them with the resulting fatigue.

That
was accepted as a tactic of war.

However,
the
use of such abilities anywhere but on the Playing Field was
very
strictly prohibited.

Victor knew this. He just di
dn’t give shit
.
Four hundred years was too long.
Red was ready
now
– a
nd he was tired of waiting.

Victor laughed as the woman
beneath him moaned
beneath his manipulations
,
and he finally sensed the sleeping mind he’d been
telepathically reaching
for.

Red’s
heart beat slowly. She was deep in slumber.

So deep
…
. He frowned. Something was off; she was heavily under.
Was Victoria really so tired?
It troubled him for a moment. Was he wearing her down that badly?

No matter. If he was, then what he was doing right now wouldn’t harm her rest.
All
it would do was give her a dream
.

Victoria
.
H
e spoke her name in his mind. He allowed the word to curl out around her, to wrap around her thoughts like a silken cord. And then he pulled it tight, trapping her subconscious in his sway.

He
willed her to feel his touch, t
o feel his hand as he ran it over her skin, pinned her to her bed,
and
wrapped his fingers gently around her throat. He whispered in her ear, nibbled at her neck,
and grazed
her clitoris with his fingers as he plunged deeply into her.

He could feel her writhing now. It was working. He
sense
d
her dream state in disarray, helpless beneath his ministrations. His cruel, low laughter followed her down as he continued to take her.

Deeper.
Deeper.
Faster.
Harder
.

He took her with all of the
desperation he felt. With every ounce of the desire racing heated through his veins.

Victor’s hand cupped her breast – then expertly pinched her nipple. His mouth followed; he sucked the hardened bud into his mout
h and bit down
, holding her fast as he thrust deeply one last time and emptied himself into her.

The woman in his b
ed screamed in ecstasy
.

And his mental connection to Victoria was broken.

* * * *

Victoria sat bolt upright in her bed, her breathing ragged, her body on fire. The sheets were soaked with sweat
,
and every nerve ending from her neck down was painfully alive.

She moaned and gasped, frantically throwing the covers off of her as she swallowed
what air she could get, and
jumped out of the large queen-sized bed.

“How
–
h
ow
dare
he!” s
he hissed into the humming quiet of her master bedroom. She shivered violently and hugged herself, then moaned again when her nipples grazed against
the silk material of her night
gown. Even
it
was too rough for her
overly
sensitized body.

“Son of a bitch,” she growled through clenched teeth. “Cheating son of a bitch!”

She yanked the nightgown over her head, balled up the damp garment in her hands, and then threw it against the opposite wall in frustration.

She shivered again. A wave of dizziness washed over her and she swayed. She reached for the mattress, steadied herself, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Goose bumps were raised along her arms and legs. Her nipples were taut and almost seemed swollen. The moisture between her legs was growing cold in the night air of her room.

She crossed her legs, pressing them desperately together.

She had come so close. The dream had brought he
r one heartbeat away from climax
– and then
ruthlessly
ripped her from sleep with the disquiet cruelty she had come to expect and recognize of the Gray leader.

Victoria curled
her fingers into the mattress
. He had already broken so many rules.
The last twenty-four hours had seen him become a virtu
al rogue against Game Control, a
nd they weren’t even aware of it.

Should she
go to the Game Control building and
tell them?

And risk being forcefully resigned?
h
er thoughts hissed back at her.
No. I won
’t be doing that any time soon, a
nd he knows it.

That night, after she’d returned from the TGB, her transporter had malfunctioned, leaving her trapped within it for hours. It had never happened before.

Then her show
er had been cold. That too
had never happened before.

She knew what was happening. He was trying to wear her down. He was showing her
what kind of reach he had. A
pparently
not even her dreams were
sacred to him.

His green gaze flashed in her mind’s eye
,
and she felt his hands on her body, his teeth on her neck – his hardness lodged deep within her. She could not suppress the deep groan that escaped her throat as she threw herself back on the bed beneath her and closed her eyes against the blatantly painful need between her legs.

“Damn you, Victor Black
,
”
s
he whispered into the night.

Was it her imagination, or did she hear laughter?

Deep and low and laced with promise.

She could really only afford to stay in the training room for another fifteen or twenty minutes before she risked being noticed by
m
aintenance. Victoria had a lot of experience plotting the schedules of the cleaning and tech crews that took care of the Team Gathering Building. She was well aware that she was cutting it close this time around.