Page 2

2

Dorian

Y eah. This is about right. Here I am. A living death god who collects souls and uses them as weapons… or at least… I did once.

Now I’m out in the depths of an ancient forest, wading through inches of snow, looking for fucking bugs.

Great.

I shudder and readjust my cock, which started to get hard a few moments ago in response to my Poppet Doll having a great time with the mutt.

Archie is at home fucking her senseless, and Shaw and me?

Well. We get snow. Bugs. And trees that I am sure keep moving when I’m not looking.

How do I let Archie talk me into this shit? I’m glad I’m not the only fool roped into this. Shaw is out here, too.

The snow is still falling hard, and I can see my breath in the air. Not that I’m cold. I don’t feel such irrelevant things now I have returned to my full power. If you can call it that.

I no longer collect souls, so I’m not as powerful as I once was.

But I am a creature of shadow, with the power to control and manipulate the bodies of others, with great wings and the strength of a demon.

When I’m not shoved into this skin suit, that is.

The only reason I keep this casing is because my girl is so very fond of it.

But this body I inhabit has goosebumps, and I can’t help but shiver a little as snow lands on my neck.

‘Are you good?’ Shaw asks, tossing aside a fallen log and searching the undergrowth with a sweep of his foot.

He looks up as I move my erection to one side.

‘Looks like you’re very good,’ he smirks.

‘It’s not me. It’s her. I can feel her pleasure.’ I grunt as the connection continues. ‘She’s having orgasm after orgasm, and I’m out here hunting for critters,’ I complain.

I slap a bug that was stupid enough to land on my cheek and wipe it off in disgust.

‘Got one!’ Shaw declares, reaching down and triumphantly holding a caterpillar in his hand. He sneers before adding it to the jar of a dozen others. ‘And it’s red. We’re done.’

The red one wriggles around with the others, all a mix of green, red and gold. They’re the strangest of things, and I have no idea what Archie wants them for.

I stop beside Shaw, and we both peer into the jar.

‘Why the fuck do you think he wants these?’ he asks me, giving it a little shake.

We both flinch and recoil when they start to hiss and glow.

We look at one another.

‘I have no idea. But it better not be anything dangerous or kinky. I’m not digging these things out of her arse.’

Shaw snorts in laughter at my words and their severity. I mean it. I’m really not.

‘Ask Poppy. She’ll know if they’re safe.’

I lift my hand and peer up my sleeve.

‘Come on then. Do your job. Are these things dangerous?’ I ask.

I hold out my hand towards the jar. A shiny red and black head with beady little eyes appears from my cuff. A snake. The most deadly snake to ever exist. One bite from a Kedar delivers death in a matter of seconds, with your insides turning to liquid and seeping out your eyes, nose and mouth.

I hated her when she first appeared. Snakes have always made me uncomfortable. It’s the eyes. And the scales. And the slimy feeling even though they’re not slimy.

But I have become rather attached to this little snake. I think she knew I didn’t like her as much as the others did, so she was determined to win me over. Or make me as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

It’s hard to say.

Poppy. Poppet’s familiar. Her spiritual guide and protector.

She has taken to hiding up my sleeves and coiling around my neck when I sleep.

Her tongue darts out as she inspects the jar for herself but offers no signs that these things are in any way a danger. Not that I thought for a second they would be. Never mind Archie being just as obsessed with Ashe as we are, I highly doubt something like a colourful caterpillar could do much to harm the new earth goddess.

Shaw stashes the jar in his coat pocket and runs his finger down Poppy’s nose.

‘I’m glad you’re growing fond of her,’ he says, smiling down at the serpent. ‘Although watching you recoil every time you saw her was amusing, this is much better. She likes you.’

‘First of all. I never recoiled,’ I state in no uncertain terms. ‘And second, the only reason she keeps clinging to me like this is because Poppet wants her to annoy me.’

She slithers back under my cuff, returning to the warmth as she wraps herself around my wrist.

Will I admit that I am, in fact, honoured that she has taken to me more than the others?

No. I will not. Never.

But I will always welcome her on my wrist and act as if it’s the biggest imposition of my life.

We start heading back towards the cottage. That strange little house made of nature filled with four creatures that have known nothing but blood, violence and death for decades.

But not anymore.

Our days are filled with peace and laughter. Our nights with passion and rest.

Sometimes, I have no idea if the sun is up or not, but I’m making her squirm nonetheless.

‘Has she spoken to you about her flashbacks?’ Shaw asks me after a few minutes. He watches me cautiously.

‘Briefly. Why?’

‘She cornered me earlier today and asked me to do something I’m unsure about doing.’

‘The whole recovery by exposure plan?’ I reply. He nods with a solemn expression. ‘Yeah. She’s mentioned it to me, too.’

‘Thoughts?’

‘Well, my initial thoughts are no. She has a panic attack if she feels too much weight on her and gets flashbacks. I don’t want to experiment with putting my entire body weight on her so she gets past the trauma of her experiences. I’ve had enough of hearing her scream. Enough to last a lifetime.’ I watch Shaw as he walks. ‘She spoke to Archie too. About him choking her until she doesn’t panic anymore.’

Shaw looks at the ground. Of all the deaths she endured, I know his was the worst. His killing of Neve was long and excruciating. It’s the execution all witches fear most.

Death by three hundred cuts.

Ashe sees a blade, and I instantly feel the panic through our link.

‘She wants me to cut her.’ His words come out quiet and full of shame.

My response is far less gentle.

‘I don’t fucking think so!’ I scoff.

Not quite as supportive as I could be. Granted. But I’ve seen her bleed quite enough, and now I’m not drinking her blood, it’s far less attractive than it once was.

‘That’s what I said,’ he agrees, as if that’s obvious. ‘But that is what she asked me. If I would cut her.’

We share a sideways glance before I need to readjust yet again.

‘They still at it?’ he asks.

‘Yes. She was a little anxious before, so I’m assuming Archie has given into her request to be choked.’

Idiot. He’s always giving in to her requests. Even when we tell him not to. There’s not much we’d deny her, but we’re just getting settled and finally discovering some kind of peace.

Now she’s all “Choke me. Cut me. Crush me!”

The smell of the smoke coming from the cottage chimney welcomes us home. We stop before we reach the stone path that leads to our front door and take shelter in the woodshed Shaw made. We settle on some chopped logs, and I pull out a flask of whiskey. The two of us share it as Archie and Ashe get their alone time. Something we all decided was a good thing to implement in our relationship.

Relationship. Us.

That statement makes me chuckle.

‘You sorted your gifts yet?’ I ask.

‘Nope,’ he replies. ‘Usually, if I wanted to get you something, I’d get you a couple of whores and a carriage of cigars and liquor.’

‘Yeah. Not sure that’s such a good idea,’ I sigh, sipping from the flask. ‘She may not like a whore being gifted to one of us. She may just cut your dick off if you did. Plus, there are no other people living here, so it's not entirely feasible.’

‘And I am very fond of my dick, so I guess I’ll keep thinking.’

He takes the flask and drinks. From the cottage, we hear her scream in pleasure as the trees around the cottage groan.

‘What about her? You decided on her gift?’ I ask.

‘Not yet. What did you get her?’

‘I’m not telling you that,’ I snort. ‘Come up with your own gift. It took me ages to come up with mine.’

He returns the flask.

‘Has Archie said what he’s got her?’ I ask.

‘Nope. But he grins like an idiot when I mention the gifts. I imagine it can’t be any worse than that wooden cock he carved for her birthday. The girl has three very willing dicks whenever she pleases. Four if you include your shadow form. Why the fuck he felt the need to add another into the mix is beyond me.’

The cottage settles, and my body relaxes.

‘I think we’re good to go back in,’ I tell him.

We scoop up some wood and head up the path. The windows glow a beautiful orange from the fire inside, and as we pass the overhanging branches, they sweep down to brush our shoulders as if welcoming us home.

I admit, I was unsure when Archie explained his pack's strange winter ritual. A day of celebration to mark the shortest day of the year. One where you would exchange gifts and decorate your home with bizarre ornaments. One of which apparently requires coloured caterpillars.

But he described it so beautifully that we could not resist saying yes.

I open the door for Shaw, who kicks the snow off his boots before walking inside. I follow suit and shut the door behind us.

The warmth hits us. So does the smell of sex and sweat.

‘Fuck sake, Arch…’ Shaw sighs. ‘What are you doing to that poor girl?’

I stop at Shaw’s side and look down at them both. He’s still balls deep as she lies borderline unconscious and face down on the fur rug before the fire. Her hands are bound behind her back, and her legs spread wide. But it’s the massive wooden cock he has well and truly up her backside that has my brow raised. That and how he’s placed a glass of whiskey on her back and a handful of roasted chestnuts. Like her raised backside is the most convenient little table, and he’s just tucking in and leaving the husks on her lower back.

Shaw drops the logs by the fireplace and walks towards them both.

I feel Poppy slither out from my sleeve onto the table.

She always makes a quick exit when any kind of fucking gets going. She’s a rather prude creature.

I step closer and lower my head so I can see her face. She has a blissful little smile under the mess of her hair.

‘You good, Poppet?’

She giggles and nods before Archie smacks her backside.

‘Oh. She’s fan-fucking-tastic.’

‘He’s knotted in you again, hasn’t he?’

‘Yep,’ she grins.

I raise my brow as I look at Arch, grinning ear to ear, eating another chestnut.

‘Is that cock up her arse… stuck up her arse?’

Laughing, he nods.

‘And how long will your knot be blocking its exit?’

‘Ten minutes or so.’

He gives it a little wiggle, and she moans with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

I sweep her hair from her face and kneel beside her.

She kisses my palm as it passes her lips, and her eyes flutter closed.

Shaw slumps down on the lounge chair with a tired groan.

‘You find my caterpillars?’ Archie asks.

Shaw places the jar on the table.

‘Thanks, man.’

Arch finishes his snacks and finally eases himself and the wooden cock out of her. I lift her up and drape a blanket around her shoulders.

The girl is in a sex coma. Utterly lost to satisfaction and exhaustion. She really is a doll as I lift her and carry her to the chair, where I sit her in my arms by the fire.

She’s fast asleep.

‘How did it go?’ I ask Arch. ‘I felt some anxiety, so I’m guessing you said yes to her request.’

‘Like I’ve ever said no to her or ever will. I draped a loose belt around her throat and put my hand on her. That’s all.’ He takes a deep inhale. ‘And her heart rate went through the roof. I could smell fear seeping from her pores, and she let out this scared little whimper. So I didn’t keep it there long. It was just a gentle touch, but it had a big reaction. I didn’t want her to have a flashback, so I knotted, made her cum until she couldn’t see to distract her, and then ate some chestnuts.’

We all look at her in my arms.

‘She seems determined to overcome it,’ Archie says.

‘She doesn’t need to,’ I state firmly. ‘No one will choke, crush or cut her again.’

We all sit back, a silent acknowledgement that no statement has ever been truer.’

‘So. How are the gifts coming?’ Archie asks in a blatant attempt to change the subject. ‘I’m all done.’ His words drip with smugness.

‘I’m done,’ I shrug.

We both look at Shaw.

‘Fuck off,’ he grumbles.

We both chuckle.

As the fire spits and hisses, I watch her sleep in my arms. My entire reason for living. She saved me from Hel. From servitude to the blood goddess.

I get a thump to my head and see the wooden cock land beside me on the chair. I lift my gaze to see Archie sniggering.

‘Throw that thing at me again, and I’ll shove it up your arse. See how you like it.’

‘I think I would like that very much.’ He winks and gets up, strutting across the room stark naked. As he passes me, he partially shifts so only his tail appears. And he swipes me right across the face with it.

A low growl rumbles from my chest.

‘You guys want some rum?’ he asks as he heads into the kitchen.

Thankfully, when he returns, he’s wearing some trousers.

‘So, this day of celebration,’ Shaw asks, taking a shot of rum. ‘Your Christmas. It was a big deal?’

‘It was for me. I loved it. The winter was boring and dark, so we would celebrate with heat and colour. We would gather around the fire the evening before Christmas day and sing until the moon was high. We would exchange gifts with our loved ones on Christmas morning and then prepare food. As it was cooking, we would find a Fir tree to cut down, bring into our homes and decorate. It would stay there until the start of the new year. We would eat, play games, and the adults would get unbelievably drunk and fuck. A lot. The Alphas were usually very stern and serious, but on these days, they were nothing but joyous and generous. A sense of goodwill hung thick in the air, and the smell of food was constant.’ He sinks back into the seat, a sad sort of happiness lingering in his eyes. ‘All you could hear was laughter and excitement. It felt good inside and out.’

His eyes begin to tear up as he recalls his lost family. I suspect he bought us here hoping to find some of his pack still alive. Maybe he believed a few escaped and managed to hide from the blood coven. But there is no one else here. No more shifters.

A fact I am very grateful for. We need time to heal. To regroup. To learn not to be at war. I have no idea how his pack would react to the three of us turning up with Archie.

‘We’ll make it just as you remember, Archie,’ I tell him. ‘It sounds like fun and we’ll do your traditions proud.’

He looks at her, still sleeping in my arms.

‘My family would have loved her. A real wild one. Feral.’ He wipes away a tear with his shoulder and distracts himself by downing several sips of rum. ‘They wouldn’t have liked my being Mated to her, though. My father especially.’

‘Because she’s not a wolf?’ I ask.

He nods.

‘My father was the alpha of our pack. As his eldest son, I would have been next inline to lead. I would have needed a strong female wolf to be my main bitch and give me lots and lots of pups.’

‘Your main bitch?’ Shaw asks.

‘As Alpha, I would have full access to any woman. As long as she was willing, of course. But I could only father kids with one. They were fierce women. All bite. No bark.’ He raises his brow as he looks at her. ‘Sounds like Pix, to be fair. Maybe he would have approved.’

I run my fingers through her hair as she takes slow breaths.

‘Do you think we can have kids?’ he asks, looking at her wistfully.

‘After the blood curse, who the hell knows,’ Shaw shrugs. ‘I’m not even sure creatures like us can.’ He nods at me. ‘And I’m pretty sure that with all the fucking we’ve been doing, she would be pregnant by now if it was a possibility.’ He actually smiles, seemingly keen on the idea. ‘Imagine some mini versions of us running around.’

I think of that image. That impossible life that we could have.

Shaw and I are as far from mortal as could be. And Archie is a wolf. We’re not compatible that way.

And we’re all so broken, we would make terrible parents.

But maybe. One day. Who knows.

Archie leans forwards.

‘There is another Christmas tradition of my pack,’ he says, scooping up a roasted chestnut and tossing it high before catching it. ‘One, I think, may be extremely fun to try.’