Taming the Fire (2 page)

A large part of her survival depended on what she was doing now, with Trance.

Her touch as she pulled down his zipper was featherlight, and unexpected, if his quick intake of breath was any indication. Her own breathing hitched as his cock broke free from the soft black pants, and she resisted the urge to take it in her palm.

The man was a magnificent creature… broad shoulders, rugged features, muscles carved from stone. A light dusting of blond hair coated his chest, which was as deeply tanned as the rest of him. Longish blond hair, shot through with darker brown, framed eyes as blue and clear as an Austrian mountain lake. Eyes that fascinated her, drew her in when he should be keeping his gaze averted a lot more than he was.

It had been a long time since she'd encountered anything like him. Usually her customers were either handsome or fit, but rarely both, and never to such extremes.

And before this life… she didn't want to think about it. Yet for some reason she couldn't help it. The full moon always brought out the beast's fiercest urges, and her worst memories. Such as how Itor had destroyed her clan, had wiped her kind from the face of the earth with experimentation that only she had survived. Now they wanted her dead. After subjecting her to years of hell and forced service, they were tired of playing.

She, however, wasn't. The beast in her needed to play If the beast wasn't kept sated, it came out, a rabid, uncontrollable thing that raged hard, killed indiscriminately and wouldn't give back her body until it wore out. She'd wake in strange places, aching and covered in blood that wasn't her own, her memory a black hole.

Sex kept it calm. Meat kept it fed. The act of dominating humans kept it happy.

She'd just eaten three rare steaks. One down, two in the works.

“Mistress?”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Did I tell you to speak?”

His blue eyes gleamed, and she held her breath, unable to do or say anything until he dropped his gaze. “No,
Mistress.”
His crisp American accent was like a velvet whip on sensitive skin, and she felt it all the way to her sex.

This man was not a sub.

The realization found its way into her bloodstream as a rush of adrenaline. Excitement stirred the beast; nothing fired the blood like dominating an alpha, but warning bells clanged in Rik's head. Her mind raced. Itor wouldn't toy with her like this—they'd simply take her out, just as The Aquarius Group would—payback for her attempt at killing one of their senior agents. No doubt ACRO would want in on the action as well. Heck, she had to assume everyone wanted her dead.

Caution had kept her alive for weeks, and she couldn't ignore her internal alarm, even if this turned out to be a false one.

Lightning fast, she pushed his face around so he couldn't look at her, and she scraped her teeth over his ear, not lightly or gently. “Tell me why you're here.”

“To submit to you, Mistress.”

“I don't believe you. Why do something so against your nature?”

His muscles tensed, and she smelled surprise rolling off him. “I want to know what it feels like to submit,” he said smoothly, “and I hear you're the best.”

“I am.” She pressed against him harder, letting her stiff nipples rub against his chest through the fabric of her top. “I can make you love to be dominated. I can make you learn to crave it. To beg for it.”

“Then teach me.”

The underlying steel in his voice sent a shiver of feminine appreciation through her even as it raised the beast's hackles. She drew his head around and nipped his bottom lip, enough to cause pain but not draw blood. “‘Teach m
e, please.’
Say it. Now.”

His moment of hesitation lasted no more than a second, but she once again made the mistake of looking into his mesmerizing eyes, the distraction so intense that she barely heard him say, “Teach me, please.”

Nodding, she stepped back and allowed herself a leisurely scan of his body, from his bound hands to his chest, his slim waist where muscles strained, to his erection that jutted like steel from where she'd peeled back his fly.

“You will do as I say. Always.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

His tone was better, properly subdued, and she heated all over. As a reward, she slipped her fingers between his legs and drew his heavy sac forward so it bulged over the top of his fly opening. Hunger consumed her, but she'd ignore her need until Trance had been properly schooled.

“You will come when and
if I
allow it,” she said, as she drew one long nail up his cock, tracing the deep blue veins that circled the shaft like thick vines.

He breathed out a curse, and at her arched brow, he said, “Yes, Mistress.” Though he'd responded through clenched teeth, his voice had deepened, and she knew his hunger had climbed.

“Good boy,” she murmured. “Very good.” She scraped her nails over one nicely developed pec. “You should know that after tonight, someone else will have to instruct you. I don't do this for your pleasure, but for mine, and mine alone.” She tweaked his nipple, enjoying his barely controlled intake of breath. “I don't do the normal exchange of trust and power. This is about power only. My power. Do you understand?”

“That's highly unusual, Mistress.”

She stepped away. “It's how I work. If you object, I'll send you away now.”

Several heartbeats ticked by before he finally gave her a slow nod. There was so much fight in him, and so much restraint. He was magnificent beyond belief.

Her loose clothing grew tight, confining, her skin aching for the hot, smooth contact of male muscle. She would touch him, but he would never touch her. No man would touch her with his hands, ever again.

Slowly, she stripped out of her blouse, noting the way Trance's gaze darkened at the sight of her breasts. They were bigger than they looked beneath the top, the nipples hard and stiff within the gold rings that circled them but didn't pierce.

She now wore only her skirt, high heels and the radio collar, a leather-wrapped steel casing full of electronics—a homing locator and a nasty shock mechanism a handler could activate with different intensities to either control her behavior or force her to shape-shift.

The good news was that outside the ten-mile radius of a handler in possession of a controller, the collar didn't work either to give away her location or to shock her. The bad news was that the collar couldn't be removed without the tiny bomb inside blowing her head off.

So yeah, she could tell herself that she could tamp down her memories, but every time she looked in the mirror, they looked right back at her.

Right now, though, her sub was looking at her, and she wasn't going to disappoint either of them.

Watching him, she cupped her breasts, pushed them together so he could imagine his cock between them, rubbing and thrusting, each upward stroke allowing her to swipe at the head with her tongue. She circled her peaked nipples with her thumbs until sensation swept from her breasts to her sex, which flooded with her juices.

Trance's throat muscles worked on a hard swallow, his nostrils flaring, and when his tongue snaked out to moisten his lips, she knew he was ready for the next step.

Dropping to her knees, she brought her mouth close to his cock so he could feel the stirring of her breath on his skin. No touching, though, except to peel down his pants. But when he rolled his hips toward her, nearly catching her mouth with his shaft, she sighed and reached for the leatherbound box behind him.

“Naughty boy,” she murmured. “Time for your first lesson.”

Trance wasn't going to like this lesson.

Kira had warned him that his hypnotic powers might not fully work on Rik—especially once the beast within her emerged. If he could keep her calm and peaceful during these sessions, he could slowly win her over.

Still, it wasn't going to stop him from having to become Rik's bitch over the next few minutes.

Fuck. Just fuck
.

“Did you say something?” Rik asked him.

Well, hell, no one said the job of an ACRO agent was easy. Definitely not, especially after seeing the cock ring she'd taken out of her bag of tricks. She wrapped the stiff leather around the base of his cock—it would keep him rock hard and stop him from coming.

“My boy doesn't like to be told what to do,” she purred. “Doesn't like not being able to do exactly what he wants to, when he wants to. But in my world, you only get to do what I want.”

“Do you want to come, Mistress? Because I can make you come if you put your hot, wet pussy on my cock—”

A squeeze and twist to his balls, coupled with a hard pinch to his nipple effectively shut his mouth. “You are not in charge here.”

A drop of pre-cum had formed on the head of his cock—when he didn't say anything else, Rik took a long finger and spread the moisture, then pressed it lightly into the slit.

“So many possibilities—whips and chains—your skin would look so pretty marked with red.”

Safe. Sane. Consensual
. Those words had been such a big part of his life for so long. But there was nothing safe, sane or consensual about this. He squirmed under her words, her touch, and she slid her tongue into the slit of his cock. When he gasped, she did it again and again and then stopped as if confused by what she'd done.

“Maybe some sounding. I think you'd like that—the cold metal sliding inside your cock until you lost all control of yourself.” She slid a finger along his ass. “Or maybe—”

No
. No fucking way. He'd almost let the words slip out, but he held them back, held his breath and finally said, “Anything you want, Mistress.”

With that, she took his cock in her mouth and tortured him some more by stroking a slow, intimate rhythm.

“Yeah, oh, yeah, baby…” he ground out.

“What did you call me?” She squeezed his balls in her palm again—hard enough to make him wince, and whimper with pleasure at the same time.

She was good—good enough to make him forget that this was a mission and just let himself go.

But this
was
a mission, and he had no desire to go back down this road again for real. Pretend was far safer—for him, for everyone involved, including the beautiful wolf woman who held his life in her hands. Being a submissive took a measure of control Trance did not have in these situations—his strength was better served when he was the one in charge of the scene. Otherwise, his reactions were far too volatile, and hurting anyone when he was in the throes of orgasm wasn't anything he wanted to do.

“Mistress,” he said through gritted teeth. “Make me come, Mistress.”

She chuckled, a sound that went up his spine, and then she stopped everything.

She was tugging at her collar. The collar in and of itself was an odd thing for a Dom to wear, but Trance knew exactly what the collar was all about. It was Itor's way of keeping her down, and they must've just sent through a major shock to her system. She was thrown off her game, and while that had saved his ass, literally, for the night, it made him angry enough to want to snap some necks at Itor.

It also made him realize that Itor might be closer than any of them thought. He'd have to work his magic, and fast, because she was ready to freak. If the beast came out now, he'd have no way to stop it—as strong as he was, he wasn't sure he could conquer Rik's wolf side.

But the beast didn't come out. Instead, she rose, her voice still steady and calm, and said, “Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement. I'd forgotten all about it.”

And fuck it all if Itor was going to step on his game now, not after he'd been strung up like this. “I understand, Mistress.”

“I can have someone come in—finish up here,” she offered, but he shook his head. She undid the restraints quickly, but before she could unsnap the cock ring, he locked his gaze on hers.

“I don't want anyone but you, Mistress,” he murmured, summoning just a thread of his hypnotic powers. “Want your permission to come. Please, help your boy.”

She tugged at the collar again and then cocked her head and stared at him. He had to make her believe this was all her idea—giving her a command this soon would break the delicate balance of power he'd achieved thus far.

“You have my permission,” she said softly. “Watch yourself, not me.”