0 comments/ 20030 views/ 3 favorites Shadows By: Sweetlea I waited. The clock on my wall ticked, counting each second of time. Darkness filled the room, telling me it would be soon. I laid under my soft sheets naked, eagerly waiting. I knew there was no need to wear anything. Within moments, clothing would not be necessary. The clock ticked, the hour so close. Already, my nipples were beginning to harden and tighten. Between my legs, I could tell I was becoming extremely warm and quite moist. It seemed time was moving too slowly and then it happened. The clock chimed its sweet melody, gentle music to my ears. The candles I had placed around the room blazed to life. In the corner of my room, I watched the shadows move and begin to take on a human shape. I watched in awe as the features of my dark lover started to become clearer and clearer before me. With purpose in his step, he came to the side of my bed, looking my body over. Slowly, I sat up to meet him. Touching the side of my face, he tilted my head up to look at him. His eyes glowed green in the darkness of the room. He rubbed his thumb along my lips, tracing them. I kissed it and playfully sucked it into my hot mouth. When he leaned over, his raven hair fell, forming a curtain around our faces. Oh so gently, his lips touched mine. I raised my hand to his head, pulling him closer and wove my fingers through his dark hair. His lips left mine, moving down my neck, sending chills throughout my spine. Gently, he pulled the covers down, as I again laid back on the bed. His greedy mouth moved down my neck to my breasts, as he kissed, sucked and licked each hungrily. I gasped, and squirmed underneath him. His hot tongue licked at my nipples making them very hard before sucking each into his hot mouth. The combination of his tongue and mouth seemed to make them even more erect. Without thought, I opened my legs for him. His hand reached between them and he traced the hair on my mound with his fingertips. Slowly, his mouth left my breasts. As he kissed his way down, his fingers slipped between the wet lips of my pussy. He skillfully moved his fingers in and out, the way he knew I enjoyed it most. Within seconds, I was moaning in orgasm, unable to hold the waves of pleasure back. He moved his head between my legs and I felt his tender lips kiss my mound. Eager for a taste, his started to lick my wetness away. I realized he had more than one finger inside me now. I arched my back, granting him access, allowing him to enjoy every bit of my wet pussy. Lightly and repeatedly, his tongue licked at my clit, quickly sending me into another wonderful orgasm. My head was swimming in pure pleasure. I was brought back to reality when he lifted his head. He gently reached for and took my hand, pulling me from the bed to the center of my room. Expecting this might happen, I had laid out a blanket for us before going to bed. Leading me to it, I knelt on the floor as he stood before me. The flickering candle light accented his beautifully shaped muscles. Looking up into his glowing eyes, I began to stroke his perfect cock. It was just the right size and length for me. His cock responded to my touch, quickly becoming hard and filling my hand. I leaned forward, drawing it closer, kissing and sucking his growing cock into my mouth. Using a sensual touch, my hands massaged and played with his balls. He started to groan in delight. I tasted the pre-cum on the head of his dick and hungrily licked it off. There was a slight acidic taste to him, but it was a taste I had learned to enjoy. Pulling his cock from my mouth, he pushed me slightly on the shoulder. He didn't have to tell me, I knew what he wanted and I laid back. Reaching to his side, he withdrew a candle from its holder. Looking into my eyes seconds before, he tilted the candle very slightly, letting the wax drip. The first drops hit my hard nipples. A shot of burning heat penetrated the sensitive skin, then instantly cooled. He continued to pour the wax down my breasts and onto to my stomach. The sensation of the hot wax, then the immediate chilling afterwards, made me shiver. He smiled. This playful distraction was a mere intermission to our lovemaking. I knew from experience he wanted us to last as long as we could. His erection stood hard. I wanted his cock. I wanted it in my pussy, deeply buried. He had a glint of lust in his eyes. He knew I wanted him. Using my need to his advantage, he rubbed his cock in front of me, teasing me with it. My hand went between my legs and I started to finger the wetness there. I tried to touch his cock, which loomed above me, but he would not let me until I made myself cum. Familiar waves of pleasure filled my body as I started to feel another orgasm building within me. I moaned, much louder and with a greater intensity than before, allowing my whole being to enjoy the moment. Satisfied with what he had witnessed, he laid down on the floor beside me. Raising to my knees, I straddled him, sliding his cock between my legs and into my wet pussy. He cupped both of my breasts with his hands, flaking the cooled wax from them with his fingertips. With a gentle rhythm, I started to ride his cock. He moaned and thrust his hips upwards, meeting me. My mind lost in the enjoyment, I felt another orgasm taking me over. My cries, my moans, they came at the verge of a scream, as my pussy pulsated around his hard shaft. He grunted and moaned too, being triggered by my own orgasm. Unconsiously, my body began to brace itself, knowing what was to come next. I felt him tense up and increase his grip on my breasts. His eyes rolled back in pure ecstasy. Followed by a low sound, like a growl that vibrated his body. Thrusting his hips up once more, pushing to the limit, I felt the hot liquid filling me inside, dripping from our joining. Just like the wax, there was an instant of hot, burning heat, soon followed by a coolness. Again, he growled in delight, his fangs glistening before me in the candle light. Still holding his cock between my legs, trying to keep him buried inside me, I leaned over and kissed him. His whole body was now hot against mine. His tongue went deep in my mouth, burning my own. Reluctantly, I pulled away. His green eyes had turned a fiery red from our lovemaking. Just like every night at this moment, I wanted to join him in his world. To go with him when he left my bedroom, when he left me. But, I could not and we both knew it. He pulled me close to him and laid my head on his searing, hot chest. Through my open window, the gray stillness of dawn was becoming visible. Quickly, the candles started to die, flicking out on their own. I grabbed him, trying to hold him as tight as I could. But, he faded, becoming shadow without form, my arms still holding, my hands sliding through his disappearing body, only finding the floor. With a heavy sigh, I laid down and started to count the minutes until my daemon lover would visit me again. Shadows I managed to keep the old Chevy pickup running as it rattled down the winding two track dirt road. The piece of crap was one of my concessions to saving money to buy a piece of the world for myself. The listing for the huge stone house was in a local advertiser, it sounded interesting. Plus it was cheap. Way too cheap. Two stories, piles of rooms, all rock construction and 10 acres? Yep, cheap, way too cheap. Something was fucking wrong with the deal, but it was worth a look. I wanted to know why so I proceeded to jump start my old truck, stuck my spare battery and tools in the back just in case, and headed out on the 180 mile trip to see the property. The distance also bothered me a bit, I run a little one man (well sometimes two but rare) construction company. Hell, I can build anything and have a pretty good following. That was the reason for looking in the first place, I needed a place to be. My ratty apartment didn't cut it anymore, sometimes my landlord would get all snotty when I stacked piles of building materials in his parking lot. Fixing his roof for free once helped, and he reluctantly looked the other way for a year or two. But my business was growing and the stacks in the parking lot were getting bigger. (I also had about 500 pounds of nails and some barrels of sealer that I kept in my apartment, no point in telling him about that.) Time to move on, besides, I had a couple hundred grand tucked away, half of that came in when my Mom passed away. No other relatives, nothing to hold me anywhere. No girl friend to speak of, there was a couple who hung around from time to time and tried to keep me interested, but none of them were the one, that I could see. Well, there was Bonnie, her main claim to fame was she could suck the hide off a Walrus, and she was fun to screw around with. Besides, she had big firm tits she just loved to have me lick. I will be honest, I liked doing that. Bonnie also loved it when I had her down on her back, my solid seven inches pounding away at her. She made a funny "yi yi yi yi!" sound, sometimes that got me to giggling and I would go soft which always pissed her off. But Bonnie was already running to a bit of fat at only 20, and I had met her mother whose behind would make most Elephants jealous. I knew what I was in for if I hooked up with that one. So she was just someone to be with and have fun, and lord we did do that. Yea, I was keeping my mind occupied with thoughts like that, dang long trip in an old truck that was even money to break something halfway anywhere. I stopped and got better directions at a tiny rundown little store, the old woman behind the counter had given me an odd look when asked about the place. She knew exactly which one I was looking for when I said "Stone house." "That place used to be a high class cathouse some 50 years ago." she said. "There was a buncha trouble out there, the Sheriff shut it down. Been just a few folks lived there since." Can't say I liked the sound of that much. Her parting words to me as I opened the door to leave with my bag of snacks didn't do a lot to pump up my confidence either. "Thanks, and....good luck.", was her passing comment. The dusty two track dirt thing that passed for a road wasn't helping my mood any, either, it twisted and turned. The trees alongside seemed to get closer and closer, finally the old truck was almost pushing her way through the hanging branches as they rattled against the cab. Then the road opened into a clearing, overlooked by the huge house up on the hill, surrounded by trees and excess growth. Giving the old Chevy all she had to make a run at the last little upgrade, it chugged and snorted, but managed to claw it's way up and into the yard. I shut it down with a hiss and some clouds of smoke, got out and looked around. They weren't kidding when they said the house was big. The roofs were so steep that if I had to do repairs I would need a fucking skyhook, my big extension ladder would handle the eaves but that was it. The sun was halfway to noon in the sky, a breeze that felt damp was flowing lightly from the west, causing the leaves on the trees to flutter. There was a strange complete silence. Once up to the porch, one look told me to not step in the center of the simple plank steps, I carefully placed my weight close to the edge. Blackberry vines grew right through the open deck style flooring of the porch at one end, the boards were twisted and weatherbeaten. The entire porch looked like it was tacked on afterwards by someone who didn't know how to build, one support stringer for the lean-to type roof actually met in the middle, with two 2 by 4's scabbed onto the sides for added stength. I hate shit like that, I am a builder, my stuff doesn't wiggle. "Well, I see part of the low price." I thought. Reaching for the door, it wasn't locked, even though a key was in my pocket. The door squeaked and complained as I pushed it open, it had been a long time since anyone was here, I could tell that easily. And it was very dark inside, there seemed to be no windows. The only light came from somewhere up high, and it wasn't much. I light my cigarette lighter to help, rolling the little wheel to make the flame reach higher. Strange, the little flame seemed to iluminate the whole room. Then I heard something, looked around. The glow from my lighter cast flickering shadow, but nothing was there. Bare hardwood floors greeted me, over to the right was a huge circular bannister going upstairs. I headed that way, spotting the ornate carvings on the bannister railing. Someone had spent literally hundreds of hours doing them, each carving was in deep relief, detail. Faces, animals, it was a bit like a totem pole, and it was all the way to the top that way. Running my fingers over the fine wood, it was smooth as silk. It hit me that the railing alone was worth a fortune properly marketed on any auction site. Squatting down to inspect the steps, each one was fitted, doweled into place, solid as a rock. I jumped up and down, not a sound. Likeing that and satisfied, I went on up the stairs. The upstairs was more bare hardwood floors, I had expected well-worn. They looked old but fresh, almost unused. There was a broken window pane high up the wall letting in a small ray of light, the rest were intact but dark like they were very dirty. A stain where water had been coming in reached all the way to the floor, forming another stain on the bare wood. Looking closer there were other windows, all high and all dark. At the top of the steps, I looked closer, every window pane appeared to be painted. There was dark sloppy over painting on the windowsills. "Hard to reach those to clean up." I thought, wondering why they were painted over. My 40' extension ladder would handle it though. Wandering around the upstairs, there was a row of bedrooms, and one little washroom halfway down the hall. Nothing spectacular, each room was a carbon copy of the next. There were huge monstrous support beams for the roof, they appeared to be solid hardwood. I made myself a mental note to double check on that if I bought the place. Downstairs, found the kitchen. There was a complete bank of stoves and equipment, enough to put a crew in and feed an army. The one little stove looked well used, but there was five others, all in a row. Someone had used it to feed a crew, or an army, one time or another. A neat walkin storage area was off to the side, handy. Simple shelving in there, except they were hardwood. So far I hadn't found a single piece of plywood in the entire building. I looked for a light switch, there weren't any. Looking up, there were no lights, instead some curved lanterns hung regularly spaced along the walls. I hadn't even asked the real estate lady about lights, the world we live in is modern, lighting is expected. Inspecting the fixtures, each one was solid brass, each had an ornate lense that lifted off. Figures were etched into the glass, it hit me that they were the same style as on the railing. Each design was unique, this was expensive stuff. Had to be done by hand. Searching further, it became obvious the building was powered entirely by gas, except for the huge stone fireplace over by one wall. It was built by the same people who built the house, the stones of the house and fireplace were fitted, not mortered in. This place had taken a long time to build, even if the crew was large and good at what they did. I was beginning to think this place was in a fucking Aztec country or something, almost everything was amazing. Something was wrong, it was way too cheap. I just hadn't discovered why yet. The big gas storage tanks were outside in a small shed, they seemed out of place, brand new. I traced the lines into the house, they had been installed as an afterthought. Each lamp had a line to it, more gas lines ran into the kitchen, feeding the bank of stoves. I thought about the electricity, I had traveled a good 15 miles, maybe a bit more down the dirt track that passed for a road. That was after the little two lane lane country highway and there was a good 20 miles of that. It was going to have to be generators to ever install electric lights. Trying the valve on the big gas storage tank, it turned easily. Clearly new, I was rewarded with a soft hiss as the lines pressurized. Back inside the house, I had one of the lamps lit in short order, a soft yellow glow filtered across the room. Lighting the 2nd lamp, I first heard the quiet mewing sound. It sounded a bit like what I thought I heard when I had lit the lighter, but louder. Looking around, it stopped. It began again while lighting another lamp, again I looked. Nothing. Just dismissed it as a rodent, or cat somewhere, maybe just old house sounds as it moved slightly to warmth from the rising sun. Satisfied, I shut everything down, locking the door with some effort. I made a mental note to bring my oil can next trip. One touch of the key in the old truck surprised me, it roared to life instantly. "Not bad, not bad at all!" I thought. The value of the bare land was more than the asking price. Hell, the 12" X 24" solid Oak stringers that supported the huge roof and 2nd floor would likely bring the asking price if I tore the house down. Sure, stuff to repair, but that is what I did for a living. Room to even house a crew to run the place and work in my construction company, a big kitchen to feed them. Lots of ground to stack building materials, room to put up a shed to build trusses in. Plans were forming in my mind. I went ahead and bought the place, spending damn near every dime. In total confidence. My thoughts were that the owners were likely some out of country bunch or something, all information of them was blanked out on the forms the real estate lady had me sign. I would have normally balked at that, but dollar signs were in my eyes. I just went with the flow, wanting nothing to screw up this deal. The next week I was back, tools, lumber, a pickup load of needed items filling the back. Nice thing about an all cash sale, they are quick. The porch was half repaired when a moving van arrived, three burly guys on board to help me move furnishings and provisions. "This place gives me the spooks!" one of them said. "Yea, it's haunted." They quickly moved everything inside, and left. I finished the porch repairs, went inside. My curiousity was about all the stoves, there was six of them. The small one was huge, the big one looked like someone could roast half a cow in there. In between were flat topped ones, hell, It was possible to get 50 flapjacks going at once on them. One of the grills and the huge oven on the end were still wood fired, the rest had been converted to gas, Why two left wood fired? I really had no idea why. Perhaps once they were used for dealing with a large crew? I figured on selling all of them but the little one. Once the generator was in, the space would be perfect for a refrigerator and maybe a big freezer, room left over for anything. Firing the little stove, I used it to heat up some sandwiches. Nothing like a little heat to help the taste of deli sandwiches. Finishing my meal, I opened a soda, sat back and relaxed. I had expected the place to be cold, but one nice thing about stone is it takes a long time to warm up, but it also takes a long time to cool down. It was a nice toasty temperature inside, the warmth off the walls that had heated up during the day felt good. Darkness was falling, I lit a lamp, then a 2nd one. As I did so, I heard that soft mewing sound again. "What the hell is that?" I wondered. Looking, there was nothing. It always stopped when I turned my head. More lamps, more mewing. It sounded like a kitten, or someone softly crying. As I walked over towards the stairs, a motion out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. Looking, there was nothing. Shaking my head, I turned back, the motion was there again. I stared at the floor where the edge of the light reached, nothing. Back upstairs, I lit the bedroom lamp. The mewing started again, upstairs now. There were more little flickers of motion, always out of the corner of my eye. Something to do with the lamp, reflections? But it was starting to drive me fucking nuts! I went and got my test kit, the noise had to be coming from the gas lines, a leak or something. Everything tested normal, there were no leaks. Finally dismissing it as something in the lamp itself making the noise from heating up, I went to bed. After sleeping solidly for several hours, something woke me. Dreaming of sweet sex, I smiled inside at the memory of the dream. I felt her face as she nuzzled up against my neck, I relaxed and basked in the sensation. Her lips traced down my stomach, my eyes were closed trying to dream, bask in the sensations. Then the terrible stab of pain as she bit down on me. I sat bolt upright, my lower body felt damp. It was pitch black, but I knew no one was in the room with me. I reached down, touched myself, felt the wetness. "Now what the hell, a fucking leak in the roof?" I thought, the wet dream gone from my mind. I climbed out of bed, fumbled around in the dark for my cigarette lighter. It didn't help much. I felt my way across the room to the lamp, turned the valve, lit it. The soft mewing started again, I ignored that, walked back to my bed. I was actually looking up at the roof to see where the water was coming from as I pulled the covers back. Looking down, I went cold with shock. Blood! I looked down at myself, I was bloody. The front of my underwear, my thighs, was soaked in blood! Frightened, I fumbled my way out the door and down the hallway to the bathroom, cursing my stupidity for not bringing a flashlight. The entire house was pitch black, I had to feel my way all the way due to the not yet familiar surroundings, the bit of light from the flame just made shadows. I managed to get the bathroom lamp lit, pulled my underwear down, looking for the cut where the blood was coming from. There wasn't one. I inspected my genitals, stomach, even lifted my testicles and looked. Nothing. Then that mewing sound began again just outside the bathroom. There seemed to be a motion past the open door, right where the light from the lamp reached. I looked but nothing was there. It came back as I looked away. A shudder, then a chill went through me. I washed myself in the cold water, thinking I needed to figure out the heating system for that. Crazy to think of that right then but I did. I left the lamps lit, went back to my bedroom and dressed. As I passed into the hall the hairs on my legs seemed to flare out, from a blast of cold air or a draft or something. My watch read 4 AM. Outside, I climbed into my truck, locked the doors. Someone was screwing with me! It had to be that. Probably they had been living out here, and were pissed at my sbowing up. No other explanation, but I didn't want to confront them in the fucking dark. Attempting to start the truck, it groaned and clicked a few times, that was it. Frightened now, I reached under the seat, felt the handle of my pistol, pulled it out. Somehow that made me feel better, safe, although I didn't have a fucking clue what I was going to shoot at. The sun was shining in my eyes when I woke up, still clutching the pistol. Again the attempt to start the truck, it fired right up, another surprise. Off down the road to town I went. I wasn't driving slow, either. I was going to find that goddamn mewing noise, figure this shit out. Maybe when whoever the asshole was showed up and got a butt full of Rottwieller he would change his mind about things. Besides being a bit scared, I was pissed off. I had passed a kennel that sold animals about 30 miles down the highway from the little store. No one could miss the sign, it was ten feet tall, read, "Donnie's quality pets" in huge letters. A dog could probably root out the source of the noise. Besides, I needed company. Man, did I need company. Spooked was a good word. I pulled into the lot, had to wait a half hour for them to open. Some guy showed up, unlocked the front door, turned and grinned at me. His ears stuck straight out and he was missing most of his teeth. The top of his head was bald, the hair around his ears was long, almost down to his shoulders. Hell, he looked spooky, too. I was just thinking this was swell when he invited me in with that same stupid grin. The place was spotless, even the cages were spotless. The place didn't even smell like animals. I wandered up and down the row of cages, looking for a huge mean fucking dog with slathering fangs. Nothing really struck my fancy, then a little brindle female pit bull caught my eye, gave me a whimper. She sat there with those silly looking droopy eyes those animals have, and made complete eye contact with me. I stopped, held out my fingers close to the cage, she knew a way out of there when she saw it and licked my hand. Her cute little stub of a tail pointed straight up and wagged frantically. "Cat goes with this'n." the guy said. "Cat?" "Yea, them's buddies." Great. I looked, sure enough, there lay a scurvy looking yellow ball of fluff, busy as hell licking it's asshole and ignoring everything. I hate cats. Well, not really hate. Well, yes! I hate cats, they puke on the floor, lick their asses and do nothing but sleep. "Where did you get them?" "Them b'longed to some young feller, got shipped off to war, got hisself blowed up over there, damn shame." Just swell. I started to turn away, the dog sat down and held up it's paw at me. I looked at her looking at me. She won. Just fuck! My idea of a dog right at the moment was some big fucking 150 pound Rottwieller that was mean as hell and I could turn loose with no concerns at all of anything getting close to me. Not some wimpy ass little 40 pound pretend pit bull that licked my hand and liked fucking cats! "The dog's named Sam, cat's just cat, pick yerself sumpin I guess." He grinned, 3 front teeth poking past his upper lip. He knew he had me. Sighing, I told him I would take them, I figured if the dog could at least point out where the noise was coming from, bark at someone who showed up, that would do the job. "So whatcha need a pup fer?" I told him I had bought the stone house, wanted a dog around. He looked at me for a long moment. "T'was some troubles up there years back." he offered. "Some folks come up missin'. Then there was a fire, coupla the ladies got kilt. Sumpin 'bout relatives looking for their missin' folk." He grinned at me for a bit. "Yep, Sheriff shut the place down, damn shame." I paid him and loaded them into my truck, the dog hopped up and parked herself on the seat, tongue hanging out at the idea of being out of that cage. The cat surveyed the situation with a bit of a sniff at my truck, then hopped right in behind. It laid down between the dog's paws, barely satisfied but started licking itself, on it's asshole of course. Shadows Of course. I was going to find out what the hell was going on, so I had some plans for the dog. The motherfucker who was screwing with me was going to get what was coming to him. I was having visions of sticking the barrel of my little .22 caliber pistol right up the guy's fucking nose as I drove. Sam just stuck her head out the window, let her cheeks flap in the breeze. Back at the house, I let the animals run, waited as they familiarized themselves. It didn't take long. One short whistle and Sam was back at my side, the cat was always within a few feet. Once inside the house, the dog selected a spot over by the door, already on gaurd. Went to sleep. The cat curled up by her belly, and went to sleep, too. I went into the kitchen to fix breakfast. We all ate smoked bacon and eggs, the cat just the bacon after flipping it around for awhile to make sure it was dead. I cleaned up, then steeled myself to go back upstairs. I went into my bedroom, half expecting there to be no blood and it would all be just a dream, some figment of my imagination. The sheets were still bloody, whatever happened, it was real. I rolled up the bedding, bagged it for burning, no point in trying to wash them. It hit me then that I hadn't checked that, where was the laundry room? Fuck! More problems. I started looking, no laundry area. I went outside, Sam skipping along at my side ready for more adventure. Fucking cat following along behind. About 100 yards or so from the house I spotted a cover of some kind sticking up. I figured it was a storage locker, for Potatoes and produce, things like that. Lifting the lid, I saw stairs leading down and out of sight into the dark. Fuck that, I wasn't about to go in there in my current frame of mind. On the way back to the house, I looked closely. It registered that the main floor of the house was high enough that there should be a crawl space at least, something. But I had seen no doorway that could be a basement or entrance. Time to search. I went all the way around the main floor, both inside and outside. There weren't even any floor vents, like the place was built right on the ground or on a slab or something. I knew damn good and well it wasn't. Finally, in the pantry off the kitchen, I was looking at the walls, and I realized the shelving seemed to be set back partially into the wall. A tug on the thing showed me why, the whole shelf rotated inwards, a set of steps a full six feet wide led downward. The direction was towards the ones I had seen outside, I suspected it was an underground exit or entrance. But why? Or maybe that was the laundry area? That made sense, easy to take garments out the other way to hang them to dry. Now I was sure it was also a way into the house from outside, that meant that my idea about someone or something fucking with me was right. Feeling better now, I knew that this explained the blood and no cuts or wounds. Some dirty bastard had sneaked into my bedroom and poured blood on me. Trying to scare me away. The idea pissed me off but made me feel better. Likely someone living in the house all this time, upset at my intrusion and trying to frighten me into giving up and leaving. Not fucking likely, I will take on anything face to face, and I planned on finding this son of a bitch and busting his ass! I touched the handle of my pistol stuck in my waistband for reassurance, closed and blocked the shelves so they couldn't be turned. Reassured, I went back to work. I ran my ladder up to reach the broken window, trimmed it out of it's frame and set in the new one. Then I used a scraper to start peeling paint off the rest. I must have worked for hours, by noon I had them passible, some repainting of the sills would make them look fine. I climbed down the ladder, made lunch. I resolved to head into town the next day and stock up on provisions for the animals, too. We had just sat down to eat when I head the sounds again from the main room. The dog went into bristle mode and started growling, the cat took off like a shot out the kitchen door. I got up and followed, the cat was stopped right at the edge of where sunlight touched the floor, every hair on it's body sticking straight out. The sound was much louder in here, and didn't go away when I looked for it. It sounded more like quiet screams of pain than the soft mewing, babylike noises from before. I looked closely, nothing. The dog followed me into the main room, growling, I finally got her to shut up. I turned my head, the mewing began, I looked back just in time to see the cat leap forward. It vanished in midstride! It reappeared a foot or so on the other side of the shadow, laid down flat instantly and panted. The dog ran right up to the edge, hair on it's back straight up, growling. The hair on the back of my neck went up, too. I reached out slowly with my foot, it touched the edge of the light. {She appeared at the foot of my bed, naked as I lay there unable to move. Caught in the moment of awake yet not, I could only watch as she leaned forwards, took my erection in her hands. The blackened flesh of her hands, shriveled and scarred, seemed to tear at me, scratch me. I tried to move, scream, yell out as she leaned forwards and closed the teeth of her mouth over me, I orgasmed, a stream of fire and pain.} A voice was screaming, high pitched little bursts, insane. I realized I was standing with my back against the wall, the dog backed tight against me, growling. The screams were mine. I bolted for the door, I felt the shock of dead cold as I passed from the shadow into the light, then I was outside, running. I finally stopped, fell to my knees, exhausted. I wiped the sudden sweat from my face, my hands came away bloody. I managed to stagger to my truck, looked at my face in the side mirror at my face, nothing. I looked down at my hands, no blood. {Am I going insane?} I climbed into the truck, hit the key. Nothing, dead. Cursing, I slammed my fist against the steering wheel in frustration. I locked the doors. I must have sat there for hours. I know I slept. Mustering my courage, pistol in hand, I went back to the house. I pressed open the front door, the dog and cat were laying on the floor, the dog was licking the cat who seemed to be enjoying it completely. Everything looked perfectly normal. Glancing over at the shadow, it was barely up against the wall now as the sun settled low in the sky. I listened, nothing, no sounds. I tried to concentrate out of the corner of my eye for motion, nothing. Then it hit me! I could see outside! Right through the fucking wall where the sunlight hit! I turned my head, looked again. Nothing there but the wall. All seemed normal again. I braced myself for what I didn't know, walked into the room. I leaned down and petted the dog for a moment, she stuck her tongue out, seeming unconcerned. Fucking dog. I went into the kitchen, left the lamps off, made dinner. We all ate, Sam wandered off into the main room and stretched out, went to sleep. The cat soon joined her. I went to bed, leaving the lamps off. I put the lighter and pistol on the table right by the bed, pushed the door shut, set the sliding bolt. I stretched out and went to sleep. There was no more dreams, I woke the next morning feeling rested. "Overwork." I decided. "Way too much work, I needed the rest." Getting up, I checked my bedding, normal. I dressed, planning a day off, perhaps lay outside in the sun. Drink a beer. I went downstairs, made breakfast. It hit me, where was the damn dog and the cat? I searched the house, nothing. Upset now, I went outside, the dog was lying on the porch with the cat. How in the hell did they get out? I checked the front door, I had to trip the bolt to open it. I went into the kitchen to check the pantry exit, it was still blocked. There was no way out. I tried the truck, it started. I drove to the store, bought several flashlights, spare batteries. Back at the house, I started for the pantry. Pulling the shelves open, I switched on the flashlight. I dropped it instantly as a shock of fire and pain shot through my arm, the bulb shattered as it struck the steps and tumbled into the blackness below. {"It's too much light, use the lamp."} "What?" {"Use the lamp."} I shoved the shelves back, ran from the room. The dog lay on the floor, looked up at me unconcerned, then lay her head back down. I should have gotten one of the fucking Rottwiellers. Grabbing my pistol, I pulled out my lighter, lit it. It took every bit of courage I had to swing the shelves back out, peek below. I could see the bottom of the steps, nothing else. I stepped in, down a couple of steps, peered into the lower basement. Nothing. I could smell something, it was like the smell of old burnt garbage. Touching the railing, it felt cold and slimy, I jerked my hand back. Looking down, my palm was black with what looked like wet soot. Stepping back into the pantry, I shoved the shelf into place, blocked it. Then I sat down in one of the chairs, trying to think. Did I need to see a Doctor? I felt myself dozing, tried to fight it to no avail. I woke up to a stab of pain...no, cold in my foot, jerked it back. Looking down I realized that the fading sun had allowed it's lower rays streaming in from the high windows to reach my feet. The noises seemed to be all around me, quiet but like someone whimpering in pain. Now I KNEW it had to do with the light. I went and got some blankets, keeping my arms carefully behind them, blocked the windows. {"Ahhhh....Thank you."} I almost fell off the ladder. {"Use the lamp."} No fucking way. "Who are you?" I said, to the walls. {"It's been so long, use the lamp."} "Who ARE you?" I demanded. "Why the lamps?" {"I live here, the Sun burns me, it's too much."} the voice in my head was female, sad, now childlike. "Where ARE you?" I demanded again. {"I live here, under the house. The light lets me out. Please. Let me out, I won't hurt you. It's been so long."} Pleading, friendly now. All right. I was going to get to the bottom of this, I was somehow more pissed off now than scared. I lit one lamp, waited. {"One more, please."} her voice sounded bright, happy. I lit the 2nd lamp. The soft mewing sounded, Sam came up growling fiercely, looking around for something to attack. "Quiet!" Sam obeyed, reluctantly, then lay down, deep murmers of distrust coming from her periodically. Fucking dog. I waited, allowing my eyes to concentrate on the edge of the light without looking. I could almost see the motion. {"Touch the light.") "NO!" {"Touch the light, It won't hurt you."} insistant now. Against all better judgement or reason, I carefully reached out, braced for a stab of pain. {My body lay frozen, unable to move. I could see her mouth open, then close over my erection, I could only feel. Her thin face smiled at me, her hands were dark, they looked burned. Her small breasts hung on her naked chest like flaps. I felt my body respond in spite of my sudden fear, I erupted in a torrent of fire and pain. I could move my eyes, I looked down at the torn flesh of my abdomen and genitals, blood was everywhere. I screamed and screamed.} I woke up laying on my bed, my mouth open trying to scream, no sound coming out. I could not move. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw motion. There was several of them, all seemed burned, skeleton like. {"This one was easy."} one said to the other. {The young ones always are."} said the woman. They grabbed my feet, pulled me off the bed onto the floor, dragged me down to the kitchen. I felt the heat from the big oven. Now I knew what the big oven was for. {You said you weren't going to hurt me."} I screamed the words in my mind, my mouth open, no way to make a sound. {"We lied."} Jan hung up the phone at the real estate office. "Hey, Jerry! That stone house is back on the market!" "The hooker house? Again? What the fuck is it with that place? This is the third time this year." "Yeah, and they always call it in by phone, with account numbers to deposit to." "Strange. Oh well, maybe that young couple we were talking to last time are still interested." "Yeah, maybe. Wanna go get lunch?" MGM Shadows Cindy's crying but it ain't no use, She's got a habit and she can't get loose. - Tom Paxton * There is inside the most innocent of us, a darkness that we are reluctant to admit to. Each of us is like a coin, double sided, or maybe like a jewel, where only certain parts catch the light and are visible, not only to others, but often to ourselves. The remainder hides in the dark. I was brought up in what today seems to be a rather old fashioned way, in that from an early age it was drummed into me that boys did not hit girls, men did not hit women. Indeed, this was so often repeated to me in my childhood that even today it forms a major part of my psychological make up. I have never raised my hand to a woman in my life, and I don't believe that I ever could unless it was in extreme self defence and I was literally in fear of being killed or seriously injured. Likewise, I have nothing but contempt for those men who think that it's alright to slap a woman around, keep them in line, because to me these inadequate cowards are not real men, however well muscled they may be, they are just small schoolyard bullies hiding behind their fists with someone weaker than themselves. Women, to me, are there to be treated as ladies unless they demonstrate themselves to be something else. Unfortunately, an increasing number of modern women seem hell bent on proving themselves to be anything but ladies, with their foul mouths and beer swilling habits, their insistence on the right to tattoo their bodies and dress like hookers, but still be treated with respect. I blame feminism, but I digress here. This is not about women in general, but about one particular woman. I said earlier that I had never hit a woman in my life. This is not strictly true, I have never used violence against a woman for the sake of it, or because of my own inadequacies, but there was one incident, one brief moment, when things slipped and I looked deep into the shadows. I met Cindy at a party, one of those bring a bottle affairs in a somewhat upmarket part of town, where the hosts were not quite high enough up the social ladder to serve canapés and cocktails but not quite in the cheap wine and spin a bottle category either. They were a young couple climbing the social ladder, but with their feet still on one of the lower rungs, and this was a housewarming party after they had pooled their joint salaries to afford the best that they could, even though it would mean living on beans for a few years. The party was pretty mediocre, as parties go. I knew few of the people there, and most of them bored me. It was while I was wandering rather aimlessly from room to room, looking for something to capture my attention, that I found myself chatting to Cindy. She'd arrived with a friend, but the friend had soon found an unattached man to flutter her eyelashes at, and, like myself, Cindy was left at something of a loose end. She intrigued me from the start. She was probably in her mid twenties, but with a look in her eyes that said she was much older inside than out. She was attractive enough, with a mop of dark curly hair falling naturally over her shoulders, smartly but casually dressed in a well cut trouser suit that showed off her trim figure to perfection, and outwardly friendly. There was, however, an air about her, a feeling similar to the one that you get when looking through the bars at a caged animal. I was simultaneously attracted but also slightly repelled by her, and I couldn't quite put my finger on the source of my unease. In the end, the attraction won, for a while at least. She was as bored with the party as I was, and eager for company, so we talked and laughed together for a while, then as the party broke up we exchanged phone numbers and agreed to meet up for a drink together sometime. I phoned her a few days later and we began seeing each other regularly, usually going to quiet bars or small cosy restaurants. I liked her a lot, but always I was aware of that brittle edge to her, that tautness in her manner that made me think before I spoke every time. She shared an apartment with another girl, so if we wanted to be alone we went to my place. We didn't sleep together for a while, there was something about her that made me wary of even broaching the subject, but we enjoyed each other's company and she always kissed me passionately when she left to go home to her own place. It wasn't until we'd spent an evening on the couch together drinking wine and watching a movie that we began to get rather hot with each other, and I asked her if she'd like to take it further, to stay the night, or at least to go to bed with me. She broke off from the clinch and looked at me, not in a shy way, or nervous, more a calculating look, as if she was seeing me for the first time and weighing me up. "O.K." she said "If you're sure." This was the kind of thing I usually said to the women, so I was a bit surprised. I mean guys are supposed to be up for it all the time, right? And here she was, treating me like I was a shy virgin or something. I didn't say anything, just kissed her and led her into the bedroom. Now I am not one to brag, but I have had my fair share of fun between the sheets and I like to think that I know what I'm doing when it comes to pleasuring a woman. I know where to stroke, where to kiss, where to lick and nuzzle. I can be slow and gentle or fast and passionate; I know exactly how to push the right buttons to turn on the responses. But nothing worked with Cindy. Absolutely nothing. But I'm getting ahead of myself. First I have to tell you about the marks. I started to gently undress her, but she pushed me away and stripped off her clothes herself in an almost bored way. When she was completely naked, she turned to face me, and then turned her back to me, and I sucked my breath in sharply. She was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, the most perfect body that I have seen in the flesh. She was also covered in marks, like old small scars, on her back, buttocks, thighs, legs, breasts. They were hardly noticeable unless you were really looking for them, but after you'd seen a few then more and more would become obvious. "What the hell happened?" I asked "Were you in some sort of accident?" "No, nothing like that," she replied quietly "I'll tell you about it some other time, OK? Meanwhile don't worry about it, just come to bed and enjoy me." So we went to bed, but I can't say I really enjoyed it. Oh sure, we had sex, and I petted her, kissed and caressed her nipples, stroked her clitoris with my fingers then went down on her and tongued her wet slit as she lay back, and I entered her and rode her welcoming hips, thrusting my cock into her with long, slow strokes, gradually building to a passionate gallop and emptying my hot cum deep into her as she bucked and writhed under me. But all the while I was aware that something was missing. For a start, she didn't cum herself, although she encouraged me to. She seemed to enjoy it, but in a detached way, and although she made all the right moves there seemed to be no passion in it, no fire. I was puzzled to hell. Usually the women I slept with gave far more of a response, and the ones who couldn't, or didn't, generally wouldn't go to bed with me anyhow. Over the next couple of weeks we went to bed several more times, trying different positions, exploring each other, but still she didn't orgasm with me. I got a better look at her body too, and realised that the small marks were indeed old scars. I still had no idea what had made them though. It was maybe two or three weeks after our first sexual session that she opened up to me, but that was after a more than usually successful encounter. "John," she asked as we undressed "do you think you could be a bit...well...rougher?" "How rough?" I asked. There had been one or two who liked me to fuck them hard and fast rather than have long slow foreplay followed by gentle love making. If that was what turned her on, I was OK with it. "Could you spank me maybe?" she asked. "Spank you? Well I'm not really into that but sure, if you want me to, I could give it a try." "Great!" she answered, and making me sit naked on the bed, she bent herself over my knee, her plump bottom raised over my lap, ivory pink and inviting. "Come on then! Spank me John." She said excitedly. I raised my right hand and gave her a playful open palm slap on her right buttock. "No!" she said, "Harder!" I smacked her again, a little more power behind it. "Harder! Really hard! Please!" I looked at her naked back for a moment, wondering, then I thought "O.K, if that's what you want." And I brought my hand down hard, a stinging blow that cracked like a pistol shot on her bare ass. She wriggled and hissed "Yes! Oh yes! More please!" I smacked her again, then again, and she began to grunt to the blows, but still urging me to slap harder. I brought my palm down across her naked backside over and over, until my hand stung and her buttocks glowed red, and she became more and more excited as the spanking went on, her cries of pleasure becoming louder and louder, until suddenly she said "Enough! Quick, on the bed, quick!" We climbed naked onto the bed, and she pushed me down and crouching over me, she bent and began to suck and tongue my already hard cock, thrusting it so deep down her throat she almost gagged, stimulating me to a steel hard erection, but before I came in her mouth she flung herself back and said "Now! Fuck me! Fuck me really hard!" And so I did, thrusting into her hard and fast as she bucked and writhed under me, moaning and crying like an animal, until in what seemed like seconds I came in a massive orgasm, feeling my hot cum spurt into her and as it did she cried out and I knew that for the first time with me she had climaxed too, her nails digging deep into my back and her legs wrapped around me, pulling me deep into her as her sore bottom bounced on the mattress. I threw my head back and moaned with sheer pleasure as I emptied myself inside her. Afterwards, as we lay side by side, she rolled to face me and said "You once asked me about these marks, still want to know? You might regret it if I tell you." "Yes, I still want to know." I answered, thinking that nothing she could tell me would bother me that much. The next thing she said took me by surprise, however. "When was your first sexual experience John?" she asked me. "What? My first? Well, depends how you mean it. First kiss? First petting session? First full sex?" "Anything." "Well, I guess I got interested in girls around 14 years old, had my first kiss at 15, first petting session about 16 and lost my virginity just turned 18. Why?" "Hmmmm. Want to know how old I was?" she asked. "Yes, if you want to tell me." "Eleven." "What? How? Who?" I managed to choke out eventually. "I lost my virginity to my father at eleven years old, he raped me." She answered, totally matter of fact, as if she was discussing the weather. "Jesus Christ! Did you tell anyone? Did they lock the bastard up?" "No. I never told anyone until now. I'll tell you how it happened. One day, he took me down into the basement, stripped me naked and chained me to the wall. Then he got a whip, and he flogged me until I was barely conscious, then he took my virginity. Afterwards he made me an ice cream sundae. He knew how much I loved them." "Dear God! Why didn't you tell someone? Your mother? Anyone at all!" "Oh my mother knew. She was there watching." "She watched? Your own mother? She watched him do this to her child? What kind of people were they?" "Oh they were good people. They still are. It's just how he is, it's his way. That was just the first time, after that it was pretty regular, whipping me and then having sex with me." "Cindy!" I was yelling by now "He's a monster, a paedophile, a sadist, you have to go to the police! He has to be punished!" "Of course some people would see him like that," she said "but he's a good man really, a wonderful father. Anyhow, all he did was introduce me to a kind of sex that I grew to love and need." By this time my head was spinning, I was barely aware of having any logical thought left, it was as if she'd punched me hard to the jaw, I felt stunned and sick. Still she went on talking. "This went on all through my childhood and teens. After a while he brought my brother into these sessions too. They would take turns to whip me and have sex with me, because that's the way it is with them, the men dominate and the women submit. It's best really. Men are stronger than women." She paused for a moment, then went on. "After I left home, I felt very lost for a while. I turned to drugs, slept rough, picked up guys in bars for sex, took them to motels and had them hit me, harder the better. It was the only way I could enjoy the kind of sex I craved all the time. It was dangerous, of course. I'm lucky I never got badly hurt or killed. I hit rock bottom, really ended up in the gutter. One day I looked at myself and realised if I didn't do something I wasn't going to see another year out. It took a hell of a lot of effort, but I got off drugs, cleaned myself up, found a job and a place to live, and here I am now, an outwardly respectable member of society. Ironic, really, don't you think?" To be honest, by this point I didn't know what to think. "Problem is," she went on "I still have the urges, still need the pain, it's like a drug I can't kick. That's why I need someone like you, John, somebody I can trust, somebody who will treat me the way I want even if he doesn't really enjoy it. Will you do that for me John? Help me? Give me what I need?" "Cindy! I just don't know if I can. This is all totally horrendous to me! Your parents and brother are monsters!" "No, they aren't," she said, "its just their way. They made me like I am, programmed me if you like, and they love me for it, and I love them. There's no harm done." She looked me in the eyes, her fingers gently brushing the hair on my chest. She could see the look on my face and it seemed to amuse her if anything. "You've never met anyone like me before, have you John?" she asked. "What are you thinking? Freak? Weirdo? Pervert? Oh yes, I'm all of those things and more. But I do nobody else any harm, it's my body, my pain, and I enjoy being what I am. All I'm asking you to do is to help me to be like this safely." "So those marks," I said "they are from the abuse?" "Oh John, don't think of it as abuse. But yes they are. My father tried very hard not to permanently mark me, he was very careful, but nobody is a machine, when you are whipped over and over for years then there will be the odd time when the lash bites just a bit too deeply, cuts the skin. Over time it mounts up. I don't mind. They remind me of how much he loves me." I didn't say much more before she left that evening, I just muttered some half hearted agreement to try to do the kind of things that she craved for. I hoped that she wouldn't push it any further, I was still in a state of shock from what she'd told me, but a couple of days later she arrived at my place in the early evening carrying a hold all. "I brought a few things for us to try." She said eagerly, and she emptied out a collection of straps, gags, handcuffs, and things that I didn't recognise but which made me shudder to look at. "Of course we don't have to get into all this stuff straight away." She went on "I know you're new to this, so I thought we'd start out slowly, and work up to the real heavy stuff over time. We'll just go with this for tonight, if that's OK with you." And with that she picked up a riding crop, heavy brown leather with a plaited shaft about two feet long. "You can just use this on me for now." She said, and vanished into the bedroom. I followed her with a heavy heart, wishing that this wasn't happening. She piled a couple of pillows in the centre of the bed, then quickly stripping naked she draped herself over them, face down, the pillows under her hips so her buttocks stood up higher than the rest of her. "OK John, take the whip and use it on me." She said "Once you've got the knack you'll probably be able to make me cum just with the pain alone, then I'll take care of you afterwards. Just hit me anywhere, space the blows, and try not to break the skin." I picked up the crop, stood over her, but didn't raise it. "Oh come on!" she said impatiently "You know it's what I want." I hefted the whip in my hand, took reluctant aim, and brought it down sharply across her upper back. She wriggled and gasped. "Not bad," she said "but harder than that please." I lifted the crop again and struck her across her pert ass with a loud smack. She wriggled again. "Better, but even harder John. I'll say if you go too far." I slashed the crop down a third time, very hard across the twin mounds of her bottom, and immediately a bright red line blossomed across them. She drew her breath in sharply. Again I brought the whip down hard, and again, and again. Red wheals were now criss-crossing her buttocks and she began to moan, not in pain but with pleasure, like a woman being sensually stroked by a skilful lover. I whipped her again, seeing the ivory skin flush where the crop landed. Her moaning grew louder, and she began to wriggle her hips on the pillows. Suddenly I realised that this was exciting me. I could feel that I had an erection, that I was getting aroused by flogging her naked body. It brought me to my senses. With a shudder of self disgust, I threw the whip into the corner. "I'm sorry Cindy," I said "but I can't do this. It's not me. I can't handle it." She looked up at me with disappointment written across her face. Silently she got up and dressed, and gathering up her things, she made for the door. As she reached it she turned. "I'm sorry too John. I shouldn't have put you through that. I still need this though, and if I can't get it from you, then I'll have to find it somewhere else." And then she was gone. I never expected to see her again, but I did, just once, for a short time. It was about two weeks later. My phone rang, and when I picked it up I heard her familiar voice. "Hi! It's your friendly neighbourhood pervert." "Cindy! How are you? It's good to hear from you." "Thanks John. Look, I need a favour, somewhere to stay for a few days. Can I crash at your place? I won't be any trouble, I promise." "Of course you can," I heard myself saying, "but what's wrong with your own apartment?" "I'll explain when I get there." She said. Half an hour later she turned up, carrying a small case of clothes. She looked ill, there were dark bags under her eyes and a fragile air about her, but she smiled brightly when I opened the door to her. "Hi," she said, stepping inside "I've been out of town for a few days. I went to visit my family." Warning bells began to ring in my head. "Oh yes!" I said "Did you enjoy it?" "Oh wow yes. I'd almost forgotten how much we love each other. It was a great weekend. I had a wonderful time, we all did. Look, is it alright if I take a shower? I think I need one." "Sure," I said "go ahead." and with that she stripped off in front of me. The word "shy" wasn't in Cindy's dictionary. As she pulled her clothes off, my heart lurched. Her body was covered in red lines, whip marks, from her shoulders to the backs of her thighs and some curling around her sides and onto her breasts and belly. The inside of each thigh was a mass of bruises. "Dear God Cindy!" I cried. "Now you know why I want to stay here for a while John. My room mate is a nice girl but she doesn't know about my......habits, shall we say....and she'd freak out if she saw this. Just let me stay until the marks fade, four or five days should be enough." Shadows So of course I let her stay. We shared the same bed, but there was no sex, somehow the thought of making love to a girl who'd recently been flogged and penetrated by her father and brother wasn't very appealing. Instead I just held her tortured body close as she slept, wondering what the hell I'd got myself into. A few days later she left to go back to her own place. As she was leaving, she put her hand up and gently stroked my cheek. "Poor John," she said "poor sweet normal John. It was stupid of me to think that I could ever make you into someone like me. I'm stupid and selfish. Thanks for putting up with me." She gave me a swift kiss, and then she was gone. It was the last time that I ever saw her in the flesh. I heard through friends that she'd moved out of her shared apartment, after that she dropped off my radar completely, but it wasn't the last I ever heard about her. A year went by,and then one day a face leaped out at me from the front of a newspaper. Cindy's face. She was dead. She'd been murdered. A cold fist reached into my heart and closed over it. The police never revealed details about how she died, but I had a friend or two in the right places, and I had them find out for me. She'd last been seen leaving a bar with a man she'd met there. She was found a few hours later. It wasn't pleasant hearing. She'd been beaten to a pulp, there were cigarette burns to her breasts and genitals, she'd been raped and sodomised and finally her throat had been slashed open with a piece of broken glass. She'd bled to death on a piece of filthy waste ground surrounded by dog shit and condoms and used needles. The post mortem showed that she had alcohol and heroin in her blood. They never got anyone for it. I doubt if they looked very hard. To the police, she was just another dead junkie; they had more important things to do. She'd picked up the wrong guy this time, one whose limits were far beyond her own, and she'd paid the price. I didn't go to the funeral. It wasn't that I didn't want to, it was just that I knew that if I did I'd take a baseball bat and her father, or her brother, or both, would end up on life support and I'd be in jail, and what would be the point, it wouldn't bring Cindy back. She had gone on to a place where there was no more pain, where nobody would ever use or abuse her again. I hoped that she was at peace. I'm not a religious man, but if there is a God, which I very much doubt, then I hope that he has a special place for people like her, the ones who have been twisted and distorted by others who were supposed to love them and care for them. Cindy left me with a legacy. One that I would rather not have. For a few moments in time she shone a ray of light into a dark room inside me, and I didn't like what I saw writhing and crawling in there. She awoke something that won't go back to sleep. There are times when I see a pretty girl and before I can check myself I imagine her tied to a post, naked and screaming, lash marks crossing her body and the whip heavy in my hand. We all have that dark side, it only need awakening. There are times when we look in a mirror and a stranger gazes back at us. We think that we know ourselves, that we are creatures of sanity and logic, but in reality we are full of smoke and dreams. Because we cannot see our demons does not mean that they don't stand behind our shoulder. I know that mine do. They cannot control me, make me give in to them, because as I said at the beginning, I was brought up to have an abhorrence for hurting a woman, yet even inside me the blackness lurks, awaiting it's chance. Cindy would have understood this. She touched me, and that touch changed me forever. I pray for her soul to a God that I don't even believe in. May he answer for the sake of us all. Shadows For my beautiful Natalie, my first love.. I shall never forget you... A shadow.. Shadow's... the perfect combination of Light and Darkness, intertwining the two so beautifully that you realize that one cannot live without the other... this.. is the small glance into my soul... A Nightshadow is different than a day shadow of course but in order to fully understand you must fully also understand the differences between darkness and light.... pure Light.. is bright, it is warm.. it is inviting. Like the sweet pleasure rolling through a girls cunt during an orgasm, or the warmth of an Dom's cock being engulfed in a subs mouth, or even the gentle afterglow of being lashed with a cat o tails... you wish to to stay with you. However, light can also be harsh.. too much of it can cause burns, too much it hurts your eyes blinding you, then there is no gentle warmth only searing pain... Darkness... its cold, it is the very absence of light. It is there to shelter all that is commonly referred to as evil or dark... pain, misery, hurt.. however the difference is that the Light found in darkness is not harsh at all... the gentle touch of the moon.. the quiet soft twinkles of the stars above. But.. one cannot exist without the other. Now then a shadow is formed when there is something that blocks the light- forming darkness. Light can often be found inside of a shadow, as well as around the outside though.... Now a Dayshadow has the tendency to be warm and inviting. It's often colored gray, having the tendency to tread the line of the vanilla side, which is all fun and dandy of course, but it is not Me. Do not ever mistake me for a Dayshadow, for I am a Dom, who's knowledge goes far beyond the physical form of whips and chains even though those are fun and all.. however my knowledge can extend beyond that, burrowing deep within one's mind. Nightshadow's are different.. they are formed in the pitches black areas of Night, usually just after the sun is set. We enjoy the gentle lingering warmth leftover from the sunlight especially during a hot summer evening. Warm at first we are extremely playful but as the Night continues some of Us lose our heat and become quite cold and foreboding... This Nightshadow was lucky, for he was formed in the moonlight upon the private beach one night with His beautiful girlfriend.. the pounding surf in their ears... the Moon full in all her glory.. yet still the Darkness was thick enough to still see the beautiful stars stretched across the Milky Ways arm held within Her embrace... It was a simple request that she asked after they had completed a round of hard sex.. she was eating her dinner that He so expertly and thoughtfully prepared for her- the silly habit, needing something to eat after a good sexual romp... as she looked up... she asked.. "David... can... you give me a spanking?" Of course He was taken aback for a moment, having been raised to never hit another woman.. however eventually He agreed to her request.. He gave her a spanking- one that both elicited tears of both pain and pleasure from her.. and it was in that moment.. under the Moon and stars that He slapped her bottom one more time, sending her over the edge into the endless pit of pleasure that a new Nightshadow was born. That night was the first of many taken on that beach as the Darkness helped form their relationship, mold it over the years until one final night nearly 2 full years later to the day.. under the same Moon and stars- He asked her to be His sub.. and He collared her, thus completing the transformation. The unusual characteristics of this particular Nightshadow's birth were several in that a Nightshadow generally takes on the characteristics of the elements around Him when He is born... in this case, it was a warm summer evening, which means that his personality is warm.. inviting.. the full starts gently twinkling show in His eyes time and time again... the soft light of the Moon bathing everything in Her silver light, showing kindness and gentleness to everything in Her touch, much in the same was is He. The ever ebbing ocean flowing, ever so patient not caring where She goes either in the same way His patience is long... however much like the Sea which can change at any given moment, so can His patience under enough pressure. However this Nightshadow's life is not without pain... two years ago He had planned something special.. a trip to that very beach with the intention of proposing to His sub, His slave.. His pet.. His love.. He wished to marry her, sealing the T/two of T/them together here in earth as well as in the Heavens above.. He sent her out of the house to go and obtain a bottle of wine that evening before they were to leave so that He could finish preparing the meal along with the ring inside so that He might show His undying love for her.... Sadly Fate decided to show Her face and have other plans... and so She took Natalie from David. At approximately 7:52 PM on April 22nd her car was struck head on by another oncoming car- the driver of the other car nearly having twice the legal blood alcohol limit. Natalie died upon impact.. the other driver survived and received a mere 10 years for vehicular manslaughter. Since that date Nightshadow's Moon has been quiet.. the stars stopped blinking.. the tide went out and the heat dissipated from His life. For two years He has wandered in the pure Darkness mourning His loss of His love... however as of recently slowly the Moon has returned and with it the warmth and ocean.. the stars twinkling in their place. So as you can see- a proper Nightshadow is filled.. yes with pain and darkness, however also with gentle light that fills the area.. with warmth to gently wrap around you and with a soul which like a sea instills peace. He is a Dom.. born out of Darkness and Light.. fire and water. ~Nightshadow Shadows The post office was crowded a swarm of people intent on not being noticed, and in not noticing those around them. This, I would soon discover, was to my benefit. Just minutes earlier I was one of them, here only out of necessity, wanting to take care of my postal business, and then return to the real world. But then I saw her. In an instant I knew I was not about to get the stamp I needed from a machine; a machine that lacked the smile, the eyes, the look... the subtle sexiness which reached out from her and grabbed me the moment my eyes glanced her way. No, if I were going to get a stamp, it would not be from a machine. In fact, it not only would not be from a machine, but it would also not be from any of the other workers toiling behind the counter. I got in line. I was not originally in any particular hurry. It was my lunch break, and I was about to begin a long walk as soon as I got my stamp and my letter mailed. But as I watched her, I knew I couldn't wait in that interminable line, nor could I take the chance of not getting called to her location. I began to fidget, at first unconsciously, but then with an idea in mind. I had noticed that she would occasionally look up to check out the status of the line. I was intent on drawing her attention to my plight. I fidgeted more, I fixed my gaze on her... and I willed her to look my way. Seconds passed, but seemed like minutes piling upon minutes building into hours. She looked up again, drew her gaze across the crowd, and then stopped as her eyes caught mine. My eyes were locked on hers, and they pleaded with her as my body rocked restlessly. She looked away for a second, and then back, but in that moment in which I thought I had lost my chance, my urgency turned to near panic. As she returned her gaze, she noticed this, and a confused look crept into her eyes and on her mouth. I waited. She was just finishing up with a customer at her window. As he walked away, she looked at me again for a second, and then pulled out a closed sign, which she placed, on the counter. I froze as she walked away from her window, not sure where she were going. She came out from behind the counter, but still away from the line of people, and then motioned for me. I shuffled out of line, trying not to draw any extra attention to myself, and approached her. As I walked up to her, she smiled, and asked if there was anything wrong. I looked down for a second, not having thought this far ahead, trying to think of something to say. My mind was a whirl, the panic having been replaced by confusion, and now nervousness at being so close to her. Not being able to think of anything, I began babbling, not sure if I was making any sense. "I'm sorry," I began. "I just needed a stamp..." and I held out my letter as evidence, "... and I was going to get one from the machine but then I saw you, and, well, I'm not sure what I wanted except that I knew I had to be near you and hear you say something even if it was only to get a stamp..." I kept on almost unintelligibly as I shuffled my feet, "... and I wasn't sure if I was going to get called by you..." And then I stopped, frozen, not sure where to go from there. Then I noticed a slight grin on her face, and noticed her gaze had dropped from my face, to my loose blouse barely covering my breasts. I looked down, and realized that while I was talking, I had inadvertently popped the top button. I blushed, and looked down but off to the side, not wanting to draw any more attention to my predicament. Then I heard her giggle. I looked back up at her, and saw that her smile had returned. "I'm flattered," she said, as she looked me directly in my eyes. I paused for a moment, and as the blood began its retreat from my face, I too smiled, and replied, "You should be." We stared at each other, still smiling, wondering what to do next. She glanced at the people in line, and at her fellow workers, all of whom still seemed contently wrapped up in their own worlds. "Follow me," she said with some urgency, and she turned and walked towards a door marked Employees Only. As soon as I got through the door, she pushed me against the wall, her hand found the tiny bulge inside my bra and squeezed it firmly through the thin fabric, and with her other hand she reached up and pulled my head down towards hers, until our lips met in a demanding, hurried kiss. Instinctively, my hands wrapped around her, slid down her back, and grabbed aggressively at her ass, pulling her to me as I warmed under the caresses of her fingers. Her mouth burned against mine as she kissed me harder, her hand at the back of my head pulling at me incessantly. Just as her tongue began slipping into my mouth, just as her hand had begun inching upward in order to find its way under my skirt, she heard her name spoken by someone outside the room. It was her supervisor, out at the counter watching the line grow longer and more restless, asking her coworkers where she was. She pulled away from me slowly, told me to wait, and with one last squeeze she went out a second door that opened to the employee side of the counter area. I heard her mumble some apology to her supervisor before returning to her position at the counter, just a few feet from the room in which she had left me. When I heard her boss return to the office, I peaked out from the door, and watched her. She sat at a stool behind a high, old-fashioned counter, motioning one customer after another to her spot. I knew she could feel my gaze as it wandered over her body. She stole furtive glances in my direction during those brief moments between customers, but it wasn't enough. I could see in her the same frustrated, urgent fidgeting that I had so recently exhibited. I wanted her. Suddenly, there was a loud crash at the opposite corner of the lobby from where she sat. Someone had accidentally knocked a display rack from a shelf. Without thinking, as everyone's attention was momentarily focused on the commotion, I sneaked out of the room, made my way to where she sat, and knelt down under the counter directly in front of her. She looked down at me, panicked slightly, and started to say something to me. With a smile, an eager look in my eyes, and a finger at my lips, I convinced her to remain quiet, and continue her work. When the commotion had died down, she motioned the next customer forward, and continued with what she was doing, occasionally stealing glances below her. For a while, I just sat there, watching her, listening to her, wanting her. I sat back and leaned against the wall of the counter. As I let my gaze travel up the length of her legs, to where her thighs met just above the hem of her skirt, I reached into my blouse, and slowly, began to unbutton it. When she looked down again, I was slowly stroking myself, and I smiled up at her mischievously. She was startled at first, and unsure of what to do. But as she watched my hand slowly tease my nipples, a grin crept onto her face, and she gave me a knowing look. I continued to play as she continued working. And as she did, she began slowly parting her legs in front of me, until finally I caught my first glimpse of the white, lace underwear that so delicately covered the flesh that I had already begun planning to taste, to devour. While continuing to play myself with one hand, I reached out and began running my other hand over her legs - warm, soft, silky - that were parted as wide as her skirt would allow. She caught her breath at the first touch, breathing in quickly, and jumping slightly on her stool. The customer at the counter brought her attention back to work with an inquiry as to whether she was all right. She muttered an embarrassed apology, said she was fine, and carried on with her work, as I proceeded to let my hand slide further up her legs. I could feel her fidget slightly as my hand caressed the soft skin of her legs, and I could hear in her voice that she was struggling to keep her composure. All of this only heightened my excitment. She looked down again as the most recent customer was walking away, and before the next approached her window. She saw that I was now on my knees, my blouse completely opened. My eyes were fixed on her panties, and what lie just behind. My hand was high up on the inside of her thigh, inching ever so closely to the edge of the white cotton that stood between my imagination, and my lips. As an older woman approached her window, walking delicately and, fortunately for us, slowly, she slid off of her stool for a moment, and moved it closer to the counter. I reached up quickly, pulling her panties down over her hips and off her legs at the same time she was pulling herself back onto the stool, this time leaving herself perched as near to the edge as possible. As she readjusted, and just as the woman got to her window, I pulled the panties from her completely, her feet shuffling as inconspicuously as possible in an effort to assist me. A package could be heard sliding across the counter above me, along with the inquiries as to how much the different modes of delivery would cost. My new friend took the package, and began to weigh and calculate the different charges. As she did, I took up the manipulations where I had left off, stroking myself with her warm, soft underwear. Kneeling in front of her, with my free hand, I pushed her skirt up so that it was bunched just below where she sat on the stool, and gently pushed her legs apart. For a moment, I just looked at her, intoxicated by the sight of beckoning lips just barely hidden within the soft, blonde curls that only moments ago poked out teasingly from the edges of her underwear. I then moved forward, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath, the intoxicating scent reaching out and pulling me forward. She squirmed just a bit as she felt my hand brush across the soft patch of hair, my fingers gently pulling apart the warm, slightly swollen lips of her pussy to expose the pink folds within. But then her eyes fell shut lightly, instinctively, and a soft sigh escaped her mouth as she felt my breath adding to the warmth that was already building within her. At the first touch of my tongue, she let out a louder sigh, and reached for the edge of the counter with both hands to steady her. Then she froze, and for a moment she blanked out everything from her mind, except for the sensations that were coming from between her legs. I too remained motionless, but with my mouth still pressed hard against her. The sounds of the office brought her back, and as she opened her eyes, she noticed a number of people in line, in addition to the lady at the counter, had had their attention drawn to her. There were looks of puzzlement and concern on their faces, and she blushed deeply as she gathered herself and tried to remember what she was supposed to be doing. The old woman's face in front of her and her package on the scale were the reminders she needed. As the old woman looked at her quizzically, my friend asked how the package was to be sent. As the customer answered, and as she went through the process of applying the needed postage and collecting woman's money, I began letting my tongue explore the moist folds of flesh. My tongue ran back and forth, lightly licking her clit, then gently sucked the lips of her pussy into my mouth, and finally sliding my tongue deep inside of her... for a moment. Only to withdraw it, and start over again. I continued this over and over, increasing the urgency with each pass of my tongue. She began squirming more, and struggled to keep her mind focused on her work. I sucked at her hard, frantically, wanting to taste each intoxicating drop that slipped from within the warm, wet folds of her flesh. I slid my tongue deep inside of her, and pulled it out slowly, exploring, in retreat, the intricate, inner landscape of her vagina. I slid my tongue lower, to her ass, and circled the tight opening teasingly. As her squirming increased, I let my tongue slide into her ass ever so slightly, gently, causing her to again reach for the counter in an effort to brace herself. Her actions were again becoming apparent to more than just the woman at her window was, but she had already cast off any concern for who might be watching. Clutching at the counter firmly, eyes tightly closed, she dropped her head, resigned to giving over to the sensations cursing through her body. I pulled my tongue from her ass, slid it back up and over the ever wetter, ever distended lips of her pussy, and again searched out her clit. Finding it, I sucked it quickly into my mouth, pressing my lips fast to her flesh, and let my tongue begin a frantic, last attack with which I was determined to extract from her a heart-stopping orgasm. She began to moan softly, unaware of those who were watching her, and of the inquiries being made of her about her well being by the old lady at the counter. She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the edge of the counter, and resting her head in her hands. I grabbed onto her legs, high up on the inside of her thighs, and pushed her legs further apart, opening her pussy to me completely. I kept licking and sucking at her urgently, driven by the tastes and smell and sound that pounded on my senses. All at once it hit her, overwhelming her. I held onto her tightly as her body convulsed, keeping my mouth glued to her while the orgasm spread from between her legs, making its way through her body, until it escaped in a loud sigh that was just barely muffled by her hands. Her body tensed momentarily, and then relaxed as she tried to catch her breath. For a moment, she was still unaware of the attention she had drawn, until a familiar voice harshly brought her back. It was her supervisor, again. From the tone of voice, one could tell that he was irritated, but mostly concerned. I inched away from the clerk's stool, and pressed myself to the inside of the counter, hoping to remain unseen. The supervisor asked my clerk if she was all right, but she, still trying to regain her poise, could only mumble an apology while her face turned a hot, crimson red. The supervisor, very aware, and self conscious that all eyes were on the two of them, told the woman whose orgasm so recently filled my senses to come into the office, and walked away quickly. My clerk looked around the room as her coworkers and the customers, acknowledging her embarrassment, deliberately went back to their own business. She then looked down at me. I looked up concerned, and mouthed silently, "I'm sorry." She smiled slightly, and shook her head, letting me know I need not apologize. She then slid off of her stool, turned, and walked to the supervisor's door, and disappeared inside the office. I sat under the counter and waited. After a few minutes, when it seemed like everything in the lobby was back to normal, which I assumed meant that everyone was back to being absorbed in only themselves, I sneaked out from under the counter, quickly but quietly went to the door of the supervisors office just a few feet away, opened the door, and also disappeared inside. Both of them looked up at me as I entered. The clerk was confused and startled, and her supervisor was puzzled and slightly worried, not knowing who I was. I looked at the supervisor sheepishly, and told him that the difficulties the clerk had been having at the counter were my fault. He looked at the clerk with a questioning expression, then back at me with the same. I smiled at them and then let my hands separate, falling to my sides, from where they had been clutching the open blouse in front of me. As my hands parted, he let his gaze fall to where my hands had been, and he saw the same thing that had been the catalyst for the just finished indiscretions back beneath the counter. The Supervisor stared for a moment, then looked back up at my hands and found the recently discarded panties. Still a little puzzled, he then looked back at the clerk, finding her blushing again, but also smiling. As he began to realize what more than likely had been the cause of the clerk's earlier actions, a sly grin crept onto his face. He looked back at me, and told me to lock the door. As I turned around to do so, he asked both of us what he should do about the commotion we had caused, but with a lilt in his voice that suggested he wasn't expecting an answer. The clerk and I looked at each other, a mischievous glint in our eyes. I turned to her supervisor, and began walking toward where he sat, motioning for the clerk to follow. "I'm Dayle," I said, thinking it might be appropriate to finally introduce myself. "My name is Pam," replied the clerk, "and this is my supervisor, Colin," she added with a smile. As we approached him from either side, I told Pam to hold her boss hands against the chair's armrests. Just as Colin began to protest, I took the panties I still held in one of my hands, and gently pushed them part way into his mouth, muffling only half-serious objections. I undid his shirt, and pulled it off of him, and then pulled his pants down over his hips and off his legs, removing his shoes at the same time. I then took off my blouse, and tied one hand to the armrest. I took Colin's other arm from Pam, who was getting visibly aroused by this little episode of light bondage, I told her to take off her blouse. She slowly undid the buttons, and pulled the blouse from her body. Her supervisor and I both watched mesmerized as it slid from her shoulders and off her arms. Knowing what it was for, she knelt down beside me, and tied her boss' other arm to the other side of the chair. Colin sat there, in just his underwear, both embarrassed, and excited, as could be seen from the color rising in his face, the heavy breathing that was apparent in the rising and falling of his chest, and the lump growing in his lap. Intent in trying to ease his discomfort, I lowered his shorts to the floor. I then pulled my skirt off; I warmed under the gaze of both Pam and Colin. Pam looked at me with a broad, knowing grin, and pushed her skirt down and stepped out of it, confirming to her boss that it was Pam's panties that he now mumbled against. She then reached behind her, and undid her bra. I watched intently as she teasingly pulled it away from her breasts, until finally they were fully exposed, showing each nipple to be standing at attention much as Colin's cock was. A quiet, muffled sigh escaped from the lips of her boss as he looked back and forth between Pam and I. And her boss' breathing became heavier still, and an excited look flickered in his eyes. I walked out from behind the desk, went to a chair at the other side of the room, and sat down. I spread my legs, and began stroking myself, grinning at both of them as they watched. Colin began to squirm, but could not free himself from his bounds, and his moans, though louder, were still mostly lost within the bunched fabric of the Pam's panties. After watching me for a while, Pam walked over, and sat down on my lap. I stopped stroking, reached up with both hands, wrapped them around her, and pulled her to close to me. We stared into each other's eyes momentarily, and then instinctively our lips met in an earnest kiss. Our lips burned against each other, and our tongues began to dance - first within my mouth, and then within hers. I pulled her still closer to me, wanting to feel her soft, warm body pressed against mine. I slid my hands up and down her back, and felt her squirm on my lap as her nipples brushed across mine. She rose up slightly, and began to reach between my legs sliding her fingers inside me. Just as she began, I reached out, grabbed her waist with both hands, pushed her up and away from me slightly, and down on him knees. I pulled her back towards me and held onto her head tightly, and I stared at her supervisor's cock throbbing strongly from our display. Shadows In all of the years that Jody had followed her father around the world, traveling through the searing heat of a desert, or climbing through the traitorous undergrowth of some tropical jungle looking for the next great archeological discovery, she had never seen anything quite so magnificent. Deep within the uncharted jungles of Peru they had discovered the ruins of what appeared to be a palace, the lower half amazingly well intact. The greatest discovery of all was the baths at the bottom of a long staircase that led down into grown. A large room had been hollowed out, and a pool built over a natural mineral spring. The entire room was lined with marble, the walls covered in pictures of exotic looking women taking part in various activities, many of which were sexual in nature, and large carve marble pillars connected each corner of the pool to the ceiling. The water in the pool was crystal clear, and although it was warmed but a thermal that ran beneath it, it was still cool enough to be relaxing in the tropical heat of the jungle. Jody had already spent many long hours documenting he pictures on the walls, and photographing every detail of the chamber. She was beginning to know the chamber better than she knew her own room at home, and probably spent more of her life in it. Stepping out of her tent, Jody looked towards the rocks that marked the entrance to the cavern. A full moon hung brilliantly in the night sky overhead, illuminating the surrounding jungle with an eary glow and making the path to the cavern entrance very easy to follow. The night was hot and sticky, hardly a breeze penetrated the thick jungle canopy, and the mosquitoes seemed to be developing a taste for the repellants she covered her skin with. It was then that she happened upon an idea. As her father and the rest of the camp slept, she collected every candle she could find, and headed towards the cavern. Shining her torch around the chamber, she made sure she was alone, then began lighting the candles and setting them randomly around the perimeter of the pool. The effect was increadabe. The light of dozens of candles made the water sparkle, ever ripple dancing before her eyes and taking her breath away with their beauty. Shedding her clothing, her long dark hair streaming down her back, she stepped carefully down the ancient steps into the water. Without a sound, she slipped beneath the surface and swam the length of the pool, propping herself up on a step at the other end, leaning back against the edge of the pool and drifting off into a relaxed slumber. Jody wasn’t sure what it was that brought her attention back to her surroundings. It might have been the sudden cold air the filled the cavern, or might have been the feeling of being watched, but what ever it was, she was glad of it. It the other end of the pool stood a man, his tall, well formed body outlined by the moonlight that stole it’s way through the entrance for the few moments that it passed over just the right point in the sky. Jody dropped back into the water, covering her body with water and watched as the man unwrap the length of cloth from around his lions that was his only clothing, and letting it drop to the floor. He was not some one she knew, or a member of the expedition, and yet there was something about him that seemed very familiar. Naked, he stepped boldly into the water, his shoulder length black hair pulled back in a tie at the nape of his neck, his well muscled chest and arms shining in the flickering light of the candles as if his skin had been oiled. Closer and closer he came and she watched his every move, feeling a pang of fear building up within her. As silently as she had, he slipped beneath the water and immerged at her side, his dark eyes meeting hers and steeling her breath away with their intensity. Without a word spoken between them, his muscular arms embraced her midriff and pulled her hard against him, his eyes not breaking the contact they had with hers for even a heartbeat. Breathless and a little dizzy, she felt unable to resist him, her fear of him melting away into a comfortable numbness as his face moved closer to hers. His breath burned hot against her skin and his pounding heart beat strong against her breast. In the light of the candles she could see his face, dark, arrogant and beautiful. There was sureness in his eyes; almost as if he could command her with nothing more than a look and she would fall to her knees before him, ready to obey his every command. His face drew closer and she parted her lips ever so slightly in anticipation of a kiss. Her lips were left wanting and disappointed, but her neck and throat were more than eager to accept the attentions of his hungry mouth. Biting, sucking, kissing, he left not an inch of her flesh untasted, lifting her higher in the water and sucking her firm young breasts into his mouth. His demanding hands explored her body, squeezing her hips and her ass, parting her thighs and probing her moistened depths. Jody was helpless in his embrace. There was something about his eyes, about the way he moved and energy that radiated from his body. She felt as though she was in a dream. A wicked, erotic dream, and her blood began to pump faster through her veins. Her arms returned his embrace, her fingers digging hard into the dark skin of his back and her slender legs wrapping around his waist. Gripping her by her shapely hips, he guided himself into her, filling her with his first thrust, groaning in low tones as he took his pleasure. She arched her back, leaning away from him as his strong arms easily manipulated her body to his will, pushing into her with slow, deliberate strokes. Her head was spinning and her mind was a blur as he turned her around, placing her knees on the step before him. She reached out with her arms, bracing herself against the side of the pool as his long hard shaft entered her again, this time from behind. His moves were slow, controlled, and deliberate, probing her with his full length and yet taking care not to hurt her with his immense size. With one arm still braced against the side of the pool, she reached below the water with her other hand began to stroke her throbbing clit. Her body reacted at once to her knowing touch, her arousal growing quickly to the point of orgasm. Suddenly he stopped, withdrawing from her silky depths and lifting her into his arms, carrying her from the pool and laying her gently down on the warm tiles. He seemed curious, kneeling between her thighs and spreading her legs wide before him. Running his fingers along her dripping slit, he searched for the place that her stroking fingers had brought her so much pleasure. She was yet to reach her peak and her body screamed for the sweet release of orgasm. Her fingers moved to the place between her thighs that she knew could bring her the fulfillment she needed. He watched her for a moment, then pushed her fingers away, replacing them with his own. Finding her hard little nub he explored it with his touch, rubbing it and working it in small circles, the fingers of his other hand finding her wet opening and pushing deep inside. Jody’s body was consumed by the shuddering release of orgasm, her virginal walls contracting about his fingers, thick juices flowing freely over his hand. He seems surprised that her body would respond to such tender stimulation, that she could experience such pleasure from touching. Taking his hard, erect shaft in his hand, he moved closer, rubbing the head over her still throbbing clit, watching her every response. Jody wanted more, her arousal still high and her body more than ready. She reached for his member, guiding it into her milky hole and wrapping her legs around him, pulling him hard into her. He needed no further instruction, lifting his body and pushing deeper into her, filling her feminine center with the full length of his erection. Steadily he increased his speed, driving into her a little more forcefully, watching her reactions before unleashing his full strength upon her. Jody cried out, her fingers digging deep into his solid upper arms, lifting her hips to meet his every thrust. Again and again her body demonstrated the pleasure she was experiencing. Orgasm after sweet orgasm washing over her until at last, she could feel him swelling deep within her. Throwing back his head with deep groan, he released his seed, emptying his load deep within her welcoming hole. Lowering his body to hers, he looked deep into her eyes and she could see the power within them. Reaching up, digging her fingers into his thick black hair, she pulled his mouth to hers, kissing his lips softly. There was a noise at the entrance of the cavern and a voice called out to her, asking if she was all right. The strange man lifted from her sweating body and kneeled beside her, smiling at her through eyes that she could only describe as majestic. For just a moment, she looked towards the entrance, calling back that she was fine and would be out soon, but when she looked back to her lover, he was gone. Picking up her torch, she scanned the cavern, but he was no where to be found. In a way, she was not surprised, her torchlight touching upon an image on the wall. There, looking back at her were those very same eyes. As a cool breeze washed over her naked flesh once more, she smiled, stepping back into the pool and listening to the silence of the cavern, wondering if the stranger would ever come to her again, or if that handsome man was nothing more than a shadow. Shadows You run. Feeling the brush of the wind on your face, whipping your skirt around your feet. The tears fall, wetting your cheeks and falling uncaring into the ground. 'Run -faster.' Your heart struggles with what your mind commands and what you know your body is capable of doing. 'Faster.' It's the only word flashing though your mind. The only thing you can think. 'Faster- Get away.' A scream echoes across the fog as you trip, falling and hitting the ground hard. Something hot makes you look down to notice blood, running from your shoulder to your wrist. Sobbing you get up and push on. With the fog you can barely see, your vision now starts to spin and you can hear behind you- hear him. All you can do is run and pray to whoever is listening that you can make it out alive. The lies about sacred ground are bullshit. Nothing works on him. Not crosses, holy water, garlic, not even running rivers. He traps you, makes you feel beautiful and alive. Full of fire hot need, a need so great when he hands cup your breasts your heart stops beating. When he pushes inside you he makes you shatter; a lure of love and lust, passion and freedom. Drawn so close to his arms you can't even think, it pulls you even as you run. But the fact that you want to live is far more important than knowing you'll never feel his cock again. 'Faster, faster....' You miss a step, don't see the hill- and plummet. Rolling faster and faster no breath left to scream just sobs racking your body. You hit a wall, solid and warm. He's caught you and you can do nothing but try to understand. You want to beg, want to scream but the arms feel so good against your body, soft silk against a hot surface. Flinching away you feel your body now, hurting in places, battered and bloody. "Mi amour..." He whispers. Whispers into your heart, your mind your soul. And you are lost. "Please" your voice horse, throat almost too dry. You beg, "Please-" Soft laughter meets your whispered words. You can feel the heat of his body; the satin of his cloak, as the wind screams in your ear you leave the woods and are laid on something soft, cool. Nothing makes sense now, your vision is so gone all you can see are shadows, body so torn all you can do is breathe to keep your eyes open. Then his touch... across your forehead down your cheek to wipe your tears, across your lips. There they linger... your vision grows blacker as the bed to your right sinks. He's there, sitting, the shadow above you leans forward, closer... "Please." The sobs that once racked your body come back: but for a different reason. You beg again, "...please." Soft laughter meets your request as strong but gentle hands pull you up. "Beg again." His voice says "Beg and perhaps I shall keep you." You wrap your hands around broad shoulders and hang on with the dying intensity. "Beg." He whispers as he leans close. Reduced to this mercy you let all will go. You lean your head back against his arms as the world goes dimmer above you. Dizzy and weak you know it's now or never. Wanting it, needing and craving what you know only he can give you. His hands undo your blouse; you arch to give him better access to your back. Cry out as he pulls the shirt from your wounds. There are gashes along the top of your breasts, some that still bleed freely. "Please." You whisper, you want so bad to feel his mouth close around your breast, to pull at your nipple. Black silk, you can feel it under your fingers as he lays you back to drag the tattered and bloody skirt from your waist and legs. "My love, say it." Even through the pain in your body and fire in your veins, the words are stuck. He presses his lips to the inside of your right thigh as you close your eyes. "You are bleeding out, say it!!!" Crying you jerk your hips as his tongue licks your clit, fire through all the pain. It's the fire that makes the you will to live, to stay awake. Makes you choose. Turning your neck is an effort but one mastered. You feel it, the rush of heat as he leans over your pulse. "Say it-" You open your eyes but can't focus- "Say it!" "I want..." Closer, closer to blackness and his lips, Lips to neck, your pulse skips a beat. "I want you forever." His teeth sinking deep, the world goes black in fire and passion. Shadows I sat at the bar, stabbing the ice in my drink with my straw. I wasn't sure I wanted another, but wasn't sure I wanted to leave. A hand dropped on my shoulder and a whisper, low and smooth said, "I tabbed us out, we'll pick up a bottle from Faletti's on the way home." I nodded, and followed him out of the bar. I lagged a few steps behind him on the street, wobbly on my stiletto heels, and lost in my own gin soaked musings. He took me by surprise when he turned and caught my shoulders, pushing me backward into the shadow of an alley. His body pressed mine roughly against a brick wall. I closed my eyes, inhaling the mingled scent of cigarettes and cologne that rose from him; waiting. He shifted; bringing his face close to mine. Unbidden, I leaned forward to kiss him. As my lips brushed his, he moved away, and brought his hand to my throat; pinning my head against the bricks. I stood still in anticipation, palms flat on the stony wall, my eyes closed and lips parted. My breath was heavy and ragged. He observed me for a long moment; then leaned in again, letting me feel his breath on my lips. I remained still, acknowledging his ascendency. His kiss, arduous when it came, tasted of whiskey, and I drank as thirstily as a drunkard. It intoxicated me as much as liquor; dulling my inhibitions, and igniting my blood. His hand caressed my neck slowly, found the neckline of my dress and slipped underneath; into my bra. He worked my nipple to a sensitive bud; then crushed it in the vice of his thumb and forefinger. I moaned, "Oh, God," but my voice was lost in the assault of his kiss. His knee forced my legs apart and his free hand slid behind my ass, urging me forward into his leg. Wantonly I ground my crotch against the top of his thigh as he pressed himself tighter against me. I heard people in the street, their intrusive laughter made me pause, estimating how well the shadows cloaked us. He felt my hesitation, and broke the kiss."Look at me," his blue eyes held me, bringing me back to him. "I am going to fuck right you here," he stated simply, suggesting no compromise. I nodded, in consent, or resignation, or both, and sank to my knees. I ran the palm of my hand against his rock hard cock confined inside his pants. His breath came raspy and uneven at my touch, as I pulled at the buttons on his jeans to release his erection. I ran my tongue along the tip of it, tasting the pre-cum, slipping the head into my mouth. I steadied myself to take more, but his hand gripped my shoulders, and pulled me to my feet. He read the disappointment on my face, and brushed back a stray tendril of hair. "Later," he said, "Right now I want to fuck you." He reached under my skirt and pulled my panties down. I stepped out of them as he rose and kissed me again. My hand found his cock and I ran the tips of my nails lightly over the taut skin. He pushed me hard against the wall, pulled out of the kiss and shoved my panties into my mouth. "Lift your skirt up," he ordered. I gathered up my skirt. "Spread your legs," was his next command. I moved my feet to just farther than shoulders length apart. He bent his knees, and impaled me on his cock, lifting me off the ground with his upward thrust. His body pinned me against the wall, hands under my thighs, his movements slow and controlled. I wrapped my arms around his neck and closed my eyes, allowing myself to respond with abandon. I writhed against him, each thrust of his cock driving me further towards the edge. Again the conversation of pedestrians passed us by, but this time I did not take let them break into the moment, and they moved past without concern for us. He began fucking me harder, as he whispered hoarsely in my ear, "I'm gonna cum baby, I want you to cum with me...cum with me..." I opened my eyes to the shadows, and laid my head against the hard brick wall, allowed the sublime absurdity that I was fucking in an alley with my panties in my mouth to curl around my consciousness. I began laughing, I felt myself slip over the edge, twining my fingers in his hair and pulling him closer to me. He must have been waiting, because as soon as he felt me orgasm, he sank his teeth into the nape of my neck to muffle his groan as he came. He held me suspended for a minute, while our heads cleared and our breathing slowed. He untangled himself, and settled me back on the ground. As he buttoned his jeans, I smoothed my dress and removed my panties from my mouth. I prepared to step back into my panties, but he interrupted, "Uhn-uh...those are mine, my birthday present, hand them over." "It's my birthday, why do you get a birthday present?" I asked. "Because you love me," he replied, snatching them from me. He put them in his pocket, and strolled out of the alley. *I'd like to acknowledge the efforts of my ghost editors who found my story more entertaining then their nine to five...* Shadows I could almost feel the shadows slip over us as we lay, pillows in disarray, clothing strewn about the floor in half-hazard patterns that told a story of cavalier abandon. Rick was inside me at last, just the tip, sinking deeper and then pulling back, teasing. I thrust back to feel him fill me, stretch me, the newness of our coupling like the adrenaline rush of a first flight, jet engines screaming down the runway at impossible speed. I spread my legs wider as he sank his cock deeper, felt my excitement in the wetness between my legs, saw it reflected in his dark eyes. We had been a long time waiting. I could see the shadows shift and change, mirror reflections dancing over the walls and ceiling like the sun circling the earth in a parody of medieval miscalculation, the universe turned inside out by the pleasure of our passion. I pulled him down, nails digging into his back, the coarse hair of his chest scratching, crushed against my breasts, my nipples like two electric peaks; bright, jagged lust ever-hardening - sending shock wave pulses through my clit as I shifted downward to feel every ridge and vein sliding back and forth between my saturated inner lips. The shadow light intensified - a blast of heat caressing our skin like a hot summer day, bursting about our coupled loins, flashing in time with my heartbeat as our hips clashed in rhythm to the strobe. Our tongues began to struggle together, probing, exploring, teeth tugging on lips, breath coming in little gasps and moans; shivers up my spine like a river of fire. Change I closed my eyes against the light as we rolled together across the bed, Rick's hands behind me, pinning me against him, our coupling unbroken before the watchful eye. I braced myself on the tight muscles of his chest, pressed him into the mattress and began to ride, his beautiful cock shining as I rode up and down it's length, feeling every infinitesimal nuance of texture. His hands moved everywhere. Up my back - a shiver, kneading my ass – fingers nudging, caressing the sensitive opening then over my hips, up my belly to the tenderness of my breasts, finding the nipples to pinch and twist and tease. His fingers brushed my cheek, my neck, plunged into my hair as he rocked his hips against mine, his voice low and thick, telling me how he'd watched me all these years, wanting this, wanting me. We raced on. The light dimmed, the shadows of the brass headboard disappeared from the wall. Murmurs in the background. We stopped the ride, paused in freeze-frame, my muscles clenched, messaging his cock as we waited as if for a new day. I slipped a painted fingertip across his lips and he sucked it into his mouth, his eyes closed, his tongue running up and down its length. I slipped it out, dragged it down his chin and neck then across his chest to wet his nipple, teasing it to hardness. "I've wanted you too. All those trips to the beach, the times you came out of the bathroom in just a towel. All the long talks, the looks, knowing you were looking. You have no idea how wet you made me, thinking about this." It will be time… Change The light rose again, flared into life as the shadows resumed their dance across the wall. The bed sank behind me, a second pair of hands messaging my shoulders. With parted lips I turned my head to look behind me, the light blinding, burning, Andy's form in silhouette as he moved into position. I arched my back, reached out for him as my clit began to twitch and throb, pushing against Rick, fucking myself on his thickening shaft as I held Andy against me, his hand smearing the lubricant, a finger easing itself into my ass. I arched my back, sharing a kiss with my husband as he slipped another finger inside me. I thrust against the two men, the noises in my throat welling up of their own volition, my body wracked with a feeling of fullness I'd only imagined, rocking in time to their rhythm; my body controlling it's own actions, my mind tagging along for the ride. The light, shining in my eyes: a bright red explosion behind the veil of closed lids. Andy removing his fingers, moving into position behind me, straddling Rick's legs. A delicious, familiar pressure between the cheeks of my ass, the deep purple tip nudged, sought admission. I relaxed, opened to him with just a little pain - thankful for the weeks of practice we'd spent in preparation for this moment. The head, popping inside and holding there, suspended. Andy's hands on my hips as they rocked in time with Rick's thrusting. The first inch, stretching, burning, tiny sharp tingles of light spreading through my lower body. I wondered if the men could feel each other inside me, their cocks rubbing across each other, barely separated. The final inch and I reached down between them to caress their balls, pressed together beneath me, both men motionless now, waiting. "Fuck me," I whispered, the words heavy in my throat, the world contracted to a point that focused in my lower body, in the fullness in my ass and cunt, in the two men supporting me, impaling me on their rigid poles of blood engorged muscle - four hands exploring every inch of my willing flesh. Change The light dipped and came to rest, the shadows static. The men resumed their rhythm, Rick pulling out, Andy thrusting back, every motion bringing me closer to explosion. I threw my head back, my lips against Andy's neck, biting, his hands pulling my nipples, messaging my breasts as Rick began to rub my clit. The bed sank once more and I opened my eyes, squinting, almost blinded, as Angela crawled across the pillows to kiss her husband, her hands running up and down his hard torso, her eyes fixed on the two cocks drilling into me. She crawled, cat-like, looking into my eyes as she swung her leg over Rick, settling down atop his mouth, his tongue probing, searching the delicate folds of flesh between her legs. She reached out for me and we embraced, sharing a kiss; deep and wet, wanton and slick, the four of us a mass of bright nerve endings riding the hot rails of lust, swimming in sweat, melding together as one, the scent of our couplings filling my senses. I pushed Angela back against the headboard, Rick's tongue still flicking across her clit, his chin soaked with the juices that flowed from her, his neck straining beneath her bucking hips. The men slowed their tempo, ramming me like two pistons in perfect synchronization, Rick filling me from the front, Andy pulling out, leaving only the head engulfed in my tingling flesh. Then a pause, then a change; both of them acting the part of cogs in an indefatigable machine, eliciting my lubrication to splash the gears. I wrapped my arms around Angela's lower back, the feel of her smooth skin a sharp contrast to the texture of the men, the light covering of coarse hair on their thighs and chests chafing my skin to a wakeful, tender flush. I let my tongue wander down her neck, smelling the perfume of her hair, dipping lower, tasting the sweat that beaded between her breasts, feeling my clit all but crushed against the base of Rick's cock. Rick, my husband's best friend, who began to twitch and moan between Angela's thighs; the muscles of his neck like steel cables, taught and ready to snap. I took her pink swollen nipple into my mouth, heard her gasp as my teeth began to tug, saw the fine hairs on her body begin to rise with the shivers running through her. The men increased their tempo and I moved with them, still grinding my clit against Rick, still feeling Andy's hardness sliding in and out of my hot tight asshole. Angela pulled me closer, my face buried against the softness of her breasts. The heat between my thighs still rising, all sensations in my lower body blending into a single fire, fanned to white heat, red hot coals exploding like dry knots in an over-stoked woodstove. My screams, muffled by Angel's breasts, burst through every nerve ending as my climax tore it's way through my convulsing body, natures violence leaving nothing untouched, every fiber of my being smashed flat by the unrelenting tempest. I collapsed on top of Rick, resting my head on Angela's thigh as the men slowed their tempo once more. Angela stroked my damp hair; her eyes glowed warm and loving as the three of them waited for me to catch my breath, reveling in the musky fragrance of their bodies. Andy and Angela leaned forward to share a kiss and Angela reached downward, her fingers sliding over my back and down to grip the base of his cock, slipping him out of me. I grabbed onto Angela's shoulders to steady myself, letting Rick's still throbbing tool slide free, disengaging myself from the tangle of limbs belonging to the three closest friends in my life. I rose on trembling legs and made my way across the floor to take my place as mistress of the light. Change Angela looked at me with a glint in her jewel-green eyes as Rick's tongue resumed its tireless journey back and forth between the soaking wet lips of her pussy. She leaned forward, Andy's hands engulfed in her dark hair as she once again took hold of his rigid member, pumping slowly, at the same time running her tongue over the tip of Rick's throbbing cock. "A can taste you, Susan," she said with a lascivious smile, still looking into my eyes. "And you saved them both for me." I brought the light closer, bathing their skin in a brilliant glow, the shadows resuming their dance across the wall. Angela's fingers teased my husband's cock, sliding in the lubricant, then pressed the tip against Rick, nudging the head against his tight entrance. The two men groaned, deep and animal-like, the sound starting a new flow between my legs. Angela reached behind Andy, pulling him forward, guiding the tip of his tool into Rick's willing ass. First the head pushed inside, and they stopped, letting Rick grow accustomed to the feeling as he continued to work his tongue in and out of his wife's pussy, his cheeks wet, glistening with her lubrication. Angela thrust back, pulled Andy closer; he sank deeper, inch by inch, until the top of Andy's pubic hair rested against Rick's balls. I made the shadows, saw them slide about the walls of the room, watching Angela as she thrust her hips against Rick's face even as she took him into her mouth, the shaft sliding between her full pink lips, her hands on Andy's ass, kneading, pushing him in and out. The light trembled as I directed the threesome taking place before me. I ran a finger between my legs, needing to address the pressure building in my clit as I watched my husband fuck another man. Change Angela, crawling foreword, her hands on Andy's shoulders. Andy, taking Rick's cock in his hand, rubbing it back and forth between Angela's legs, her body tense, every muscle straining, then sinking down, impaled. Angela and Andy sharing an embrace, a kiss, a melding. They rode and fucked Rick into another world, his spine arched, head thrust back, buried into the pillows, his hands on Angela's waist, grunting like a heated animal with each thrust of Andy's cock, with every bump and grind of Angela's hips. Reluctantly, I removed my hand from my aching clit and steadied the light, concentrating on the task at hand. They were nearing the final stretch, electric ecstasy played across their faces, gasping, straining, dancing to the beat. I crawled onto the bed, knelt just behind Rick's head, capturing all in the light of the electric eye. Change Andy removed himself from Rick and slid his shaft up Rick's belly even as Angela pulled herself up and off, then sank back, trapping both cocks side by side between her pussy and her husband's belly, still riding. The men slid their cocks between her soaking outer lips; hard, red, angry and swollen, protruding between the soft cheeks of her ass. She twisted to look at me as she came, eyes slitted, mouth open, gasping for air, her breath suspended. Rick came next, thick ropes of white jetting up and out, fingers digging into Angela's hips, so close to me I could feel his breath rush gently across the trimmed mound that I longed to press against his beautiful lips. With a final thrust Andy began to climax, crushing Angela to his chest. For a brief moment both cocks pumped and spat side by side, covering Rick's belly, splashing his face, several droplets coming to rest on my thighs, then dripping in little trails to wet the tangled sheets. I kept filming until they collapsed in a giggling heap, still kissing and stroking each other, Angela licking both men's cum off of her husband's face. "That was fucking amazing!" said Angela, "Susan, did you get it all?" "Abso-fucking-lutely," I replied with a wink and a grin, getting off the bed and shutting of the camera, replacing it on the tripod across the room. "Cool." "I don't know about you guys but I'm pretty wiped out," said Rick, gently caressing Angela's breasts. Andy gave me a warm, lingering kiss and announced that he was going for another bottle of Merlot. "Speak for yourself," I said with a playful grin, "I'm all worked up again from watching." "How much tape is left?" Asked Angela. I looked at the display. "Almost twenty minutes." "Then get yourself over here…" I smiled, pressed the switch and fell into her arms, my pussy tingling to her touch. I fell into the softness of her lips as light and shadow played, dancing across the walls once more. Shadows PROLOGUE Tom Berk was a responsible young man of age 29. He worked as a real-estate agent. Once every 2 weeks he would travel into the mountains to check up on old man Bill James, who was the owner of the real-estate company. Because of tom's favorable reputation, he was assigned to the visitations. He was well into the 9th month of this task and gaining credit to his company. Due to the long drive to the isolated estate in the mountains, Tom would leave in the morning and usually get to the estate at night fall. Then over seeing the old man, Tom the next morning ventured back to the city. For some reason old man James always appeared to be sad or depressed, there was a feeling of much sorrow when they talked. But how could this man be unhappy?, He had a wealthy business and 3 lively children to stay with him up in the mountains, they were Luke, Gary and Mary. They kids grew very fond of Tom over the months and were looking forward to his next visit. Usually Tom would stay the night because by the time he got there it was at least past 11pm and he dare not drive back on the unlit mountain roads. 1 This was now his 10th trip. It was in the middle of January and Tom was driving to the house once again. The snow flaked down. He wouldn't reach the estate well after 10pm. Tom was cold and lonely, but at the same time he was filled with pride just thinking, Tom Berk was assigned such a task from the big boss himself. He watched the road ahead as the lights danced off the trees and through the light snow. A rumble sounded, it was thunder. Lightening lit up the mountain sky. Every time Tom drove to the house in the dark, he feared the possibility of braking down out there in the middle of no where in the dark. So he always packed a flashlight and enough share of batteries. Hearing the thunder once more, Tom speeded up. Driving along the mountain roads where it seemed that the trees on both sides were moving in on him. The snow became thick and it got much colder as he drove higher into the mountains. His fears were subsided by the soft music playing on the radio. It was a Neil diamond tune. Turning the heater up, a news bulletin broke in and warned of the on coming snow storm. As he got further into the mountains his radio lost frequency and the music was replaced by an annoying hiss. It wasn't long now, he was about there and the snow was really pilling up. Tom switched off the radio and put the windshield wipers on. By 12pm, he saw the house lamp lights breaking through the snow and deep wooded forests. Tom slowed down when reaching the gates. He noticed the lights in the house weren't on. The car was parked in the courtyard. He got out and stood in the lamp lights, looking around. He went to the door and knocked, he waited and no one came. At first he just thought Jim was out with the kids and snow had delayed them. Tom walked around the side of the house to the garage. To his surprise Jim's jeep was still there. No one did leave tonight. Then he thought maybe Jim just forgot he was coming up and went to bed, but Jim spoke to Tom before he left. Snow was flying fast, Tom was barely able to see his car which was about 8 feet away. something was wrong. He this time pounded and kicked at the doors. The snow shot like needles into his face. The wind alone nearly blew him on his ass. The yelled and tried the door knob, it was locked. Tom could no longer take the storm's wicked punishment. He ran across the courtyard to his car for cover. Once inside, he started the engine and turned on the heater. The long drive and storm took it's toll on him. Before long Tom fell asleep in the back seat. Tom dreamed of being in the bank and people were crowding him. It was a party atmosphere. He quickly noticed his girl friend Melissa and old man James was laughing. It made Tom actually laugh to see Jim laughing. Looking around the crowd, he saw Luke, Gary and Mary chasing a headless chicken. Blood squirted on Luke's face and he laughed. Gary began to dismember the chicken as Mary began to get naked. What the hell was going on?! The crowd faded away like water spilling onto a oil painting. All that remained was Jim. Together they walked to the vault. Money was over loading the place. Jim gave Tom a handful of money. All at once the lights shut off. Darkness, his familiar friend and foe. It became too quiet and a scrapping sound echoed off the wall. It was like metal scrapping metal and it got louder and louder with each ear splitting scream. He awoke again in reality laying in the back seat. Immediately he got up and looked out the window, praying to catch a light in the house, but instead he found snow piled 4 inches outside. The snow had let up but hadn't stopped. Tom grabbed a flashlight and bundled up to brave the bitter cold. It was now 3:00 in the morning. As Tom was opening the car door, he found that it was stuck. He thought it was just ice. The door was opened. Tom found that the door was scrapped and mangled from the outside. Something tried to get in the car while he slept. Maybe something was watching him at this very minute from the dark woods. Tom began to shake, what if they had a gun pointing at him? Tom jumped back into the car and attempted to start the engine. The car just would not shift into gear. The below zero temperature must have gotten to the engine. Before Tom got out, he looked around at his surroundings. Everything looked considerably safe. The woods freaked him out. He wouldn't let his paranoia get the best of him this time. Since he was only a business man he lacked the protection of a gun. He had a can of mace with him. Fuck that candy ass can of mace, he wanted a gun damn it! Tom felt like a complete fool for not taking Melissa's advice and taking a gun with him. Melissa too had a fear of Tom breaking down on the road, so she suggested he take a gun. Tom had to put it behind and concentrate on the real situation at hand. Using his flashlight as some what of a weapon, he stepped out of the car cautiously. He crept to the front of the car to the engine. Before opening the hood, Tom smelled an awful stench, so vile, so nauseating, Tom choked down the vomit rising in his throat. Tom covered his nose and mouth with his coat sleeve. He opened the hood and the most putrid, grotesque sight struck him like a train smashing through a brick wall. He lost footing and fell back into the thick snow. For a minute or two he just laid in the snow gaining the strength he needed to look back under again. Finally he got it up and peered into the engine where 3 heads where sitting logged into the hot chrome. He knew the faces well, it was Luke, Gary and Mary, the children. Gary's head was burnt to a crisp, Luke's hair was scorched off and Mary was in good condition except for her left eyeball which was dangling out of it's socket. Tom snapped and ran to the house, nearly breaking his neck on the iced over pavement. When he got to the door he pounded and pounded till his fists started to bleed. Then out of the cold air came a loud crack of laughter. Tom sprang around, inspected the thick forests and saw nothing. The windows were locked down tight but he took his flashlight and busted the glass to pieces. The house was dark and had a attic like smell. Tom yelled. "Jim! Jesus Christ Jim! where the hell are you?!" There was no answer. A loud thud echoed through the house. It made Tom jump. something was upstairs. Tom wasn't stupid enough to say "Jey. A scary noise, I guess I'll go investigate. Maybe if I get lucky I can get KILLED!!!" No, Tom was a smart man. He said "Fuck that with a bag of chips" And Tom ran to the kitchen. Tom knew that in the kitchen there was a rather big butcher knife. If he was going to be safe, he needed to check the whole house. The phone of course was dead and power was shut off. Tom just needed to turn it back on. Old man James insisted that when the house was built that a power generator be placed in the basement. Somewhere in the house was a radio communicator. Guns were kept on the 2nd floor because Jim was talented hunter as well as a great business man. In the main hall Tom could hear glass from the window breaking. Someone was coming through the window. Tom was still in the kitchen, keeping total silence. 2 of them. Could have guns. Footsteps now. Coming through the living room. He crawled to the basement door which was on the far right of the kitchen. The steps creaked a little, so he had to hurry. The basement was way too dark to see with the naked eye. Should he use his flashlight? would the intruder see the light from the kitchen above? Tom felt his way through the narrow hall to the generator. His nightmare came true, he tripped on a box of Christmas ornaments. Glass fell with ear shattering breaks. He landed on some glass. A sharp pain pierced his side then came a sticky wetness. He was cut. It hurt so bad but he wouldn't scream, he dare not scream. Tom ground his teeth to keep back the yelp and blast of curses. The cut was bad, Tom could tell by how fast his leg became wet with blood. He felt down to see if the glass was out. No. A large spike like shard of glass. His eyes began to tear up. The pain! Someone was coming down the stairs. Creaking. Slushy footsteps began to come down the hall. Tom listened as he was still trying to recover from his accident. No light, his cover. As long as Tom stayed still, he was safe. He was on the urge of passing out. The dizziness took hold of him. Light headed feeling. Throbbing pain. His consciousness drifted away. Before he went under he saw two red eyes coming towards him. There was no telling how long Tom was out. 2 hours maybe the whole night. Outside the mountain air was still and frosty. The snow storm was over and the ground was covered with snow and thick ice patches. The house was still. The winter winds blew through the broken window making an eerie howl. The storm shutters beat like mad against the side of the house. Below the window there was a big glass horse. A blast of arctic wind shot through the opening and tipped the horse over. It shattered into hundreds of pieces. Below in the basement, Tom was awakened by the crash. His leg was stiff and hurt like hell. How long was he out? Where was he? Was he alone? Why wasn't he dead? He got to his feet as fast as he could without falling on his ass. He didn't even attempt to look for the flashlight or knife. He manage to get to the stairs. No one was down there after all. Wobbling and limping, he made it back to the kitchen. A wicked draft blew through the house. Tom felt it's cold sting against his open wound. The bleeding stopped now. The pain was almost unbearable. In the kitchen cabinet, there were pain killers Jim kept for his arthritis. He took 2 of them with some milk that was left in the warm refrigerator. Then he remembered the generator. "Shit!" Tom said out loud. He decided not to go back down again, instead he walked to the main hall to seal off the place. When he got there the door was wide open and snow was already piled in. More wind shot through the door. He hobbled to the staircase and climbed with haste as fast a he could. When he was about 10th step he looked back and saw the figure with red eyes standing at the foot of the staircase. It started to follow Tom with a taunting pace. It always stayed at least 8 steps behind him. It was playing some sort of a game with him. If it wanted him dead, why not in the basement as he was unconscious? Why didn't it lunge at him on the stairs? Tom got to the floor level and took off to the old man's room where the guns were kept. Not looking back he slammed shut the door to Jim's room. He backed away from the door. He walked into something, he turned around and saw Jim hanging off a rope from the ceiling. It looked like the old man hung himself. He screamed. Then he quickly gained control and smashed open the glass case containing the colt 45. Tom wasn't experienced with guns but he knew how they worked. Then at that very second as Tom began to load up, the door split wide open and in stepped the figure. Every second counted. The figure made no sign of fear, just looking dead on at Tom with it's red eyes glowing. Jim's hanging body was the only thing separating the two. Tom opened fire. Blasting away through the dead body and through the figure. The bullets had no effect. The figure sprang to the ceiling like a spider. for a moment it crawled around and then came down on Tom from above. The figure back handed Tom clear out the window. It all happened too fast. Before Tom knew it he was on his back, had falling 2 stories. From the ground, laying on his back he saw the figure in the window. It jumped down the 2 stories to the courtyard where Tom laid. Even in the light the figure had no features, it was completely black, it was a shadow. It finally spoke. "It's time for you to go back" It said. Tom could only stare. The shadow picked up Tom in his arms and flew with him over the house and woods. The creature was not human, not alive. The wind passed through it. After a while they both arrived at a deserted road. A car was coming up the road. A deer ran out in front of it and the car swerved off the road and into a tree. The shadow placed Tom on the ground and flew off through the woods. Tom quickly got to his feet and ran to the car. He ripped the door open and looked inside. It was him! He was looking at himself. He back way from the car and tripped in the snow. From within the woods a laugh sounded. "No escaping the angel of death, no escaping pain, you belong to me" THE END Written By Phil Stevens 1999 Shadows This is dedicated to my Master... Icy rain pattered rhythmically against Kitty's bedroom window, the storm raging outside like an abandoned lover. She huddled deeper beneath the down comforter, counting on its thickness to fight off the cold. When the electricity had gone out earlier that night, she had had to rely on candles and the fire on her hearth for heat and light, and now that she was nested deeply into her bed, she felt lonely. It was too quiet in the old house, other than the rain, and the thunder. She closed her eyes, trying to convince herself that she should sleep, but it was long in coming, elusive. A floorboard creaked, and her eyes shot open, but her cat gave her an inscrutable look from the bedside as if to say "And your problem is??" Abashed, she nestled back down again. Now, it seemed as though she heard a soft intake of breath, and she looked around, warily. But her cat gave her the same inscrutable look and stretched out at her feet with a jaw-popping yawn. "Silly," she sighed, and closed her eyes again. Finally, she felt the cat pounce off the bed and run like all the demons of hell were on its heels. She didn't think much of it; as it was the sort of thing cats do on a moment's notice, until a low chuckle, just barely audible beneath the patter of the rain, was heard nearby. She cracked an eye open, and tried to convince herself that there was not a pair of burning gray eyes in the darkness beside her bed. She stared at them, daring them to fade away the way the other phantoms had that night, but they did not. Her breath hitched in her throat, her heart pounding wildly, all her childhood nightmares coming to life before her in the dark as she lay under her covers, not daring to move for fear this boogeyman should cut her to ribbons. A stray flash of lightening illuminated the dim figure that stood beside her bed. It was definitely a man, though lithe of build and graceful of posture. He wore skintight denim jeans that showed off his dancer's build, a black wife beater beneath a black leather jacket, and high, black leather Wellington boots. His hair was long, and fair, falling over his lean shoulders. His face was fine-boned, almost androgynous, one high arched eyebrow raised in amusement, his sensuous lips parted in a self-satisfied grin that showed his wickedly pointed teeth. His dark, gray eyes burned into her, and she could not decide if his beauty was more frightening than his seemingly magical talent for breaking onto her house unheard and unseen. In the candlelit darkness his voice was soft and low. "Not so silly, my dear..." A terrible shudder passed over her body; somewhere between horrific fear and undeniable lust. She got enough breath in her constricted lungs to squeak out, "Who are you?" His grin widened, snarling sexily, "Oh, my dear, but that would be telling!" "Wh-what do you want?" The bedsprings creaked slightly as the stranger, with lust in his eyes, climbed onto the bed over her, pinning her with his lithe body, crouching over her like a hunting cat. The lust was tainted with a cruel edge, and she felt herself begin to tremble slightly. Why on earth didn't she fight him off? He didn't seem that he could possibly weigh any more than she did, and he looked almost too thin to provide much of a fight. Indeed, his weight on her body was not enough to prevent all movement, but something in his eyes suggested that it might not go well if she fought, and those fangs suggested just what. There was a command in his expression, control, and she felt compelled to obey his softly purred command. There was no hate in his burning eyes. Bemusement; yes. Sadism; yes. Control; indeed. An almost tender caress to her cheek stilled her trembling, but she could not tear her eyes away from his. "What do I want?" he purred, "Whatever I ask of you. Are you naked beneath those sheets, my dear?" She nodded, a chill skittering down her back again at the thought of being so exposed to this wild creature, but she remained beneath the comforter, white-knuckling the edge of the blanket. His grin was feral, now, and he plucked thoughtfully at the blanket's edge, watching her fingers tighten. Suddenly, the bed seemed awfully warm, but she didn't dare relinquish her hold on her covers. She felt like a mouse between the paws of a golden-haired cat, the fanged smile only strengthening the comparison. He stretched out, catlike indeed, beside her, continuing to fondle the blanket edge and watch her reaction. "You know, if I were to request you remove those covers you would have to do it, my dear," he said conversationally. "Why?" she breathed, without thinking. The movement was so fast she could barely track it as his eyes glowed red, his graceful hand caught up a handful of the concealing blanket and ripped it from her grasp, exposing her naked body to the cold darkness of the room. She instantly curled into a shivering ball, her hands thrown up over her head with a shriek of dismay. The elfin stranger cocked his head, studying her naked body for a moment, then in a surprising motion of affection, covered her back up into the warmth of her bed. She peeked out from under the blanket at her antagonist in disbelief. "I am not all cruel," he said softly in response to her incredulous expression. "But I will be obeyed, is that clear?" "Y-y-yes, sir," she answered quietly, enthralled. The stranger lit another candle, and he was better illuminated. She could see now the beauty of his face, the grace of his movements, and felt a longing in her heart she could not explain. He fulfilled some fantasy in her mind, but she could not place it. Her eyes wide, she let her fingers relax their grip on the blankets, and watched him move. He seemed satisfied with her reaction, smiling indulgently now, and slowly pulled the covers from the top half of her body. He leaned close, planting a kiss on her lips that was soft, tender. She breathed deep; his scent was of cinnamon, cloves, and leather. Lingering on his kiss, she raised a hand to caress his high cheekbone, the sharp curve of his jaw, his lean, muscular shoulder... His hand came up swiftly, catching her hand and pinning it to the mattress by her head. She gasped, and he grabbed her other hand, though not by the wrist but by entwining his fingers with hers and leaning down on it. Breaking the kiss, he caught her eyes again with his, seeming to be searching for something there. Then, he cocked his head, his hair brushing her face slightly, and bent down to place his teeth on the curve of her neck, pinning her arms. She stilled, not daring to breathe, then he sank his fangs into her throat and her back arched. Her cry echoed through the empty house. Again, his lips were gentle, and he kissed her neck where he had bitten it, working his way down her collarbones toward her exposed breasts. A soft sound like that of a kitten came from her throat as his teeth grazed her flesh again. She anticipated pain, but was relieved by his softness. His wicked gray gaze met her eyes again, and he bit down again, her cry less frightened and more passionate now, her hands straining to free themselves from his pinning grasp. His breath warm on her neck, he nuzzled against her, and when he let her hands free and his bite came to her again, her hands grasped him closer. She craned her neck to offer it to him, and he chuckled softly, "Good, little one, mustn't deny the Master. You like it when I bite you?" She sighed deep, but would not lie to him, knowing well he would know if she did, "Yes... I do. I don't know why..." He silenced her with a long finger, bending to replace it with his lips again. "Don't question. Just do as I say..." "Yes." He sat back on his knees and pulled the leather jacket and shirt off, revealing his smooth chest and long, lightly muscled arms. She watched the subtle play of sinew beneath his pale flesh hungrily, and found herself licking her lips in anticipation. He seemed pleased by this, grinning like a cat. "Do I please you?" "Yes," she whispered. "Good," he purred, bending to her flesh again. She submitted to his teeth, gasping deeply with every bite, yet pulling him closer, feeling his flesh warm against her skin. She marveled at the softness of it as he pressed his lean body against her. Now, she planted kisses along his jaw, down his neck, across his chest; in supplication, pleading for mercy. His head dipped down suddenly for another bite, and she tightened in anticipation, but his teeth snapped an inch away from her skin, and she fairly laughed in relief. He snickered nastily. "Ahh, love! It's not so bad as all that, eh? Listen, now, little one; I want you... I will have you." It was a simple enough command, but held a world of meaning. Was it her body he wanted? Was she to be ravished as a lover? Or was it her blood he craved? To die in his arms as her essence was drained by his wicked teeth and sensuous lips? Or was it something more? Was it her soul he wished to steal from her like a thief in the night? Her heart? Her mind? Could she relinquish it as easily as he said? He was the Master, she could not deny his claim to that; whether by fear or by fascination he held her in thrall, and she knew she would obey him... Part 2: Claiming The storm continued into the night, the only light being that of the two candles on the bed stand, the only warmth being that of her strange elfin lover beneath the down comforter. The darkness outside the small, golden light of the candleflames was complete, no streetlight or moonlight to ease the shadows. She barely noticed, her eyes for him alone, and the surrounding darkness only serving to highlight his pale beauty, and cut all distraction from their intimacy. Her body trembled beneath his, her fear and desire battling with her will as his hands awakened her to new meanings of pain and rapture. He sank his teeth into her neck mercilessly, holding her down as she bucked beneath him. Even in the throes of torment, she clutched his lithe form to hers, crying out. Once, she whispered, "Mercy!!" as the pain from his bite brought tears to her eyes. He turned his amused glance to her face, stopping both the pain and the caress of his clever hands on her body. "What was that you said?" he growled. She panted, getting her breath back, and found herself amazingly disappointed at the cessation of his attentions. Her neck ached from the many bites he had inflicted on her, and from the loss of his touch. Blushing, she looked into his eyes and replied softly, "Mercy? Umm... French for 'thank you', Master..." "Indeed," he smirked, and sank his teeth into her neck harder and deeper than he had ever before. She howled in agony, writhing now to escape, her hands fluttering helplessly against his shoulders. When he lifted his head to glower at her, she was not surprised to see her own blood drip from his long teeth, his eyes matching in color. His voice was still soft and low, but now menacing. "You will learn not to defy me, little one." She whimpered softly in her throat, fear leaping into her eyes, and clutched him against her, kissing his jaw and neck like a wolf pup begging forgiveness. His eyes cooled to the warm dark gray they had been, and his fingers stroked through her hair, gripping a double handful at the back of her head and holding her still. "You are mine, do you understand?" he growled, "Mercy will only come when I am done with you..." She struggled to speak, to answer him, to beg for compassion, to feel his lips and hands gentle on her body again, tears streaming down her cheeks. He waited a heartbeat, two, watching her will break, and when he kissed her lips again she lifted her face willingly to him, relieved. Part 3: The Master The Master's hands traveled to her thighs, and he could feel her heat, her need, even before her hips rose to meet his touch. His chuckle was cool to her shredded nerves, and his breath warm in the night as he spoke against her neck. "You want me, don't you, little wench? You want me inside you, don't you? I can feel you panting like a cat in heat, arching up against my hand like that. You want to feel me inside you?" He ground his hips into hers, and she felt his hardness against her stomach, surprised at its size for one so lithe. "You want to feel this," he slid his erection along her aching nether lips, "... inside you?" She panted desperately, writhing against him, able only to nod, and beg with her eyes for release. His erection teased her clit and inner lips maddeningly, just barely touching them, as he played his lean hips over her, pinning her arms again to keep her from pulling him down on her. "And what," he whispered into her ear, ever-so-softly, "makes you think you deserve this? Hmmm?" "Oh Gods," she breathed, "Please. Oh please. Yes..." "Say it. Tell me what you want." "I want you. Oh please. I want you inside me!" "Call me Master, little bitch..." She was panting so hard, and was so distracted she could barely grasp English well enough to answer, but she didn't dare disobey his order. "M... Ma... Massss.... Ahhh... Master! Please... Master!" He entered her body swiftly, filling her, slamming against her cervix so hard she screamed. Then, tucking his legs up beneath her thighs, he moved within her slowly, pulling out almost entirely, only to slowly drive back in all the way. She groaned with pleasure, and looked up, captured by his eyes again. He held her gaze relentlessly as he moved, never looking away or closing them, a small crease in his brow making his expression seem tender, almost wondering, instead of the sadistic grin she was expecting. She poured all of her emotion into her eyes, letting him see what he was doing to her, to her body, to her spirit, and he seemed to read it there, even as she moaned softly beneath him. She shuddered as he bent down toward her, but his kiss was gentle, lingering, passionate. She could feel his deadly teeth behind his soft lips, could taste her own blood on them, but she took the moment to return his kiss with genuine affection. His eyes never left hers, as though he was drinking in her emotion, her passion, her pain and her pleasure, and she gave them up to him. They made love like this for what seemed like hours. With no electricity there was no way to tell the passage of time, save by how far down the candles melted. Their eyes never strayed to watch them. By the time the candles actually burned down the storm had cleared, and the moon shone through the window over them. It seemed to cast a more elfin light on the lover; the candles made him look feral, the moon seemed to offer a more faerie cast to his features. Her climax was a slowly building, growing warmth in her gut that suddenly ripped through her body like a wave. Her head was thrown back, her fingers clenching his spasmodically, and she breathed her rapture almost soundlessly into the quieting night, bucking beneath him. He held her as she calmed. When she had collapsed onto the bed, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes, he smiled enigmatically. "Indeed, precious, you looked like you needed that... Now I ask of you; Please give me release. Those lips of yours are certainly good for more than a kiss..." She smiled serenely as he lay down beside her, and curled up into his lap to wrap her lips around his still hard phallus. She worked him steadily, his hand on her shoulder, stroking in time with her movements, urging her on, guiding her speed. He was nearly silent, the only indication of his release his soft cry and the taste of him in her mouth. She cocked her head to rest it on his thigh, swallowing with a grin. His hand reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling her up to kiss his lips. His nails traced along her shoulder, welting her skin, and he looked interested at the result... "Hmmm," he purred, "Don't you welt up nicely? Next time I may have to tie you down..." Suddenly, with a hum, the electricity came back on, the lights brightening the room almost unbearably, and she threw up her arm over her eyes to shield them, sitting up. When she got her sight back and looked around her, the elfin stranger was gone. She could still smell him on her, feel the welts and bruises where he had bitten her, the lingering warmth of his skin on hers... and an aching in her breast she simply could not explain. She lifted her fingers to her lips, savoring the feel of him there. Finally, she got up and turned off all the lights, stopping to gaze dispassionately at the candle stubs on her bed stand. The second candle had been black, and she carried no black candles. The darkness, now dimly lit by distant streetlights seemed all the more empty for her being alone; the house colder even with the heaters on... Shadows and Dark Nights Arianna Arianna looked at the table and tried to decide if she had missed anything. She had been working all day in the kitchen preparing Him his favorite Japanese dishes. They had been more complex to prepare than she had expected and now she was feeling rushed. She hadn't been able to run through her normal checks of the house and the variance from her usual routine was filling her mind with self-doubt. Had she missed anything? Would He be disappointed? Her eyes wandered over the table again but the white linen table cloth was spotless, as was the silverware and the china. The food she had prepared sat warm under their silver domed lids and the bouquet of Calla Lillies made the table seem elegant, yet simple. The Grandfather clock in the entry hall began chiming its bells to indicate that the time was now 5:45pm, and it snapped Arianna out of her paralysis at the table. She still had to ensure that she was ready for His arrival and she rushed from the table to go and prepare for her presentation. When the clock began its elaborate chimes at 6pm, Arianna was already in her place. She knelt to the right of the door, hands resting on the tops of her thighs and her ass resting on her heels. She was completely nude, her back was straight and she had brushed her long ebony hair out to a silky sheen. Her naked flesh shone under the pot lights above her head, having been waxed and moisturized to perfection. Her only adornment was a heavy titanium necklace. Although she never took off the symbol of His ownership over her, Arianna always noticed its weight more during the quiet moments while she waited for him to arrive home on Friday evenings. Perhaps it was the way her heart beat faster as the minutes ticked by or how she felt like her skin was on fire, tingling with every breath of air which ran across it or maybe it was just the adrenaline which began to course through her body as she anticipated the thought of His touch. She was supposed to be meditating during these moments when she was alone and not busy with the house or with her social engagements, in fact she was supposed to be mentally preparing herself for what lay ahead of her but she had not yet been able to calm her mind. Instead she found her head swimming with thoughts and desires, wants and needs and the longer she sat in anticipation the more her body gave her away. Her nipples became hard, her breathing shallower, and her sex became slick and highly sensitive. Finally, just before 6:15 pm Arianna heard the keys jangle outside the door and the deadbolt slide open. As the doorknob began to turn she straightened her back, pushed out her breasts and chin and cast her eyes to the floor. When his black leather shoes came into view, she resisted the urge to look up and see his bright smile. Instead she waited patiently as he put away his coat and walked into the adjacent office to stow his bags and work related gadgets. When he came back to the entryway, he stood before her and she swore she could feel the intensity of his gaze as he looked over her body. Arianna had never felt like her body was perfect, but she had become proud of her body, the more she embraced her inner desires and stopped letting her mind be ruled with what she perceived others might think. She knew she was attractive, her creamy white skin and dark hair and green eyes had always allowed her to find interested men. Her body was soft and curvy, her ample D cup breasts were emphasized by the way she curved inwards along her ribcage before rounding out again across her hips and ass. Her tummy was flat and her long legs shapely. She smiled inwardly to herself knowing that her meticulous care was highlighting her smooth skin to his burning gaze, it was soft and supple and aching to be touched. It was at the moment of that thought, that his fingers came into contact with the skin along her collar bone and they began to trace a line along her necklace and then up her neck, finally resting on her chin. Arianna fought the urge to moan out loud at his touch, but her lips parted and a soft sigh of contentment was audible anyways. "How was your day, MY pet?" He asked and as he spoke Arianna raised her eyes and took in her Master's smiling face. It never stopped being a breathless moment for her, no matter how many times she was able to gaze upon him. He just had one of those smiles which lit up the room. His white straight teeth were a blazing contrast to his rich cocoa skin and his voluptuous mouth always curved up in a way that made it look like he knew a secret which he just wasn't telling. But for Arianna it was his eyes which always had her heart hammering inside her chest. They were a deep dark brown color and the intensity with which he looked at her had never changed. From the moment they had met years ago, at a work conference they were both attending, Arianna had felt like she was the desert oasis to his parched and wandering soul. He looked at her like she was his most sinful desires and his only salvation all wrapped into one perfectly presented package. "My day was good and very busy, Sir." Arianna answered, smiling back to him. With a nod, his fingers left her skin and he walked down the hallway from the front door to the dining room. Taking his seat at the head of the table, he began to remove the domed lids from the food and placed a napkin across his lap. Arianna didn't move from her spot beside the door. She knew that she was still in his line of sight and he hadn't indicated for her to follow, so she remained glued to her post and strained her ears to try and hear if her efforts at mimicking his favorite food had been successful. When she heard the little noises of appreciation as he sampled each of the dishes, she could not help but feel proud of herself. However, the moment would be short-lived. "Slave!" Her Master rumbled deeply from the dining room. It was only one solitary word but Arianna was already perplexed and worried at his tone. She rose from her place and walked purposefully towards the dining room. When she came to a stop beside him, she glanced at the table and saw that it had been cleared of all evidence of the meal she had prepared. The only thing left was the vase filled with Calla Lillies, their delicate form the only bright item in the minimalist room. Her Master had pushed his chair back from the table and he motioned for her to take her place in front of him. There was just enough room for her to stand between the edge of the table and where his knees rested. "Explain yourself!" He demanded. Arianna did not know what to say. She was sure that he had enjoyed the food. Her mouth opened once, then twice and finally a third time but she could not find the words to answer him. She took a deep breath in an attempt to push out some words when he cut her off. "Are the tasks that I ask you to complete during the day too taxing for you Slave?" He sneered at her, rising from his chair and standing too close to her naked form. "You will give me my favorite thing to eat. Now!" Arianna was still confused by her Master's sudden anger and the proximity of his body and the scent of his skin was addling her brain. She made a motion to move from her spot and go back to the kitchen when he grabbed her throat in his hand and squeezed as he forcefully pushed her down onto the table. Her head hit into the wood of the table with enough force to make her wince and when her eyes reopened, his face was a hairsbreadth away from her own. His eyes were filled with a savage lust she knew well. "Don't fucking move!" He growled. Then the whirlwind of his passion began to assault her. His tongue ran a path down her neck, stopping at her tits. He sucked and licked each one of her nipples. They were already hard and with each suck, he squeezed her ample flesh in his hands. One hand pinched and tweaked a nipple, while the other nipple got sucked in and out of his greedy mouth. When his teeth grazed across her hardened bud, she moaned and arched her back in an attempt to push her breast further into his face. She felt him growl again against her flesh, a wordless reminder of his order to stay still. But it was hard not to respond to his skilled hands and lips. He continued to lick down her stomach slowly dipping his tongue into her belly button before continuing. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he pushed her legs apart and held them wide open with his strong grip, exposing her dripping and wanting pussy to his lustful eyes. He held her like that for a few moments, just admiring and breathing in the scents of her desire. Arianna desperately wanted to squirm, she wanted to grab his shaved head and push him onto her pulsating clit. Finally, after what felt like an eternity his hot breath touched her and was followed by the lightest kiss directly on her hardened clit. She almost came right there, but he knew just the right amount of pressure and just the right amount of time, to get her to the very brink and not push her over. "Don't cum, my Pet." He breathed the words, so that even they teased her aching flesh. "Don't cum until you have my permission." Then the kisses began again. Each one a fraction longer than the last, the pressure a little firmer. Each one driving her mad with lust. Each one a punishment. Each one a lesson in obedience. She couldn't move or gain any ground. He pushed her to the edge, over and over and yet he was barely touching her. Then he started to lick her with his large and long tongue, carefully avoiding her clit and her dripping hole. He went back and forth between the kisses on her clit and the licking of her pussy lips until Arianna was sure she couldn't take it anymore and then he slid his fingers inside her. Arianna moaned loudly and instinctively bucked her hips up to push him deeper inside, and as she did, he pulled them quickly back out. "Please Master," Arianna whimpered, "I need to cum, pleeeaase let me cum!" Her Master remained silent and instead plunged his tongue into her dripping hole. Swirling it around, he made sure that it hit every inch of her and Arianna could feel her muscles trying to pull him deeper inside. He began to lick her, inside and then out, slowly increasing his rhythm and pushing her legs open as wide as they would go. Arianna knew she could not hold out much longer. Her climax had been building, coiling low in her abdomen and it was going to explode, soon. She started begging, and pleading with Him for permission to cum; incoherently babbling that it was too much, that she wanted to obey, but that she could not hold out much longer. But he simply continued to devour her pussy silently, and when he latched onto her clit with his mouth and pushed three fingers into her drenched cunt and his thumb into her tight ass, her body finally betrayed her. Arianna screamed out as her climax crashed her over the edge and into an abyss of pleasure. As she shook and convulsed, she could hear her Master moaning in appreciation as her honey flooded into his mouth and he drank her down. Still in the haze of her orgasm, Arianna felt Her Master shift his position and stand up. Then the pressure of his body draped over her own and she felt his lips brush her ear. She could feel his hard cock pressing sharply into her hip through his dress pants. "You disobeyed me, Pet! You will present yourself for penance to your Master. Now!" As soon as the words were whispered to her, he rose from her still trembling form and walked away towards their den of iniquity. Charles Charles walked away from the dining room table where his beloved pet still lay sprawled and shaking from the orgasm he had just given her. As he walked through the house they shared, he silently noted how well kept it was and when he finally stepped down into their play room he sighed in pleasure, knowing that this night had only just begun. He looked around the large room and admired all the custom pieces they had chosen to furnish it. They were all crafted from dark woods to compliment the warm depth of the room as a whole and Arianna had ensured that all their toys were carefully cleaned and placed in their wooden chests or displayed along the walls. The smell of wood polish and leather treatment filled the air, which would soon be joined by the sweet scent of sex. Charles took a seat on his chair which sat opposite from the door. One his favorite things was watching Arianna walk into a room. When she appeared silhouetted in the doorway, he made sure to wipe the smile from his lips. After all, she was here to be punished for her disobedience and he had a whole new bag of tricks to use on his beautiful little slave tonight. He adjusted slightly in his chair as he watched her curvy body sway forward. His cock was rock hard, pushing at the fabric of his trousers and he could feel the pre-cum already oozing from the tip. He could see that she was still under the influence of her climax, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glazed and she took each step with careful consideration, as if she was unsure that her legs could be trusted to keep holding her up. Charles motioned for her to take her place on the bench, where she would receive her punishment. As she turned her back to him and stood before the bench, she paused momentarily, no doubt running her routine for presenting herself through her mind quickly. Charles grinned to himself, he knew that Arianna had practiced this moment when she thought he was busy elsewhere, but he had seen her run through it several times, making slight adjustments to her form with each pass. It filled him with an immense pride that she was so loyal to him and that she strived so very hard to be perfect in an effort to please him. Finding her had been a surprise. Right from the beginning, she had never questioned his intentions or hesitated at his requests. She had become the perfect Pet and her lust, love and desires matched his in every way. Tonight he planned on pushing her past the only limit he hadn't yet trained her to let go of. He had no doubt she would obey, because despite her strength, her intelligence, her wit and her compassion outside of the walls of their home, inside their home she willingly submitted her soul and body into his hands and he would honor that, by fulfilling her in all ways. Even the ones she didn't yet understand. Arianna Successfully reaching the playroom and managing to run through her presentation routine had been more difficult than it should have been. Arianna had not been allowed any time to recover from the massive orgasm which had rocked her body in the dining room and although she could have allowed herself some breathing time after her Master had walked away, she knew that being prompt was one of his easiest rules to follow and she did not care to earn extra punishments for such a petty offense. With her stomach and breasts resting softly on the leather that covered the wooden bench, which she was now prostrate across and with her hands and feet in position to be bound by the leather straps, Arianna allowed her head to hang down momentarily in an attempt to clear it. She closed her eyes and her head swam with the endorphins still rampant in her system. When she heard the rustling noises that indicated that her Master was rising from his chair behind her, she opened her eyes and raised her head up. She watched him as he began walking in a slow circle around her body while he took off his clothes. His naked feet were first, then his broad chest and amazing abdomen were exposed to her and then finally on his third pass around her form she saw his toned ass and huge rock hard black cock. Her mouth began to salivate at the sight of his pre-cum dripping from the tip and she moaned low in her throat when his skin brushed against hers and he began to strap her ankles and wrists into the leather restraints. When she was securely fastened, he rested his large hand on her round ass cheek. The contrast between the colors of their skin was a sight that Arianna knew he relished. Especially before he started any form of punishment, because before long her creamy white flesh would blush and then go red under his hand. He slapped her ass firmly with the palm of his hand before he walked towards the wall where his tools were displayed. She could not see him from where she was, but when he returned and dragged his selection up her spine, she could tell that he had chosen a small leather cat o nine tails. She was very familiar with it and tensed slightly as he ran it back down towards her exposed bottom. "Count your punishment out for me My Pet," Charles said. "Yes, Master." Arianna did as she was told, when the first lash hit across her ass, she called out loudly, "One!" After each lash Charles rubbed down the offended area, soothing the tender flesh and after Arianna called out the number ten, he slid his fingers into her dripping tight pussy. Arianna moaned loudly as her Master swirled his long fingers inside her. She was on the verge of cumming again when he suddenly stopped and walked out of their playroom. Arianna was baffled, and still panting from his skilled finger fucking. She wanted to call out to him, but she knew that she shouldn't, so she turned her head in an attempt to hear him. Nothing could be heard and twisting her neck was starting to hurt, so she stopped trying to listen for him. After several minutes passed she finally heard her Master's soft footfalls approaching the playroom. He stepped up to her bound form and then smacked her ass hard with his open palm. Then Arianna felt something hard and smooth sliding along her spine. Her Master slid the object all the way up to the nape of her neck and then slowly back down and when he slid it over her asshole, she momentarily tensed. She heard her Master chuckle softly at her and then felt him push two Ben Wa Balls into her pussy. She felt the weighted balls come to rest inside her and her muscles immediately contracted around them making her gasp in pleasure. "Hold these for me Pet." Her Master requested, squeezing her ass with his hands and then he added, "I own all of your body Pet, even here..." And he emphasized his statement by shoving his tongue deep into her virgin asshole. Arianna instinctively bucked her hips back against him and let out another low moan as the balls shifted again inside her. Then Charles rose and walked back over to his wall, which displayed their various toys. This time he chose a wide paddle and when he slapped it across his hand Arianna twitched, knowing the sound well. He walked back over to her and began to spank her ass and upper thighs. Her Master made sure that he landed each blow squarely across her body, so that not only was her exposed and oversensitive cunt being hit but each blow also caused her body to rock forward on the bench, moving the balls around inside her. By the time he had reached just ten solid smacks, Arianna was mewling and her pussy was so wet that the paddle was smeared with her creamy juices. Her Master knew that she was desperate for another orgasm, but it wasn't time yet. So he untied the leather straps and stood several steps away from her in front of his chair. When Arianna heard her Master call for her to present herself in front of him, she tried to rise quickly from her place on the bench. But she had underestimated how much of an effect the Ben Wa Balls were having on her and as she began to step towards him, she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from climaxing for a second time, without his permission. It was the longest eight steps that she had ever taken and she was shaking with the effort, when she kneeled down before him. When she released her lip, the coppery taste of blood danced across her tongue. But it was soon gone, as the saliva filled her mouth in anticipation of tasting her Master's cock. When she kneeled before him, she was lucky enough to be presented with the most spectacular eight inches of diamond hard black cock she had ever seen. And she wanted nothing more than to slide her tongue all over its length and then suck him into her hot little mouth. Shadows and Dark Nights When she looked up at her Master from under her long black eyelashes, Arianna could not help but smile at him wickedly. She knew that watching her suck his cock, was something that her Master absolutely loved and when he nodded for her to begin, she happily got to work. She began by licking and sucking on his balls, feeling each one already tight and heavy with cum. Then she languidly licked the tip of his head, tasting him, before she wrapped her lips around his swollen head and sucked gently and then slowly with more force. Her hands were both busy, one massaging his heavy sack, while the other stroked his long shaft, spreading her saliva and his pre-cum all over. Once she was satisfied, she opened her mouth wide and pushed him all the way inside, sliding her tongue all around, until his huge member hit the back of her throat. Charles groaned loudly. Arianna smiled and began to suck and hum, sending tremors down her Master's cock, as she continued to work him in and out of her mouth. When he grabbed the back of her hair, pulling her roughly forward and began to thrust his hips to meet her bobbing head, she knew his climax was quickly approaching. Her Master fucked her tight little mouth with uncontrollable lust and she deep throated his huge cock, eager to drink down every drop of cum he would give her. With one final thrust, Arianna's mouth was filled with so much of her Master's cum that it threatened to spill from her lips. But she made sure not to waste a single drop and when she looked up at him through watery eyes, he smiled widely at her and said, "You are such a good girl, my Pet." Charles There was almost nothing that Charles loved more than watching Arianna suck his big black cock. The way she did it with such obvious lust and pleasure turned him on immensely and he always struggled not to unload his cum into her mouth, as soon as he felt her take him deep into her throat. Now that he had finally let himself release, a small amount of the lust he was feeling had subsided and he hoped it would be enough. But his cock was already growing hard again, at the sight of Arianna positioning herself as per his instructions. He had her bent over, legs spread, gripping the sides of his chair with her hands. This time, it would not be the leather straps which would bind her in place. Instead, it would be the sheer force of her desire to please him which would make her hold her position, even when his biggest surprise of the night was revealed. He stood behind her for a few moments, purely in awe of his devilish vixen and then he commanded her to release the Ben Wa Balls that she had been holding inside. A moan of pleasure mixed with relief erupted from her, as she pushed them out and into his waiting hands. Charles smiled like a Cheshire cat, Arianna was sex personified and she was His. Arianna With her hands firmly grasped along the sides of her Master's chair, Arianna felt the tip of her Master's already hard cock impale her swollen flesh. "I want you to cum for me Pet," He said authoritatively. "As many times as you can." Those were the only words that she needed to hear and she pushed her hips back, sliding further onto her Master's cock, as he slammed forward into her tight wet cunt. It only took several thrusts before the first climax hit her, but her Master did not slow down. He continued to plunge into her and as he did, she felt his thumb begin to push its way into her ass. At first Arianna tensed up, but as he continued to pound her pussy, she couldn't help but relax and when he pulled out his thumb and slipped in two fingers, her second orgasm washed over her. Arianna knew that after releasing his load in her mouth earlier, it would be awhile before her Master came again and he continued to relentlessly fuck her cum soaked hole, as her body pulsed around him. Almost immediately after the tremors subsided, Arianna could feel her body preparing itself to cum again, but then her Master completely shocked her. As He slid a glass dildo into her ass, Arianna's eyes widened and her mouth opened up in a silent O. "Is there a problem My Pet?" Her master questioned with a sly grin on his face, and as he drilled her with both his enormous cock and now the dildo, he added, "I told you that I will possess every part of your body, and I have been craving this one for far too long." Arianna had no words to respond, the sensation of being fucked by her Master in two places was sending every nerve in her body into hyper-drive. The only real thought which she was even capable of forming, was that she wanted more. More of his cock and more of his pleasure. So with that thought, Arianna let go and as her third climax began, her Master pulled out of her pussy and began to push his large black cock into her virgin white ass. He eased himself in slowly but Arianna didn't offer up much resistance, she was so overwhelmed by the endorphins from her climax that she didn't tense up and all the preliminary work that he had accomplished with his fingers and then with the dildo, allowed him to claim her inch by inch, until he was buried into her as far as he could go. Arianna moaned when she felt her Master stop, now completely filling her up and as he eased himself back out and then back in again, she could hear him grunting from the exertion of keeping his pace slow. Her ass was tight and she knew it was driving him wild with lust, and with each gentle stroke, Arianna was getting used to the new sensations and the overwhelming fullness. And then the knowledge that she had finally surrendered the last barrier between them and that in every conceivable way she now belonged to him, those thoughts, became the most potent aphrodisiac. Arianna rocked her ass back, as her Master began his slow push forward and as she did so she said, "Fuck me Master! Your pleasure is my pleasure. And I am YOURS." Charles groaned out loudly when he heard those words from his beloved Pet's mouth and he began to pound into Arianna's tight ass with fervor. Arianna could feel every throb of her Master's cock in her ass and as his balls slapped into her clit over and over she began to come again. Her cries of pleasure were enough to push her Master over the edge and he growled loudly as he shot spurt after spurt of hot cum into her beautiful ass. Both spent from their playtime. Charles and Arianna lay together in a tangle of limbs on the floor. Their bodies glistened with sweat and the smell of sex filled the air. They were both on the verge of sleep but Charles lifted Arianna's head from his chest, cupping her face in his large hands and lightly kissed her on the lips. "I love you, Arianna." He whispered and then the darkness of sleep claimed them. Shadows and Light Ch. 01 Greetings and salutations avid readers. This is my first story in this category and I hope you like it. The build up of story line takes a while but I hope it will be worth the wait. It will be about fourteen chapters all told and I am sure that many of you will be glad to hear that all but two of them have been written. This won't be one of those stories that hooks you and leaves you hanging after a few chapters. As the focus of each chapter changes the story may be submitted into other categories such as gay male, as I do have sub-plots running around. A big thank you to the editors that have helped me in the past and ones currently helping me with the story. It would not be nearly as good without them. Chapter 1 Darkness She felt numb where her skin touched the cold floor. Though she willed herself to move, her unresponsive body lay still. She sobbed, and cried without tears. She was so thirsty. How long had it been? The single light bulb that lit the room with its harsh light hurt her eyes as she looked at it. It would soon burn out. Sooner or later it would go dark and leave her alone to die with the withered, skeletal husk that had once been her tormenter. She had stabbed him. She remembered the look of sheer surprise on his face when the knife plunged into his chest. Fierce joy had filled her. His tortured slave, drained of blood, kept weak, and hungry, had struck a single blow and he had fallen. Her bloody wrist had finally been able to slip the manacle. Free, no more surviving just to be tortured with his mouth, his cock, his knives, his whips, and his teeth. My god his teeth, she shuddered. The short brutal spasm sent waves of pain through her savaged body. He had bitten her everywhere, up and down her neck, the insides of her wrists, her inner thighs. After a while, the veins would collapse and he couldn't feed anymore and he would find another, punishing, biting and tearing at her. Were there anymore left? She couldn't remember. She was numb, cold. Her left hand throbbed; he had bitten off the tip of her pinky finger down to the first knuckle. She hadn't realized that she could hurt so badly still. He had drunk from her while she screamed in agony. The door was open. If she could just find the strength she could leave. She could drink. She could eat. She could live. She was so cold. She heard noise from up above her, footsteps crossing the floor over her head. The light overhead flickered, as it always did before he came. Oh God, he was back, he was back, and the door was open. He would hurt her, over and over. Oh God. She whimpered. He would take her bit-by-bit and she would never die. He would torture her until her mind snapped, and she didn't care anymore. The moaning screams from the room next to her startled another painful spasm through her. It had been so quiet for a while, no more screams from the not quite human, not quite vampire being in the room next door. She had hoped that it was dead. Finally dead. It was waiting for him to tire of her and feed her to it, like the slender Asian girl she had replaced. Her first memory of this place was burned into her mind. The girl had screamed and screamed in an unfamiliar language, begging on her knees. It didn't do any good. The man pushed the sobbing, screaming girl at the fanged thing that was chained to the wall. It ripped her apart. And then, when the girl's screaming had stopped, the thing had started to eat her. The green-eyed man had just laughed, fondling himself. He had told her she would be next, when he was through with her. He was laughing, raping her with his body, savaging her, listening to her screams as he thrust his cock and his teeth into her. More footsteps from above her, and then the sound of the trap door opening and falling echoed through the small space. Maybe the monster was loose, maybe it would come and kill her and the pain would stop, maybe... She wanted to live, didn't she? Maybe she was already dead. Did you still hurt when you were dead? She just didn't want to hurt anymore. She closed her eyes against the painful light bulb that would burn out and leave her all alone. "Cullen?" A man's voice called. The screaming started again. The chains that held it rattled as it lunged and clawed. It was clawing to get to her, so it could feast on the little blood that was left inside her battered body. Her heart would stop. It was already so slow, measured, giving her something to keep her company while she died. She almost wished it would come for her. She was so tired; she ached, so thirsty, so cold. The screaming reached a fevered pitch and with a loud bang that sent another agonizing twitch through her body, it fell silent at last. It was so quiet, the echoes long since died away into the darkness. Footsteps sounded again, closer this time louder but with no echoes on the cement floor. She tried to move, to crawl away somewhere safe in the dark. She had to hide, to get away. Another whimper, softer than the last escaped from her. "My god," came the voice again. A hand touched her and she moaned. Just kill me she thought, let it end, I don't want to hurt anymore, please, please, please, you can do that can't you? Just don't hurt me anymore, please just kill me. She could feel herself being rolled over onto her back. She cried out, it hurt so badly. The voice came again only this time she couldn't understand the words, they just blurred with the pain. She sobbed, her mouth and throat parched dry. Strong arms lifted her. She could smell cologne and the smell that was distinctly his, earthy, a hint of pine and tobacco as he carried her. He felt almost hot against her cold skin. She could feel the rumble of his voice inside his chest against her body even as her mind struggled to understand. There was water, cool and clean against her lips, and she drank, moaning when it was withdrawn from her. The voice spoke and she quieted. Something sweet was given and she drank all that was offered. She could hear water sounds. A waterfall? Was she outside? It would be nice to see the sun again; it had been dark for so long. She had forgotten what it was like to be warm, lying in the sun, drowsing in the heat. Maybe the sun had been shut off like the light bulb in the cold room when he left her. She would be left in the dark to suffer. He would come for her, grabbing her by her hair and pulling into his playroom. Pinning her to the table, fucking and biting and whipping as she screamed and screamed. Someone was screaming, far away from her. The rumbling baritone called to her, she could hear him, warm and calm, safe now, she was safe now. The screaming stopped and was replaced with anguished sobs. They pulled at her heart. She longed to hold that person, to rock them, soothe them back into quiet sleep. Sleep with no dreams. @@@@ She was warm at last. There was softness all around her aching body, below and above. Soft and warm. There was a light on her face; she could see it through her eyelids, hot and golden. She stretched involuntarily and the pain came but not as strong as it had been. She opened her eyes. "Hello sweetheart, back with me for a bit?" Came the rich voice from her dreams. Deep brown eyes met hers and he smiled. "Here love, have a drink." She slowly propped herself up on an elbow. Apple juice, sweet and smooth poured down her throat. Never had anything tasted so good. She drank the entire glass, her hand shaking. He was big. In another time and place she might have noticed how handsome he was. Her eyes only saw his strength, his potential to hurt her. He took the glass and set it on the bedside table. "Can you tell me your name?" he asked. "Mine is Ian. Ian Sterling." She just looked at him. Her name. Did she have a name? For one horrible moment, her mind remained blank. What was her name? "My name?" it came out as a hoarse whisper. "Isabelle," she said slowly, "My name is Isabelle." Shadows and Light Ch. 02 Chapter 2 Cullen's Secrets He couldn't believe that she was alive. Cullen, his older brother, hadn't come back from his weekend at the old cabin he insisted on keeping. Ian was irritated that his brother had not picked him up from the airport as planned. He had been gone for three months looking for new art for his galleries and was looking forward to showing off some of his finds. After waiting three days he had had enough, and had driven the four hours to get to Cullen's cabin, which happened to be in the absolute, ass end of nowhere. The cabin had all the lights on and the front door wide open. Cullen was nowhere to be found. There had been no answering hail to his call for his brother, just vague, muffled sounds from below his feet. As he stepped into the cabin, he was hit with how rustic it appeared. It was rather sparsely decorated with real wood paneling and hardwood floors. Ian was a bit surprised. Cullen had always been very contemporary in his decorating, all clean lines and minimalism. Hell, there was even a stuffed deer head on the wall, looking at him with its glassy eyes. The cabin was small, just a small living room with a woodstove, a galley style kitchen, small bathroom and bedroom. It was not Cullen's style at all. Eventually he discovered the trap door, closed. The large box full of wood for the large cast iron woodstove had been slid to the side and forward into the room. It was obviously designed to hide the trapdoor. He grabbed the ring, pulled it open and was assaulted by a variety of smells, decay and death primarily. Screaming, insane and repetitive started, sending chills through him. The room the ladder descended into was something out of a medieval nightmare. The ceiling was higher than he would have thought it would be, and the room was huge, much larger than he would have expected given the size of the cabin. Manacles and chains hung from the ceiling, whips of every description were held on a rack, knives of every variety, sex toys and implements of sexual torture lined the shelves, arranged ever so carefully. One wall was lined with skulls, empty eyed and grinning at him from their carefully arranged places on the shelves. 'My God what the hell is going on here?' he thought, his heart beginning to pound. He continued to take in the room, looking around in shock. Dark stains of what he could only assume was blood covered the floor and the large, oddly shaped table in the center of the room. The room reeked of decayed flesh and rancid blood. A few steps and further back to the north side of the room he could see a large pentagram gouged into the cement floor. The etchings were filled with a silvery metal, both inside and outside of the circle. It was large enough for even him to lay down spread-eagled and still be inside the circle. There were chained manacles bolted to the floor at strategic places. Ian shivered. It looked like it had been set up for some kind of ritual, with fresh chalk lines and black candles. He didn't go too close. He didn't know much about black magic but what he did know was you didn't go near that kind of thing unless you knew what the fuck you were doing. "Cullen, what are you doing?" he whispered to himself. One of the small doors on the west side of the room held the ravening, mindless, screaming remains of a half-turned human. It had a heavy collar around its neck and was securely chained to the wall behind it. He pulled out his handgun and put it out of its misery. Shaking badly, he was surprised that only one shot had been required. The stench was overwhelming and he suppressed the urge to turn and run, back upstairs and into the clean, outside air. Littering the small room were the remains of bones that crunched under his feet. His mind reeled for a moment. Cullen had to know about this. How could he not? His big brother, how could he be involved in this? A few more steps led him to a second door. This room stank of sour urine, dust, and blood. Here he found the remains of Cullen, stabbed through the heart with one of his own blades. He fell heavily to his knees. The dry, withered remains of his brother were swathed in a black robe with ornate black glyphs on the hem. It was obviously some kind of ritual robe. His rational mind refused to believe what he was seeing. Cullen was responsible for the first room, for the mindless thing in the second, probably for the skulls that lined the shelf and God only knew what else. His eyes didn't register her at first. Lying on the floor, on the other side of the room, was the nude, broken body of a young woman, his last victim lying in a crumpled heap. It looked like she had been flung there, like a broken doll. She was painfully thin and so battered her skin looked like a patchwork of blue, purple, yellow-green and gray. He had done this, the bruises, the lash marks, the bite marks on her neck, oh God. She had killed Cullen, that was obvious, and then lacked the strength to leave the hell she then died in. Horror rose within him. His hands continued to shake as he covered his face for a moment. He had killed before, but that was different. This was sick, sadistic, relentless torture and murder. By the look of the skulls, Cullen had been doing this for a very long time. Random, wanton killing was forbidden. It attracted too much attention. This was going to cause more than a scandal. He heard a faint whimper; she was alive? He crossed the small room and knelt. Bite marks were plain up and down her neck, the insides of her wrists to the elbow, her femoral arteries. She had been whipped, beaten times beyond count, and bled until her skin was pale and drained of any hint of color, and still her heart beat, her body breathed. Almost without thinking he reached out to check her pulse. With the single touch on her cold skin she had cried out, wordlessly, agonizingly. Her mental pain assaulted him: despair, agony, and a tenacious will to live that was crumbling. Ian jerked back, strengthening his mental shields. It wasn't often that he picked up on other's emotions so easily. He carefully lifted her into his arms. He carried her upstairs and in the strong light of the well-lit cabin she looked like a skeleton covered with skin. She was so light she felt like she would float if he let her go. She had taken water frantically, gulping it down, moaning in protest when he pulled the glass away. He had been afraid she would choke, or vomit it up if she got too much. He vaguely remembered something about electrolytes. Looking in the fridge, he grabbed a bottle of Gatorade. Rising unbidden was the thought that it was Cullen's favorite flavor. He fed her an entire bottle, making her take it in small sips. He brought another bottle with him into the bathroom. The smell that had permeated her made him sick, reeking of blood, semen, and death. He drew a warm bath. He would get her warm and clean all at the same time. Ever so carefully, he supported her so she wouldn't drown and tried to clean her without taking the scabs off of her half healed injuries. The water went from clear to black within a minute as he scrubbed off accumulated filth and dried blood from her skin. He had had to change the water three times before he finally got her clean to his satisfaction. Her hair was now clean but very tangled. Her skin was very fair where it wasn't bruised; a sharp contrast to his tanned hands. She also looked young, far too young. He carried her naked and dripping into the only bedroom, wrapped her hair in another towel and carefully dried her. This somehow seemed more intimate than he had ever touched another person, even for sex. From the look of the flesh between her legs and the amounts of dried semen he had washed off of her, she had been raped repeatedly. There were old, healing bruises along with fresh and welts from a lash covering her entire chest, pelvis, pubic area and thighs. Her wrists and ankles were bruised and raw from being restrained. The rest of her thin body was covered with dark bruises, lash marks and bites. He was almost ashamed to handle her so intimately after she had been so savagely brutalized. He had no choice however, she was completely defenseless and vulnerable, she needed someone to take care of her, and he was it. Cullen had done this; every mark, every bruise, every bit of blood, semen, and filth that had covered her. How did a brother that you had known all of your life turn out to be a monster and yet you saw nothing to warn you? He tucked her up between the clean sheets in the bed with a towel under her hips to keep the sheets clean. Then he tackled her hair with a wide tooth comb. He ended up cutting it straight at the chin, discarding the rest. It was just too tangled. For the next few days he fed her everything he could get her to take: water, juice, broth, soup. For the most part she seemed to sleep quietly but would sometimes scream in terror with bad dreams. Her screams chilled him to the core; they were anguished, more like the scream of a tortured soul than a tortured body. He kept his mental shields maxed. He didn't have a choice but to touch her and her emotions were so strong they could easily overwhelm him if he wasn't careful. He was still struggling emotionally from what he had found and tried to keep himself steady. He held her, rocked her, and talked to her. It was the only thing that seemed to calm her. She clung to him like a child, staring at him with dark blue eyes that seemed to look straight into his soul. She didn't speak. He couldn't tell if it was because she didn't want to or because she couldn't. When she had seemed to sleep, he had disposed of the body of the half-turned human in a makeshift grave behind the cabin. He had burned it first, in the hole he had dug deep. The last thing he needed was to start a forest fire and have the Dept. of Natural Resources crawling all over the place. There were other piles of dirt that looked like graves in the small clearing. Cullen's remains he left where they were. The council members needed to see it for themselves or they might not believe the grisly truth. He kept turning over what he had found. He had also found himself walking around the basement more than once with a kind of macabre fascination. Why had Cullen done it? What had happened to his brother to twist him so badly? Tears rose to his eyes and he angrily wiped them away. Whatever good memories he had of his brother he couldn't get the skulls with their empty eye sockets and toothy grins out of his head. How many victims had there been? How many more would they never find? Four days after he had found her he made an early, short trip to the nearest town. The day was luckily overcast. He needed to pick up supplies for the girl and feed. It had been easy enough, a bored waitress who was more than willing for a quickie in the small restroom with her only customer. She had come over and over while he fed from her. He also made a few calls. Simon would come in a few days, bringing with him his knowledge of the arcane and occult, as well as supplies for an extended stay and equipment to excavate the graveyard in the back of the cabin. Somehow, they would have to identify them; their families deserved that much. He hesitated briefly before dialing the emergency number he had memorized long ago. "Yes," came the crisp voice on the other end of the line. "This is Ian Sterling. Is Mr. Witherspoon available to speak with me?" "One moment please." Ian was put on hold briefly as his call was transferred. "This is Carl Witherspoon," came a deep voice. "This is Ian Sterling and I have something of a situation I need help dealing with." "Yes, go on." Ian took a deep breath. "My brother Cullen is dead. Apparently he has been kidnapping and murdering people up at his cabin in northern Minnesota." There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "How did he die?" "His latest victim managed it. I have no idea how, she looks like a concentration camp victim," Ian replied. "And yes before you ask she is still alive. She is in and out of it and hasn't responded coherently yet. Considering that he has his own little torture chamber set up and the condition I found her in I don't know how coherent she will be when she does come to." More bitterness than he intended leaked through his voice. "This is disturbing," Mr. Witherspoon replied. "Are you aware that Cullen had recently been voted in on the junior council?" "No," said Ian. "How did this... aberrant behavior escape the screening process?" "I'll most certainly find out. I take it you have the situation well in hand for the moment?" "I suppose you could call it that," Ian responded dryly. "I called Simon Drake and he will be up in a few days. Cullen also had a pentagram set up for some kind of ceremony. If anyone can figure out what was going on it would be Simon. He is also going to start excavation on the graveyard and cataloging the....well....trophies that Cullen kept of his victims." "It will be at least a week until I can come up. Give directions to my secretary and let Mr. Drake know that I am coming and will expect a full report." Ian nodded absently. The fact that he was coming personally instead of sending an underling was a sign of the seriousness of the situation was well understood. "I have a personal request Mr. Witherspoon." "What is it?" "My father and I are not on the best of terms. Will you inform him of Cullen's death and the investigation? There is no cell phone reception up at the cabin and I should be getting back fairly soon." "Are you sure that you don't want to be the one to tell him?" "Absolutely. He might actually believe it if it comes from you. You will probably also be more diplomatic than I would be. I don't really want to make anything worse between us right now. This is going to be shocking enough for him as it is." "Very well." The rest of the conversation went quickly and Ian was relieved to be headed back to the cabin a few minutes later. Cullen's death would be a terrible shock to his father, and so would the things that he had been doing. Cullen had always been held up as a role model and comparison to Ian and their younger half brother, Finn. Cullen's death would hit the eldest Sterling hard. What would probably be harder to bear were the circumstances and how far off track Cullen had wandered from his father's rather straitlaced ideals of the perfect son. On the drive back to the cabin he started to worry. He had been gone longer than he had anticipated. He took the curving road faster than he should have. What if she woke to find herself alone, what if she panicked and hurt herself? He had hurried, breathless with his bags into the cabin, only to find her still resting quietly, her silky soft, blue-black hair scattered over the pillow. He put the groceries in the kitchen and brought the clothes he had purchased for her into the bedroom with him. Settling back, he read a book in the comfortable chair he had brought in from the living room. The girl woke shortly afterwards and she replied to him coherently for the first time. Isabelle, her name was Isabelle. Shadows and Light Ch. 03 Chapter 3 A Matter of Trust "Where am I?" she asked, pulling her aching body up and back against the pillows to a sitting position. Ian moved to help her and she started violently, jerking away from him. Backing off, he sat on the chair beside the bed. "At my brother's cabin in the middle of the woods, in Northern Minnesota," he replied trying to keep his tone even. "Your brother?" Her voice was a whisper and he could feel the fear radiating from her in waves. "Yes," he replied quietly. "I came looking for him. And then I found you." She pulled her legs up to her chest and he watched as her eyes dropped every bit of animation that they had held and became almost blank. "He's dead Isabelle. He can't hurt you anymore." He tried to keep his voice soothing and low. She just looked at him with empty blue eyes that were starting to tear. "He's dead?" Her voice shook. "Yes." "Are you sure?" Tears were falling now, straight tracks down her thin cheeks. She pulled her arms even more tightly around herself. "Yes." She just sat for a moment and the silence stretched. "He was your brother?" She asked in a low whisper. Her eyes never left his face. "I'm not going to hurt you Isabelle, I promise you," he said quietly. "Are you hungry?" Ian asked after a few minutes. Isabelle nodded. "Why don't I help you to the bathroom and I'll make something up quick." Her blue eyes met his concerned brown as his hand stretched out, waiting for her to take it. "I'm not going to hurt you Isabelle," he told her softly. "He may have been my brother but it is pretty obvious that you did what you had to do." Slowly, very slowly she pushed back the covers and grasping his warm hand stood for a moment on shaky legs. The t-shirt she was wearing fell almost to her knees. Her wary blue eyes looked away and she had to resist the urge to push him away from her even though she knew she would never make it the few steps without him. "Just a few steps this way," he said standing close beside her as she walked with staggering steps. He closed the door, giving her some privacy. Putting some canned soup on to heat, he took advantage of her absence in the bedroom to change the sheets. When her tray was ready, he put it on the foot of the newly made bed, and then knocked softly on the bathroom door. "Isabelle?" "Yes." "Your soup is ready. Do you need any help?" In response, the door opened. Leaning on the wall Isabelle shuffled back into the bedroom, Ian hovered but did not touch her. Just the short trip to the bathroom had exhausted her and she could feel the cold sweat trickling down her temple and back. Safely back in bed and under the covers, he put the tray on her lap and she stared in bemusement at the variety of things in front of her. Did he think that she could eat all this? Canned chicken noodle soup, still steaming, was in a large mug. There was also buttered toast, thinly sliced turkey, strawberry yogurt, a bottle of Gatorade, a piece of string cheese still in its wrapper and a large glass of orange juice completed the tray. Two Tylenol lay next to the glass. "I hope it is edible. I don't cook very much," he said apologetically. She gave him sidelong glances as she ate. He was tan and looked like he spent a lot of time outdoors. She had vague memories of being rocked in his arms, held next to him. She pulled her mind away from that and continued with the food on the tray. Although she was very hungry, she hadn't eaten all that much when she found that she was so full she felt sick. Ian rose, took the tray off her lap and placed it carelessly on a small side table. Sliding down she pulled the covers up to her shoulders, exhaustion was pulling her eyelids down. "Sleep Isabelle," he said softly. "When you're strong enough I'll take you to my home in the city and we'll let your family know that you are safe." "I don't have much for family," she whispered, her eyes closing. She felt a huge sense of relief. She had been afraid to ask what would happen next. What he would do with her, to her. "Sleep Isabelle," he repeated. "You need sleep to heal." "Do I?" she asked, but she must not have said the words out loud because he did not reply. @@@@ She woke screaming. The nightmare so vivid she could feel his body pressing her into the hard tabletop, fucking her, biting her over and over until her blood dripped obscenely from his chin. She didn't hear Ian's voice calling her name but she reacted violently to the feeling of masculine arms around her. Bucking and flailing she fell abruptly on to a hard surface. It was a wooden floor, not gray cement. Sobbing she curled into fetal position and waited for her punishment to begin. The expected lash and kick to the ribs didn't come and for long moments she just waited. From far away she heard a voice calling her name. It was a different voice than the one that screamed insults and obscenities at her, deeper, softer. "Isabelle? Isabelle? It's me, Ian. Can you hear me?" Ian kept up a stream of constant reassurances, and slowly Isabelle's cries and sobs quieted and her shivering decreased. He couldn't tell if she could hear him, but he kept speaking to her. After long moments, her arms lowered from her head and her frightened blue eyes met his. "Isabelle, do you know who I am?" he asked her. He was lying on the floor next to her now. She nodded. "You had a bad dream. It was just a dream Isabelle, you are safe now." Ever so slowly, she dragged herself into sitting position, cringing as far away from him as possible, her back against the small night table next to the bed. He sat upright and she jumped, trying to get even further away from him even though there was nowhere else to go. "Can I get you anything Isabelle? Maybe something to drink?" He asked. She nodded again and Ian slowly picked himself up off the floor and went to the kitchen. Isabelle watched him go. Her heart was slowing from its frantic pace and she tried to reorient herself. She was safe she told herself over and over as she shakily pulled herself up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Every part of her ached and she shivered as the sweat dried on her skin. Ian reentered the room carrying a glass of juice. She was shaking so badly that she used both hands to take the glass and swallowed the juice in small sips. "Are you okay?" Ian asked softly. Isabelle wouldn't meet his eyes and shook her head infinitesimally. She took a few more sips of her juice and set the glass on the nightstand. She slid back into bed and curled up, wrapping her arms around herself. Ian sat in the armchair not far from the bed. He was totally at a loss as to how to help her. Isabelle was wide-awake, curled up in fetal position under the covers and staring off into space. Eventually she slept and Ian felt himself slip into a light doze @@@@ Ian awoke to an aching neck. He straightened himself in the chair and suppressed a groan at the twinges in his back. Hearing whimpers he looked over at Isabelle and was unsurprised to see her thrashing in the grips of a bad dream. He had been awakened at least three times that night to screams. He sighed, he was tired, and he was seriously thinking of taking Isabelle to the nearest hospital whether or not she was ready to travel. The only problem with that, were the very awkward questions that might be asked; that and the fact that he felt guilty at the thought of leaving her with strangers. Cullen had done this to her, and as much as he felt completely out of his depth, he felt forced to take responsibility. Her whimpering ceased and she quieted. Rising quietly he stripped and treated himself to a long hot shower, trying to soak out the tension in his shoulders. @@@@ Isabelle woke two mornings later to the sight of Ian stretched out on the other side of the bed, on top of the covers, sound asleep. He must have waited until she was asleep to come into the bed, as she had no recollection of it. She studied him in the early dawn light. Relaxed in sleep and breathing softly he was very attractive, she admitted to herself. He had been the epitome of patience and caring with her and her comfort level had increased slowly but surely over the last few days. This was despite that indefinable aura around him that said he was the same kind of creature that his brother had been. Her mind drifted to the men she had met in college during the last few years. They couldn't compare to Ian in any way. Ian exuded masculinity, strength of a kind she had never seen before, combined with absolute gentleness. She had met men that knew they were attractive and used it like a newfound art form to pick-up women. But, she had never met a man that seemed so confident in himself, and so comfortable with himself at the same time. She felt her eyes growing heavy. She listened to Ian's deep, even breathing. Slipping back into the curious place in between waking and sleeping, she let the remembered feel of being held, close and safe to Ian's chest, wash over her. It had been so long since she had been held, cared about. She let the feeling envelope her and slipped into a sleep with no nightmares. Shadows and Light Ch. 04 Chapter 4 Simon Ian was out on the front porch of the small cabin, three days later, when Simon arrived. It was a typical day for mid September, the sunshine was warm but the breeze had a definite chill. Even though he wasn't much affected by the cold he could still feel it. Ian watched Simon unfold himself from his car and he grinned. For someone that had enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life, Simon insisted on a hybrid car that didn't exactly match his six foot six inch frame. Looking more like a professional football player than a serious scholar had caused more than one person to underestimate his intelligence. His knowledge of the occult and history surrounding it was unparalleled. The fact that he personally knew that vampires and other "myths" existed gave him insight and information that others simply didn't have access to. "Hey Ian," he waved, then grabbed his bags and hauled them up to the porch. True to form, only one was a suitcase for clothes. The others were filled with books, research equipment, a laptop computer and excavating tools. "Thanks for coming Simon. Especially on such short notice," Ian grabbed a bag. "Like I wouldn't drop everything when you told me what happened," replied Simon rolling his pale blue eyes. "How have you been holding up?" He left the bag with the excavating tools next to the stairs leading up to the screened in porch. They crossed the wide porch and entered the cabin. "Still feels a bit unreal," he replied, dropping the bags in the living room. "How's the girl?" "Recovering," he sat on the couch and gestured Simon to sit. "She doesn't talk a whole lot yet but her name is Isabelle. The last thing she remembers is attending a museum exhibit, in Minneapolis, in late May." "He had her for four months?" Simon whistled. "I wonder what the hell he was doing." "Rape and torture from the look of it," replied Ian with more bitterness than he had intended. "Not to mention Magic so black it practically absorbs the light." "The one may very well have been tied to the other you know," said Simon, slipping into lecture mode. "Depending on the spells he was attempting he might need a virgin or swing to the opposite extreme of someone completely defiled. She had to have had tremendous strength of will to survive as long as she did. Maybe he was harnessing it for something." He sighed. "I'll know more when I start cataloging the basement and taking a look at the set up. I'll start that in the morning, I'll need to be fresh and I feel better doing that sort of thing during the day." "The couch is all yours," Ian said rising. "Are you hungry?" Simon laughed. "Not enough to risk your cooking." Ian shot him a dirty look and the two men worked in companionable silence putting together a quick meal. Although the majority of his needs were taken care of with the blood he consumed he could and did eat regular food. Not a whole lot, his body wouldn't tolerate it, but small amounts now and then. Simon of course was wholly human and being his size more than made up for what Ian didn't eat. Ian made up the couch with pillows and blankets. Carrying their beers the two men went back out to the porch and sat in the rather musty chairs there. The area around the cabin was beautiful and Ian wouldn't have minded exploring it under other circumstances. The leaves of the trees were a gorgeous red, yellow, and brown and they contrasted beautifully with the towering white pines with their green needles. "Ian, I counted back the days and realized something," said Simon. "What's that," asked Ian, his mind still mostly on the setting sun outside. "If I'm right, Cullen was killed the night of the fall equinox. I think he had a major ceremony planned, especially if he was in ritual robes and the pentagram area was set up for something." "I've thought of that," replied Ian, now concentrating on the conversation at hand. "That would have been the day before I flew in from Italy, Friday. Cullen was supposed to pick me up from the airport Saturday afternoon. Three days later I drove up and found Isabelle. Do you have any ideas about what he might have been planning?" "Not yet. I've got to take a look at the specific set up. Even the slightest variation can mean big changes in the spell. It could have been the equinox or the conjunction of Mars and Jupiter with Earth at about four that morning, or both. I'm hoping I'll find some of his books. They will help clarify the types of things he was interested in." The silence stretched comfortably between them for a while. "I think it's time to crash buddy, I've got to get an early start in the morning," said Simon standing up and stretching his long body. "Yeah," replied Ian a bit absently, following Simon back into the cabin. They had rekindled the fire in the wood stove and the heat in the small room was welcoming. He hadn't realized how chilly it was outside when the sun went down. Simon stripped down to his boxers, revealing his strongly muscled, golden body, covered with soft looking golden fur. He started arranging his blankets on the couch and then looked up. "Hey," he said. "Where are you sleeping?" "In Isabelle's room," He felt the heat rise to his face at Simon's questioning look and raised eyebrow. "She has nightmares; I wouldn't get much sleep any other way." "Better you than me man," he smiled. "Never figured you for the nursing type. Give me a good ole demon possession or ancient grimiour to deal with any day." Ian missed the long stare and frown that Simon sent after him before settling on the couch turning off the lamp. Ian left the small bedside table lamp on and crawled into the bed beside Isabelle. He had finally given up trying to sleep in the chair and had simply started sleeping on the other side of the bed, waiting until she had fallen asleep before climbing into bed. He had changed into sweats and a tee and just lay there for a while letting his mind unwind and relax. Isabelle was sleeping quietly and he found himself admiring her profile: small straight nose, full lips, and strong chin. Her lashes were dark fans against her cheeks. It still amazed him that someone could be so fragile and strong all at the same time. She still looked as if a strong wind would blow her away and yet she had had the strength of will to physically and mentally survive for four months in conditions that would destroy almost anyone. She was healing rapidly and had already begun to put on a bit of weight. It might take some work but mentally she had survived as well. She was also a beauty. Even in her current condition he could see it. Delicate features with fine bone structure were an incredible foundation for her large blue eyes, blue black hair, and flashes of intelligence she had shown him. It bothered him that he had even noticed how pretty she was. The last thing she needed was for anyone to show a sexual interest in her. Closing his eyes he forced himself to think of other things and eventually drifted into sleep. Shadows and Light Ch. 05 Chapter 5: Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back The next few days passed quickly. Isabelle still spent most of her time sleeping and eating although she had started reading some of the books at the cabin to pass the time. She had gained some weight and was feeling stronger each day. Simon had been introduced to her and she had been a bit awed by the big man. He easily outweighed her by a hundred pounds or so and was beyond tall. He had the golden hair and skin that made him seem like the all-American boy next door. He seemed nice, if a bit distant. He seemed to have no interest in her other than gentle but specific questions about what had happened. She had the feeling that he wasn't really interested in women. From some of the small things she had observed she wondered if he was gay. It had never even occurred to her that Ian might be gay as well. Simon and Ian seemed to be close friends with a long history and she found herself wondering just how close they were. Simon spent much of his time in the basement of the cabin, a place she would just as soon forget. Ian spent every night with her although she was usually asleep when he came to bed. Her comfort level had increased with him although she still jumped when he touched her if she didn't expect it. For the first time since this nightmare had started, she found herself wishing she had a sketchpad and some charcoals with her, so she could capture him on paper. It was almost two weeks since Ian had found her and he had brought up the subject of moving her to his house in a day or two. She had no objections, it sounded like he would come with her and someone called Witherspoon would be coming up to help Simon. Ian had told her that Witherspoon, and a few others, would want to interview her in a week or too. That made her nervous. Ian apparently knew them all and was comfortable with them. She would just have to trust that a straight forward telling would be good enough. She didn't want to have to do it more than once. It was late afternoon and she could hear the wind in the pines outside her window. She awoke to the sight of someone new sitting quietly by the bed. He was a severe man. Everything about him was sharp, from the straight nose and thin lips to the creases in his suit. He also looked like he never smiled a day in his life; his eyes were a dark brown as was his hair that was sprinkled with white at the temples. He was larger than she thought at first, with broad shoulders and a long body. She could see a strong resemblance to her kidnapper and torturer, the thin features and shape of the face. A thread of fear hit her stomach. She didn't even realize that she had moved until her back hit the wall. "Don't be ridiculous child," he said in an irritated voice. The voice hit her ears and she was plunged back into the darkness of the basement. His voice, Cullen's voice, threatening dark promises of torture, but death held just out of reach. Terror flooded through her and she stared at him with eyes that no longer saw him but Cullen, standing over her, excited and erect as he lashed her unmercifully, making her beg for mercy before he strapped her to the table and tortured her in every way imaginable. When he was finished fucking her she was almost grateful, she would be left alone for a while and he might even feed her. @@@ At the sound of screaming, Ian bolted from the basement where he was helping Simon and within seconds had hit the bedroom door. Isabelle was in the corner of the room by the foot of the bed, cowering in the corner, her arms raised over her head as it to fend off blows. She was screaming like she did with the worst of her nightmares. His father was standing. The chair he had been sitting in had been knocked over when he had leapt to his feet. Had Ian not been so worried about Isabelle he would have laughed at the look of sheer astonishment on his father's face. "Isabelle," Ian went down on his knees beside her. She did not respond and continued cringing in the corner, screaming and sobbing. He pulled her into his arms. He was caught off guard by the savagery of the now kicking and writhing woman in his arms. She flailed and struggled, ignoring the pain in her healing body as she fought to free herself. Ian tried to grab her from behind and pin her arms to her sides, worrying more about the damage she could do to herself rather than him. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She continued to scream, kicking wildly. He began to rock her slowly, back and forth, muttering soothing words as he stroked her hair and tried to reach her through her panic. She began to wind down sometime later. Her burst of energy gone and her screams replaced with whimpers and sobs as she continued to shake within the circle of his arms. Lifting her up, he turned and carried her the few steps back to the bed. Her arms latched around his neck in a death grip, the first time she had ever willingly touched him. His father hadn't moved from where he had been standing. His shocked eyes met Ian's and he shook his head. "Out," said Ian, ice edging his tone. "And shut the door behind you." His father turned on his heel, offering absolutely no argument. He was way out of his depth and he knew it. Ian curled up with Isabelle on the bed, continuing to reassure her and stroke her hair. She was facing him now, her face buried in his chest and her arms wrapped around him like a drowning man grasps at a lifejacket. She had quieted to only an occasional sob but she continued to shake and tremble. Ian just held her. Exhausted by the emotional and physical upheaval she fell asleep a short time later. When he was sure she was asleep, he extricated himself from her and the bed and tucked her back under the covers. When he entered the small living room, his father looked up from where he was sitting on the couch. "What the hell was that?" he asked in a voice that seemed a bit dazed. "That," Ian replied angrily, "was a completely traumatized young woman scared out of her mind." His father just looked at him with wide eyes. Ian had never before seen his father at a loss for words or looking as uncomfortable as he did right now. "In other words," he continued, his soft voice dripping with rage, "If you had left her alone like I asked you to this wouldn't have happened. I told you that I would introduce you when you got here and reassure her that she was safe so that you could ask her your questions. Instead, you said or did something that triggered a nasty memory and sent her into hysterics. Do you mind telling me what the fuck you thought you were doing?" "Don't you take that tone and language with me Ian. I will not be spoken to like that," began his father only to be cut off abruptly. "For once in your life you made a hell of a mistake so just shut up and admit it, "snarled Ian. "For once in MY life I would appreciate it if you would actually LISTEN TO ME! Is that so much to ask? I have spent the last 2 weeks trying to put that young woman back together, and with one screw-up on your part she is right back where she started. You are nothing if not completely clueless about humans except for your business dealings with them. Do you even begin to comprehend what kind of damage Cullen did to her? Do you realize that four months ago she was a gifted student studying art? That was before Cullen introduced her to his own personal version of hell and almost destroyed her. He kidnapped her. He raped her. He tortured her. There is no other word for it. Torture. If you EVER go near her again without permission you will regret it." His father opened his mouth and Ian continued to run right over the top of him. "I suggest that if you want to know what happened you go downstairs and see for yourself. Stop putting it off. The evidence is all there. Witherspoon is coming up in a day or so and he and Simon will make a full report to the council. HE was content to question Isabelle at a later date when she was stronger." His voice was a quiet snarl now. "I am leaving with Isabelle in the morning. She is strong enough to be moved finally and she will feel better when she is out of this place, quite frankly so will I." He turned on his heel and stalked back into Isabelle's room, savagely fighting the urge to slam the door behind him John Sterling just stood for a moment, his anger at his son passing as he admitted that for the first time in a long time that he had been wrong. He hadn't known exactly what to expect, or what he had wanted to find when he went into that room. All he knew was that he had to see the face of the person that had killed his son. It had been a slap in the face to find a young woman that looked so frail and beautiful she could have been the Snow White princess from that ridiculous children's fairy tale. He could see the marks on her neck from bite after bite and the still healing marks from deep bruises. He had never seen anyone look at him the way that she had; not in the over five hundred years of his existence. She had looked at him first with alarm and then right through him with terror and horror so absolute it froze the soul. Try as he might those deep blue eyes continued to stare straight into his heart and soul. Cullen had done that. He felt the knife of his grief twisting itself in his heart all over again. Straightening his shoulders, he slowly walked over to the opening on the floor. He took a deep breath and descended down the ladder into the nightmare that Cullen had created. Shadows and Light Ch. 06-07 Chapter 6 Question and Answer True to his word, Ian left with Isabelle the next morning. The only redeeming factor in the whole incident with his father and Isabelle was that it triggered a memory of a secret cubby behind the shelves with the skulls. Simon had been ecstatic. Here were the books that he had been looking for; five of them. This would jumpstart what Cullen had been researching and if he had kept a journal or log, it might provide clues to the number and identity of his victims. Isabelle was fairly quiet for the first part of the trip. Ian was just glad she was talking at all. "What kind of art were you studying at the university," he asked quietly. "Art history and fine arts," she replied after a moment. "I love my art classes but I don't know what I will do with a degree yet. I thought about teaching, or maybe getting into museum work. I think I would like painting restoration work too. I have two years left until I graduate so there is plenty of time to decide." Ian chuckled. Isabelle glanced at him curiously from under her lashes. "I own several art galleries," he replied to her unspoken question. "I can't draw a straight line to save my life but I love everything about the art world. Especially finding new artists and helping promote their talent." "Historical and antique pieces too, or just the more modern artists?" She asked her curiosity piqued. "Everything," he said smiling. "Paintings, sculpture, modern art, you name it and I've bought and sold pretty much all of it. Each gallery is a little different. I don't think that my father ever really understood me. He is much more a 'keep your feet on the ground and make yourself useful' kind of a person. Having a non artistic child obsessed with the art world just confused him." He grinned. "I thought he would have an apoplectic fit when I told him I wanted to study art. I think he pictured me running off to Europe to 'find myself' like some sort of art crazed hippie." Isabelle laughed out loud at that. "I just can't see you with long hair and paint on your face." "Neither could I," he laughed. "He was very relieved when I went to a local university for my B.A. in business and art. I studied abroad for a while too before I opened my first gallery. I still travel all over looking for pieces for my collection and to keep my galleries a bit eclectic." Isabelle sat back with a smile. "My grandfather was a bit like that. I inherited my artistic abilities from my grandmother's side of the family. My mother was a professional photographer. She and dad died when I was eight, so grandpa and gran pretty much raised me. I think he was a bit disappointed that I didn't take after him, in more ways than one." "What do you mean?" He asked, giving her a sideways glance. "Nothing," she shook her head. "Is he still alive?" Asked Ian, recalling that she had said that she didn't have much family. "I don't know," she replied, her smile disappearing. "My last year of high school he started going off for longer and longer periods of time. He didn't adjust well to losing gran. He made sure that I had things all set up for college and the money to go and then he just disappeared. I haven't seen him since March of that year." She appeared lost in thought and Ian didn't push. God, every time the woman opened her mouth she became more appealing. Her intelligence and flashes of humor were making him enjoy the time that he was spending with her. He gave her another quick glance. She was even more beautiful than he had first thought. She was fine boned and somehow had seemed small and helpless. He had been surprised at how tall she was once she was up and moving around. He was 6' and if he had to guess, he would put her at 5'7" or so. Her black hair rippled with an iridescent blue sheen where the sun hit it. Deep blue eyes and even features made her attractive but it was her personality that hit him like a ton of bricks on the head. "Can I ask you a question?" Queried Isabelle a bit later. "Sure." "Don't vampires have a thing about sunlight? Why doesn't it bother you?" He was surprised. "You know what I am?" "Yes," Isabelle gave him the 'do you think I am completely clueless?' look. "I knew the minute I laid eyes on you." "Well," he hesitated, trying to find words to explain. "For one thing there are different, well, types I guess you would call it. I was born a vampire. It is not unusual when both parents are vampires to have a child, although it is pretty rare to have more than one or two. Having been born a vampire gives one a leg up so to speak. I can tolerate several hours of sun or on an overcast day I can be out for quite a while. My father is a 6th generation vampire. We can trace the lineage back to the middle Ages. The longer it has been in the family lineage the greater the resistance to the traditional things like sunshine. Each generation gets a little more tolerant. This starts right from birth and makes it much easier to hide what we are." "Can vampires and humans have kids?" she asked curiously. "It happens," admitted Ian. "And it is pretty rare. But it is not encouraged. You can have all sorts of complications for the mother as well as the baby. You also get some strange combinations of genetics sometimes. Sometimes the oddities don't show up until after they are adults. Jack the Ripper for example was one of those. Human mother, vampire father, he grew up seemingly a completely normal human. He didn't seem to inherit any of his father's characteristics. The blood lust didn't hit until he was in his twenties, and apparently he just sort of slid into complete insanity. It took the vampires of London quite a while to track him down and take care of him." "So the legends aren't true then?" "A human that has been made into a vampire is more like the traditional version. They have extreme sensitivity to sunlight, silver and all the rest. They also have the body temperature drop and the sleep that you can't wake them from. That tapers off with age but it can take hundreds of years to build a small amount of resistance. It depends too, on who made you. If a human was turned by someone in my family they would start off with less sensitivity right off the bat, almost like they inherit part of the bloodline with the blood exchange." "Then, too, you have human's that can't be turned even when all the conditions are right. No one is exactly sure why." "Does it bother you that I am a vampire?" He asked after a moment. "No," she replied, "Why would it?" "After what happened I could easily see why it might freak you out a little." Isabelle looked at him with a small smile. "Considering the fact that you saved my life after I killed your brother, I figured you were an ok guy even if you were a vampire." Ian didn't quite know how to respond to that and so he didn't. "What about," Isabelle paused, "Ummm." "Eating," Ian finished for her. "Yeah." "Most vampires can't take more than about a cup at a time. I can eat real food, and I do from time to time, just not a lot." He glanced at her. "It has to be fresh, blood I mean. The donated stuff is useless. Vampires don't have to kill to feed. Most of us have enough, well... psychic powers I guess you could call them, to cloud the minds of our, donors, for lack of a better term." "Psychic powers?" "A bit of mind to mind," he explained. "I've never used it for anything other than clouding the mind a bit, leaving them a pleasant memory and erasing my feeding. I suppose the whole hypnotic mind control thing is possible, but even using a small bit is tiring and takes a lot out of me." "Oh," Isabelle replied. Ian stole another glance at her, afraid he had frightened her, but she just appeared lost in thought. "So do you have any favorites?" she asked curiously, "food I mean." He grinned. "I love wine and I am very fond of seafood. Liquid things are a bit easier on the system, broth, juice, things like that." Silence filled the car for a while, but a comfortable silence. Isabelle wrestled a bit with the fact that when Ian had talked about "donors" she had had to control a stab of jealousy at the thought of another woman in his arms. She was smart enough to realize that he probably used sex to feed and was left with mixed emotions. Was she truly going crazy? Ian had never shown even the slightest interest in her as anything other than someone who needed his help. Besides, she would be the last person that he would be interested in, in any sense of the word. She wasn't interested in him romantically, was she? Isabelle dozed off and she woke as they turned into a long driveway, gasping when she saw the house. It was three stories of mansion, not a house. The grounds were immaculate with most of the flowerbeds empty and mulched for the fall. "It's huge," she gasped. Ian just smiled. "I thought about taking you to my apartment but I thought that you might want to spend some out in the garden with the grass between your toes, so to speak." Parking at the front door, he carried Isabelle up the shallow stairs. She didn't really need to be carried but Ian's actions had been a bit automatic and she liked the feeling of being held by him. Right on cue, the front door opened to admit them. "Good afternoon Master Ian," said an older man, stepping back to allow entry. He had faint traces of an English accent and his hair was entirely white. "Hello Charles," said Ian. "This is Isabelle, the guest I called you about." "Hello Miss Isabelle," came the stately greeting. "The Rose Room has been prepared here on the ground floor." Then directly to Isabelle, "The Rose Room has an outside door leading to a small patio and the gardens." "Thank you," replied Isabelle quietly, "it sounds lovely." "I must admit it is one of my favorite rooms in the house," smiled Charles, leading the way down a long hallway. He opened the door for Ian and stood back. "If you need anything at all Miss Isabelle please pull the bell cord on the right side of the bed. I will have Mrs. Jorgen bring a light tea tray for you shortly." "Thank you Charles." "Not at all Master Ian," replied Charles with a smile. Ian set Isabelle gently on the bed and she glanced around at the gorgeous room she was in. The walls were done in creams and deep pinks, the wood furniture a deep brown mahogany. There were roses carved into the four-poster bed and the theme was repeated in the framed prints hanging on the walls. "I am going to go and get my laptop so we can order you some cloths," said Ian. "I'll be right back. I should see if Finn is here, too. You will love him, he is quite the card." "Okay," responded Isabelle, still taking in the beauty and quiet elegance of the room. He had told her quite a bit about his younger brother. She felt a quiet sense of peace in this room. Crossing over to the French doors on the south wall she pulled back the curtain and saw the small patio and garden as promised. She curled up in an oversize chair next to an unlit fireplace and waited for Ian to return. Chapter 7 Meeting Finn and Looking For Answers Isabelle was stretched out on top of her new bed, shopping. With a laptop and Ian's credit card, she was actually having fun. True she wasn't going overboard; socks, underwear and some outfits that would be soft on her healing back. Her back was pretty much healed but the scaring had left it very sensitive to textures. She was very tired of the oversize sweats that Ian had picked up for her. It was fun to have access to unlimited funds for once and look at all of the things she COULD buy if she really wanted to. There was a soft knock on the door and she sat up, pulling the soft, knit throw closer around her. "Come in," she called. A very blonde head was stuck through the door along with a pair of sparkling brown eyes the exact shade of Ian's, and a smile that wouldn't stop. "Hi, you must be Isabelle," he said. "I'm Finn. Mind if I come in?" "Sure," said Isabelle. She wasn't, but this must be the brother that Ian had been talking about. Finn stepped in and crossed to the bed. He was handsome and she could see a resemblance to Ian. He was leaner than Ian's rather bulky build, but still well defined, like a swimmer or a runner. His pale blonde hair was gelled into the latest spike top fashion. His lean but muscular arms that extending from his red polo had veins that stood out even though he wasn't flexing. It was his smile that won her over though. Wide open and genuine it was reflected in his deep brown eyes and promised fun and pranks. She found herself returning the smile. "What are you up to?" He leaned over to check out the computer screen. "Shopping," he gave a snort of laughter. "It is a good thing that Ian isn't helping you. I love my brother but his idea of the perfect outfit generally revolves around matching a tie that cuts off all circulation to the brain." Isabelle giggled, surprising herself. "I haven't seen Ian in a shirt and tie yet." "Gotta go more casually than that," he replied, grinning at her. "Otherwise people take you way too seriously." The next half hour was quite enjoyable as Finn helped her shop and encouraged her to spend more than she had planned on. When he found out she was an art student he insisted that she order some art supplies and had everything sent next day where it was available. No comment was made on the reason she was here, just playful banter and teasing. "So I heard that you have met Simon," he said. Something about the way he said it gave her a sudden flash of insight. "Yes, I didn't see a whole lot of him though. He was pretty busy with his researching. I was kind of surprised to find out that he was a scholar, he looks a lot more like a model or a football player." Finn grinned again. "He gets that a lot. He gets seriously underestimated because first impressions like that. He is one of the smartest guys I know." That cinched it. Finn definitely had a thing for Simon. "Ian said he would be taking a break shortly and come for a few days," said Isabelle. "There was some kind of council that he had to make a preliminary report to as well as just kicking back for a couple of days before going back." "He can be a lot of fun when he is not neck deep in a project. He tends to be one of those absent minded professor types when he's working. Bombs could be falling on his head and he wouldn't notice." Finn's face definitely changed when he talked about Simon, that and the ever so slight blush gave it away. Isabelle wondered if Simon knew that Finn was 'crushing' on him. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask but she held back. It wasn't really any of her business and she didn't want to mess with the budding friendship that was starting. "Let me know when you feel up to getting some work out time in and I'll show you the gym and pool area," said Finn, changing the subject. "You look beat; I should let you get some rest." Isabelle would have loved to chat some more but Finn was right; she was definitely ready for some sleep. A short time later she was snuggled down in the covers, a small lamp on in the corner of the room. She was hoping that Ian would join her. He had left to run some errands and had said that he would be back shortly. She didn't want to be alone with her dreams in a strange house. He hadn't said whether or not he would stay with her at night now that they were back to 'civilization' so to speak. She had felt very self-conscious about asking him, so she hadn't. Now she was wishing that she had. @@@@ She woke slowly, drifting in between sleep and wakefulness until she realized her eyes were open and she was in total darkness. There was no light at all, not from the windows on either side of the bed, or the French doors that were only covered with their gauzy curtains. Hands grabbed at her and she shrieked as she was dragged by her arm and her hair across the cold floor. Momentarily blinded by the bright light in the next room her eyes watered and blinked as she felt her arms stretched over her head and secured with cold metal. She sobbed in disbelief as her legs were spread and secured on the floor. "Hello slut," came the taunting voice that haunted her dreams. "It's been a while. How about I fuck you till you scream and bleed for me?" He laughed and spreading her ass, thrust hard into her unprepared body. She screamed and the lash came down hard across hers shoulders and she screamed again...... ........screaming and clawing at the blankets Isabelle jerked awake. Ian wrapped her in his arms and she clung to him as if he was the last link to safety in the world. Incoherent and shaking she felt him pull her into his lap and held her. She could feel his large hands stroking her hair and back, trying to soothe her even as she tried to burrow deeper into his chest. As she calmed down she could feel the steady beat of his heart against her ear. He was shirtless she noticed, rather surprised. She nuzzled his soft, crinkly chest hair, liking the way it felt against her cheek. Curled up in his arms she felt safe again. She let herself relax, enjoying the feeling of strong arms holding her close. @@@ Isabelle was sleeping deeply when Ian drifted into wakefulness, tangled in the covers with Isabelle's scent surrounding him. Her slender body was wrapped in his arms. Her shirt had ridden up and his arm was around her naked waist, her legs entwined with his. Ian kissed Isabelle gently; he just couldn't control the sudden impulse. He feathered kisses over the corners of her mouth, the tip of her nose, the delicate sweep of black brows. He knew that he shouldn't, but he had fighting his attraction to her for a while and just couldn't help himself. She smelled so good, of soap and clean woman. , Isabelle moaned softly in her sleep, moving restlessly against him. He paused briefly until she quieted and continued to press gentle kisses across her cheek and over to her ear. Biting ever so gently at her earlobe his tongue snaked out to taste her. Sweet, so sweet, he slid down slightly and began soft licks down the tendon along her neck until he reached the dip in her throat where her delicate collarbones met. Her scars were white pinpricks on her smooth creamy skin. You wouldn't be able to see them if you didn't know they were there. He could feel them though. Tiny, smooth scars, he followed them up the other side of her neck with one smooth lick. Her taste was intoxicating and waves of heat flooded him. God, he wanted to pleasure her. He wanted to hear her call his name as she climaxed around him. He slipped the sheet down and pushed the t-shirt she was wearing further up her body. She was so beautiful. Ever so gently he leaned down and took a pale pink nipple in his mouth and began to lave it with his tongue. Isabelle arched slightly and moaned as his fingers began their gentle play with her other breast, his mouth still occupied with the first. He could feel her pulse beginning to speed up, her sweet blood coursing through the veins and capillaries just under her skin. He could feel his fangs thickening and lengthening with his hunger. His cock was so hard he could feel it pulsing with need. He could smell her arousal now, musky heat from between her legs. He was making her hot for him, wet for him. Trembling he slid his hand down until his finger reached the edge of her moist slit. Isabelle made an indistinct noise in the back of her throat and moved her hips up into his hand. His cock jumped as he gently parted her and his finger slid easily into her slick opening. Involuntarily he groaned and gasped imagining his hard cock sliding into that slick heat. Panting with need, he jerked violently awake and realized with horror that Isabelle's slender body was naked under him. His fingers were caressing her slick opening and his mouth was open, licking the tender junction between neck and chin. He thirsted for her, he could smell her blood. He wanted nothing more than to bury his cock deep in her soft body while he sank his fangs into her neck. Desperately trying not to awaken her, he disentangled himself from her and pulled the sheets and blankets up, covering her. Shadows and Light Ch. 06-07 He stumbled to the adjoining bathroom, realizing that somewhere along the way he had lost his clothes and was stark naked. His erection was so hard it hurt. Flipping the light on and closing the door, he stroked himself once, twice and came with such agonizing pleasure it was all he could do to halt the screams of pleasure that wanted to erupt from him along with the creamy cum that splattered across the floor. He shook violently, as wave after wave of his climax swept over him until he was left leaning back against the bathroom door, shaking and panting with weak knees. "My God what in the hell had just happened?" he whispered. He slid down the door to a sitting position. He had almost fucked Isabelle in his sleep that was what happened. God, was he that obsessed with a woman he had seen for the first time two weeks ago? Thank God, she hadn't awakened to find him all over her. Ian shuddered to think of the way she would have looked at him: terror, revulsion and horror. The way she sometimes looked when she awoke from the worst of her nightmares. She trusted him, depended on him, and he had been ten seconds away from fucking her brains out and feeding on her to boot. Shaken to the core he just sat, letting his body calm itself. He pushed his mind away from the kind of damage he could have done to Isabelle's fragile psyche. She had stayed asleep; she would never have to know. Slow even breaths, slow and even. Pulling himself up off the floor, he cleaned up the mess with a washcloth and washed the evidence down the drain of the shower. He scrubbed the sweat and cum from his body under a spray of water as cold as he could stand it. That could never happen again he told himself over and over. It absolutely could not happen again. * Dear rabid readers!! Thank you so much for the encouraging words (for the most part). I am glad that everyone is enjoying Ian and Isabelle as much as I am. You will note too that I am putting out 2 chapters at once to answer the pleas for longer submissions (I can learn, really!!) The next chapter is still in its last rewrite stage and should be done in a week, I hope. My stories have an average of five days after submission before they hit the boards, so far!! With a contest out, those stories get done first. Sorry for the delay but this is one of the middle chapters that needed a bit of fleshing out and real life has been absolutely nuts for the last few weeks. Hopefully it will settle down a bit and I can get back on track. I love the emails and comments so keep them coming. They keep me motivated!!! Thanks, Emerald Shadows and Light Ch. 08 Isabelle rolled over, her body aching with the remnants of the most erotic dream she had ever had. Ian had been making love to her, with his mouth and fingers, bringing her to the brink before her treacherous mind had pulled her from sleep. She opened her eyes to her dim bedroom and was relieved to see that Ian was not in bed with her. She could faintly hear the shower running in her adjoining bathroom. 'Thank God' she whispered as she disentangled herself from the covers and pulled her t-shirt down from where it had ridden up to her armpits. She snuggled back down under the covers and tried to calm her frantically beating heart. Ian had been kissing her, touching her, and she had liked it. Not only liked it, she had wanted it with an intensity that left her breathless. She imagined Ian's on her, caressing and stroking her. He had ignored the ugly scars that covered her and left her on the verge of begging for more. 'It was a dream,' she told herself. There had been absolutely no indication that Ian felt anything other than sympathy and maybe guilt for what had happened to her. No matter how much she dreamed about him, naked in her bed, it was not likely to happen. She may have been a victim but she had still killed the older brother that he had loved and idolized from childhood. She was just lucky that he was kind enough to understand that she had done what she had to do. Falling for her just wasn't in the cards. She sighed; she just wished that she could convince her body and heart of this. @@@@ Isabelle woke again, snuggled into Ian's pillow, surrounded by the spicy scent of his aftershave. Daylight filled the room, streaming in through the tall windows. Remembering pieces of the erotic dream she had been having, she groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. She had to get the images of a naked Ian out of her head or she would never be able to speak to him without blushing. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. Groaning again, she got out of bed and headed to the shower. She didn't think that it was just because he had saved her life. He was smart, funny, gentle. Oh God, she had it bad. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she admitted to herself that he was exactly the kind of guy that she had always dreamed of and never expected to find. Except for the drinking blood part, but who would anticipate that? Even the idea of Ian feeding from her was exciting, scary but exciting. She brought up a hand and felt the tiny scars on her neck. The idea of him caressing her with want and need instead of comfort, brought a tingle to her body. She imagined him taking her from behind, watching him in the mirror as he pleasured her, his hands on her body, his mouth on her neck licking, sucking and finally biting as she climaxed. Shivering, she ran her hands over her t-shirt clad body, wishing it was his hands instead of hers. Showering didn't really help. Hyper aware of her body, even the act of lathering up the soap felt erotic. And sliding her hands over her body left her achingly aroused. Drifting into fantasies of Ian's hands on her, she brought herself to a wrenching climax that left her weak kneed and shaky. Slipping back into the bedroom wrapped only in a towel, the first thing that she noticed was that there were several packages on the neatly made bed. Blushing, she crossed to the bed, hoping that whoever had made it hadn't heard her in the shower. Some of the clothes she ordered had already arrived as well as some of her art supplies. Feeling like a child at Christmas, Isabelle tore into the packages. She smiled and wondered what Ian would think of her in real clothes for a change. Maybe he would start to see her as something other than his brother's victim. She hoped so. She opened another package and silky pj's were revealed. Maybe she would have to wear one to sleep in tonight. 'Get a grip girl,' she told herself. 'Let's not humiliate yourself and embarrass him silly to boot.' Daydreams were one thing. Actually acting on them was another thing altogether. Opening up her new sketchbook, Isabelle caressed the blank pages with a gentle hand. Was she ready to draw again? She was almost afraid that the only thing that would come out would be images of what had happened to her. Maybe that would be a good way to get them out of her head, then she could shut them away and get on with living. She took it with her, along with her charcoals and headed out to see what marvelous concoctions had been created for breakfast. She had been putting on weight and was no longer skin and bones, just thin. Although a few more weeks of Mrs. Daily's cooking and she would have to go on a diet, that woman could cook like nobody's business. At this thought, she grinned. Mrs. Daily's cooking skills were only occasionally utilized. For the most part, she only cooked for the staff and the occasionally guest. She did work for vampires after all. Isabelle had been surprised to find that the servants knew exactly whom they were working for. Many of them were second and third generation. For the most part, they held the Sterlings in the highest regards. The family was well known for fair business dealings and generosity for things like the local fire departments, police departments, and local charities. She had a hard time imagining the elder Sterling as anything other than a straight-laced tyrant. She sighed; their first meeting had made her extremely uncomfortable with him, despite everyone else's high opinion of him. Cinnamon and other spices drifted to her nose and made her aware of the fact that her stomach was growling. She opened the door to the kitchen and was hit with a heavier scent of heavenly baking and Mrs. Daily's caroling greeting. Today would be a good day. @@@@ "Mr. Sterling," said the agitated secretary, "surely this is unnecessary. It is an invasion of Mr. Sterling's personal office. Surely he wouldn't approve." Ian had hoped that by showing up at the office early he would be able to avoid the regular employees that might ask too many questions. He had not planned on Prudence McKindrick, Cullen's secretary, being so dedicated to her job that she showed up early when her employer was out of the office. Ian hesitated for a moment. Cullen's death had not been made public yet and he had to think fast. "Ms. McKindrick my father owns this company. During Cullen's absence, he has asked me to retrieve some things from Cullen's office for him. Cullen will get over it." "Surely I can assist with anything that you need to find," responded Prudence, "I have been Mr. Sterling's personal secretary for almost twenty years. I know where everything is." She gave him a brittle smile that did not reach her eyes. Prudence McKindrick was the stereotypical middle-aged secretary. Her plain brown hair was pulled into a severe bun. The hem of her tailored suit fell below her knee and she even had a slender golden chain attached to her glasses. "I am quite capable of retrieving things on my own," said Ian, his tone cold. "Now please excuse me." He turned and entered Cullen's office and locked the door behind him. The office was contemporary in style, all sleek lines and minimalism. The paintings on the walls were abstract ones in bright colors. He knew them well; after all he was the one who had introduced Cullen to the artist. Crossing to the desk, he spent the next half hour going through every bit of it. This included taking the drawers out and looking for any hidden cubbies or false bottoms. Nothing. The shelves and books were next, every book was examined. There was nothing in the cupboards or the filing cabinet, nothing but business dealings. The bookshelves, the books, the filing cabinets and cupboards; he found absolutely nothing that wasn't related to business. His cell phone rang and he answered it swearing, "Yeah." "Don't sound so overjoyed, no luck?" came Finn's smiling voice. "No," sighed Ian, "I don't think we are going to find anything here, except for a pissed off Prudence McKindrick. God that woman is a bitch. I don't know how Cullen put up with her all these years." Finn laughed, "It is hardly a company secret that she has wanted him for the 20 years she has been working for him. She still treats me like a five year old. " "Well, she would be the one to ask about anything Cullen was up to but I have the feeling that she wouldn't help me, unless it was maybe out of a thirty story window to a certain death." "You always did know how to charm the ladies, brother mine," Finn replied, trying not to laugh at Ian's obvious frustration. "How is the search of the apartment coming?" "I have managed to find absolutely nothing," Finn's voice sounded disgusted, "I'd swear that the man didn't live here except there is hair in his brush and his favorite flavor of Gatorade in the fridge." Ian sighed, "I didn't think that you would actually. He has a cleaning service come in every week. I don't think that he would leave anything out. If there is stuff in the apartment, it has got to be very well hidden. You may have to rip the place apart." "Yeah, well I guess I will have to get the chainsaws out then," said Finn only half jokingly. "You have fun with that," laughed Ian. "Just remember what happened the last time you played with tools. Handyman you are not." Finn just laughed. "He may have had an apartment, or a house where he kept that stuff." Ian continued. "Like the cabin. We may have to dig in the records quite a ways back to find any purchases, if he even purchased them in his name." Ian chewed his lip thoughtfully and sat in the comfortable leather chair at the desk. "I can't see him having property in someone else's name. He was too much of a control freak for that. But if he had any dummy corporations or something like that he wouldn't have to." "He definitely has the experience to do something like that. If that is the case it may take quite a while to track down." "Yeah," agreed Ian, "the council and the others may just have to wait to get everything. Problem is they want it now and are going to be on our asses until we find it." "Oh well, they will live I guess. Simon should be here sometime this afternoon. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help." Eagerness colored his tone. "He is coming today?" asked Ian, "I didn't think he was coming until Friday at the earliest." "I talked to him this morning," responded Finn after a moment's hesitation. Ian was thrown for a minute. He knew for a fact that Simon hadn't called the house; he also knew that Finn had been at his own apartment last night, rather than the main house. "Is there something going on between you that I should know about?" he asked teasingly. There was a long silence. Ian was jolted, had he said something wrong? "Would it matter?" Came Finn's quiet reply. Ian let his breath out, realizing that he had been holding it, "Of course not. Simon and I have been friends for years. I just... you are catching me completely off guard." "It happened kind of unexpectedly," Finn admitted. "I like girls, but Simon and I bumped into each other a couple of months ago and things just happened." "A couple of months," Ian repeated, "That long?" "You were country hopping at the time," was Finn's dry response. "What was I supposed to do, call you up and tell you 'oh by the way I think I am falling for your best friend'?" "Point taken," replied Ian, picking up on the nervousness and tension on Finn's end of the phone. "It's just.....Simon has had a lot of heartache over being gay. His entire family turned their backs on him. That and the last person he gave his heart to pretty much ripped it out and set it on fire," he paused again, feeling awkward. "We have talked about that a little. He doesn't say much. Just that Jason had lied to him a lot and finally just broke it off." Ian paused. He didn't want to interfere but at the same time he didn't want to see Simon in the state he had been in when Jason had left him. "Jason had a fiancé," he said finally. "He had been hoping to keep it from Simon completely and continue the relationship. The fiancé found out about Simon and tracked him down. She pretty much laid all of the blame on Simon and did a very good job of making Simon feel like the one out to destroy her life. He called Jason to ask what the hell was going on and Jason caved. He stopped seeing Simon and ended up marrying the bitch three months later." "Holy Shit," said Finn softly. "He was absolutely shattered. I haven't seen him like that since the day after he came out to his family and they pretty much kicked him out of their lives. He wasn't even allowed to see his younger siblings again. He doesn't say much about it but I know that it still hurts. His younger brother is 20 now and refused to see him when Simon tried to contact him at the university where he was studying. Simon took it hard," Ian paused, "When Jason left he fell apart for a while. Just, just don't hurt him, ok? He has been through so much. If this is just a fling for you, you need to put an end to it before he gets attached to you." "Yeah," said Finn after a pause, "He gets distant at the oddest times." He paused again, "This isn't just a fling for me Ian, I really care about him." "I love you no matter what little brother," Ian paused, tearing up. "You know that I will back you up with Father if your relationship gets more serious. He won't approve but he will get over it eventually. I just, I wish that you had told me earlier. Don't you trust me?" "I know," Finn sighed, "it's just taken me a while to figure things out. It's not like I have a road map for this sort of relationship. Simon just sort of happened so fast I haven't had time to take it in yet. I think I love him Ian." Ian smiled, "You two make quite a pair. Just tread gently ok?" "No worries there. Well we should get going; we have a lot of ground to cover before our little family paw-wow this afternoon. That and Simon should be here by then." Ian laughed, "Great, getting ditched for a boyfriend, yeah, I love you little bro. I'll see you at five." Ian went back to tossing the office grinning, even as he was growing more and more frustrated with the task. At noon, he gave up and was grateful that Prudence was away from her desk. He had several errands to run and an appointment to make before he could get back to the house and check in on Isabelle. She had been sound asleep when he had left her room that morning, sprawled across the bed looking tousled and beautiful. He had missed waking up with her, having spent most of the night pacing. He was tired but he had an appointment that he could not miss. He just hoped it would help him handle the next few nights. Isabelle was healing physically. Ian was hoping she would agree to see a psychiatrist friend of his about putting herself back together emotionally. Jack was very good and also knew about Ian and his family. She would be able to tell him everything without worrying about being labeled crazy, or delusional. He just hoped that she wouldn't want to leave for a while. As hard as it was to be near her, it would be harder to have her gone. @@@@ A few last sweeps of charcoal across the page and Isabelle sat back and looked at the almost finished sketch. Once she had begun drawing it was as if the floodgates had been opened and she had been drawing steadily since breakfast. The ones of Cullen were the worst. She finished those quickly, sometimes teary eyed before slipping them into a manila envelope that Mrs. Daily had given her. The one she was finishing was of Ian, tousle haired and sound asleep in the bed that they shared. Sexy, she admitted to herself, blending the final pieces with a fingertip. Flipping back a few pages she grinned at the drawing of Finn; his smile wouldn't stop. It radiated a kind of joy that she had seldom seen from anyone. He was a good subject, she admitted to herself. She had half-formed plans to see if he would sit for her when he had time. She smiled again; maybe he would want to give one to Simon. Glancing at the clock, she realized that she had missed lunch entirely it was after two. She wondered where Ian was. She missed seeing him all the time. Stretching she closed the sketchbook and headed to the bathroom to wash her hands. She hoped he would be back soon. Maybe she could talk him into sitting for her. Shadows and Light Ch. 09 Chapter 9 Distractions An hour later, Ian waited in his apartment for her, feeling guilty and excited all at once. He had never paid for a woman before in his life, he hadn't needed to. But it didn't feel right to pick up a woman and use her for his fantasies. This way was better he told himself, she knew exactly what he wanted, what he wanted to hear from her, what he expected. She was also a donor, she knew what he was, which meant for a considerable extra fee he could feed from her during sex without hiding it. He could even feed multiple times, from multiple places as long as he didn't take too much. He couldn't do this at the house. There were too many people in and out. His need for Isabelle was starting to drive him over the edge. He dreamed of her every night and woke up rock hard and aching, unable to return to sleep. He was afraid that he would lose control and scare the shit out of her. He tossed back his brandy and fetched another, sitting back in the oversize leather chair, one foot propped on the ottoman. And now he waited. There was a knock on the door and without waiting for an answer it opened and the girl walked in. She was beautiful, dark bobbed hair, slim body with small breasts. She smiled at him and crossed the room gracefully. Ian stretched out a hand and she took it, sliding into his lap and pressing herself against him. "Hello Ian," she smiled again and nuzzled the side of his neck, "did you miss me?" "Isabelle," he whispered, letting himself slide into his fantasy. His large hands slid over her back and up to her soft hair. Very gently, he pulled her face to his and feathered his lips lightly over hers. She smelled good, just like he had asked; She smelled of soap. There was no perfume to interfere with the musky scent of woman that permeated her skin. He stroked her face with his fingertips, lightly, caressingly. He kissed her again, feeling her soft lips part under his and he tasted her. So sweet, so soft, he deepened the kiss feeling her breath hitch as his tongue played with hers. He let his hands roam over her slim body as he continued to lick and suck, softly biting at her lips. He groaned softly; her mouth was so sweet. He could feel her heart pounding and the smell of her blood so close beneath her skin was intoxicating. He could also smell the musky scent of her arousal. His Isabelle, he was making her hot, wet for him. He wanted his cock inside of her now, but couldn't seem to stop kissing and licking that silky skin. She was straddling him now, her soft crotch cradling his growing erection, her knees on either side of his hips. Her short skirt made it easy to slide his hands over her. He kneaded her ass, pulling her against his cock, thrusting with his hips against her cloth-covered body. Ian abruptly broke the kiss, and with one quick move pulled her shirt over her head and began gently biting her nipples through her bra. She gasped and both hands went to his shoulders for support. 'Isabelle' ground her hips against his and moaned softly. Sliding the straps down her shoulders, he kissed his way down her bare skin. Pushing her bra down, he began licking the rosy tips of her nipples, going from one to the other, teasing them into hard peaks. He lost himself in her fragrance as he suckled the tender skin, reveling in the soft skin of her breasts contrasting with the hard nipples as he licked and sucked her. She was gasping now. He bit her gently as he twisted the other nipple gently between his thumb and forefinger. He drew blood and gently licked at the sweet taste, moaning as her taste exploded across his senses. "Isabelle...my God you taste so sweet...need you." "Ian," she panted, "you feel so good." Her hands were stroking through his hair now, stroking his neck as she closed her eyes. She continued to play with his silky hair as his mouth explored the valley between her breasts and up to her other breast. Her hands slid down and began unbuttoning his shirt. Trembling, she ran her fingers through the wealth of brown hair on his chest. He arched his back gasping, pushing up into the hands stroking over him. 'Isabelle' slid further down his lap and licked at a tight nipple hidden in his hair and he groaned as waves of pleasure radiated from where she touched him. She continued across his chest, nipping at his other nipple while her slender fingers caressed the other. She slid down his body, stroking the tight band of muscles across his belly, tonguing either side of the line of hair trailing from his pecs and disappearing into the waistband of his pants. Unzipping him, she nuzzled the bulge of his aroused sex. Panting now, Ian lifted his hips to help her undress him. She slid his trousers off, followed by his boxers, and took off his shoes and socks at the same time. He watched her encircle his rampant arousal with slender fingers and take the tip into her soft mouth. Her mouth was so hot and soft he had to struggle not to climax immediately. He was bigger and thicker than most, and he loved the contrast between her slender fingers and his engorged cock. He could feel it throbbing and twitching as her small, pouty mouth opened wider to engulf as much of him in her mouth as possible. Her left hand began to stroke his balls softly, shifting to play with the soft strip of skin between his balls and his ass. "Yes Isabelle... please, harder... God I need you. You feel so good. I waited so long for you...yes." His hands stroked her silky hair as she bobbed on him. He could feel the increasing suction and swirling her tongue around the sensitive head. His hips were thrusting up now, trying to bury his cock in her mouth. He was rapidly losing control over his body. Waves of pleasure surged from his cock out to his extremities and rebounded back, crashing into him. With one deft stroke, she buried his cock to the hilt down her throat. He cried out with pleasure, thrusting his hips up and clawing at the arms of the chair. She pulled off him slowly, achingly until only the head of his cock was in her mouth. Ian was panting, moaning with each breath and begging her without words for more. He could feel his balls contracting into hard rocks as she squeezed them a bit harder and pulled gently. His cock throbbed, steel encased in velvet as it enlarged even more, growing so hard it hurt. Swirling her tongue around the slit of his cock she teased him, licking, lapping until without warning she deep throated him, again and again and again, making him scream with agonized pleasure. His sharp fingernails shredded the arms of the chair, his control slipping, every muscle in his body tensed. His climax slammed through him as his cock violently expelled weeks of sexual frustration deep inside her. Stars exploded against the inside of his eyelids, blinding him as his entire body throbbed with release. Again and again he crested, as his cock continued to spurt his seed into her willing throat. She continued to stroke him with her mouth and hands, softer now as she brought him down. He continued to make low moaning sounds as he slipped out of her mouth and she began kissing her way back up her body. He pulled her gently into his lap. His arms encircled her, pulling her close, her head tucked into the crook of his neck as he stroked her back. They lay like that for long minutes. Presently he began to nuzzle her hair and she tilted her head back to look at him. He began to press small kisses along her hairline until he reached her earlobe. Ian took it gently in his mouth, bit it lightly and then sucked on it. He continued to her neck and the soft junction under her chin, sucking lightly. "You're so soft, you smell so good," he rasped against her neck as he reached the tender junction between her neck and shoulder. "I'm going to suck and lick every inch of you." The girl moaned in acquiesce and raised her hands to his hair. Her slender fingers stroked his scalp and he purred like a cat under her caress. Shifting under her, he stood with her in his arms and carried her into the next room and to the bed. The large four-poster dominated the room and the blankets and top sheet had been folded down to the base. It was on to this wide expanse of creamy sheet that he laid her and then began removing the remains of her skirt and panties. He left her thigh high stockings on; he liked the wanton look they gave her. Rolling on top of her, bracing his weight on his elbows he leaned down and kissed her. Her soft lips opened and he plundered her mouth, tasting himself on her tongue. Over and over he kissed her, tilting his head to reach every part of her mouth with his. He could feel her legs spreading a bit more for him, wrapping their slender lengths around his waist. Smiling, Ian ground gently against her spread legs and then nipped her neck as he began to press open-mouthed kisses, licks and light hickies down her body. He played a while with her nipples, liking the way she squirmed under him. He went lower, licking at the soft skin of her belly, his tongue dipped into her belly button and she giggled. He chuckled softly in response, continuing his exploration with the delicate curve of her hipbones and down to the slender crease that marked the junction of torso and thigh. Ian moved down between her thighs and nuzzled against the fine hair on her mound, breathing in the heady scent of her arousal. He moved his head back a bit as she bucked her hips, begging without words for him to touch her. Spreading her thighs wide he explored the crease between her labia and thigh with his tongue, down one side and up the other. Her inner thighs were next, her soft creamy skin trembling as he pressed gentle love bites into them. Without warning, he moved back and licked her sex from bottom to top, tasting her arousal. She cried out and arched her back, panting. Attaching himself to the small nub of her clit, he suckled gently as he slid two long fingers into her slippery opening. She gave a moaning cry and bucked her hips. He added another finger and began to twist and rotate them, pumping them hard into her. He took long licks from his busy fingers to her throbbing clit, passing his tongue over her again and again, before sucking and flicking it. His own body was on fire now, his cock engorged and throbbing. His Isabelle was crying out for him now, her body poised on the brink of orgasm, teetering on the edge. He shifted position, his cock at her entrance, barely touching the wet opening, nudging, and teasing. "Please,please, I need it, need you inside of me please..." He slid deeply into her, and she gasped in pleasure. Belly to belly, hip to hip, his large body pressed her into the mattress with relentless thrusts. She climaxed around him and he could feel her soft body squeezing him tight as she clawed at his back and bucked her hips up to take him deeper. He withdrew almost completely and thrust deep, the sensitive head of his cock colliding with her cervix. Her cries changed to gasps as the dull pain added to her pleasure, as he increased the pace and force of his thrusting, his entire being concentrated on the agonizing pleasure in his cock. His mouth was savaging hers now, tasting, filling and absorbing her cries into his mouth. His body slapped against hers, his hips slamming faster. He could feel the burning in his belly starting. As he began to climax, he bared his fangs and bit deeply into the vein of her neck. Waves of pleasure shattered over him. He felt his cock explode deep within her, spurting his seed over and over as her vein poured salty sweetness across his tongue, its pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. She climaxed again as he bit her a second time, savoring the extra sweetness of her blood that was flavored with her pleasure. He stayed buried inside her, his cock jerking with aftershocks of pleasure as he fed deeply. Sated, he moaned as he withdrew his fangs from her flesh and licked the last few drops of blood from the rapidly closing wounds. He kept some of his weight off her by leaning on his elbows. This was his favorite part of sex, almost more than the actual orgasm itself. Still semi-hard he remained inside her, feeling her tightness around him. He could feel the aftershocks of her pleasure and reveled in the scent of her sweat, arousal and blood. He rolled to his side, taking her with him, his softening cock still buried in her body. Her breathing was still fast, her breath hitching occasionally with her shivering aftershocks as she clung to him, wrapped in his arms. Sighing deeply he shifted them onto the pillows and pulled the covers over them both. He closed his eyes, luxuriating to the feel of being sated at last. Shadows and Light Ch. 10 Chapter 10 Family secrets revealed The study was one of those rooms that seemed a bit stereotypical to Isabelle. The walls were decorated in a dark colored wood that matched the large desk and floor to ceiling bookshelves on the south wall. It also had a large fireplace that looked like it had once been wood burning but now burned gas. Isabelle was curled up on one side of the small loveseat next to Ian. The man that she knew as his father, John Sterling was seated behind the desk, looking grim. Isabelle had been very uneasy that he was going to be here but refused to stay behind when Ian told her Simon had a few things to tell them. He had acknowledged her presence with a nod and then ignored her, which was just fine with her. Finn was across the way, lounging in chair in all his pale blonde beauty. He grinned at her and unable to stop herself she grinned back. Finn's charm was an unconscious extension of his personality and shutting it off would be like him loping off a hand. She found that she really liked him, just being around him lightened her mood. Simon entered the room, crossing to the chair by the desk. His eyes caught Finn's and he smiled ever so slightly. "What have you found?" asked John Sterling, still quietly grim. "Quite a bit actually," said Simon, seating himself, "Cullen has been at this for a very long time, the last hundred years at least." Ian shook his head in shock and looking around at the faces of his brother and father, realizing they felt the same. "That long?" exclaimed Finn, "How was he able to go undetected for so long? I thought council members had mind searching done on a regular basis?" "According to the journal that I found he found a way around that with magic. Somehow he managed to fade them or conceal them with the magic he was learning," replied Simon, "I am making a list of the spells that he found or created on his own for the council. What interested me most however was his more recent spells." He shifted so that he was looking and speaking to Isabelle. "You were not a random victim;" he told her quietly, "Cullen researched your family lineage quite extensively and went to great lengths to find you." Isabelle just shook her head. "Why? There is nothing all that special about me." "You are wrong actually," returned Simon. "Your grandfather was a lycanthrope. Apparently, panthers are a rare type and that fascinated Culllen. And even though you showed no visible signs of inheritance, he was curious. According to his journal, sometimes the Were-side can be buried deep. Once he had you, he knew that you could not consciously change, or you would have done so to defend yourself. He decided to see if he could bring it to the surface." "What?" said Ian, rather shocked, looking over at Isabelle. "But I didn't inherit the bloodline," Isabelle questioned avoiding Ian's gaze. She didn't like the fact that she felt guilty for not telling him. It was her business, not his. "Why would he bother with me? I don't remember him asking anything even remotely connected to that," she replied, "not that I would have told him if he had." Simon nodded, "He knew that. One of the fastest ways to break down mental barriers is through pain. Your natural mental shields prevented him from finding out what you knew about were-panthers in general and your family in particular. You frustrated him beyond belief, you enraged him. You also fascinated him. He could not get into your head. That was why he had that ceremony planned the night you killed him. It wasn't the sort of ceremony I had assumed it was." He paused and took a deep breath, "He was planning on turning you, making you his, permanently. He had apparently tried before, twice, obviously without success. He was hoping that with the additional energy he was gaining from outside sources that it would be enough to turn you." Isabelle just stared. It was inconceivable that the monster that had tortured her for four months desired her as a, lover, companion, slave, whatever. Unconsciously, she moved closer to Ian, shaking her head, her control of her emotions slipping a bit. Ian automatically put his arm around her and pulled her closer. Simon bit his lip, "apparently he was working on a way to bind souls and keep them until they could be used as sources of power for other spells. He was hoping that the extra energy stored from previous victims would give him what he needed to bind you to him." There was a long silence. Simon continued after a moment, "Most of the spells that Cullen created were the kind that required two or more casters." He looked John straight in the eye, "He had at least one partner, probably more. What I don't know is why they weren't with him when he was attempting his ceremony that night." "Do you have any clues as to who they are?" asked John. "He never mentions anyone else directly," replied Simon, "It could be someone that we all know or someone we have never heard of. I would guess that it would be the latter. It would have to be someone with strong ties to the occult and an awful lot of knowledge. You don't learn about this stuff over night. Some of these spells are Master level; it would take decades of disciplined study to reach that." "I am just surprised that he got away with it for so long," said Ian slowly. There was a long silence. "It isn't the first time that it has happened in this family," said John finally. Both Finn and Ian looked at their father with absolute surprise. "My eldest, Richard, about his one hundredth birthday started down the same path. I didn't know until much later of course," he stared straight ahead, not meeting either of their shocked gazes. "What happened to him?" asked Finn quietly, "And why did you never tell us about him?" John sighed, "He finally went over the edge and kidnapped his step mother, Anne, Cullen's mother. Somehow, she got wind of what was happening and managed to hide Cullen well enough that Richard couldn't find him. Cullen was his real target I think. He could not bear the thought that Cullen might replace him. And he hated Anne because of the way I felt about her. We were blood bonded, life mated, and I adored her far more than anything I had ever felt for his mother." "She died when Cullen was a baby if I remember correctly," said Ian. "Yes, Richard killed her," John stated in a flat emotionless voice, that very lack of emotion giving a hint of the agonizing pain he had felt, "I didn't get there in time." "What happened to Richard?" asked Finn again, more quietly this time. "I killed him," replied his father, looking at him directly for the first time, "he was out of control and kept coming after Cullen. I had to make a choice." The silence weighed heavily in the room as each person present mulled over the rather shocking revelation. Simon broke the silence, "We are starting the process of identification on the remains. They are being transferred to storage for now. I have a friend that runs a lab and is willing to discreetly test them. The council has agreed to pay the fees. As for the magic," here he paused, "the council has hired me to document everything I find and turn it over to them exclusively." He looked over to John. "I have no problem with that," stated the elder Sterling firmly, "Mr. Witherspoon should be here shortly, and I would appreciate your presence." Simon nodded. John turned to Isabelle, surprising her, "Do you wish to be present?" She shook her head. "Very well," John rose and left the room. After a few murmured comments, each of them left the room. They could continue talking later. From the look on John's face they knew that he wouldn't want to continue. Ian wondered what other secrets their father had been keeping from them. He escorted Isabelle out of the room, wondering about his father's blank expression, trying to guess what he was thinking. He walked Isabelle to her room and stopped at the door, "I have to go out for a while Isabelle, I'll be back in a couple of hours." "Oh, okay," she said rather surprised. He turned abruptly and strode down the hall leaving Isabelle staring after him. Feeling a bit bereft, she started getting ready for bed, wondering where he was going this late. @@@@ Several hours later, Ian entered the bedroom, only to find it dimly lit with the small lamp in the corner. Isabelle was sound asleep. He sat heavily at the small table that doubled as a breakfast table and put his head in his hands. Isabelle carried the bloodline of a were-panther. No wonder Cullen hadn't been able to turn her. As he had told Isabelle, there were some humans that could not be turned even if the circumstances were perfect otherwise. Perhaps that was why Cullen's two prior attempts to turn her had failed. The were in her, however diluted, prevented it. There were also no known children conceived between a were and a vampire. It wasn't that it was forbidden, it had just never happened as far as he knew. As crazy about Isabelle as he was, the fact was that if they did get together they would probably never have children. That gave him pause. He wanted children; he enjoyed his friend's children immensely. In the back of his mind, he had always been secure in the knowledge that someday he would meet the right person and have a child or two of his own. If he couldn't turn her she would remain as she was, with a life span of about sixty to seventy more years. His father was over six hundred and still going strong. Would the short time he would have with her be worth it? If it was possible for them to blood bond without her being turned, would he survive losing her? His father had survived losing his bonded mate, but Ian also remembered the look on his father's face every time he spoke of Anne. Pain, absolute and unending, even three hundred years hadn't eased its bite. Did he want to live like that, always remembering the love that was lost to him? Lost in thought, he finally noticed the sketchbooks stacked on the table. Idly he reached over, opened a page and saw his own face smiling back at him. It was extraordinarily well done for a charcoal. Flipping through the pages, he saw several drawings of Finn, Mrs. Daily cooking in the kitchen, some of the other servants, the garden, even in its current flowerless state. And him. Page after page was of him: sleeping, awake, driving in profile, chatting with Finn. The last page was unfinished and showed him sleeping, bare chested with the sheets around his hips. There was sensuality in every curve and shadow on his body. Every stroke of the charcoal was flawless, perfectly placed. His heart hammered. Was it possible that she was beginning to feel something for him? Something more than just gratitude, maybe? Standing up and stretching he shed his coat and shoes. Crossing over to the bed on soundless feet he stretched out on the bed, on top of the covers, his hands stacked behind his head. Watching her sleep, he tried to calm his mind in to some semblance of order. So much was speculation, full of maybes. He lay awake a long time, unable to sleep. Shadows and Light Ch. 11 Ok readers, in case you didn't notice the change, this story is in the 'gasp' Gay Male category. The relationship between these two is integral to the later chapters and deserves a little time in the limelight. It really irritates me when the trolls read a chapter like this and then you get hate mail, or public feedback about how the content of your story is so disgusting. So....you have been warned, no hate mail please cause I'll just delete you anyway (grin). (unless of course it is constructive negative feedback) Feel free to write me if you are a gay male however because I would like to know if I did ok!!! Thanks to everyone that has voted and left comments and emails! I even like the feed back that is not so hot because it gives me an idea of how you guys are taking the story! Chapter 11: Lovers Finn was awakened from a doze to the feel of a large body settling in behind him, pulling his naked body close. Warm lips found his ear lobe and he moaned softly. Knowing hands stroked and fondled his chest and belly, finding easily the sweet spots that drove him crazy. His hands were drawn over his head and secured to the headboard with something soft. He was laying flat on his back now, his erection straining towards the ceiling. He cried out in unexpected pleasure as his cock was sucked deep inside his lover's mouth. His legs were wide spread now and he could feel the exquisite sensation of his balls being gently stroked. "Oh God, don't stop," he gasped as the talented mouth began to take nibbling bites along the underside of his shaft. A wet finger began to swirl around the entrance to his body. He let out a quivering cry of pleasure as it began to alternate swirling and pushing gently against his outer sphincter. "Shhhhh," came his lover's admonishment, "You don't want to wake the house do you?" The deep voice teased, "Do you want them to find you spread eagled with a cock buried in your ass? Hhmm?" Finn gasped trying to restrain his cries as a thick finger pressed deeply into him twisting and rotating, opening him for the large cock that would soon be demanding entry. A hot mouth engulfed his throbbing member taking him deep and Finn writhed at the dual pleasure. A second finger was added along with a dollop of cold lubrication. Finn couldn't suppress the high pitched noise of excitement that escaped from him. A strong hand pressed over his mouth and the tongue stroking his cock started on his balls, tasting and teasing as the two fingers inside him continued to thrust in and pull out only to push in deeper and begin stroking that spot inside of him that would push him over the edge. Finn was thrusting with his hips now and moaning with want beneath the hand that muffled his cries. The hot wet mouth moved back up to the tip of his penis and engulfed it to the root in one stroke. Finn bucked and howled with muffled pleasure as the sucking and thrusting pushed him into a screaming climax. He could feel his lover sucking every bit of his cum out of his cock as he shot over and over in a seemingly endless supply. Limp and still shaking, Finn could feel his lover's strong, muscular arms turned him over and he felt his hips lifted as several pillows were shoved under him. His ass was in the air now and he felt the delicious feeling of excitement and fear shudder through him as a gag was shoved into his mouth and secured around his head. "There," panted his lover in his ear as he could feel his weight settling over him, "this should help my little screamer keep his daddy from knowing he's my bitch." Finn could feel the hard tip of his lover's cock at his entrance and he whimpered, wanting to feel that velvet steel pushing itself deep within him. "I have missed you babe. You're such a bad boy Finn, letting me fuck you. Don't you think? All the things you want me to do to you," the low, deep voice continued as he pressed kisses and gentle bites along the back of his lover's neck. Finn moaned quietly pressing his hips up in answer. There was pressure as the large cock demanded entry and Finn couldn't suppress a yelp as the large head popped through. It always hurt the first few moments before the incredible feeling of being taken and filled took over. He could feel every ridge and vein on the engorged cock that was slowly sliding into his body. His own cock was rock hard again, pressed between his body and the bed. "That's good baby, just relax. I'm gonna spend the rest of the night fucking your brains out," the deep voice said. "You have been so bad haven't you Finn? Do you jack off thinking about my hard cock in your ass?" His cock slid deeper as he increased the force of his thrusts now, "I've missed you so much." Finn cried out in muffled pleasure as his lover thrust home, balls deep in his body, pressing him down firmly into the mattress. He rotated his hips in time with his lover's thrusting. "What would your prim and proper daddy have to say about this?" His lover teased. He could feel the tightness and heat of Finn's ass around him as he thrust and he suppressed the impulse to bite and strike as his excitement mounted. "You are so sweet Finn," he breathed into his lover's ear as he bit it more sharply this time, "so beautiful." Pushing Finn's legs together and squeezing his own legs together around them and he groaned with pleasure as his cock was gripped even tighter by Finn's slim, muscular body. "God you're such a tight fuck," he gasped. "I want to fuck you forever babe. I'm gonna take you somewhere nice and private and make you scream and beg me for it before I fuck you so hard you can't walk." A sharp slap to his right butt cheek startled Finn and he jumped. "Yeah, squeeze that ass around me babe. " Another hard, stinging slap to his left cheek and they gasped in pleasure together. Finn could hear the bed creaking and feel it rocking as his lover pounded his hard cock into his excited body. Continuous moans escaped him as his aroused body spiraled closer to climax. He loved the feel of his lover dominating him, using his body to get off, his huge cock sliding in and out of him. His own cock was sliding against the bed as his lover rocked his body, the delicious rubbing action and pressure combined with the cock sliding in and out of his body was conspiring to send him over the edge. "God Finn that's it. Come for me babe. Squeeze me tight," his lover panted in his ear and then cried out as he began to climax deep into the smaller man's body. Finn tripped and screamed a muffled cry behind his gag as his own body shook and his cock surged, soaking the bed under him. Again and again they shook together and he could feel his lover resting his weight on his back. A while later gentle hands removed the restraints and the gag; Finn rested in the circle of his lover's arms while soft lips played over his sweaty face. It had originally taken him a while to let this kind of sex happen, and now he was finding it impossible to live without it. The bondage had only heightened the sensation of lust and helplessness. He had never been the more submissive one in a relationship before and he was finding that with Simon, he loved it. "God Simon," he moaned," you feel so good." Simon smothered the rest of his comment with a deep kiss as his tongue delved deeply into Finn's mouth. "You feel pretty damn good yourself babe," he replied. "I wanted to throw you on the table and fuck your brains out all through dinner. I figured that you could be a main course just for me." Simon chuckled at the thought and kissed Finn deeply again and again, his body beginning to rouse to hardness again. "I guess I'll just have to settle for you being dessert." Finn rolled to his back and pulled Simon over him. "I believe you mentioned something about fucking me all night long?" Finn laughed as Simon's heavy body settled on top of him and his cock pushed in slowly. "Oh man I've missed this," he panted. He brought his legs up and rocked his hips so Simon could slide even deeper. Simon smiled in the dark as he pushed into his lover. "I think we have two weeks to make up for lover," he breathed as he devoured Finn in another kiss. "If you would just move in with me we could do this all the time." "Oh," Finn gasped at what Simon was doing to his body. "We've talked about this," Finn moaned and bucked his hips into his lover. "Just think," continued Simon quietly, "We would be together all night long, and in the morning, at lunchtime, all weekend. My house is nice and private," he rotated his hips and Finn groaned. "I could fuck you in the hot tub, or on your hands and knees on the grass, or how about tied between two of the support beams to the deck. You could scream all you wanted and no one would hear you except for maybe a raccoon or two. Maybe I should just not let you come until you say yes." Finn moaned in protest as Simon stopped moving entirely, using his heavy body to prevent Finn from moving. "Simon!" he gasped, "please, don't stop, I need you." He flexed his muscles tightly around Simon's cock and then released. "Live with me," he panted, "it isn't enough to see you now and then. I want you with me all the time. I don't want to hide how I feel anymore." Simon buried his face in the crook of Finn's neck and almost against his will pulled out of Finn's tight body completely and brutally slammed himself back in with one thrust. Finn moaned in pleasure as Simon bottomed out in his tight body, and then moaned again as Simon stopped moving. Simon caught Finn's panting mouth in a deep kiss, moaning into the moist heat of his lover's mouth. Tongues clashed and meshed, swirled as Simon began rocking his hips back and forth. "Simon please," begged Finn, frantically trying to get his lover to move harder, clawing at his back. "Say it," Simon gasped, rocking harder for a moment and then going still. "Oh GOD....please." "Please Finn," he said quietly into his lover's mouth. "Yes," Finn sobbed, "Simon, yes, yes please." He voiced an inarticulate cry of pleasure as Simon thrust hard and deep again and again. "Oh God, Finn you're mine," he grunted, "mine," pushing harder and harder into the writhing body of his lover, mindless to anything but the flex and pull of his body and the heat and cries of his lover. Finn shrieked against Simon's neck as he came with blinding pleasure, his cock pulsing with heat as it spurt out his semen between sweat slicked bellies. At the same moment he sank his fangs deep into Simon's neck, and tasting the sweet flow of his lover's blood across his tongue. He climaxed again, a dry climax that radiated agonizing pleasure from his groin out to his extremities before smashing back through his cock, leaving him gasping for air. Seconds later Simon roared as his cock was squeezed with rhythmic pulses and it let loose a flood of semen into Finn's shaking body. He continued to thrust, longer and slower, groaning with pleasure and aftershocks of his orgasm. Completely sated, Finn's head fell back on to the pillow, he felt limp, unable to move. Simon claimed his mouth for a long and deep kiss, tasting his own blood. "Mine," he whispered, kissing him again. Finn moaned softly in pleasure as he returned the kiss, "Yours." Shadows and Light Ch. 12 Chapter 12: Pillow talk and heart to hearts Finn woke to dawn beginning to peak through his windows. Simon was curled up, his head resting in the hollow of Finn's shoulder and an arm casually thrown over his waist. Smiling, Finn stroked his fingers through Simon's close cropped, silky blonde hair and listened to his steady breathing. His close physical association with the tall academic had sharpened his psychic connection to him. Although he would never intentionally probe someone's feelings without permission he couldn't help picking up on strong emotions when he was in close contact with Simon. For all of Simon's apparent strength and confidence, he was very aware of a great feeling of loneliness and real fear that Finn didn't return his very strong feelings. Finn's feelings had never been in doubt; it was the reaction of his family that worried him. Ian's positive reaction had reassured him greatly. His father would just have to accept it. Simon shifted and raised his head a bit. "Good morning love," said Finn, smiling into Simon's pale blue, sleep hooded eyes. Simon smiled back. "I love waking up with you," he rumbled in his deep voice. "What are you smiling about?" "Just wondering how we are going to get all of my stuff in your house," Finn replied teasingly. "We might have to build an addition." "You, you meant it then?" Simon asked softly, his eyes searching Finn's face. "Of course I meant it," Finn replied, "you were very convincing." He could feel the relief and joy his words gave Simon. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly. "I don't want to push you into something you are not ready for." His eyes were anxious. Finn pulled Simon up into a tender kiss. "I don't want to hide what I feel for you either," he said between kisses. "I want to be with you." Joy surged through Simon, Finn could feel it. Simon wrapped both arms around him and buried his face in the crook of Finn's neck. Finn could feel the tangle of joy, relief, and need, roil through Simon's mind, even as he could feel the slight tremors that shook his body. He stroked the planes of Simon's broad back as he felt Simon gather control over his emotions. Pale blue eyes held sheen of tears as he met Finn's brown eyes. "I love you," he said hoarsely. "Right back at you babe," Finn replied with a smile, pulling Simon into another kiss. He could feel Simon's arousal along with his own need. "Can we get a dog?" Simon laughed, "Where did that come from?" Finn laughed right back, stretching slightly and wrapping his arms around Simon. "I have always wanted a dog. Maybe we could rescue one from a shelter. We would just have to fence part of the yard, there is plenty of room." Laughing at the enthusiasm in Finn's voice Simon nodded, "ok." Lips met and tangled in a kiss. Finn could feel his body rousing to hardness as he stroked every part of Simon he could reach. It still astounded him the passion this man could arouse in him. Finn's soft lips trailed down to Simon's neck where he gave it a lick and a mock bite. Simon moaned. At this rate, they would never get out of bed and he was finding that he really didn't care. @@@ Isabelle put down the fork full of hash browns she had been ready to eat and gave Ian her full attention. "You did what?" She had been disappointed to wake alone again and had been pleasantly surprised when Ian had appeared with a breakfast tray in her room. They were sitting at the small table that she had been drawing at the day before. "I made an appointment for you to see Jack, a psychiatrist friend of mine," he said again. He was surprised by her tone and the look on her face. "I don't think so," she said icily, glaring at him. At a loss for words, Ian just stared at her. "Why not?" he asked, "Jack is a great guy, experienced, and he knows my family so he won't think you are delusional or anything." "If he is so wonderful why don't you go see him," she replied, clenching her teeth. How dare he, how dare he! "My appointment is for next week," Ian replied evenly. Isabelle just looked at him completely speechless. "What?" said Ian, "you don't think that I need a little help sorting through what's happened in the last month?" "But, but, your not crazy or anything," blurted Isabelle. She felt a bit off balance at his response. Ian stared at her, "What do you mean crazy?" Isabelle dropped her eyes to the tabletop and refused to meet his gaze. "Isabelle," he said, "just because you go to a shrink doesn't mean you are crazy. I'm just having some problems with the fact that the brother that I have known since my birth, who was basically a substitute father to me, was a psychotic serial killer." He took a sip of the orange juice that he had been drinking to keep her company while she ate her breakfast. "I knew him for the seventy-six years of my life and I didn't notice anything about him that was off. He was killing all of those people and I didn't notice anything!" His voice choked up at this point. Isabelle just sat there, staring at her plate, the silence stretched for several long seconds. "I'm sorry," she said in a small voice. "It's hardly your fault Isabelle," Ian replied, mentally trying to pull himself together. "I guess I just assumed that you would want someone to talk too. Someone that could help you deal with what happened to you so you can go forward with your life." Ian stretched out a hand and lifted her chin, "Isabelle, please look at me, please." Isabelle's eyes were tear-filled as she looked up at Ian. "I don't think that you are crazy," he told her, cupping the side of her face. "I think you are incredibly strong for being able to survive what Cullen did to you," his eyes caught hers and held them. "But I don't want what happened to you to hold you back. The longer you wait the harder it will be." Isabelle mutely shook her head in denial. "Yes it will," he responded, shifting closer to her. "I will never forgive myself if your life isn't a happy one. What about future lovers, what about children?" he asked, "Is it fair to them or to you to have to carry that baggage around in your soul? That is the kind of thing that will haunt you and keep you from fully embracing your life." Isabelle's chin shook and the tears slid down her cheeks, leaving shiny trails in their wake. "Jack can help you talk things out so you can put that part of your life behind you. You deserve to get the nightmares out of the closet. I promise you that Jack is the kindest person in the world. He is a good friend of mine," Ian's eyes were shining with intensity, trying to make her believe him. "He can help you with the nightmares, Isabelle." "But I have you." The words slipped out almost unheard. Almost. Ian was jolted to the center of his being. Isabelle's teary blue eyes held him motionless, her breathing shook as she realized that her thought had just been spoken out loud. Very slowly, Ian inched closer to her, looking for any sign of hesitance or fear. What he saw was absolute trust and something else he couldn't name that made his insides shake. He pulled her, ever so carefully to him and with a mingling of breaths their lips met in a gentle kiss. Isabelle's head whirled with the gentle pressure of Ian's lips on hers, soft and warm, gentle and loving. Ian made a small movement as if to pull away and her hands slid up to his neck automatically, to keep him next to her. She could smell the heady scent of him; almost taste him. Need like she had never known rose up within as she returned that kiss with everything in her. Opening her lips slightly, she nuzzled him into a series of kisses that left her breathless. Her tongue slipped out and she tasted him at last, sweet with the taste of oranges and mint. She could feel the groan in his chest as he met her in a melting kiss that was gentle even as he tried to devour her. Ian murmured her name over and over between kisses, trying desperately to reign in his need to claim this woman as his own. Her arms were around him and her fingers stroking through his hair. Her sweet lips clung to his and his tongue explored her mouth. The mental shielding he had put up began to fade as he touched her. He could feel the tremendous need in her and the sense of completion she felt in his arms. He could also feel the tension and desperation for his touch. Tears continued to fall as Isabelle responded ardently to each kiss. Ian wiped them away, pressing tiny kisses over her face. "Why the tears sweetheart," he asked in a husky voice as he continued caressing her. "I never thought you would want me," she sobbed. Ian pulled her pajama clad body into his lap and held her close, stroking her hair. "Isabelle, look at me," he said softly. Isabelle's teary blue eyes met his warm brown. "I want you very much Isabelle, but I don't want to scare you." Isabelle smiled through her tears. "I trust you. You would never hurt me." Ian swallowed against the lump in his throat, "It is myself I don't trust love, I want you so badly. I don't want to scare you." He pulled her into a hug, savoring the feel of every inch of her pressed against him. "I can wait as long as it takes," he said into her soft black hair, finding that he meant every word. He was beyond grateful that he was managing to keep his lust for her under control, particularly when he could feel her arousal as well as the other emotions swirling through her. Although he felt a wave of guilt for the afternoon he had spent fucking, he realized that this moment would have been ten times harder without it. "Ian?" Isabelle whispered against his throat. "Yes love?" "Would you do something for me?" "Anything love." She pulled back until she could look him in the eye, "I want you to feed from me." Ian opened his mouth, his eyes wide with protest. Isabelle covered his mouth with her hand. "Hear me out," she said. She waited until he nodded before removing it. She paused for a minute, trying to gather her thoughts into some semblance of coherence. "Feeding is something that you would share with a lover isn't it?" Ian nodded. "Ian, I don't want to be some fragile child that you feel you have to protect. I want to be able to share everything with you, every part of you. This is something that is a more than a part of you." "We don't have to start anything right at this moment Isabelle," Ian replied after a moment, "we have all the time in the world to see how we fit together." "Maybe so," she replied, "but..." He shushed her with a soft kiss. "Unfortunately, we should probably get you dressed. Mr. Witherspoon wants to meet you before he heads out for the day." "Do I have to?" Isabelle asked, tucking her head in to the crook of Ian's neck and snuggling in. "I really don't want to move from this spot, ever." Ian gave a halfhearted groan,"I really don't want you to move either." He nuzzled her silky hair. They sat like that for quite a while, just enjoying one another, before reality could intrude. @@@@ Finn stood in the shower letting the hot water pound on him from the showerhead as well as the body sprays on three sides. Finn was actually a bit stronger and had a good deal more stamina than his larger lover. His healing capabilities being what they were, he was up and ready for the day after their morning tryst and a brief rest. Simon on the other hand had fallen deeply asleep and Finn doubted that a tornado would wake him. He smiled to himself as he ran his soapy hands over his body. Simon had awakened a deep sensuality in him that he didn't even know he was capable of. He wondered occasionally if Simon would be interested in changing roles after their relationship had become more established. Early on in the dating phase of their relationship Simon had described himself as "a total top". They hadn't really discussed it after that. He was happy with the way things were now but he was still curious what it would be like to be inside of his lover and make him feel as incredible as Simon made him feel. Just the thought of making Simon feel so totally claimed and loved made him hard. He soaped up his hardening length. His size wouldn't be a problem, he was fairly average in width even if he was a little longer than most. Simon was thicker and longer yet and Finn still marveled at the way his body accepted him inside. His cock at full mast now, Finn gave into the fantasy of Simon behind him in the shower, stroking him, rubbing his own hard length against his ass, taking him, possessing him, loving him, pleasuring him. He came with a small cry, splashing his climax against the warmed tile where it was washed away by the pounding water. As he toweled off a few minutes later he began to mentally pack his apartment. Some things could go in long term storage, others he would need to move fairly soon. He smiled, he hadn't realized that he would be so excited about moving again, but he was. He would need to tell his father and soon. He wasn't looking forward to it. In many ways he was very old fashioned and his opinion on the gay population was one of them. He had never let it affect his business decisions, (he was one of those that had voted in favor of keeping Simon on retainer for the Council) but he did not approve of Simon as a person, no matter how useful he was. Finn truly did not know how his father would take the news, probably not well in any case. He dreaded the idea that his father might cut ties with him. He had no intention of giving Simon up for any reason, but he truly cared deeply for his father and was not looking forward to the potential breach. He sighed. He would give it a few more days and then break the news to him. Who knows, maybe the loss of Cullen would make him realize that he didn't want to loose another son for such a biased reason. Maybe they could get it to work out. @@@@ Meeting Mr. Witherspoon was rather anti-climactic for Isabelle. He was by appearances in his forties but she suspected that he was a good deal older. He looked quite ordinary, blonde hair, blue eyes and a three piece suit that looked straight off of a showroom floor. He just skimmed over what happened and asked her if she had any details to add. "Not really, but I do have some things I need to discuss with you," she replied. He looked a bit surprised, "Of course." "I would like all of the information that he collected on my family, "she said firmly. She had obviously caught him completely off guard. And then she saw the suave negotiator come out. "Most of that information hasn't even been processed yet Miss Jackson. Once it has I am sure that we can make arrangements." "No I don't think so," Isabelle disagreed. "That information is private and doesn't need to be processed. The only reason you have to keep it is to appease your curiosity. That is not acceptable." Witherspoon glanced at Ian and saw stunned surprise, he wasn't going to get any help from that quarter. "Miss Jackson..." "There will be no Miss Jacksoning your way out of this Mr. Witherspoon," interrupted Isabelle firmly, "Panthers may be loners for the most part, but they are certainly aligned with the more populous packs and respect territorial boundaries. I don't want to have to drag the local Were population into this but I will if I have to. That is an entirely different ball of wax ,that I don't think you want to deal with." Mr. Witherspoon had underestimated her, badly. And apparently she knew that he was between a rock and a hard place. He had not expected this from the delicately fragile appearing woman on the couch. He had expected to interview a victim, not a...well... panther. "I think we can make some arrangements with Mr. Drake since he is compiling the data for the council." Isabelle repressed the wide grin that wanted to escape and said her goodbye's without rubbing in her victory. Once Mr. Witherspoon was gone she let the grin out. Ian just shook his head. She was full of surprises today. @@@@ Simon delved into Cullen's work computer. He hadn't hit the office until noon, even though he had planned to be there much earlier. Finn had finally dragged him out of bed around 10 and they had gone out for a quick breakfast. It was a Saturday and the fact that no one was in the office made it easier for him to concentrate on the large quantities of data that Cullen had on his computer. He had already searched the office from top to bottom, not finding anything more incriminating than Ian had. So that left the computer. He was not an expert but the Council did not have a member that was capable of doing what he was doing and so he had won the duty by default. He had shaken his head at that one. With as many duties that he was already doing on this case he resented more being piled on. Why the Council, as well established and powerful as it was, couldn't hire a fucking expert he didn't know. He had already copied the hard drive onto his laptop and was currently perusing the e-mails, current and deleted. He had his favorite classical music playing. He had long ago found out that classical music helped him concentrate whereas modern music was just too distracting. Although even that wasn't helping him at the moment: right now he would really rather been in bed with Finn. He shifted in his chair remembering the night before, Finn's slim muscular body under his writhing with need. He groaned, he was never going to get this done. He didn't hear the door being unlocked, opened and then closed and relocked, any more than he heard the nearly silent footsteps. Simon's first clue that something was wrong was a warm hand on the back of his neck and blinding pain behind his eyes that left him feeling disconnected and sick. "What have we here?" came a low voice that he did not recognize. "How quaint, they sent a human all by himself." Simon tried to move, to yell and found that he was unable to do more than blink. "Let's see what we have here shall we. Maybe you can fill me in on where Cullen is and why his family is acting so strangely." Simon could feel gentle hands on his head, one on each side, then a tickle. Not outside but inside his skull. 'Oh shit' he thought to himself, trying to put up mental blocks. He had never been very good at it or very interested in it and as a consequence had neglected to practice. His visitor chuckled, "A bit late for that isn't it?" The tickle became a pressure and the pressure became a sharp pain and then suddenly images of the last few days and weeks began to stream past his conscience mind. He could feel the individual threads of thought being forcefully pulled to the forefront of his mind and carefully examined. The pain ebbed and flowed with the push and pull; moans tried to escape his locked throat unsuccessfully. "Dead," the voice breathed, "that's not possible!" The voice was a shriek now. "I still feel him. I knew something was wrong, but not dead, not dead." Simon screamed internally as thoughts of how Cullen had died and Isabelle's recovery were ripped from his mind. His head felt like it was going to explode; if he could have he would have been writhing on the floor screaming in agony. "That bitch, that bitch. How dare she. He couldn't have wanted her as anything but a play toy, you're wrong, he couldn't want her!!" Simon was beyond hearing the harsh pants and angry words. "We will just have to fix that. Yes, we can fix it. His body is still there. You aren't due back till late afternoon, hmmm, we have plenty of time to work on you. How would you like to help me out huh? Of course you will. You are fucking Finn!! Why that little fag. That could work to my advantage, why yes it could. I think it is time to change your mind on a few things my dear. Don't worry, it will hurt like hell but you won't remember any of it until I need you too." Shadows and Light Ch. 12 Simon couldn't even blink as his mind was opened even wider for perusal. His eyes rolled back in his head and he lost consciousness. This didn't bother his attacker, the unconscious mind was easier to manipulate anyway. Oh yes there would be payback, after all hell hath no fury... Shadows and Light Ch. 13 Dear Readers, Thank you all for your patience with me. I apologize for the long delay with this story. My laptop died. Of course I hadn't remembered to back anything up. Of course they sent the wrong part and I had to wait even longer for the correct one. Life is a pain in the ass and I am learning to back stuff up!! I can be taught!!! I hope you like the chapter. The next two should be following in a couple of days and the last one (or two) shortly after that. Enjoy * Chapter 13 A Falling out and trouble comes knocking Simon woke long enough to down the migraine and pain meds that Finn handed him and then went back to sleep in the darkened bedroom. Finn kept a close eye on his lover. Usually Simon complained of various symptoms that pointed to a migraine starting. He could usually take his meds and head them off before they gained a foothold. This migraine had come out of nowhere and laid him out flat. Coming back from Cullen's office, Simon had downed his meds and gone straight to bed. That had been several days ago and Finn had anxiously watched over him waiting for signs of improvement. This morning it had come, Simon had asked for and eaten a light breakfast, and it had stayed down. Reassured, Finn took the stairs two at a time. Looking for Ian, he instead found his father emerging from his office. "Ah, Finn, I was going to go look for you. Can I have a word with you in my office?" He looked tired and his expensive suit was a bit rumpled. "Sure dad," Finn preceded his father through the still open door, wondering at the odd tone in his father's voice. He knew him well enough to see through the façade of the formal gentleman that everyone else saw. Something was up. John sat in the comfortable chair in front of the desk and motioned for Finn to take the other. "Son," he started without preamble,"it has come to my attention that a very close friendship has formed between you and Mr. Drake." Finn felt as if he had just been punched in the stomach. "I am sure that you are well aware of my personal feelings for Mr. Drake. He is a great asset to the Council and is very valuable to us in that regard, but I can not stress enough that a closer relationship with him is not in your best interest." Finns shock began to burn away into irritation at his father's denseness. "Ian and Simon have been friends for half of Simon's life. How on earth can you draw the conclusion that this is "not in my best interest" or in Ian's for that matter." "Ian is perfectly aware of my feelings in this matter; we have discussed it several times. I am hoping that you will be a bit more amiable in this regard. Ian and Mr. Drake have shared college experiences to draw from as a basis for their friendship. You have no such reason to develop such a friendship with him." Finn just stared at his father. He knew that his father did not approve of Simon but he had no idea that his fathers prejudice was deep enough that he would seek to warn people away from him. His heart sank; he had a feeling that what he was going to say would form a huge breach with his father; possibly a breach so deep that his ingrained prejudice would not budge, even for a favored son. "Father, "he began slowly, "I am afraid that your prejudice is clouding your judgment in this issue. I think a change in your attitude is long overdue." John raised his eyebrow at his youngest. "I hardly think that my private views impair my judgment. It was my idea that Mr. Drake be kept on retainer for the council in the first place. This was a career boost for him, as well as being a good move for the council." Finn sighed. "I am talking about your personal judgments father, beginning with the fact that you brought me here to undermine my relationship with Simon." "My personal views are just that, personal. And they have nothing to do with you or your brother." "Well they are going to get a lot more personal I am afraid," replied Finn firmly. "What are you talking about Finn?" John asked. Finn took a deep breath. "Simon and I are involved in a relationship." "We were just discussing how I thought that was a bad idea," snapped his father in reply. "I don't think you understand father," replied Finn steadily, "we are involved in a relationship. We have been for some time. I love him, and I know for a fact that he loves me. I have decided I am moving in with him." The look of shocked horror on his fathers face was almost comedic and Finn stifled a hysterical urge to giggle. "You can not," John gasped. "I am," Finn replied. "I have absolutely no intention of hiding my relationship with Simon like I am ashamed of him. I'm not." "I won't have it," John roared, jumping to his feet. "I will not tolerate it!" "I don't recall giving you a choice, father," replied Finn, more sharply than he meant to. He remained seated although he hated the feel of his angry father towering over him. "Feel free to shout and rant all you want. This is my life and my decision." "Not my son," John roared. "I won't have one of THOSE people in my household. You will put a stop to this nonsense immediately!" "I can hardly put my choice of a mate into the category of nonsense, father," Finn replied. "As for those people, there is nothing wrong with Simon or me for that matter." John's face was a bright red and the irrepressible voice in the back of Finn's head idly wondered if it was possible for his father's head to actually explode with rage. "You will put a stop to this immediately and that man will leave the house this instant," each word was deliberate and steady, as if his father had realized that reigning in his shouting was a necessary thing. Finn stood and faced his father directly, nose to nose, as the silence was broken only by his fathers panting. They were almost of the same height, with Finn just a shade shorter. "I love him," said Finn flatly. "If he goes I go, and I won't be coming back." Keeping his face and voice calm and collected, despite how he was trembling on the inside. "I will not give him up for any reason, not for you, not for anyone," Finn took a deep breath. "I love you both. Don't try and force a choice between the two of you, you really won't like the results," Finn continued, not breaking eye contact with his father. "If you decide that you can't live with my decision; that is your choice. Disown me if you want. I have already discussed this with Ian and I have his full support." John flinched at those words and relentlessly Finn continued. "I don't want to lose you, I love you." John flinched again at the bald statement. "The only way that you will lose me is to push me away." They stared at one another, matching brown eyes clashing in an unspoken battle of wills. "Think about it," said Finn quietly as his father refused to drop his eyes. "What makes you angrier, the fact that I am bi-sexual and in love with a man, or what your cronies will think about YOU having a bi-sexual son in love with a man?" His father's eyes narrowed as they met Finn's. Finn's heart sank as he saw the anger there. "I love him," Finn said again, "and I am not giving him up because you are afraid of what people think. You would think that after six hundred years you would know better." He turned on his heal and walked out of the room, leaving his father alone. @@@@ Failing to find Ian or Isabelle, Finn returned to Simon's darkened bedroom. Crossing the room he sat on the edge of the bed. Simon's powerful frame was sprawled across the bed, his head buried in a pillow. From the waist up he was naked and Finn could see the definition in each muscle from his broad shoulders to narrow hips. Funny how someone that looked so strong was so fragile when it came to matters of the heart. Drawing comfort from his lovers sleeping form, Finn calmed himself away from the edge of tears. He knew that he had made the right decision, there was none of the doubt that he had expected to feel after telling his father. A small part of him was grieved at his father's reaction but most of him was glowing with the thought that he and Simon could be together without having to hide anything. Even if his relationship with his father shattered, he would not lose Ian, and that meant almost as much. Finn smiled, unless he was very wrong, Ian had already found the woman of his dreams. His father was likely to have a litter of kittens about that, too. Isabelle had not only killed his son (albeit in self defense) but was the direct descendant of a family of Were's, and according to Cullen's journals, could not be turned. Several litters of kittens Finn decided. He settled in on a pillow, his hands stacked behind his head. Simon murmured something in his sleep and rolled over, throwing his heavily muscled arm over Finn's waist. Finn smiled as his lover snuggled his head in closer to his ribcage. Going to sleep, Finn was generally the one draped over his larger lover, almost always though, come morning, it was Simon draped over and snuggling into Finn. Finn felt a surge of protectiveness sweep over him. He was angry at his father for his blind idiocy, at the lover that had wounded Simon so badly, and the family that had rejected him because he had been honest with them about his sexuality. Hopefully things would get better he told himself, for him and their relationship, but mostly for Simon. It was high time that someone treated him like the wonderful man that he was. He smiled a bit smugly: he was pretty sure that he was up for the job. @@@@ Ian spent the better part of the day with Isabelle. Her short, initial meeting with Jack Halloway had gone well, or at least he thought so. They hadn't made love yet, restricting their activities to petting and kissing. He had thought he would be dying by now. Masturbating only took care of part of his needs. He found however, that he was much more emotionally content than he had ever been however and that helped. Isabelle's second visit to Dr. Halloway, the day after the first, had left her quiet and withdrawn. There had been resurgence in her nightmares and they had spent the evening together watching movies. Today they had done some shopping and afterward stopped at his warehouse to check on the arrival of some of his latest acquisitions. Isabelle had perked up quite a bit with the visit to his gallery. He had found himself glowing with pleasure when she exclaimed how much she liked the new pieces he had found. For a third year art student she really did have a great eye for detail and he was amazed at how her taste was so similar to his in some ways and so complimentary in others. All too soon they found themselves heading back to the house in the growing darkness. Conversation had lapsed and his hand had found hers. Their fingers intertwined and Isabelle rested her head against his upper arm, glad that the car was small enough to do so. Entering the house then met Finn coming down the main staircase raking his hand though his short blonde hair. "Hi Finn, what's up?" she asked cheerfully, setting her heavy bag gratefully on the tiled floor. "Oh, hi Isabelle, Ian," he said. "You look worried," said Isabelle. "I need to talk with Ian if you don't mind," he said. Isabelle was a little taken aback. There was a grim finality in Finn's voice and no trace of the usual smiling face. "Sure," she said. "I'll take my stuff to my room." She retrieved her bags from a startled Ian, giving him a reassuring smile, and started down the hall. She had left the door to her room open, anticipating that Ian would return shortly. She was not ready for the shouts that rang down the hallway, angry shouts. She hesitated for a moment and then headed out to find the source of the ruckus. "You stupid, selfish, idiot," Ian shouted. "He is your son!" Ian was standing nose to nose with his father in the main hall, since he was slightly taller than his father he had the advantage of looking down on him. "This is none of your business, Ian. So shut up and stay out of it," replied John angrily. "None," stuttered Ian, "none of my business?" Isabelle noticed than Finn was sitting on the last few steps on the main staircase, his head in his hands. She crossed behind the verbal combatants and crossed over to him. The look on his face was a combination of grief and anger, completely out of character for his normally cheerful expression. Unthinking she sat down on the step above him and wrapped an arm around him. He leaned into her and she could feel the underlying tension in his body. "He is my brother, since when did he become none of my business?" Shouted Ian at full volume again. "Since you introduced him to that man, "replied his father icily. "You have already contributed to this fiasco quite enough." Ian's jaw dropped, "You fuck." "Ian!" shouted Isabelle, as Ian's arm raised to punch his father. Ian stood panting, livid with rage, the desire to punch his fathers face so strong he could almost taste it. The shock on his father's face was almost worth the effort of not hitting him, almost. "Ian, why don't you take Finn upstairs and help him get packed, I don't think he or Simon will probably want to stay here tonight," said Isabelle in a tightly controlled voice. She had instantly guessed what the problem was; Finn did have a relationship with Simon, and either he had told his father or his father had found out somehow, either way the results had obviously not gone well. "Beating the shit out of him won't change his thinking. You would probably just kill a few more brain cells and make him more of an idiot than he already is," she finished. She gave Finn a squeeze and he marched up the stairs without a backward look. Glaring at his father, Ian stalked up the stairs after him. Isabelle stood, three steps up the staircase, her arms crossed and looked daggers at John with blue eyes that looked like they were carved from glacial ice. "Don't even say it," Isabelle ground out as she saw his mouth open to speak. "I think you have said quite enough for today. And don't even think about telling me that it is none of my business. Finn is my friend, and that is reason enough." She stood there, her stomach dancing with butterflies, daring him to cross swords with her. She watched the range of emotions cross his face. The impassive mask dropped into place and he turned on his heal and vanished into his office. The door clicked closed and Isabelle let out her breath. She was almost surprised he hadn't slammed it closed. @@@@ Finn and Simon left the house an hour later, Finn pale and composed and Simon still slightly out of it from his medication. Isabelle kissed Finn lightly on the cheek. "Don't worry," she whispered, "somehow everything will work out. Just take care of Simon." "Thanks Isabelle," he smiled. It was a strained smile, but a smile none the less. "I appreciate it, more than you know." "They're going to my apartment for a day or so," Ian told her as they watched the car drive off. It's another hour past that to Simon's house and they are going to be going the opposite direction to head back up to the cabin tomorrow or the day after." Isabelle could feel eyes on her as she and Ian walked hand in hand back to the house, Isabelle shivering a bit despite the warm coat she wore. She resisted the urge to find Johns face in one of the windows facing the front of the house. She and Ian continued down the hall to her room where she stripped off coat, shoes, sweater and socks and crawled on top of the bed. Ian joined her, snuggling close and pulling the soft chenille blanket over her. She smiled, he already knew her so well. With the emotional turmoil of the earlier part of the day, the tension of her meetings with Dr. Halloway and the family shit hitting the fan she didn't so much relax as crash. Ian woke several hours later; Isabelle curled up in his arms. Smiling he began to stroke her soft black hair, grateful that he no longer had to worry about 'getting caught'. He loved the feel of her silky hair against his hands. Her skin was warm and soft as he feathered his fingers over her face. He snuggled a bit closer and breathed in her scent. Shampoo and the underlying smell that was all warm skin and soft breath. He kissed her forehead gently, luxuriating in the feel of her skin against his lips. Isabelle sighed in her sleep as his warm lips brushed hers, and he continued to stroke and kiss her, taking in every bit of her. Any feeling of frantic need had shifted to a deep contentment as he kissed and stroked the young woman in his arms. His hand slid down her back and he cupped her ass, pulling her towards him until their bodies touched closer still. She moaned low in her throat and his tongue dipped past her lips, stroking and tasting. Now half awake, Isabelle ran her fingers though his thick hair, her entire body responding to his touch. She was reduced to want and need and heat as Ian kissed her and began nibbling on her neck. Ian hadn't intended to start anything, he had wanted to take things slow, and to let Isabelle set the pace for their physical relationship. The minute he touched her, his need to feel connected to her had begun to chip away at the edges of his resolve. He needed her. A long emptiness was filled, an emptiness that had been with him so long he had forgotten its presence. The urge to claim her was overwhelming. She was his, only his and he could taste her want and need in the air she breathed. He exulted in every sigh; every moan and gasp as he slowly undressed her and kissed, stroked and tasted every inch of her skin that was revealed. Her legs parted at a slight touch from him and he tasted her, salt and musk. His lust surged with her every moan and cry. And finally she shrieked in completion as her body writhed under his in climax. Exercising iron control he scratched the inside of her thigh with a sharp tooth and tasted the minute amount of blood released. Salt and sweet, and an underlying taste of Isabelle assaulted him, teased him. The remains of his mental shielding shattered and his mind was filled with her pleasure and need for him. His heavy body rose over hers and with a harsh cry, his length was buried inside her softness at last. Her hips rose and her legs hooked over his thighs and he could feel her lust, need and pleasure as he moved within her. His mind was filled with her pleasure even as his own threatened to overwhelm the shreds of control that he had left. He could feel his bloodlust rising, one taste hadn't been enough. He nuzzled the junction of neck and shoulder and sucked gently, feeling his teeth extending. He was immersed in her scent; blood, heat and sex. His fangs sank into her neck and pleasure stronger than any climax shook him to the core. The pleasure/pain of Ian biting her neck forced Isabelle into a savage climax, every muscle tense, she shattered under him over and over again, bucking and clawing with breathless cries. Mindless to anything but her own pleasure she licked the salt-sweat skin above her and driven further into her climax by Ian's heavy body thrusting into hers, she bit the heavy muscle of Ian's shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Ian disengaged from her neck at the pain and cried out; so far gone that he didn't register the ramifications of her actions. The smell and taste of Ian's blood filled her senses and Isabelle felt an abrupt shift deep inside of her: body, mind and soul. A trickle and then a torrent of sensations not her own swept over her: soul deep pleasure of tasting her blood at last, physical agony as the pleasure of being buried in her body began to overwhelm the senses, primal pleasure of having his mate screaming in climax under him. Every flex of the heavy body above her was felt inside and outside her body and mind. Somewhere, deep inside of her, Isabelle realized that it was Ian she was feeling. Rational thought was then swept away as another wave of her climax hit her and then Ian's, slamming though her and rebounding. She could not feel where she ended and Ian began: and she was lost in the maelstrom. Shadows and Light Ch. 13 @@@@ Isabelle slowly drifted back into some semblance of coherence. The line of where she ended and Ian began was still blurred a bit and she could feel the mental whisper along her body as he shifted slightly beside her. She could feel his concern for her although it was like she was hearing something from a great distance away. She smiled without opening her eyes. "Hello love," she whispered to him, turning her face and finally opening her eyes. Ian was lying beside her, propped up on his arm, watching her. His free arm was gently stroking her hair. "Hmmmm," she laughed, "If I was a cat I think I would be purring." "Are you ok?" he asked. "Much better than ok," she replied, smiling up at him. "I guess I bit a little too hard, huh?" Ian chuckled. "The mark is already gone," he said. "But I think," he began. Isabelle gently laid her finger over his lips. "I don't want to think at all Ian. I want you to kiss me until I can't remember my own name. I want to feel you all over me. I need to feel your weight on me, inside of me. I need you," she whispered pulling him down into a deep kiss. Abandoning everything he had been planning to say he kissed her back. With every kiss he told her how much he loved her, needed her. With every touch and stroke their connection deepened again until their actions and emotions said everything for them. @@@@ Finn slid into the bed next to a sleeping Simon. They had stayed at Ian's apartment for only a day before setting off for the cabin. With a carload of supplies and a determination to forget his father, Finn remained in a good mood, doing all of the driving. Simon had gone to bed just after arriving. His breathing was easier, and the pinched expression on his face had relaxed indicating that his medication had kicked in. He was off of the heavy stuff and taking only acetaminophen. Finn smoothed back the hair from Simon's face and his lover nuzzled his cheek into the caress. Finn could feel the tightening in his sex as he lay next to his lover, breathing in his scent and feeling the heat generated from his large body. Ever so quietly he slipped out of his cloths and slid the covers down, lightly straddling his lover's body. Starting at his neck he began to lick and suck every inch of Simon's skin. By the time he reached Simon's cock, it was rock hard and dripping. Simon was only half awake at this point, moaning and grinding his hips upward as Finn took his hard length into his mouth. He moaned at the pleasure and moaned again as Finn began to stroke his balls as he swirled his tongue over the head of his sex. Unable to wait anymore Finn abruptly shifted his body over his lover. Simon's cry of protest changed to a cry of pleasure as Finn positioned the hard shaft at the entrance to his body. It was Finn's turn to gasp as Simon's hard length slid slowly into him, stretching and filling him. Pausing for a moment, Finn began to move on his lover and uncharacteristically, Simon stayed passive, letting his lover set the pace. In no time Finn was slamming his body down on Simon's, exulting in the pleasure/pain in his own body and the moans and sighs of his lover. Finn had never been overly vocal during sex before he and Simon had become lovers. Sex with Simon had changed that. Knowing that there was no one to hear him for miles he shed his inhibitions and he gave full voice to his lust. Simon balled his fists in the sheets and thrust his hips to meet Finn's every move. He watched Finn through half closed eyes as he wantonly ground himself down, twisting his hips, and bracing himself on Simon's chest with his hands. Finn's golden body was covered with sweat and every muscle on his chest was shown in relief as he pleasured himself on Simon's rock hard shaft. Finn could feel Simon's thrusting increase in tempo and was overwhelmed with the need to have his lover come deep in his body. He increased the tempo himself and gasped out needy cries and moans. "Come for me Simon," he gasped, "I need it. Fill me up, oh God yes. Fuck yes, come for me." The rest was lost as Simon climaxed with a harsh cry and Finn followed, his slick essence spilling onto Simon's chest as he bucked and writhed, coming with only a single stroke of his hand on his aching cock. His climax continued as Simon's hot seed spurt deep within him and the pressure on his prostrate increased. Abruptly Simon shifted positions and angled himself so that his still hard cock would hammer at that magic spot inside his mate. Far beyond speech, Finn rode out the longest climax of his life only to be pushed into another. He screamed as he climaxed again, with only a small amount of his seed being ejected from his aching balls and rock hard cock, his consciousness dimming with the force of it, as his entire body convulsed and collapsed. He came to, with Simon stroking his back. He moaned and shifted slightly. "Love you," he murmured into Simon's broad chest, nuzzling his face into the thick mat of hair on his pectorals. "Wake me up anytime babe," Simon replied sleepily his hands stroking up and down Finn's thighs. Finn chuckled. "I don't know if I would survive," he joked, still feeling lightheaded, "but what a way to go." During the next few days, less work than play was accomplished. Simon knew that Finn had told his father about their relationship and that it hadn't gone well. He didn't ask for details and did his best to distract Finn. From Ian's actions that night they obviously had him on their side and Simon was relieved. He had not even realized how much he was afraid of a negative reaction from Ian. Knowing that he was on their side and completely supportive of he and Finn's relationship had released a tension he hadn't even been aware of until it was gone. He also tried to distract himself from the nagging feeling that there was something he was missing. That something was wrong, but everything seemed fine. His dreams were troubled. His need to touch Finn was constant and he was insatiable for the feel and taste of his lover. Finn was enjoying the attention. It had been a long time since he had been the focus of so much loving affection and sheer unadulterated lust. Their bondage games rose a notch or two and Finn willingly submitted to the incredible pleasure of relinquishing control to his lover. His healing abilities being what they were, he urged Simon harder and rougher finding the intense climax sharpened incredibly with the pain. Simon fucked him with a need that seemed almost frantic with insatiable lust. They were both sound asleep when there was a knock on the door, on the third night of their stay. Simon rose from the bed to answer, half asleep, pulling on a pair of sweat pants. Flipping on the porch light and opening the door it took him a moment to recognize the figure standing there. He had an instinctive desire to slam it closed when he saw who it was, but by then it was far too late. @@@@ Finn woke abruptly, to the sound of screaming, Simon's screaming. Automatically he tried to rise. He couldn't. Flat on his back on the hard concrete, spread eagled and restrained at wrists and ankles he realized with surprise he was in the basement of the cabin. He had spent the last two days with Simon here, cataloging, working, (well not as much as they should have been) and making love until the bedsprings squealed. Simon, where was Simon? Craning his head up he could see his lovers long body spread out on the oddly shaped table and Prudence McKindrick hovering over his head. She touched him, stroking her long fingers through his close cropped hair and Simon screamed again. Arching his back and tensing every muscle in his considerable frame he screamed until he ran out of breath and then simply writhed until she released her soft touch on his head. Finn was turning and twisting, pulling at his own bonds. Realizing that he was gagged he stopped trying to scream at Pru and simply put his energy into struggling against the manacles that held him. The left one gave ever so slightly, not the manacle itself but the cement that it was screwed into. Noticing Finn's struggles she straightened up and walked over to where he lay on the floor. She chuckled. "Don't bother Finn," she taunted, "I helped install them, and they are quite secure. You have been out for almost twenty four hours, time to wake up and join in the fun." Finn stared at her. This was Prudence, but not as he had ever seen her before. The prissy, irritable secretary was gone. Instead her hair was unbound and fell to her waist and the black ceremonial robes she wore contrasted sharply with the pale skin of her hands and throat. Her eyes glowed with feral glee. "The time has finally come," she said, "time for that bastard of a father of yours to finally pay the price for his arrogance. I have been waiting almost five hundred years for this day. I am going to enjoy every moment of it." "I must admit I was a little put out when I found out what had happened. But as it turned out it is going to work to my advantage. You see, John Sterling is finally going to lose absolutely everything that he ever cared about." She went down on one knee and leaned over him. "Cullen is going to come back, in your body I am afraid," she said as Finn's eyes went wide. "So your father gets to lose his favorite son and still have his body walking around, reminding him what a failure he is." Pru laughed in glee. "He is already agonizing over Cullen and his little fall from grace; he can just agonize a little more when Cullen returns. And there is nothing he can do about it." "See your lover over there?" she asked, shifting slightly so that Finn could see Simon's body, "he is going to help you see." She laughed again. "Not that your father ever gave a shit for Ian after his mother dumped him on his doorstep. But just to make things even he has to die too and that is where your little friend comes in." Pru stood and walked back to where Simon was moaning softly. "Simon gets to be so in love with Ian that he kills him when he is rejected." Finn jerked against the manacles at this point, his rage boiling. "But not until after he fucks his brains out and drains him dry." She laughed again at the look on Finn's face. "Oh yes, didn't I tell you, I turned him. All the better to have complete control of him," she laughed again," how does it feel to lose your lover to your brother? Oh," she cooed, "so angry aren't we?" She laughed as Finn strained futilely against the manacles that held him. "I can't wait to see the look on your father's face when he see's what's left of Ian." Pru was laughing again as she crossed back to the floor where Finn lay. "Your father is such a homophobe, he will probably kill Simon. More than likely painfully and slowly, and then we can tell him about how he killed an innocent man that was nothing more than my pawn." Prudence laughed harder, "Oh I can't wait." Finn stretched out his mind, deliberately trying to make contact with his lovers mind. He came up against a solid wall, his heart sank. As strong as their bond had been, a maker's bond was stronger. By turning him, Prudence had very effectively snapped the rapport they had gained during their relationship. "Time to call Ian here I think," said Prudence, shifting a sly, sidelong glance at Finn. "Time to get ready, pet, you know what to do." Simon rose unsteadily on his feet at her urging. Finn's stomach turned at the blank expression on his face. 'Oh God, what had she done to him?' There was no hint of recognition from Simon as his gaze passed right through Finn as he turned and started climbing the steep stairs. "Don't worry Finnegan," Pru taunted. "You won't be alone for long. Ian is going to come for a visit." Laughter pealed out again and she followed behind Simon, leaving Finn to struggle futilely against the manacles that held him. Shadows and Light Ch. 14 Ok guys. This chapter was very hard to write and has undergone major revisions as I was writing earlier chapters. In case you didn't notice the placement, it is VERY non-consent. I have always hated it when authors did bad things to my favorite characters, or killed them off (they always, always killed off my favorite one). I had to do it though so feel free to swear at me (just this once). If you can't bear to read it, email me and I can send you a quick note and you can skip on to the next chapter. Chapter 14: My friend My foe Ian came too slowly, staring at a somehow familiar ceiling. His head was hazy and hurting. He was here, back at the cabin to see Finn. Wasn't he? But Simon had hit him, hard, why? "You're awake." The voice was familiar and almost as if in a dream Ian turned his head to the right. "Simon?" He whispered, his voice strained. His head ached badly. "What...what...I don't..." "That's all right Ian," said Simon, coming closer and brushing the dark hair back from Ian's forehead, "I'll take care of everything love." He bent and kissed Ian hard, thrusting his tongue into his mouth. Ian didn't react for a moment, sluggish and dazed. Simon took this for acquiescence and climbed on the bed, straddling Ian with his naked body and continuing to kiss him feverishly. "Simon, what are you doing?" he gasped. He tried to get up and realized he was tied spread eagled and naked to the bed at Cullen's cabin. He could feel Simon's hot skin pressing into his and with growing confusion realized that Simon was naked as well and sporting an erection against his belly. "Simon, SIMON," he shouted when Simon came up for air. "What the hell are you doing? Get off me!" A strong arm landed on either side of his head and Simon loomed over him looking at him calmly. Ian felt a tremor go through him. He hadn't realized how intimidating someone of Simon's size could be. "I've waited a long time for this." He replied, sitting up a bit and running a finger down the side of Ian's face and across his lips. Ian noticed that Simon's eyes were a bit glazed; the pupils dilated so wide that the pale blue iris was all but gone. Something was wrong with him, very wrong. "But...but you...you and Finn?" "The means to an end love," replied Simon smiling down at him. Fangs, Simon was sporting fangs. "Finn turned you," Ian was shocked. Finn had been glowing about his budding relationship with Simon before the blowout with their father. Ian had no idea when things had gotten so out of control. "Yes love. I've been courting him for months. The last few days he's been here with me, getting his brains fucked out. I promised love and eternal devotion and he was easily swept up in the romance of the moment. And now I can have what I always wanted: you." "I could smell you on the sheets when I was fucking him. I've never come so hard in my entire life." He dropped his head down and began to nibble the side of Ian's neck, licking and biting gently. "I've wanted you for so long, waited for you, dreamed about you and never once did you look my way. Instead you fell for that little slut and tried to break my heart." His breathing was fast now. "My god I can smell her on you. All over you." "My God Simon, you don't mean it," Ian's mouth was dry and his stomach twisted. "What's happened to you?" Taking Ian's face in between his large hands Simon kissed him lightly on the lips. "I've loved you for so long. And now you are mine, all mine." He smiled and viciously twisted Ian's nipple. Ian shrieked in surprise and pain, pulling on the tight bonds around his wrists and ankles. "We need to discuss how to punish you, Ian." Simon bent down and took the throbbing nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue, soothing the red flesh. "You don't realize what you put me through. If we are going to be life mates you need to be more sensitive to my needs and desires. I expect you to be faithful to me, body and soul." Ian just looked at him in shock. Life mates, the blood bonding between vampires that would link them physically and mentally together. A vampire did not take the blood of another vampire except in the direst of circumstances, to blood bond with a family member, a familiar or to life mate. The exchange of blood created a bond that would last for quite a while. The mingling of minds however was forever binding. In the vast majority of cases, if one of the pair died the other would rapidly follow. To loose a life mate was to feel the heart and soul of your lover slip away and take a part of your soul with them. The pain and grief were agonizing and most surviving partners quite literally died of a broken heart. His father was the only one that he had ever heard of that had survived it. "I won't," the words slipped out before Ian could censor them. Simon abruptly pulled back and slapped him, hard enough that he saw stars for a moment. "You don't realize how good we are going to be for each other, Ian," he said calmly. "You don't have to worry; I'll take good care of you. I love you more than she ever could, I can make you happy; I swear it." "Where is Finn, Simon?" "He is just fine, love," Simon smiled down at him. "Pru needs him to bring Cullen back." "Cullen is dead," replied Ian his skin recoiling from Simon's caresses. My God he thought, Pru was Cullen's partner. It had been Pru all along; they had never even considered her. Lifting his head Simon grinned again, his eyes lighting up like they used to, before the world went crazy. "Not for long. He just needs a body. Pru and I have taken care of that. Tonight she will have her lover back; you will get your beloved brother back. Of course you have to lose one to gain one but I think you'll agree when I say that there really wasn't any other choice to make. Pru needed a close relative and I wasn't about to let her use you." Ian froze. Finn, she was going to use Finn to bring back Cullen, to give him a body. The soul stealing spells were starting to make sense, as was Simon's excuses that they couldn't have Cullen's body to bury yet. His soul was in that body still, waiting for a new one. "You can't let her do that, Simon, he's my brother. He loves you! Don't you care about him at all?" "I could get closer to you as his lover. I could have a piece of you. No, he is a good kid and a great fuck; but I love you, and only you. I get you as part of the bargain, and if I can't make you love me she will," replied Simon, his voice hard. "But you won't make me do that, will you Ian?" he said softening, "You really do love me, you're just confused. I have always loved you; I just didn't realize it until now. Let me show you," he smiled. Stroking and licking his way down Ian's body he reached his cock and with out hesitation took the flaccid length into his mouth. "Simon, SIMON...stop it Simon. This is crazy. I love Isabelle and no one else," he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Forget about her!" Simon shrieked, spraying spittle. "Pru is going to give her to Cullen when she brings him back. She fancies that he might want to get his hands on the little bitch that killed him. It is all arranged. She gets Cullen back and I get you, and if you give me any grief Pru will simply MAKE you forget everything but me. Apparently she is very talented with magic that way. She helped me see things clearly for the first time." Simon began stroking his chest, running his fingers through Ian's chest hair, "God I love your chest." "Simon, snap out of it! What ever Pru did to you, you have to stop this! For God's sake we have to stop her!" Hissing in rage Simon leapt off of the bed and moments later was back with a gag, which he proceeded to shove into Ian's mouth and tie securely around his head. Ian shook his head violently and Simon slapped him, first one side and then the other, stinging, resounding slaps. "No more, lover," Simon snarled his face a mask of fury and lust. "I tried it the easy way. Now we do it Cullen's way. She told me you might be difficult, she told me." Reaching over to the dresser, he pulled off a riding crop, and a heavier whip. "Cullen knew that the fastest way to break someone was through pain. Pru taught me everything I needed to know." He swished the whip through the air and Ian jumped, his eyes wide, disbelieving. Simon seemed to hesitate for a moment, "she told me you might need convincing, she told me." He stared off into space before shaking his head and looking down at Ian again. "When all those barriers are gone, we will join and you will truly see how much I need you, how much I sacrificed for you, what I've gone through for you. You are MINE; you will finally move in with me. I will finally be happy. You will love me. I will have you now and forever," and with that Simon brought the crop down across Ian's stomach, hard. Ian shrieked behind the gag as the burning pain slashed through his belly again and again as an out of control Simon lashed him, raising welts with every stroke. Some of the strikes broke the skin and Ian's belly and chest were on fire. He was gasping for air through his nose, trying not to choke. His face and arms also received blows that took his breath away. Before knew what was happening he was flipped over on his tender stomach and secured before he could think to fight. The heavier lash came down across his ass. He screamed through the gag. Simon had calmed down a bit, instead of wildly lashing out he began to fall into a rhythm, with longer pauses, and more anticipation. "I love you Ian," the whip whistled through the air and Ian jerked again as it struck his lower back. "You love me, you know you do. I can't take the teasing anymore love. I need you so badly." Again the whip sang and Ian's muffled cry seemed loud in his ears. Never before had he felt such pain. His arms were tied about a foot above the mattress to the heavy, rustic pine log headboard, which elevated his head and shoulders above the bed, arching his back. His arms felt almost pulled from their sockets as he jerked and squirmed, trying in vain to escape the agony of fire that rained down on his back, his ass and his legs. It seemed to go on forever, until his whole body was screaming in pain. Light headed, he realized the blows had stopped and Simon's heavy weight hovered over him. He flinched when a warm tongue swept over his burning shoulders, lapping the blood from his back. Again and again it descended over his back until it reached his ass and lapped the blood trickling down his sides and between his cheeks. He could feel himself shaking with tension and fatigue. He twitched violently when he felt Simon pull the cheeks of his ass apart and lap at the blood and skin he had exposed. He was generally a fast healer but it had been over a week since he had fully fed and he could feel the weakness that accompanied blood loss. Tears streaked down his face at the physical agony as well as the mental. "God you taste good," came Simon's voice, raw with lust. Ian jumped again and shouted behind the gag as he felt a wet finger thrust into his ass, lubricated with spit and his own blood. "No, my God stop Simon stop stop STOP," he tried to scream. "Does that feel good lover?" He asked thrusting the finger hard, slowly withdrawing and thrusting deep again. Ian threw his head side-to-side and again struggled in vain against the bonds that held him. He couldn't believe that Simon was doing this. If he had been scared before it was nothing compared to the terror that gripped him now. Sick horror was snaking through his belly at the thought of what Simon was going to do to him. He was helpless and yet still yanked savagely at the ropes that held his wrists, ignoring the pain for now as they bit further into his flesh. Slowly, forcefully, Simon opened his unwilling flesh, stretching his opening and shoving lube deep into him all the while keeping up a steady stream of comments that made Ian want to crawl out of his own skin. "I can't wait to fuck you baby," Simon panted. "I can't wait to feel that tight virgin ass around my cock. You kept it virgin just for me didn't you?" Ian could feel Simon's weight settle on his back. The sweat dripping into the open wounds on his back burned and he felt heat and a hard probe at his aching ass. Involuntarily he clenched his muscles against the invasion and tried to shout through his gag for Simon to stop, to come to his senses. "So tight baby. Relax; just let it happen, I don't want to hurt you babe. I'm gonna make it so good for you." Simon was moaning in his ear now and he felt increased pressure against his ass, it hurt, oh God it hurt. He screamed as he felt the tip of Simon's cock slide in past his sphincter. And with several short, hard thrusts he felt Simon go balls deep. The pain ripped through him, not as bad as he expected but bad enough. The pain in his wrists, back, belly and legs increased with the friction and sweat. His very breath seemed stolen from his chest as his mind tried to cope with the sensory overload. Simon began to thrust inside of him after the initial entry the pain lessened. All other pain seemed to intensify as Simon continued to thrust hard and deep inside him. "You feel so good!" he heard Simon scream as he slammed his hips over and over into his battered body. "FUCK, FUCK...YEAH...IAN..." Ian felt scalding tears on his cheeks from the pain as well as humiliation as Simon continued to sodomize him. Involuntary screams were forced out of him with each thrust as the fire across his back and ass intensified and his wrists felt like they were being separated from the rest of his body. Part of him was still in shock and refused to believe that the friend he had known for twenty years would subject him to this. Another part was remembering the wild, crazed look on Simon's face and the look of lust at his helplessness. Simon ripped off the gag with one hand. "Tell me you love me Finn. Tell me. OH GOD... then in a low growling voice "Yeah...take it all baby...every bit. I'm gonna fill you up with me baby. Say it......Tell me you need me, you love me.... Take it... YOU'RE MINE! FINN! MINE!" Each cry was punctuated with a hard thrust and Simon screamed in wordless pleasure as he climaxed. Ian let out a screaming sob again as he felt the hot spurts of Simon's climax pour deep into his body. Abruptly, Ian's head was jerked back almost to the breaking point and he felt Simon's hot breath against him as he savagely bit into the vein of his neck. He screamed at this final violation, screaming out again and again in pain. He could hear Simon's frantic moans as he suckled at the wound and continued to piston his still hard cock deep into Ian's savaged body. He was taking too much. Generally the turning vampire would mentally supervise any feedings of his new student; to keep things from going to far, to control them and teach them the fine art of feeding, taking enough but not too much, and to intervene any time it was necessary. Simon had no control yet; he was deep in the grips of sex-induced bloodlust, drunk on the pleasure. Finn was in the basement, probably unconscious as Pru prepared to let Cullen's soul into his body, permanently evicting Finn into limbo. The black haze at the edge of his vision grew and he could feel his body going cold as Simon greedily drew even more blood from him. Simon would kill him, either accidentally or deliberately when he refused to comply. He was crazed, Ian didn't know if Simon knew the difference between himself and Finn anymore. He was falling now and he tried to stay conscious, try to think of a way to save his brother and himself. He was fading in and out, falling into the enveloping blackness that soothed him even as his screams followed him. Shadows and Light Ch. 15 Just a clarification. Simon was human before Pru turned him. He and Ian met when Ian took some refresher classes at the University when Simon was 18 and a freshman. Isabelle's family line derives from the Central and South American Jaguar. A small percentage carry the recessive gene that makes them black. These are called panthers. Panther is a common name, not the actual name of the species. Chapter 15 Frantic Isabelle drove as if pursued by demons. Something was wrong, terribly wrong with Ian. She didn't know how to sort through the new sensations that Ian had awakened in her when they exchanged blood. It had only been a few days. She felt connected to him on a primal level and right now her senses were screaming at her that something was wrong. The day had started normally enough. Ian had gotten a call that had pulled him from their bed. Simon, he had told her. He wanted Ian to come up to the cabin for the day, he and Finn had found some things and wanted him to see them before anyone else did. Simon was also apparently ready to let them have Cullen's body for burial, finally. Isabelle also got the feeling that Ian and Simon had talked about Finn and that Ian was worried about him. She had objected to being left behind, quite strenuously objected. She finally agreed to stay behind when Ian admitted that he didn't want her to suffer any flashbacks, especially since she had been having more nightmares now that she had started seeing Dr. Halloway. She also had an appointment with Jack and he didn't want her to miss it. It was important, he argued, for her as well as their relationship. Reluctantly she had agreed, feeling a little lost and alone with him gone. Just after one in the afternoon she had been driven to her knees, screaming with a blinding pain in her head. She had come too on the floor of the foyer with the entire household, including John, surrounding her. Something was wrong with Ian, very wrong, he had been hurt. There was shock and fear, right before the blow and somehow she knew it wasn't just an accidental injury. Isabelle had grabbed John. He hadn't believed her that Ian was in trouble. His mistake. Isabelle had let him have it with a slap that had all of her 120 pounds behind it. That and the fact that she had screamed in his face was hard to ignore. "Get your ass moving before you lose another son, you bastard! If Ian dies because you're draggin' your fuckin' feet I'll rip out your heart with my fingernails and feed you to the fuckin' rats piece by piece! NOW MOVE!" She was nothing if not direct. Screaming at Charles, the butler, to call Witherspoon and get reinforcements into the cabin she had dragged John to the nearest car and shoved him in. So John Sterling rode shotgun. He glanced at the dark haired beauty that had shoved him into the car and had been driving like a maniac. She had changed from the frightened child she had originally seemed, to a strong willed, stubborn woman that refused to continue to be intimidated by him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been slapped, or struck in anyway, barring Ian's aborted attempt several nights before. He had failed Richard and then Cullen. Somehow Cullen had fallen victim to the same bloodlust that had consumed Richard. And he had not noticed. He had failed Cullen, failed to see what was happening, failed to save him from himself. Losing him was like loosing Anne all over again. He had been the only part of Anne that he had been able to hold onto over the years. Ian was in trouble and he sensed nothing. He had failed to maintain a strong blood bond with the artistic child that he neither understood nor had wanted. He had been a quiet, reserved child that seemed to know that his father did not want him. Cullen had stepped in to fill the gap and he had been grateful. He felt guilty about that, even as he had done nothing to make amends. He admired the man Ian had grown into, admitting that he had had nothing to do with Ian turning out so well. He had never bothered to cultivate a close relationship with him, and very slowly John had begun to see that that was a mistake. Never did he feel that as keenly as when, during their confrontation about Finn, Ian had raised his fist to him. Finn had every bit of Ian's love and loyalty, and if he pushed his disapproval of Finn, he would lose what little relationship he had with Ian. Finn had left the house with his male lover and again John felt the disapproval and anger at his son's choice. His youngest, only twenty-seven had wormed his way into his father's affections without seeming to realize it. He was young, ambitious, business savvy but with a large streak of loving kindness and a great sense of fun. He was one of the few people in the world that could make him laugh. His heart twisted with the thought that if Ian was in danger, Finn certainly shared it. Their last words had been harsh. My last words he admitted to himself. Finn had told him baldly that he loved him and was disappointed in his reaction. That ate away at him; he couldn't remember the last time that he had told Finn that he loved him, if he ever had. All of his children were extraordinarily different from one another. But Finn and Ian seemed to share a love of life and a lightness of heart that Richard and Cullen had never had. He shook his head free of the cobwebs of the past that clung to him. Half way through the trip Isabelle had cried out in pain and nearly run off the road. "He's hurting," was all Isabelle could say. She tried to drive even faster, instinctively blocking the pain enough that she wouldn't wreck the car. She didn't block their connection completely; afraid somehow that she would loose Ian forever if she did. They were on the last leg of the trip back to the cabin where it had all started. The road now twisted and curved into the hills and Isabelle had not slowed in the slightest. The dusk was rapidly growing and there was the occasional deer by the side of the road. The small sports car hugged the curves well even though she was going about 20 mph too fast. Isabelle was muttering under her breath now. "Almost there baby. Just hang on. Just hang on. We're coming. Shit, gotta drive faster. Almost there." Over and over like a mantra to keep her from falling over the edge of madness at the thought of losing Ian. "He's hurting, oh God I think he's dying! No, no, no!" They pulled up to the cabin, the lights blazing from the windows and Isabelle was out of the car before John had a chance to suggest a plan of action. He could hear agonized screaming coming from the cabin now and he was right behind Isabelle as she crashed through the screen and then the front door. Following Isabelle's flight to the small bedroom where he had first met her, what he saw stopped him short. It would be etched into his mind for the rest of his existence. Ian was naked, covered in blood, bound spread eagle on the bed and screams like he had never heard before assaulted his ears. Simon, naked, was on top of his son. His powerful muscles clenched and flexed as he forcibly thrust himself into Ian's body. Ian's head was pulled back and Simon was biting him, again and again, savagely drinking from his throat. Isabelle didn't pause, she changed. There was no other word for it. He had seen lycanthropes change form before. It took about 10 seconds while their bones shifted, lengthened and the other changes kicked in. Before she had taken two steps into the room, Isabelle just changed. It was instantaneous. One minute she was running and the next a Black Panther covered the rest of the room in one leap. Simon turned, blood dripping from his mouth, and for one moment John saw his eyes widen in shock. He was then buried under a black ball of roaring fury that went for his throat, clawed at his chest and nearly knocked him through the small window on the wall behind the bed. Screams and roars filled the room as they tumbled off the foot of the bed and onto the limited floor space. Sleek black fur and golden-tan skin struggled together, quickly covered with bright red blood as panther/Isabelle struggled in the limited space to assuage her rage on the man that had hurt the man she loved. Her rage was broken only by the awareness of Ian's cries behind her. Simon stopped moving under her, and the keen need for revenge was rapidly replaced with the need to comfort Ian. John took all of this in with a single glance. With three steps he was up on the bed tearing at the ropes that held Ian's arms to the headboard and a second later had taken care of the ropes that bound his ankles. Rolling him over with shaking hands he instantly knew that he was in trouble. Ian was deathly pale from shock and blood loss, gasping and sobbing between cries of pain. Bloody lash marks covered his chest, belly, arms and across the right side of his face. His throat was covered in bites that oozed blood. Biting open his own wrist he cradled Ian in his arms and held the wound to Ian's mouth. And for the first time in five hundred years sent a prayer to heaven that this time he had not come to late, that he would not lose this child he had never wanted, and had never appreciated. A very human, very naked and blood covered Isabelle crawled around the corner of the bed looking dazed. Catching sight of Ian she burst into tears and jumped over Ian to the other side of the bed. "IAN," she shrieked through her sobs, "DON'T YOU DARE DIE ON ME. IAN, LISTEN TO ME!" John could feel the deep twitch that ran through Ian's body at the sound of her voice. His eyelids fluttered and he swallowed the blood in his mouth reflexively. "Ian honey, open your eyes, "she begged. "Open your eyes baby, it's Isabelle. You're safe now babe. Come on, open your eyes. Ian swallowed again, his left arm coming up reflexively to hold his blood source close to him. "That's it babe," encouraged Isabelle. "Drink, sweetie. Stay with me." After a few moments Ian opened bloodshot eyes. Pulling his father's wrist from his mouth he frantically tried to communicate. "Finn," he whispered hoarsely as his father tried to replace his bleeding wrist to his mouth. "It's all right son," his father soothed. "Drink, you've lost a lot of blood." Unfamiliar feelings swirled in him and the sound of his father calling him son. That and he realized that it was his father's blood he was drinking, not Isabelle's. "Father, Finn," he rasped out. "Danger, basement, Pru. Resurrecting Cullen, sacrificing Finn, save Finn." Ian's eyes were desperate and pleading. John looked at Isabelle and she gave him a wide eyed look. "I'll go check," he said after a moment. He was up and out of the room in a flash. Isabelle nodded and put her own bloodied arm to Ian's mouth. Ian's eyes were closed again; his brief surge of alertness was spent. He wavered in and out of consciousness as Isabelle forced him to swallow her blood or drown. "Drink love, drink, I've got you." Isabelle held him as close as she could without actually climbing into his skin with him. She anxiously listened to every breath as it got steadier, deeper, and stronger. His eyes flickered open and his lips formed a faint smile. "Love you," he whispered softly, his deep brown eyes holding hers. "I love you more." @@@@ After a brief rest, Isabelle started the daunting task of trying to get Ian on his feet. She pulled out a tank and sweats that had been left behind in the dresser and put them on quickly. "I need to rest Is, please," Ian groaned, as Isabelle pulled him to an upright position with his feet over the edge of the bed. "We have to get you out of the cabin," Isabelle responded, wrapping the top sheet around him toga fashion. "I don't know why, so don't ask. We just do." Ian staggered to his feet, with Isabelle supporting quite a bit of his weight. He caught sight of Simon's bloody body on the floor, at the foot of the bed and blanched. Isabelle looked up at him when he stopped and followed his gaze. She was at a loss as to what to say. Even now she wasn't quite sure what had happened to her, and how she had managed to kill him. "Simon," he whispered, "Oh God." "Come on," Isabelle urged, her throat dry, "Just come on." Ian followed her urging, fighting the tears and the maelstrom of emotions that were battering him. Simon had betrayed him, raped him, tried to kill him, but at the same time was the man that had been his friend for almost 20 years. Pru had done something to him, something terrible, he was sure of that. But now he was dead. No chance to find out what had gone so terribly wrong. He had seemed so totally in love with Finn. Ian had never seen him so happy. Finn, Oh God, Finn, if they made it out of this alive he would be devastated. Ian realized that they were outside the cabin when the freezing ground hit his feet. Isabelle staggered under his weight as she led him to the small car that she had driven up. With some difficulty she got him into the back seat. The car was still running and quite warm inside "Ian, Ian," she said softly and stroked the side of his face to get his attention. He turned to her, his tear-streaked face tearing at her heart. "I am going to go help your dad, ok?" Ian nodded, and Isabelle pressed a quick kiss on his lips, shut the door and ran back to the cabin. Cursing the freezing rocks on her bare feet she hobbled back up to the stairs. Shadows and Light Ch. 16 Hi fearless readers - Sorry that this chapter is a short one. I have been trying to lengthen them but this one had such a natural chapter break there just wasn't really any other choice. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to vote!!! Chapter 16 The past that haunts the future John moved as quickly and quietly as he could over to the open trap door. He descended into the flickering light and took a second to adjust to the flicker from what seemed like hundreds of candles. Finn was lying in the pentagram, unmoving. The slow rise and fall of his chest the only evidence that he was still alive. Next to him were the withered, black robed remains of Cullen. Pru, wearing black robes was sitting with her back to him, rocking slowly back and forth as an odd chanting filled the room. The book she held in her arms was large and she was obviously reading from it. "Enter John," came her low voice seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at once, "I am glad you could make it for the last part of my revenge on you." John came to a dead stop, "On me?" Prudence laughed, a high pitched, mirthless laugh that sent shivers down his spine. "All these years and you never recognized me. Stupid man. I subverted Cullen long ago, under your very nose and you were blind as the proverbial bat. Even after what happened with Richard." She turned to face him, her angular face hard. "I will have to punish you for that, too. Although it was fun watching you torture yourself over it. I spent a lot of time on him only to have you finish him off and ruin my plans." "Who are you?" John demanded. He had meant to sound harsh, but instead it sounded frightened. She laughed again, deep in her throat. "Don't you remember fat, awkward little Pru? Always saying the wrong thing, always clumsy and graceless when you were around. I lived under your nose for the hundred years or so you were married to Rebecca. Obviously I've changed a good deal since you've seen me last." His mouth opened in shock. Prudence, the younger sister of Rebecca, his first wife. Originally his father had betrothed him to Prudence, only to change his mind when Rebecca was widowed. "Precious Rebecca, she got everything I ever wanted. Well I took care of her years ago and now it is time for you and your little family. Obviously you found what is left of Ian upstairs, not that you ever gave a shit about him. Poor little boy, always following you with his eyes, practically begging for your attention." Pru snorted. "I thought about leaving him alone but why leave loose ends? It was fun to see how far I could push Simon, even into raping and killing his best friend. He struggled a while before I broke him. And poor Finn, to see his lover tortured and mind wiped. He was very upset with me. Nothing like adding a little spice to my revenge." John went numb. All these years she had been waiting, lurking. "Richard," he said out loud. "Yes," Pru rose and placed the book reverently back into its leather wrap. "Richard hated Anne. He hated you for loving her more than him. It was easy to work on him. I was new to my magic then. 'Auntie Pru' was his solace and then his lover, and then his master. It was delicious, watching him with Anne. He was so tender, extracting every scream, every bit of pain, so carefully. I lost Richard, but now I will have Cullen back. The spell is finished. When the moon is finished rising over the horizon the switch will be complete. Cullen will live again." "And Finn?" said John, already knowing the answer. "Cullen will be alive again, that is all that matters," she said with grim finality. "Watching you suffer, knowing what he is capable of will be delicious. The perfect revenge and you unable to do anything about it. Unless you want to try killing another son of course," she laughed, shrill and grating. John just stared at her. He would have Cullen back or rather the monster that he had become. He would loose Finn. Pushing Prudence aside he stepped firmly into the circle and grabbed a hold of the manacle holding Finn at the wrist. Realizing that he was attempting to remove Finn from the circle, Pru shrieked and with a shove that had far more force than John had expected, she pushed him hard enough to knock him off his feet and out of the circle on the other side. By the time John had pulled himself to his feet she had armed herself with what looked like a wand in one hand and a nasty looking ceremonial blade in the other. She hissed at him exposing lengthening teeth. "Did you think that you could stop me? You pathetic idiot," she hissed. "I am almost as old as you are and a practicing Master Mage as well. Cullen is mine. I have been his Master for over a century. Together we can accomplish more in a day than you have in a lifetime." John looked at her in shock. She was far stronger than she should have been. With a quick step and feint to the left he grabbed her left hand and tried to knock the wand out of her hand. Slashing and shrieking fiercely she drove him back. Bleeding from his left arm now, John was completely unprepared when she struck him across the face with the wand. What felt like an electric shock threw him across the room and he found himself lying on his back, Pru on top of him trying to stab him with her blade. Screaming with maniac rage she used her bodyweight to push the blade closer until it wavered barely and inch above his throat. From his prone position he kneed her hard in the ass, the blade she held dragging along his face as she flew over his head, landing face first into the cement. He rolled and got to his feet, only to realize that Pru was already up. Her face was bloody and distorted with rage as she swung at him with the wand and followed up with the blade. John sidestepped and sidestepped again. Staying on the defensive he maneuvered himself closer to the wall rack that held blades of all varieties. He snatched up a knife long enough to be a short sword and a machete and with Pru's next swing he met her blade for blade and drove her back. "Forgetting, aren't you," he grunted as he parried, "I was a knight for well over three hundred years." Long unpracticed moves came almost unconsciously as he met her blade to wand. "I spent all most all of my time in combat or fending off assassins, bitch. Did you think that I would just stand here and let you take another son?" Unseen by either of them, Isabelle had quietly entered the basement and was moving quietly along the wall, headed for the collection of keys. Cullen was at least consistent with his manic obsession for everything being in its own place. While John and the woman he was fighting were across the room by the two smaller back rooms, Isabelle tried to move as quietly as she could, not drawing attention to herself. Reaching the collection of keys she hesitated for a minute. She had never been in that particular set of locks and she didn't know for sure what was what. Guessing, she grabbed three keys that looked like they could be manacle keys and on her hands and knees, slid across the floor to where Finn lay. Finn lay on the floor. He had heard his father come down the stairs and Pru's conversation with him although not much of it registered. He was far past the point of tears and felt empty. Ian had been screaming. Simon must be dead. From the noise upstairs that had filtered down, there had been a fight. His father was here, Isabelle was here, Ian was not, God, was he dead too? Isabelle reeked of Simon's blood, even at this distance. Simon, his heart wailed, Simon. Their connection had been severed earlier but that didn't stop his repeated attempts to reach out for him. He could see Isabelle working the locks on his ankles, trying what looked like different keys to get them open. Did it really matter, he wondered. Did he really want to live if Simon was gone? Even he jumped at the scream and the explosion that roared in his ears, leaving them ringing and his face and body hurting as they were peppered with small rocks and pieces of debris. He could smell smoke. One foot free, and then two as he could hear his father and Prudence screaming at each other. The wall in between the two smaller rooms had been completely destroyed and the floor to the upstairs bedroom was half gone, with some of the furniture smashed to bits on the basement floor. He could smell smoke and hear the crackle of flames. Coughing hard, Isabelle scooted up to his right wrist and began fumbling at the lock. A second later she screamed as she was grabbed by an unseen force and flung across the room, into the shelves where the collection of Cullen's skulls had been kept. Several of the shelves were on fire, having been covered with burning candles that had been knocked about. When Isabelle hit them they collapsed into a pile of smoldering lumber, Isabelle at the bottom. Rage seized Finn, absolute rage. Prudence would kill them all and by God he was going to take her with him. He began to work at the loosening left manacle furiously. Pru and his father were grappling now and close enough that he could almost touch them. Prudence was backing up, step by step. Gauging the distance carefully, Finn lashed out with both free legs, wrapping them around Prudence's knees, knocking her over and sideways to the floor, half on top of him, half beside him. Using his lower body as leverage he pulled again, and the twisted spike that had cemented the manacle in place pulled out of the floor. Seizing the opportunity John lunged in bodily with the knife, simultaneously stabbing and being stabbed. Finn twisted his wrist and holding the twisted metal spike precariously in his hand lashed out viciously at her. John's blade had passed through her chest, narrowly missing Finn's leg; the spike caught her in the back of her head, the bloody point erupting from her face. Rolling her body off of his Finn screamed at his father, "Get Isabelle!" He rolled up on his knees and grabbed for the key that still lay on the floor. He could barely hear himself over the roar of the flames. His father hesitated. "I've got the key, go!" he screamed. Holding his side, John stayed on all fours as he crawled to where Isabelle lay. The room was rapidly filling with smoke now. There was only about three feet of clear air near the floor. The rest of the room was lost in billows of flame and black smoke. Ignoring the agony in his side he used both hands on the burning boards to get enough of them off that he could drag her out. She was dead weight as he crossed the few feet to the stairs. Glancing back to Finn he was just in time to see the beam supporting the ceiling come crashing down, creating a wall of debris and flame between them. Dropping Isabelle he tried to cross the barrier of flames and was driven back by the intense heat and smoke. Again and again he tried, screaming Finn's name, his lungs on fire from the acrid smoke. Hands grabbed him from behind and he fought them as they struggled to drag him backward. His last conscious thought was one of absolute agony; he had never had a chance to tell Finn that he loved him. Shadows and Light Ch. 17 Chapter 17 Survivors Carl Witherspoon looked on at the burning house shaking his head. He had received the call from the Sterling butler, Charles, and at his insistence had assembled his team and driven up. They must have arrived shortly after John Sterling and Isabelle, but the damage had been done. The house was now engulfed in flames. Several team members had risked their lives following the sound of screams coming from the basement. They had pulled out a badly injured John Sterling along with an unconscious Isabelle. Ian they had discovered in the running car in the driveway, badly beaten and drained dangerously low of blood. All three of them were being loaded into the van and calls were going out to the doctor in the area that was on retainer for this kind of disaster. The burning cabin lit the area a lurid orange and threw roasting heat out that he could feel standing as far away as he was. It was an odd feeling, the heat on his face on the cold pressing in on his back. Carl felt lucky that several members of the team had accompanied him on his previous visit. They had remembered the floor plan and had had to go through a kitchen window to get to the basement and get the two survivors out. The van pulled away. Listening to the discussions of his team on his headset, he was proud of his teams functioning smoothness. The long hours of endless practice and training had paid off well. He had hoped that the reports of Finn Sterling and Simon Drake being up here were wrong. No one could survive the conflagration as it was. They had arrived too late to be able to do a thorough search of the interior of the small cabin. It looked like that hope was to be a futile one. One of the cars in the driveway was registered to Simon Drake, and Carl himself had recognized it as the hybrid car that Simon had purchased the year before. He watched the pale crescent moon begin its rise over the pine trees, hazy in the smoke the fire was producing. Pacing, one of his trademarks, he couldn't hear the crunch of gravel under his feet over the roar of the flames. "Sir, we have bodies on the south side of the cabin," Tom Jacobs voice, the team leader for this operation, crackled over his headset. "On my way," he replied. Beckoning to several other members of the team to follow him he trotted around and began to pick his way over the rocks, very aware of the burning building less than fifteen feet away from him. Not two far away from the corner of the building, lying on the pine needle covered ground, were two more bodies. Cursing, Witherspoon hastened his steps. As the body on top was rolled face up his swearing kicked up a notch. He recognized them, both of them. Stretchers were quickly organized and the medic still with them tried to establish I.V. lines before both were transferred to the second van. Grateful that the doctor was not to far away, Carl Witherspoon and the others quickly vacated the area, taking all four of the vehicles parked in front of the cabin with them. The radio they were monitoring reported that the local fire trucks were on their way. They would be well out of the way before they got there. Two days later.......... John sat and watched his son sleep. It had been a long time since he had gone for 48 hours without sleep; it was harder than he remembered it being. His stab wound was healing quickly, his burns were another story. Vampires as a whole were fast healers, except when the injuries were caused by sunlight (for new vampires), silver or fire. Injuries caused by these three took almost as long to heal as they would with a human, and they tended to scar very badly. As such, his hands from mid finger to mid bicep were layered with special ointment, special burn gauze and loosely wrapped with white gauze. Brown eyes fluttered open and closed again as they had several times before. This time they opened again almost immediately. "Dad?" John smiled for the first time in what seemed forever. He reached out and with the tips of his fingers stroked his son's face. "I love you, Finn." Finn smiled, and then it faded. His brown eyes filled with tears that spilled down pale cheeks. Fighting the battle and losing it he began to sob uncontrollably. John reached out and pulled him into an awkward hug, ignoring the pain in his arms. "It's ok," he said over and over. He pulled away and looked Finn straight in the eyes. "He is alive, Simon is alive." The look of absolute, incredulous joy on Finn's face was a bittersweet reward for John. He was still trying to reconcile his own emotions about Finn's relationship. "You have to be prepared though, son," he tempered. "He was very badly injured and he may not make it. Dr. Castile has him in the equivalent of intensive care. It is bad Finn, very bad." "Can I see him?" Finn asked still sobbing. "As soon as the Doctor says that it is ok you are there," John replied. "Right now they are just trying to keep him stable." He took his son's hand in his bandaged ones. "He was the one that pulled you out, I couldn't get to you. Somehow he managed to pull you out from under that beam and pull you up the rubble to the bedroom window." John smiled again, "incase you hadn't noticed you have two broken shins. You need to get yourself well too." "I can't really feel him. Why can't I feel him?" Finn asked, trying to get control of his emotions. He rubbed shaking hands over his face and pulled his battered body up slightly. John helped him adjust the pillows as much as he could with his bandaged hands. "He is under heavy sedation, Finn," replied John, sitting back down, "you have to remember too, that there was a large mental shock for him when Pru died, even though he was turned unwillingly." He bit his lip and continued, "There may be some mental damage as well, Finn. Jezi, the healer, says that Pru was not at all careful when she was messing with his head. There may be some large memory gaps, or other problems." "It doesn't matter," said Finn, "as long as he is alive I can deal with anything." "I know, son," John soothed, rising to his feet, "I am going to fetch the nurse or she will have my head. I have to check in on Ian as well." "Ian!? He's ok?" "He has some injuries but he is considerably better off than you are at the moment. We can discuss that later, and I am sure that he will come to see you when he hears that you were awake." John deliberately left out the emotional damage that he would also have to heal from. Finn could deal with that later, once they found out whether or not Simon would survive. "I will be back as soon as the nurse is done with you," John promised from the doorway. "Ok, dad," he said, "Dad?" John turned back. "Yes?" "I love you too." @@@@ Isabelle woke slowly; there was cold air on her face and an odd humming noise somewhere in the background. Her head hurt. Not a stabbing pain but a dull ache. She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was Ian, sleeping on the other side of the bed. He was pale and she could still see the thin, healing mark of a lash on his face. He was cocooned in blankets, but close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She felt a bit detached from things and wondered if she could move. She could, it just took a lot of effort. Turning her head to the right she noticed the I.V. stand with its dripping liquid. It went to her hand she noted. The coolness she had noticed on her face turned out to be an oxygen mask. She wasn't in a hospital though. She was in a small bedroom done up in a simple blue and white country style. While taking in her surroundings she tried to remember what had happened. She remembered the frantic drive to the cabin, the fight with Simon and after that it got hazy. Disjointed memories of fire and Finn's face came to her. Finn? What had happened to him? Just as she was trying to find the energy to move, the door opened and a man that she recognized but couldn't place entered the room. He was dressed casually in jeans and a flannel shirt over a t-shirt. His blonde hair was short, almost military short. He also walked with the grace of a seasoned athlete. She knew that she knew him from somewhere. "Ah, you are awake. Let me get Lucy," he said as he turned around. He was only gone for a few seconds before he came in again. He took a chair next to the bed that she hadn't noticed. Isabelle slipped the mask of her face. She had to clear her throat before she could talk and even then it was husky and didn't sound like herself. "I know you," it wasn't a question. He looked a bit startled for a minute. "Yes," he replied. "My name is Carl Witherspoon, we met at the Sterling estate." The minute he said his name it registered with her still slightly fuzzy brain. She nodded. "Is Finn ok?" she asked. "I don't remember." "He is in the next room," Carl answered. "His dad got him out then," it was a statement rather than a question. Carl looked down. "No," he replied. "The ceiling beam collapsed and John couldn't get to him." He frowned and looked back at her with an unreadable expression. After a few seconds pause Isabelle started to get impatient. "And," she said. "Can you just tell me what happened?" she rasped. "This question and answer shit is getting on my nerves." "Simon pulled him out." Isabelle was stunned. "But I, I thought that I..." "No, apparently not," replied Carl. "The doctor says that you almost killed him, but he had taken enough of Ian's blood to heal partially." Carl paused again. "According to the healer," at this Carl noticed her puzzled look. "Jezi is a, well kind of a psychic healer. She does more mental and emotional healing, although she does have some touch healing abilities. She is a very strong telepath. Anyway, according to Jezi, once Prudence died his bond with Finn snapped back into place. He dragged him out through the bedroom by climbing up the debris and going out the window. They were both almost dead at that point. She doesn't know how Simon found the strength to get him out, he was badly burned, lots of broken bones from his fall through the floor." "Why would Prudence have to die before his bond with Finn could come back? Why did he hurt Ian the way he did if he loved Finn so much?" Isabelle demanded, flashes of Ian's screams coming back to her. "Keep your voice down," said Carl, "we had to sedate Ian to get him to sleep. He needs his rest." Isabelle glanced over at Ian and saw that he hadn't moved, and then turned back to Carl. "Well," she demanded. "Apparently Pru is the one that turned Simon. She used the mental linking that is established with the turning, along with torture to alter his thinking. It is kind of like brainwashing only it takes place mind to mind. She may have used magic as well." Carl sighed and continued. "What happened to Ian is Prudence's fault, not Simons." Isabelle digested that for a second. "You said that they were both badly hurt." "Yes, it was the ceiling collapse that broke Finn's legs. He is well on the way to healing; he should be walking in a week or so." "And Simon?" Isabelle asked. "Badly burned, mauled, broken ribs, broken leg, fractured hip, head injury, shock, the list goes on," said John heavily. "Jezi says that the mental damage is even worse though. Apparently Prudence did some damage to him. With a forced turning, like the one Prudence inflicted on him, the recipient can suffer damage from the mental struggle. Jezi won't be able to do much with him until he has physically healed a bit more. If you add the fact that he is still in the adjustment phase of his transition, he is in pretty bad shape. He is under heavy sedation right now. " "Does Ian know? About Simon I mean." Carl nodded. "He is as forgiving as always." Isabelle could hear the underlying tone in his voice that she didn't quite understand. She was too tired right now to figure it out. "I would like to ask you about how you attacked Simon though. Do you remember what happened?" Isabelle thought for a moment. "I remember coming into that room and he was on top of Ian," she swallowed back the nausea at the thought of what had happened to Ian. "He was biting him, and Ian was screaming," her voice trailed off at this point, just remembering. "What happened next?" "I," what had happened? Isabelle thought. "I remember jumping on him, we fell off the bed." "And?" "I think I bit him," said Isabelle slowly. "According to what John told us," said Carl, watching her intently, "you went Were, completely." "That isn't possible," argued Isabelle hoarsely. "I didn't inherit the bloodline." "Our healer thinks that perhaps the blood bonding that happened between you and Ian may have awakened it from its dormant state. Yes," he said, responding to her unspoken question, "Jezi says that you two are very tightly linked, even though only a very small amount of blood was exchanged. She has never seen anything quite like it. Bonding between a Were and a vampire isn't something that happens very often." Isabelle tried to absorb what he was telling her. "So that is why I knew he was in trouble? How I could feel what he was feeling? We bonded?" "Yes, and it definitely saved his life. If you had been any later Simon would have killed him." "Simon," she said. Just saying his name left a bad taste in her mouth. Intellectually she had been told that what had happened was not his fault but she still felt the knee jerk reaction when she heard his name. The memory of Ian's screams as The door to her room was pushed open even wider and a woman entered. "Ah Isabelle. I brought some soup for you," she said in a low voice. The woman brought the feeling of energy with her. She bustled around, helping Isabelle sit up and get situated. She was a tall woman. Buxom was the word that came to Isabelle's mind. Pale blonde hair, pulled back in braids that were wrapped around her head and an apron over her dress added to the feeling that she had suddenly ended up in Sweden somehow. "Isabelle, this is Lucy Castile. She is Dr. Castile's wife," said Carl. "Hello," said Isabelle between sips of soup. With the first taste she was completely ravenous and had the soup gone in no time at all. "A pleasure to meet you Isabelle. I wish it could have been under more pleasant circumstances," replied Lucy with a beaming smile. "Gracious, you must have been hungry." "Yes, but I think I need to use the restroom." Lucy shooed Carl out of the room, telling him in no uncertain terms that Isabelle was to eat and then rest for a while before he could visit with her again. With deft and gently hands she quickly removed the I.V. and helped Isabelle to the adjoining bathroom. Isabelle was grateful for the help. She felt as shaky as a newborn kitten. Lucy also helped her to the shower after she had caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was shorter on one side having been singed by the flames and even though she must have been sponged off she reeked of smoke. She sat on the stool in the shower feeling a bit like a little girl again, getting her hair washed. Lucy brought more food which Isabelle devoured and then tucked her in next to Ian, who had slept through it all. Isabelle snuggled up close to Ian and despite the fact that sunshine was streaming through the windows, was soon dozing. Even her need to know what else had happened couldn't be overcome in her need for sleep. @@@@ The next few days passed quickly. Isabelle was amazed at the changes in John. He was caring and attentive to both of his sons and was a far different person than the one that she had come to expect. Ian was quiet, overly so; and his dreams were troubled. It was apparent to everyone that the trauma of what had happened to him had affected him deeply. Despite the fact that he 'knew' that what happened wasn't Simon's fault, Isabelle suspected that he was still having a hard time with it. He stayed close to Isabelle and was constantly touching her, almost like he was reassuring himself that she was there. He regularly sat with Finn. He had also visited Simon several times, not allowing anyone to come with him. Simon was still sedated so there was no interaction. He emerged from these visits quiet and pale. Isabelle spoke privately with John, who agreed with her that moving them back to the house so they could begin their sessions with Dr. Halloway was a good idea. John would stay with Finn until Simon was out of danger and they would see how things progressed from there. A car and driver arrived the next day and Ian and Finn said their goodbyes, promising to call each other daily. John hugged Ian for a long time and then whispered something in his ear, too low for Isabelle to hear. Ian burst out laughing at a smiling John, and simply shook his head at her when Isabelle questioned him. Later, he promised her, he would tell her later. @@@@ Don't worry readers, I am not done yet!! We still have a few chapters to go! Thanks to everyone that has helped with editing and all of the readers that have left comments and voted. Keep on voting!! Shadows and Light Ch. 18 Chapter 18 Aftermath Two weeks later..... Finn stayed by Simon's bedside pretty much permanently once he was allowed out of bed. His legs were healing quickly but he still needed crutches to help him with his balance. Simon was in and out of it and still bedridden. A second, smaller bed was set up in Simon's room so that Finn could stay with him. He could tell that his father was stifling his objections, which made Finn grateful beyond belief. He couldn't fight so many battles at the same time. Right now Simon came first and foremost. Finn had insisted, with Jezi's backing, that Simon be fed only Finn's blood as much as possible. Their mental bonding had been tenuous after the fire; Finn's blood helped reestablish and strengthen it. This also helped with Simon's physical condition as Finn could tell them where the pain was far better than Simon could. Finn also gave his lover an emotional anchor to cling to and his condition had been steadily improving. With the improving of his condition they had lightened the sedatives and backed off as much as they could with the pain medications. Simon was awake more often, even if he was very groggy from the pain meds. The lightening of his meds also made it easier for Jezi to work with him. "I can't erase the damage," she had explained to Finn, tossing her heavy black braid over her shoulder, "but I can speed the healing process. I am also fading and blurring the false memories that Pru implanted. This way he can tell the difference between what's real and what's not, but still be able to relate why he did some of the things that he did." She was referring, rather obliquely, to Ian's rape. Finn had first been in denial and then overcome with grief and guilt when he had been told the entire story of what had happened at the cabin. He had not been told until after Ian and Isabelle had left for Minneapolis. His first thought was of how deeply this would affect Simon and he had been overcome with guilt that his first thought had not been for his brother. He and Ian had had several very long and emotional discussions over the phone and he had come to a sort of peace with it. Ian was coming to terms as he was working with his therapist and was not holding Simon accountable. He had been Pru's weapon, and his victim. Ian was healing but Simon had yet to face it or deal with it. Finn knew that his own turmoil wouldn't stop until that happened. Simon moaned softly and Finn shifted his attention to his lover, sitting by the edge of the bed and caressing his face with his fingertips. Pale blue eyes opened and focused for the first time in quite a while. "Finn?" the voice was almost a whisper. "Hey babe," said Finn, tears rising in relief. He had been so afraid that Simon wouldn't know him, wouldn't remember that he loved him. He had shoved that fear into the very back of his mind but it had worried him from the beginning. "Where...hurts, it hurts," Simon sobbed. Finn promptly hit the button on the morphine drip. "It is ok babe; the med should be kicking in almost immediately." Simon seemed to calm a bit and opened his eyes again. "You were badly injured at the cabin, Si," Finn explained. "There was a fire and part of the building collapsed. You are going to be ok." "No..., what? Hungry," Simon gasped. Finn could feel the hunger rising quickly inside of Simon. He could also feel the confusion roiling in his mind. "It's ok babe," reassured Finn. He quickly opened a vein in his wrist and put it to Simon's mouth. Instinct took over and Simon drank greedily. Finn couldn't help the reaction of his body at their joining. Need overcame him and he began kissing and stroking the unbruised portion of Simon's face and throat. He nipped gently and lapped at the small amount of blood the tiny wound produced, moaning in pleasure at Simon's taste on his tongue. Simon moaned, releasing his grip on Finn's wrist. Finn licked the wounds closed and met Simon's lips in a tender kiss, tasting his own blood. "Finn," Simon begged, almost incoherent with need. He was at the mercy of his body's changing needs. Finn could feel the roiling of thoughts and emotions, confusion at the top of the pile. "Lay back babe, let me take care of you," Finn replied. He drew the sheet down Simon's body, carefully avoiding the large bandaged areas of his chest and his casted leg. He used the mental technique that Jezi had taught him, to block Simon's pain and increase his pleasure and at the same time immobilizing the parts of his body that shouldn't move. He could feel the blood flow quicken and sharpen the pain in Simon's still healing bones and burned skin. Finn buffered it, even as he took Simon's erection deep into his mouth. He wanted to feel Simon inside of him, but Simon's fractured hip and ribs wouldn't allow that yet. He settled for stroking himself as he devoured Simon's cock. Simon's cries were breathless, and each one sharpened Finn's need for his mate. He began rubbing himself against the side of the mattress as he took Simon with both hands; one on his shaft squeezing and stroking, the other teasing the tender skin of his balls. Torturing the slick head with his tongue and then engulfing the length with his mouth as far as he could reach, Simon stiffened and with a cry, emptied himself into Finn's willing mouth. His orgasm triggered Finn's own and he struggled to swallow Simon's seed while his own body shook and sprayed the sheets and his belly. After cleaning up himself and the bed, he gave Simon a bed bath, wiping off the sweat from every part of him that he could, dropping kisses on every undamaged part that he could reach. Simon watched him with sleep hooded eyes, stroking what ever part of Finn's body came within range of his unbroken arm. "What happened to me?" he asked, when Finn had seated himself next to his unbroken arm, kissing the fingers gently. Due to their bond, Finn knew exactly what he meant, and unfortunately he couldn't put him off. "Prudence McKindrick was Cullen's partner. She tortured you and turned you unwillingly." Simon stared at him for a moment. "Turned," he said like he had never heard the word before. "Yes." Simon stared at him with shock. "Is that why I feel so strange? She turned me. Why?" Finn nuzzled his face into Simon's hand and tried to project calm into Simon's roiling mind. "She apparently had been plotting revenge against my father for a very long time. When she turned you she also controlled you and had very deep access to your mind. She used you to try to get back at my father." "To get back at him, but how?" Simon asked, still trying to put the pieces back together. "Ian," said Finn softly, "she tried to make you kill Ian." Abruptly memories came smashing back into Simon, and Finn could feel the horror and shock rising as he tried to reject what his memories were telling him. Simon pulled his arm abruptly back from Finn's grasp, as if he were afraid he would contaminate his smaller lover. Simon was shaking now, his eyes wild, shaking his head back and forth. "I didn't do that. I couldn't do that. He is my friend; I couldn't do that to him. Tell me I didn't do that Finn, tell me," he was screaming now and slapping away Finn's hands as they tried to hold him. "Tell me I didn't do that, tell me!" Finn grabbed him, one hand on each side of his face. "Simon, calm down," he said. "He knows it wasn't your fault, he knows. Ian is ok, he is ok. He knows it wasn't you, he knows. He would never blame you. It wasn't your fault." Simon was sobbing now, screaming sobs as he clung to Finn. "No, no, no," he chanted, "I couldn't do that, I couldn't, I didn't, no no no no." Finn simply kept up his reassurances, curled up as close to Simon as he could, holding him close and stroking his hair as Simon wept uncontrollably. He rode out wave after wave of Simon's feelings of denial, horror, and guilt, simply trying to project calm and love back. He could feel that some of the feelings went much farther back than his encounter with Ian. Some long hidden memories were being stirred up and they simply added to the pile. After what seemed like forever Simon began to quiet a bit. By this time Finn was sobbing also, tears streaming down his face as his lover clung to him in desperation. "I love you, Simon. No matter what. It will be ok, we can face it together. I love you, I won't leave you, I promise. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't. Ian has already forgiven you, he loves you." Simon began to drift into that twilight between waking and sleeping and Finn was unsurprised to see Jezi next to the edge of the bed. She reached out with her strong hands and began to stroke Simon's hair, helping to ease him into restful sleep. Her face took on the unfocussed look that she often had when using her healing abilities, mending broken minds and bodies. She looked so calm and still, but Finn could feel through his link with Simon the tremendous amount of carefully controlled energy she was using. She projected calm, helping to shore up Simon's shattered psyche and lay the ground work for future healing. Soon her calming energy extended to Finn, and he surrendered his aching head and heart into her capable hands. He soon fell asleep, still cradling Simon in his arms. @@@@ Finn woke first, rather cramped from not changing position for several hours. The dim light from behind the heavy drapes was fading, Simon would be waking soon. He idly wondered when he would be well enough to test how affected he would be by sunlight. Getting him back on the job and on a routine would probably be good for him; Simon always had been something of a work-aholic. Simon's pale blue eyes opened. "Why didn't you let me die?" he asked quietly, "I don't see how you could still love me after what I did." Finn stroked Simon's hair softly. "You missed out on a lot of what happened Si. Prudence was almost as old as father, which made her an especially strong vampire. She was also a mage, a very practiced one. You didn't stand much of a chance against her." He continued to touch him gently as he gathered his thoughts. "Do you remember when my father told us about Richard, his eldest son and his second wife Anne?" He waited until he felt Simon nod to continue, "Prudence was the one that twisted Richard and was behind Anne's murder. She was also the one that subverted Cullen, right under father's nose. She was watching, waiting and planning for hundreds of years, wanting to make father suffer as much as possible for some imagined slight. You didn't stand a chance once she stripped your control away. Whatever fantasies you may have had about Ian were used against you." Finn could feel Simon jump in surprise. He smiled against Simon's silky hair, "Who wouldn't have fantasies about Ian, Simon? You two have been friends for a long time. There is nothing wrong with that. I would be willing to bet that you didn't think about anything but friendship with him when you were involved with other people." Finn tipped Simon's face so that he could see his eyes. "She took away your control. She wanted to make you hurt and kill Ian in the worst possible way; to hurt my father, to make him suffer. What happened was not your fault. You were simply a tool." He could see and feel that Simon was struggling to believe him, wanting to believe, desperate to be absolved in some small way for what had happened. Brown eyes held blue. "There was something more, when you realized what happened. Some bad memories got stirred up, something a lot older than what has been happening in these last weeks," said Finn. "Do you want to talk about it?" Denial rose up in Simon's mind, Finn could feel it. Before he had a chance to say anything Finn spoke again, "Don't you realize by now that you could tell me anything and I would love you just as much," he said hoarsely his throat clogging with tears. He could fee Simon's inward struggle with a pain that ran so deep that it seemed to be lost in the depth of his soul. Simon tucked his face into Finn's neck and took a deep shuddering breath. "It was my first year of college," Simon said so quietly that Finn had to struggle to hear him. "My parents had thrown me out of the house, and out of their lives. I was almost nineteen. I had started school older than most kids because of my October birthday. My roommate was a couple of years older than me but was a freshman too. He seemed really nice and we had quite a bit in common. He could buy booze because he was over twenty one. We got drunk one night and when he asked me why I wasn't going home for Thanksgiving break. I told him." Here Simon began to shiver and Finn held him closer. He had a sick feeling that he knew what Simon was going to tell him. "He forced me to have sex with him, over and over that night. Then he tied me to the bed and took pictures of his dick in my ass, and as he sucked me off. He threatened to show them to everyone unless I did what he asked. For the next two weeks before break he fucked me at every opportunity. The night before he left for break he brought over his best friend and they took turns fucking me and taking pictures. I felt so ashamed, so dirty, so used. I wanted to kill myself. I almost did, several times. Instead, I packed up and ran the day he left. I took incompletes for my classes and transferred half way around the country to another school. For a long time I had nightmares about him finding me and showing everyone the pictures that he had, laughing at me. I didn't tell anyone, ever, about what happened to me." Simon was sobbing softly now and Finn held him close, stroking him, and trying to reassure him. "I love you Simon," he told him, over and over. For Simon it was as if a huge weight had been lifted off of his soul. He had told Finn everything, absolutely everything, showed him the absolute depths of his soul, his darkest secrets: and he still loved him. Somehow Finn still loved him. He drifted off to sleep with the feeling of Finn's arms around him, and for the first time in a long time felt like he would not have to worry about being alone anymore, that he was worth something. It was nice not to have to be so strong, to hide behind his size. Finn loved him, and for the first time, maybe ever, he actually felt loved, truly loved. @@@@ Isabelle paced the house. She couldn't put her finger on what was bothering her, she just felt so, unsettled. She had tried to draw but found to her frustration that she was just too antsy to sit still and she couldn't concentrate. She didn't think it was Ian. He had come from his session with Dr. Halloway, or Jack as he called him, and was napping. She smiled at the thought of him. Both of them had quickly adjusted to their new routine once they were back at the house. They both went every other day to see Jack. It was helping both of them a good deal. Isabelle was gaining some much needed perspective about herself and Ian seemed to be easier about what happened with Simon. This was reflected in his inner feelings as well as his outer behavior. Of course it helped that they were connected on a psychic level now. She was learning to buffer the connection, like she was right now. Ian was sleeping peacefully despite her restlessness. She still had some acceptance issues with the fact that she had turned fully Were. She had not been able to duplicate it and was angry and frustrated. Both Dr. Halloway and John had urged her to try to contact her grandfather, or another Were-panther to talk about it. Isabelle was hesitant, and for the first time began to realize the depth of her resentment toward what she viewed as her grandfather's abandonment of her because she wasn't Were. "Besides," John had told her, "If what Jezi says is true and this is just a dormant side of you emerging, you may be undergoing further changes. Just be patient with yourself." Isabelle was quite surprised by John lately. Once the mask of indifference had been lifted from his features she was finding that she rather liked him. He had driven down to see Ian several days ago and had only just left to drive back up to Finn. John had actually sought her out and they had had several very good discussions. Over her objections he had established a checking account for her in which he had placed a huge chunk of money. "Nonsense," he had said to her objections. "Considering everything that has happened this is nothing." He had smiled at her, a genuine smile full of kindness. "You need to have some independence," he had told her, "to take Ian out, to buy yourself clothing, art supplies or whatever. I don't want you feeling like you have to ask for the things you need." Ian had agreed with his father (kicking himself because he hadn't thought of it first), overriding Isabelle's objections. Ian had also asked her officially to move into his apartment with him. This relieved her of a worry that had been gnawing at her for a while. Their relationship was no longer in limbo, with Isabelle wondering what was going to happen when Ian got tired of her. She knew that that was not being exactly fair to Ian, but deep down she had wondered if he regretted being involved with her. A small portion of her had been sure that he would change his mind about loving her. She was looking forward to moving in to the apartment. It wasn't too terribly far from the University. She didn't think that she was ready to go back yet but she knew that she would want to eventually. Maybe next fall if things continued to go well. She would have to transfer credits from Wisconsin and take care of some other small things but that should be easy enough. Ian's apartment, our apartment she corrected her self with a happy shiver, was ideally placed for both the university and the gallery. She would be able to take the bus, and she had a feeling, from some of the things that Ian had said offhandedly, that she would be spending a lot of time with him at the gallery. She was looking forward to that too. John had also surprised her with the news that Carl Witherspoon had taken care of the matter of her being a missing person. She was now officially found and her professors and fellow students knew that she was alive and well. They had received a carefully edited version of the truth: her kidnapping and torture and her killing her captor. Left out of that version was any mention of anything supernatural, as was to be expected. He had also taken the liberty of getting her belongings and art pieces out of storage at the school and had them carefully packed and put in storage at the house. She hadn't had time to go through them and had decided to wait until she was moving into Ian's apartment to sort things. Ian was going to empty his guestroom and turn it into her studio (as it had good northern and eastern light) and have her help with some redecorating. Done with pacing for the moment she curled up on the bed next to Ian and watched him sleep. His face was relaxed. It still struck her sometimes how handsome he was, the sculpted planes of his face, the curve of his lips and the dark fans that his eyelashes made against his cheeks. The thin lash scar on his cheek would always be there, although it was already faded quite a bit. Isabelle reached out and stroked it gently. It scared her sometimes, the depth of her feelings for this man. She loved him so much that the memory of almost losing him was like a knife to the heart. In the last six months or so she had had such extremes of emotion in her life it was still a little exhausting to try to sort through them. She was a little afraid of the week ahead. Ian had decided that it was time for him to go up to see Finn and Simon. In two days they would head up. Simon was apparently physically healing but emotionally devastated. Ian agreed that a meeting would probably be good for both of them. Isabelle agreed and disagreed at the same time. Her first instinct was to argue with him, to protect him from the pain. Intellectually she knew it was time, emotionally she was less sure. It all boiled down to trust: trust that Ian knew what he was doing, trust that his and Simon's friendship was strong enough to help heal them both, trust that she would be strong enough to help support Ian without being smotheringly overprotective. She hoped so. Shadows and Light Ch. 18 "You look so serious." Isabelle jumped. "Man you startled me," she laughed. "What were you thinking about?" he asked gently, stretching his long frame out. "Our travel plans," she replied. "Hmmmm," he replied, "nervous?" "More for you than anything else," she replied, stroking his face with her fingertips. She could feel the stubble on his face and it was both soft and rough at the same time. Ah hell, it could be as scratchy as a brillo pad and she wouldn't care; she just liked touching him. "I want things to go well, for you and Simon both." "Me too, babe. Me too," he replied. He shifted positions slightly and pulled her unresisting body down to him. He began pressing kisses along her collarbone and Isabelle closed her eyes, losing herself in his touch. She was keenly aware of the fact that they hadn't had sex since his rape. There had been foreplay and bringing one another to orgasm but no actual sex. Frustrated as Isabelle was she completely understood, and she had walked the fine line of encouraging Ian to go as far as he was comfortable and not pushing for more than he was able to give. Ian's kisses and caresses went lower and she opened her eyes to watch him caress her breasts with his mouth and hands. She ran her fingers through his silky hair as he ravished one nipple and then the other with tongue and lips. Her breath caught as he nipped one gently with his teeth, the feeling connecting straight to her groin. He played gently with her as he listened to her cries and moans. He loved that he could make her feel this way, uninhibited and wild, despite what had happened to her. He pushed her robe aside and slid his hand down her back and buttocks to play with the already slick opening to her body. Isabelle gasped as Ian added his fingers into the mix, mindless to anything except the feeling of his body against hers, his mouth on her breasts, his fingers deep inside of her. She climaxed, hard and sharp, shaking from the force of it. Ian rolled her on to her back. Isabelle pulled him up to her, their lips meeting again in frantic kisses. His skin was hot against hers, the hair on his chest rubbing against her sensitive nipples, driving her crazy with want. She could feel his cock, hard and ready, nudging against her opening and she whimpered with need, bucking her hips up in an attempt to drive him inside of her. Refusing to be hurried, despite the fact that his body was screaming to be inside of her, Ian pushed in slow and easy until he was completely buried inside of her. He exulted in the sense of rightness as her body eagerly accepted his. This woman was his, every inch of her body, her incredible mind and loving soul. Withdrawing and then slamming himself into her, her scream of pleasure echoed in his ears and his mind. His own body began to shake as he continued to thrust, mindless to anything but their shared pleasure. She was his mate, his heart and his soul. He sank his fangs into her neck, tasting her pleasure on his tongue, hearing her scream again and her body clenching tightly around his in orgasm. His own body exploded into colored flashes of light as he emptied his seed into her again and again, gasping and sobbing in pleasure against her neck. He was only just beginning to come down from his orgasm and he continued to thrust more gently into her body. It was addictive, this pleasure, the scent of their sex in the air, his body deep inside of hers. He wanted more, needed more. His mouth caught hers for a kiss and their tongues met and clashed, winding around one another, tasting and caressing. Isabelle could taste her blood in her mouth and could feel the coil of lust and need and pride in her belly. She nourished his body as surely as he nourished her heart and soul. He wanted her, only her, to feed, to fuck, to caress, to love. Isabelle began moving her hips in time with him, needing more of him, his lust, his kisses, his body, his soul. Rolling over, with Isabelle now on top, she began to move on him, sobbing in pleasure as his cock caressed her insides as incredibly as his hands did the rest of her body, stroking, licking, nipping. Driven to another orgasm she could feel him grinding his hips upward into her convulsing body and then his cock spasming inside of her as he screamed her name over and over. They lay joined for long time, Isabelle sprawled over his chest, with Ian still deep inside of her. Their panting breaths were the only sound in the room except for Ian's heartbeat drumming in her ear. Ian's hands lazily caressed her back. He reached over with his left hand to the pants that had been discarded and extracted something from the pocket. "Isabelle," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "Hmmmm," she replied, still feeling limp and boneless. "Will you marry me?" "Huh?" Isabelle's head popped up and she looked at him with surprise. His anxious brown eyes met her surprised blue. "Are you serious?" she asked, dumbfounded. Ian cocked an eyebrow at her and gave her the lopsided smile that she loved so much. Taking her left hand he slid a gorgeous antique looking platinum ring on her ring finger. "My father gave it to me," he told her. "It was Anne's. He said that we were meant to be together as much as he and Anne had been, and that it would give him joy to see you wear her ring. I know it is soon, probably too soon to ask," he looked pleadingly at her, "I need you, I love you. I don't want to push but I don't want to wait," he stroked her face, willing her to understand. "I came so close to losing you in that fire, so close to not being able to spend a lifetime with you," his voice was hoarse, "I got a taste of what my father feels everyday with Anne being gone. I don't think I would be able to live with you gone." Isabelle looked him for a long moment, feeling the sincerity of his love for her through their bond. "I love you," she told him. "Then say yes," he said, kissing the finger tips of her hand one by one. "Oh Yes." @@@@ Isabelle paced. Ian and Simon had been in Simon's room for over an hour. The temptation to peek into Ian's head and see what was going on was strong. She resisted. Ian had asked for privacy, one of the few things that he had ever asked of her and she couldn't let him down. Finn had gone for a walk outside and Isabelle was wishing that she had gone with him. Her mind knew that things would more than likely be alright. She just wished that her heart could be as trusting. She admired again the sparkle of the gorgeous ring that she was wearing. Platinum with diamonds and sapphires it was set in an antique setting and was absolutely gorgeous. She had discovered a faint engraving on the inside of the wedding band, "John loves Anne". She had found a jeweler that could re-engrave it exactly and add "Ian loves Isabelle" right underneath it. She loved the feeling of history that came with the ring. Several hundred years of love was represented and Isabelle was honored that John had decided to part with it and give it to Ian and herself. Isabelle had greeted John with a kiss on both cheeks when she and Ian had shown up this morning. He had actually blushed, and Isabelle smiled at the memory. Finn reentered the house and at almost the same time Ian emerged from the hallway. Ian's eyes were red rimmed, but his face was relaxed. Finn walked straight to him and gave him a long hug before continuing down the hall to see Simon. Isabelle was in Ian's arms before he could take a step, her eyes anxiously studying his face. Ian smiled at her. She could see his exhaustion and without words she led him up to the guest room that they had stayed in previously. Ian took off his shoes and stretched out gratefully on the bed, Isabelle curled at his side. "He is so thin," Ian said at last, breaking the silence. "I thought that I would have a problem with seeing him, but my God he looked so different than I remember him, so pale and sick. I will never forget the look on his face when he saw me. Absolute heartbreak, those are the only words that I can come up with to describe it. I thought that I had a lot to deal with, but I realized in that moment that he had so much more to struggle through." Ian took a deep breath. "We didn't even really talk, I just held him as he cried. I've never seen him like that Is. He has always seemed so self-reliant, so confident. He is in pieces. I don't think he would even be alive if it weren't for Finn loving him. He is that close to wanting to kill himself. If that bitch was still alive I swear that I could kill her with my bare hands." Ian's hands were clenched and shaking. Isabelle just snuggled close and slipped her slender hand around his strong one. She didn't know what to say so she said nothing. Instead she spoke without words, stroking his hand, holding him close, kissing his forehead when he turned into her arms and wept for himself and for Simon. Long after Ian had fallen into a doze, Isabelle held him close, vowing to never let go. @@@@@@@@@@@ Thank you to all of my readers that have sent emails encouraging me to finish!! I am sorry to make you wait so long for this last chapter but even my editor agreed that it was much better after having been rewritten several times. One final chapter left to go for a wrap up!! I do have a few other projects in the works so you can expect more stories out of me as we get closer to summer. Keep an eye out for the chain story "Modern Day fairy tales" I have another chapter that is almost finished and ideas for a third. Keep reading! And thanks for the great comments and encouragement! Emerald Shadows and Light Ch. 19 Nine months later... Chapter 19 New Beginnings Simon moaned in pleasure. The feeling of Finn's body on his, his beautiful cock filling him, making love to him had stripped him down to his most vulnerable self, naked and bare. He had been so nervous, so afraid of this moment. That feeling had melted away as he and Finn lay skin to skin, touching, kissing, caressing, and loving. He could feel Finn's hands on him, his mouth nipping and licking, his cock hard and throbbing in his ass and yet so gentle. There had been no pain, just a feeling of fullness and completeness as Finn claimed his body for his own. Simon's mind and body were totally open to his lover and his reward was to be surrounded with love so deep he was drowning in it. With every deep thrust from Finn, Simon voiced his pleasure; begging for more, begging to be filled, to be fucked, to be loved. Finn's cries echoed his own as he fought to hold back his climax. He wanted Simon to climax first; that beautiful cock painting their chests. He could feel Simon tip over the edge into blinding pleasure and he followed with a climax that seemed to come from the soles of his feet. For a few moments, joined body and mind they did not know where one ended and the other began. Exhausted and sated they slept, tangled together. @@@@ Simon whistled appreciatively as Finn slid into his tuxedo jacket. "You are beyond sexy in that," Simon told him. The tailored tuxedo seemed to accent every positive feature in his blonde lover and Simon could feel his body responding to the view. Finn met Simon's eyes in the mirror and grinned at him as he tied his bowtie. "So are you babe. I definitely think that you should wear a tux more often." Sliding in behind him, Simon nuzzled at Finn's neck, drinking in the smell of his mate and the woodsy smell of his aftershave. He could feel himself hardening against Finn's sculpted ass and couldn't resist sliding his hands around his smaller lover and tweaking his nipples through the thin dress shirt. "You are insatiable," laughed Finn even as his body relaxed into his lover's caress. "I can't help that you turn me on so much," said Simon. "I wish we had a few more minutes." Laughing again Finn turned and straightened Simon's tie. "Ian would strangle us if we were late. Speaking of that, we should go see if he is ready." "Unless he has decided to run for the hills," grinned Simon. "I think it is our duty to make sure that doesn't happen," laughed Finn, leading the way down the hall. @@@@ Ian waited. Everything was perfect, from the garden, to the guests, to Finn and Simon standing to his left and slightly behind him. Betsy (Isabelle's friend from Wisconsin) was followed by the dark haired healer Jezi, both dressed in dark green. Their white calla lilies were a beautiful contrast to the dresses they wore. And then came Isabelle. Ian didn't remember much after he caught sight of the beauty that walked toward him. Her gauzy, off the shoulder dress seemed to float around her as she approached him. His bride's raven black hair was upswept showing off her neck and shoulders. When he took her hand in his a shiver ran up his spine. This was how it was supposed to be: Isabelle beside him. Their vows were simple: To have and hold, to cherish and protect, to be faithful and trustworthy, to love and honor until death parted them. With the soft and warm evening breeze and the scent of flowers surrounding them, Isabelle and Ian were pronounced husband and wife. Then Ian did what he had wanted to do from the first. He pulled Isabelle into his arms and proceeded to kiss her senseless. Isabelle and Ian turned to a thunderous roar of approval and showers of rose petals from friends and family. Isabelle was flushed from the kisses and teary eyed and Ian had brushed back his own tears as he said his vows. Now they were both grinning like idiots as they made their way back down the aisle. The receiving line was a blur of faces, mostly of people that Isabelle didn't know. She had invited some college friends and professors for 'her side' invitations. The bulk of the guests were friends of Ian and his family as well as business contacts of John. He had hesitantly approached Isabelle about adding them to the guest list. Isabelle just laughed and told him the more the merrier. He was insisting on footing the bill after all. They had decided on an evening wedding out of deference to guests like Simon that could not tolerate much sunlight. It turned out to be a perfect evening. The candles in hurricane shades on every table left glowed with a golden light. The weather was warm, slightly breezy and the tents scattered over the large yard fluttered slightly. Japanese Lanterns hung from the trees and tiny twinkle lights covered everything. Isabelle drank it in as she and Ian greeted each guest. Isabelle was the most beautiful woman in the world Ian decided, while he twirled his bride on the dance floor. Her dress was light and gauzy with a full skirt that twirled nicely when he turned her. She needed kisses he decided mischievously, and proceeded to kiss her passionately right in the middle of the dance floor. Wolf whistles and cries of 'get a room' and laughter echoed around them as Isabelle broke the kiss, feeling a bit pleased and embarrassed at the same time. "I am so going to get you," she whispered at him. "I am so looking forward to that," said Ian, pressing light kisses along her jaw line before claiming her mouth again. "Ian," laughed Isabelle, "I love you, but if you don't feed me soon I am going to start chewing on your fingers." Ian laughed and led her through the other dancers and off the dance floor. They had decided against a formal dinner, opting instead for a refreshment tent with every kind of food imaginable for the guests. The food was complete with champagne and a chocolate fountain that could turn every treat imaginable into chocolate covered perfection. Ian laughed as Isabelle loaded her plate and then went for some fruit slices covered with chocolate from the fountain. He claimed a glass of champagne from one of the waiters. Then they sat at one of the small tables scattered around and watched the dancers "Mmmmmmm," she grinned at him and deliberately teased him by licking the strawberry seductively before delicately biting it, leaving glistening juice on her lips. Ian groaned as her actions went straight to his groin. "Get a room you two," came Finn's teasing voice as he plopped down across the table from them. "We have a room," groaned Ian, "we just can't get there right now." Isabelle giggled and licked the strawberry juice from her lips, prompting another groan from Ian. "You are such a tease Isabelle," came Simon's voice as he settled into a chair next to Finn. The changes in the big man were apparent even after the events of last October. Physically he had healed although he was very sensitive to sunlight. Simon was much thinner than he had ever been except perhaps as an adolescent. He was now long and lean rather than bulky. His face was more chiseled and he looked more the handsome academic than he the football player. Simon had also lost most of his dark tan and his hair was now a bit darker now that it wasn't sun bleached. It had taken quite a while for him to regain some of the easygoing banter with Ian and Isabelle was glad to see that he felt comfortable enough with her to tease her. Tonight Simon positively glowed with happiness, watching Finn with shinning eyes. His emotional healing had taken leaps and bounds with Finn's loving support. John had asked them both to stay at the mansion while they healed from their ordeal. He had taken many positive steps to mend the rift that his prejudice had caused with his youngest son. "You two look incredible tonight," said Finn. Isabelle grinned at him, her mouth full of strawberry. "I think I am the happiest man in the world at the moment," replied Ian, watching his new wife eat another strawberry. "Can I steal you for a dance Finn?" Simon asked, shifting his attention to his younger lover. "Steal away, babe," Finn grinned at the newly wed pair and gave them a finger-waggle as Simon led the way over to the pavilion where the band had struck up a slow love song. "They look good together," Isabelle remarked to Ian, watching the two men. "Yeah, they do," agreed Ian. Once Isabelle had finished eating, they rejoined the others on the dance floor. John was one of the first to steal her away from her husband and Isabelle was surprised that he was such a good dancer. .After several dances with Ian, Isabelle danced with Finn and Simon and a number of others before she sat on one of the benches, winded. Ian was dancing with Jezi her bridesmaid dress twirling around her and Isabelle smiled at Ian's antics. "You look beautiful Isabelle." Isabelle glanced up at the familiar voice. "Grandfather!" she exclaimed. She honestly hadn't expected him to bother to show up. Isabelle had asked Carl Witherspoon to forward a report of what had happened to her to her grandfather: starting with her kidnapping by Cullen and ending with the fire at the cabin. In April she had asked him to forward news of her impending marriage. She had not heard back a word from her only relative. That had hurt more than she had expected. Her relationship with her grandfather had never been close even when her parents were alive. Isabelle had been eight when her parents had been killed in a car crash. Two days after her parent's funeral she had heard her grandparents arguing. Thinking that she was asleep, neither of her grandparents had known that Isabelle had heard them. Her grandfather had not wanted to take her home with them. Isabelle had known the reason even then. Her father had fallen in love with and married a human, not another Were. Isabelle had appeared to have not inherited the bloodline. Therefore she was useless to him. Her grandfather had been furious that Isabelle's mother could not have more children after Isabelle. The family name and Were-panther bloodline would end with Isabelle's father. Her grandfather had been all for shipping her off to her mother's parents, regardless of the fact her mother had hated them. Her mother's father had been a puritanical minister ruled his home with an iron fist, punishing those that tried to rebel. Susan Samuel had left on her eighteenth birthday, married Maxwell Jackson Jr. and never looked back. Margaret, Isabelle's grandmother had categorically refused to give her granddaughter up. She had used some very ugly words that included divorce if he didn't change his mind. Isabelle had left with her grandparents four days later. She had never told them that she had heard the argument. She buried the hurt deep inside and tried to prove to her grandfather that he had been wrong. Over the years Isabelle hoped that her grandfather had eventually changed his mind about her. They never developed a close relationship but she had hoped that he had had some affection for her. Then her grandmother died unexpectedly. After setting up Isabelle's trust fund and college tuition Maxwell Jackson Sr. had disappeared without a word. She hadn't seen or heard from him since and that had been over four years ago. She raised her eyebrow. "I see that you dressed for the occasion," she said wryly as she surveyed his rather worn blue jeans and unbuttoned flannel shirt worn over a plain white t-shirt. "I do apologize for not having time to dress," he replied,"I have been in South America for quite a while. Between weather and mechanical problems I wasn't sure that I was going to make it at all." "I am really surprised to see you here," said Isabelle. The words seemed to hang there for a moment and Maxwell looked at his granddaughter sharply. "You did send an invitation did you not?" he asked. Isabelle sensed just a bit of defensiveness from him. "Yes," she replied calmly, "but that still doesn't mean that I expected you to show up." She wondered for a moment if he had simply shown up out of guilt at what had happened to her the year before. Or maybe he had decided that since she did carry the Were-panther bloodline after all that she was worth claiming as a granddaughter. She sighed. "You don't look like you have changed at all." It was true. Her grandfather, Maxwell Jackson looked almost too young to be her grandfather. She had inherited his straight blue-black hair although his was kept cropped short and was starting to silver at his temples. He wasn't overly tall but was just as solid as she remembered him from her childhood, with not an ounce of fat on his frame. His deeply tanned skin and black eyes proclaimed his South American roots as did his strong features. He wasn't exactly handsome with his piercing gaze and fierce features but he was definitely not someone that you would forget meeting. "So why are the Sterling's letting you have your wedding here?" Maxwell asked, his eyes surveying the crowds from where he sat next to her. "John Sterling has a stick shoved so far up his ass I am surprised that it isn't coming out the top of his head." "Huh?" said Isabelle, her surprise evident in her voice, "didn't you READ the invitation? How much of what has happened last year was forwarded to you?" "Just that you were getting married and the time and place," her grandfather looked at her quizzically. "Well hell," she swore softly. "The Sterling's are having the wedding here because I married Ian Sterling," she said. The look that her grandfather gave her was priceless. "Don't even give me shit for marrying a vampire and sullying the precious family name," she continued. "Carl Witherspoon was supposed to fill you in on all the crap that has happened in the last year or so, so that I wouldn't have to." She caught Carl Witherspoon's eye and waved him over. "Carl, could you fill my grandfather in on the events of the last year? Apparently he didn't get the information you sent him," she said, rising to her feet. "I am not going to talk about it on my wedding day. I need to get something to drink." "Yes of course," Carl said. "Grandfather, Ian and I are going to be leaving soon but we will be back for lunch tomorrow," Isabelle said, "I really hope that I will see you here. Lunch is at noon. You are welcome to stay at the house tonight." Isabelle brushed a kiss over her grandfather's cheek. Events had happened so fast that Maxwell just stared after his granddaughter as her place was taken by a stranger and a vampire to boot. @@@@ Isabelle stopped at the bar and got a white wine. "Are you ok Isabelle?" John said from behind her. "Not really," she sighed. They walked over to a bench and Isabelle sat. John sat beside her. "My grandfather made it to the reception," said Isabelle taking a sip of her wine. "Unfortunately the events of the last year weren't forwarded to him like they should have been so he is clueless about the last year." "Ah, I see," he said. "Yeah, I asked Carl to explain things to him and exited stage right." John glanced over at where Carl was sitting with a dark haired man. "It doesn't look like it's going terribly well either," he said. "That is his problem," decided Isabelle out loud. "I hope that you don't mind but I invited him to stay the night here and invited him for lunch tomorrow." "That is certainly not a problem," replied John. "I am sure that you will have a lot to catch up on." Isabelle sipped at her wine. "Just where is my handsome husband at anyway?" "I think he was making plans to sneak out with you." Isabelle smiled, adding sparkle to her blue eyes. "I knew there was a reason I married him!" "He is over by the pavilion," John said, "Don't worry about your grandfather. I will see that he has everything he needs. You enjoy yourself and don't worry about anything." "Thanks John," Isabelle said as she rose. She bent over and gave him a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Just don't let him get on your nerves." "Of course," John replied, a little stunned from the hug and kiss she had so casually given him. It had been an automatic gesture of affection for her but for John, physical displays of affection were still difficult for him. For Isabelle it was as automatic as breathing and John was finding that he rather liked it. He was trying to be more affectionate with his sons also and had often found himself watching Isabelle to see how she did it. John watched Isabelle cross to Ian: hand in hand they slipped off into the shadows cast by the fairy lights and Japanese lanterns. Her white dress was the last thing to disappear into the darkness. @@@@ Strong arms wrapped themselves around him, and Simon reveled in the feeling of Finn's arms around him. Finn's hands slid over his belly and down his thighs and Simon groaned, instantly aroused. Turning with a grin he let Finn lead him to a darkened corner of the garden out of the line of sight of the partygoers where his lover proceeded to ravage his mouth as his hands nimbly slid inside his pants. "Do you like that?" murmured Finn's husky voice in Simon's ear. Simon shivered as Finn began to bite and lick his ear. Waves of need wracked him as Finn's strong body pressed close to him. Simon could feel Finn's hot skin through the thin fabric of their shirts. It was unbearable; he needed to feel Finn's skin touching his. He fumbled with the buttons and finally tore the last few in his need to feel Finn's muscular but silky soft skin. He lowered his head and began to lick and suck the erect nipples, switching from one to the other until they were both hard peaks and Finn was gasping. His mouth went lower still, past the hard planes of his stomach to his belly button. He laved at the delicate indentation, thrusting his tongue in and out in a sensuous echoing of intercourse. Finn was gasping now; writhing with need as Simon hastily undid his pants and slid his mouth over Finn's erect cock. His inhaled sharply and moaned as Simon took him to the hilt and began to torture his erection with suction and swirling movements of his tongue. He could feel Simon's need through their bond and his fingers digging into his naked ass as Simon pulled him even closer. Finn could feel himself rapidly building. Pumping his hips, driving his cock even deeper into Simon's mouth he felt himself falling over the edge, even as he could feel Simon's control shatter. He bit his lip until he tasted blood to prevent himself from screaming his release. Simon exploded without a single touch as he tasted the first spurt of Finn's release. He moaned in pure pleasure as his own climax shook him to the core. Finn slid down into Simon's arms and they just held each other, trying to catch their breaths. After straightening their clothes a bit they walked hand in hand around the side of the house to the outer patio doors of the Rose Room. The Rose Room had been theirs since Simon had moved in. Its ground floor location had been the obvious choice for Simon, who could not manage the stairs. Right now its perfection was in that it had a private door leading in from the small, secluded patio outside so they didn't have to worry about running into anyone on their way to their room. Finn watched his lover disrobe in the dim light. Simon's once powerful frame was leaner and Finn could see the burn scars that marred his chest, arms and legs. Stepping forward Finn began to trace them with fingers and tongue. Simon shivered as the gentlest strokes teased the still sensitive marks. He watched as Finn's strong fingers lovingly caressed him. His cock was filling and he marveled at how this man could make him feel so desired and loved. Finn's mouth started to descend down his belly and Simon stopped him. Finn looked up questioningly. Shadows and Light Ch. 19 "I need you inside of me," Simon whispered, pulling Finn up and into a gentle kiss. Finn grinned. "Just don't think that you are going to get out of returning the favor later, handsome," he told his lover. "I can so manage that," Simon told him, capturing those laughing lips in a deep kiss. @@@@ In true tradition, Ian carried his laughing bride over the threshold and into his apartment. "Are you sure you don't mind that we are putting off our honeymoon until September?" he asked her, walking into the bedroom and kicking the door closed behind him. "Ask me one more time and I will change my mind just so I have something different to say," replied Isabelle, stripping off his tie one handed and tossing it over her shoulder. She leaned in to Ian's earlobe and gave it a soft bite. Growling Ian stood her by the edge of the bed and reaching around her he pulled her zipper down. Isabelle's dress slid down her body, a pool of silk and taffeta around her feet. Ian ran his hands slowly and gently over her naked breasts and down to the white garters holding up her stockings. Her skin was so soft. His breath caught at the sight of her nipples contracting into little hard peaks and he slid his hands up to fondle her breasts. Isabelle moaned as he started flicking his thumbs over her nipples. "Get on the bed, Isabelle," he said more harshly than he intended. He wanted her, God how he wanted her, writhing and begging for him. Isabelle glanced up at his face and smiled. Very slowly she turned and climbed on to the tall, four poster bed. Deliberately thrusting her bottom into the air as she crawled into the center of the bed she glanced over her shoulder at him. "Are you going to join me?" she asked in a come-hither voice, "or would you like a show?" Panting, Ian was already stripping off his clothes, tearing buttons in his haste. Naked he pounced on her, using his weight to pin her to the bed. "Mine," he growled as he began to kiss her, "all mine, forever mine." His tongue explored every inch of her mouth and sweet lips. He was wild now, his hips thrusting between her widespread legs. Isabelle shifted her hips and the tip of his throbbing cock slid inside her. He could feel how wet she was, how ready. Groaning he pushed deeper into the slick heat and moaned again as her stocking covered legs pulled him deeper. With her arms pinned above her head and Ian's cock buried inside of her, Isabelle gave herself over to the absolute pleasure of being taken. She relished the feeling of Ian clinging so tenuously to his control as he plunged in and out of her. The feel of his hard body on hers and the feeling of his chest hair rubbing against her chest was maddening and she bucked her hips up. She needed more; the delightful friction inside of her grew to a burning ache. Clinging to the last dregs of his control Ian moaned as he thrust into Isabelle's softness. His hands buried themselves in her silky hair as he kissed her over and over. He could feel her nails raking his back even as she called out his name. He could smell her: the overpowering smell of perfume, sweat and sex. Licking and sucking her neck he could feel the need to feed rise up inside of him. Heat and hunger warred with his need to prolong the pleasure. He bit down tenderly, gently and was pushed over the edge into blinding pleasure as he tasted Isabelle's blood. Isabelle convulsed under him as the combination of Ian's body pressing her down into the bed, his cock caressing her insides and the pleasure-pain of his bite was too much. The world blurred to white sparks of pleasure and she climaxed over and over. Sometime later she came to. Ian was holding her close and caressing her gently. A 'hmmmm' of contentment escaped her as she burrowed closer into his chest. This was where she belonged: in this bed, in these arms, in his heart. "I hope you're not too tired, love," Ian whispered in her ear. "Hmmm, why is that babe," she replied, running her fingers through his chest hair even as her legs twined themselves around his. "It is a husband's duty to see how many times he can make his bride come on her wedding night," he told her, pressing kisses on her face. Isabelle giggled. "That sounds like fun," she told him as he pulled her over so she was stretched out on top of him. "There is only one problem with that," she said as she propped her chin in her hand and smiled down at him. Ian cocked an eyebrow at her. "What problem is that?" he asked. Isabelle's blue eyes twinkled at him. "I'm hungry. Do you think we could order some take-out so I have the energy?" Ian laughed, and after he had fed his bride proceeded to make love to her all night long. @@ The End @@ Thank you so much for your patience in waiting for this last chapter. I went through I don't know how many rewrites to get it exactly right. Just to let you know I am doing a general rewrite of this entire story and I am going to post it on eXcessica.com. I don't want to pull the original chapters from Lit so I won't. I figure if people are going to pay for the story they should be able to read stuff that hasn't been seen before. I do have some ideas for a sequel but it will be a while coming. Right now there are a few ideas roaming around in my brain that need to be thought out for a while before I can start writing it. Thank you again for all of the good comments left and the votes. It is nice to know that there are people as attached to my characters as I am!! Shadows by Lights The dust filled the air, and she was feeling the weight of the sun as it finally disappeared over he horizon. She could hear the remnants of the now packed up market square tinkling in the wind, with the last of the spicy scents still hanging in the air. She was out to meet her lover that night, a way off down an alley. He would be waiting out in front of the café. She was late, but she did so purposefully. Her lover didn't like to wait long, but she knew him well enough. She kept walking towards the meeting place and with each step, she could feel the rush of anticipation within her chest -- burning bands of fire getting hotter with each step. Though the exhaustion of the day was clearly visible in her stride, the energy from the longing she felt for her lover was giving her new strength. She'd been day dreaming and looking around almost carelessly when she spotted his silhouette in the lamplight some way away. Her breath caught in her thought, as longing and adoration for this figure passed over her in a wave. She stopped to admire him for a moment and consider her next movements carefully. She knew her lover on so many levels. She knew how he enjoyed the anticipation of the chase and how it reaffirmed for both of them their deep attraction for one another. She knew her lover was also not a man of any routine, so each time they met, it was a story unto itself, but.. what to do this time. She instinctively moved into the shadows out of the lamplight to hide herself and started to move in closer and closer. She was trying to move undetected but her mind kept wandering while the longing became increasingly more tangible. She was now behind him about 5 feet and could see him clearly. Her breath catches in her thought as she sees the beautiful light glisten off of his long dark hair. She marvels at his beauty for a moment before stepping slowly in behind him. By the shift of his shoulders, she knows he's aware of her presence. She doesn't care if he's annoyed by her lateness as she puts one hand on his shoulder and brushes the hair off the back of his neck. As she moves in, she can feel her hard nipples press against his back and before bending in to kiss his neck, she hesitates as her breath catches again. She is now trembling slightly. He responds with a simple "You're late." but does not change his stance. She is immediately jarred forward in her head, but without any change in pace, she leans forward and rather than kiss his neck, she gently rests and slides her teeth across it. She licks his neck and blows on the wetness and whispers towards his ear "Shall I leave then?" He remains still, though through her heightened senses, she can feel him flinch slightly at that thought. "I thought not" she says as she bends forward. Her breasts are firmly on his back and she finally kisses the back of his neck. She feels him hold his breath for a moment before letting it go, then she slides her hands under his shirt and around to his front. She moves her hands up his chest and holds him closely as she continues to kiss his neck, his shoulders and the top of his back. She is careful to run her breasts up and down his back as she does so. She smiles gently as her lover himself begins to tremble, and slowly she pushes him far out of the light and into the shadow. He follows her lead, but she is moving far too slowly for him and the anticipation is starting to tire him. He turns around and grabs her hair gently, holding her firmly. He bends forward to kiss her, but changes his mind and kisses her neck instead. A shock runs through her system and she moans slightly. He knows he can take her. He knows he's momentarily stopped her game and now has the upper hand. He pushes her against the wall and moves in forward, pressing his body against hers. He pauses there, wanting to know how much she wants him. She breathes out hard, waiting but he does nothing. She puts her fingers around his back, but the confidence momentarily slips. She breathes hard and gently puts the tips of her fingers on his back, with her fingernails lightly resting on his skin. She pulls him forward without even knowing her own actions and kisses him passionately. He responds to her and holds her tightly, running his hands over her nipples and down her stomach. She continually touches his back before moving her hands slowly to his front. She finally has a moment of focus, and moves her hands past him and down his leg as she backs off and only brushes her lips against his. She smiles, pulls back and looks into his eyes. She pretends to have control, but her large pupils give away her secrets. He puts his hands down around her waist and pushes his hands past her and down her leg, where he feels the moisture running slowly down. He also smiles, and his eyes also give away his own secrets. She is trembling again, unable to stand having his hand that close without touching. She finally moves her own hand up and around his base. At the same time, she kisses him softly but purposefully. She pulls him forward till he is resting against her leg. He shivers slightly again and his breath is hot and short. She pulls her hands slowly up and then off and he groans with the loss of her hand. She moves her hand around his back and pulls him closer, yet he still does not enter. He is waiting for her permission. She grabs his hair and gently pulls him into her, kissing him deeply. He moves so that his hair is touching her shoulders as he kisses them, and his hands move over her breasts. He moves slowly, and the anticipation is real for them both. They move more quickly, though always mindful of themselves and their lover. She feels a shift in her body, with each touch moving like fire over her skin. By the way her lover moves, she can see he feels the same. Without warning, she feels heat through her, deep inside and the pleasure is too much to take. She is so in love and so pleasured that her energy flows out and around her in waves, caressing her lover as it moves. They collapse against a wall, sweat glistening down bare backs. The soft breeze cooling their heated skin as they relax into each other. They fall onto the ground and blissfully stair up into the sky, softly caressing one another as the night slips by. Shadows Ch. 01 Thanks to everyone for the vote of confidence and reading my first pro-log! Here is my very first Chapter of Shadows and ever for this site! I hope you enjoy it! I certainly had fun writing it. Dedicated for Nesi. For without you I would have never found this site, or had the courage to brave. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was raining. October 31st and it was raining. I flopped back onto the couch my black and red tutu fluffing around me and kicked off my red satin 3 inch high heeled shoes. So much for this outside party downtown, it had been pouring for more than half the day and the streets where flooded with ankle deep water. City commissioners had immediately canceled the 3rd annual Peek-a-Jack Halloween Block party. I should have taken that as a hint. The horrible weather, flooding and cancelled party, but I jumped up and raced to grab my phone when it rang. "Hello?" "I vant to suck your blood!!!!!" Laughing I sat down on the edge of the couch, "Josh your accent is horrible!" "Hey baby just working with what I got! You heading over to Katherine's?" Perking up at the name of his cousin I was beginning to think that my night might not end so badly. Not wanting to seem too eager I fined ignorance. "Katherine's? I didn't even know she was having a party. I thought the city cancelled everything downtown." "They did, but Kate got her parents to give us their house on Wood-Low Road. Are you coming or what?" I paused, fiddling with the silver glitter on my tutu. Wood-Low was notorious for low hanging trees, steep hills and the one giant 17th century cemetery that dominated almost 50 acres of land. You had guts to live up there and I had stayed far away from that place ever since I was a kid. It gave me the creeps. "I don't know Josh. Those cliffs are dangerous." "Aw come on! It's inside their house; not to mention the fact that their house is encased by chest high brick walls! I'm not taking no for an answer. Be ready in 5 minutes I'm picking you up." And the phone went dead. I should have called him back, should have said no and stayed inside. Instead I raced upstairs to fix my makeup, spray glitter in my curls and grab my mask. I was heading back downstairs when the door bell rang. "Be right there!" I slipped my shoes back on, grabbed my purse, kissed Sarah, my black-orange tabby and opened the door. Giving me the once over Josh whistled low. "Damn girl, you are going to turn some heads tonight." Laughing I locked the door behind me and hooked my arm through the one he offered to me. My outfit was a twist on witch, vampire and fairy. The red satin corset I had on was authentic, chiffon red and black fabric attacked just under my shoulder shoulders. I hand sewed small sequins in the shape of roses all over. Each rose was covered in black glitter and off set with a small clear crystal jewel inside the center. It bared my pale shoulders and lean arms from dance perfectly. The white tutu was old from my dance days back in high school. I dyed it black then sewed red and black chiffon fabric to it. The fabric was slightly shorter in the front, just reaching the tops of my thighs and trailed behind to my tops of my calves in the back. The whole skirt was dusted in fine silver glitter, the waist lined with silver jewels. My mask was only for my eyes, just coming to the edge of my nose and the middle of my check bones. It was pure white. One red and black rose sat in each corner of the mask and the whole thing was dusted in silver and red glitter. Waist long chestnut curls added the effect of the red satin high heels. Over all I knew the effect looked ethereal. Tonight I wasn't Annabeth, I was Diana. "Classic Josh, black trousers white button down shirt, black cape and knee high boots. Pirate?" Josh reached into his pocket and whipped out a pair of white plastic vampire fangs. He put them on and smiled. Extending both arms he twirled. "What do you think?" Laughing I opened the car door and started to get in. Closing the door I watched him get in. "I think you'll be the most dashing out of all the vampires there." He kissed the back of my hand. "You are certainly going to be the bell of the ball. What are you supposed to be besides hot?" Taking back my hand I fiddled with the silver nail polish on them. "I'm a fairy witch who wants to be a vampire." Laughing Josh turned on the car and pulled out of my driveway. "Well the effect sure is going to make a statement." We were silent the rest of the ride there. Not much need to talk when your best friend is blaring Power96 through the speakers. It took less than 15 minutes to get to Katherine's house. I can't explain why the cliffs creep me out. They just do; they sat atop of the mountain that the town was built around and under. 'Under its shadow of blessing,' my history teacher always said in middle school. Be that as it may going up the steep climb of a dirt road to get to this house I didn't feel blessed -I felt scared. Scared and small, like if I screamed no one would hear me. The spot between my shoulders grew tight when, instead of making a left to the house, we made a right. I turned down the music and looked at Josh. "Katherine's house is back that way." I said gesturing behind us. He nodded, "Yeah but I just got a text. Since it stopped raining they're all out on the cliff drop making a bon fire." I groaned. "Josh you know I don't like these woods and cliffs. They give me the creeps and it's almost midnight." He pulled to a stop behind a line of cars and motorbikes. "Come on Annabeth. You're my best friend and Mimi is here." We sat in the dark of the car and when the cloud cleared for the full moon I could see the pleading in his eyes. Mimi had been his crush for years. Sighing I unhooked my seat belt and pushed open the door to Josh's whopping. "I owe you big time. Big time! Whatever you want for a week: lunch, or breakfast, even if you want them in that order!" He came around the front of the car too plant two kisses on my cheeks. "You do owe me mister. But I'll take my pay in a ride home from work this Sunday night." "Done", he said taking my hand and hauling me through the trees. I had to be careful walking, the rain had left mud and puddles and going through those in my heels was not an option for me. I sent Josh ahead and moved at more leisure pace, carefully glancing at the ground before I put my foot anywhere. Mind you it wasn't that I cared if my shoes got ruined, but I defiantly favored not having mud between my toes all night. "ANNABETH!!!!!!!" I had reached the bonfire site and Katherine spied me coming into her line of sight. I sighed for the 3rd time that night catching a glimpse of at least 40 kids ranging from vampires, clowns to giant bananas. "I'm so glad you came!" Katherine was a 5 foot red headed dancer. A pure whirl wind of energy though. I say whirl wind because she also tended to be like me; A whirl wind of destruction and clumsiness. Which was demonstrated to me again when she tripped on a rock knocked the giant bananas drink out of his hands and landed in my arms. "Sorry!" she giggled, giving me a hard squeeze. "Thanks for inviting me." I bent down in my 3 inch heels and squeezed her back albeit more gently though, as she was past buzzed and moving on to drunk. "I'm so excited you're here. A couple kids from Europe came through down tonight! They're backpacking through the states! I ran into them in the store and invited them here tonight! Isn't that so cool?! And they are SOO cute." I smiled and nodded letting her gush on about her man-find earlier today. My eyes were constantly moving through the crowd of nosy kids, the 5 foot bonfire, smoke and drunken games of bob for the apple and beer pong. "Your outfit is so hot!!!! Did you make it? Of course you did your new hobby and all. OK well you have fun and I'll catch up with you later!" She twirled off in her purple butterfly costume hugging some girl dressed as an orange cat. I made my way over to the punch and snacks set out on portable tables. I glanced over into the woods and suppressed a shiver. Yup creepy indeed and I was no longer hungry but I helped myself to some red punch, which I knew was spiked. 'It'll help me relax' I kept saying to myself. I lingered at the punch bowl for a few more minutes refilling only twice as the cups were small. Twenty minutes later unable to take the crush and loud music of Pitbull any longer I made my way to the edge of a large rock. It towered over me my several feet but rounding the corner the waves made it was blessedly quieter and I was alone. Feeling brave I dangled my feet over the edge of the cliff leaning my head back against the rock. I hiccupped and giggled. "Damn, punch was stronger than I thought" mumbling to myself I didn't notice the shadow in the corner of my vision. "Are you all right?" I jumped and squealed nearly pitching forward. The strong hand on my upper arm stabled me however. "Whoops" Looking down at the water I giggled again. "That would have been a long way down; would have ruined my Halloween." Looking up I gasp, 'Gorgeous.' He smiled ruefully, almost as if he knew what I was thinking. But was he ever. Piercing eyes, eyes that saw everything and were so emerald green. I could tell even under the moonlight, his lips were full and red set into an angled chin and jaw that said he was all business. But those lips were so, so kissable. Black hair fell unruly around his eyes but was cut short in the fashion of guys. His skin was pale but then so was mine from lack of hiding from the sun. He wore knee high leather boots, fitted so nicely they looked like second skin, black pants and red, a very scarlet red shirt. He was fitted with a black cape too. It was white satin on the inside, I know because I choose at this point to run my fingers around the hemline inside of the cape. I cocked my head to the side. "Vampire?" He nodded. "I decided to be myself tonight." I continued to stare at him, startled and realized I didn't know him. His accent cut though my fog of drunk and fire however. "You're one of the backpackers." I made it a statement rather than a question. Again the nodded, I gestured to the hills surround us. "And you choose Massachusetts? Of all the places to stop in the world, you came here?" He smiled then, white teeth gleaming in the night. "Indeed, many of my friends were born here. Many of them witches in fact. " I laughed then, pointing to my costume. "Well I guess I'm to be counted among them. Fairy witch who wants to be vampire, pretty spiffy costume- eh?" The silence that met my statement sent a chill down my spine. He reached up to move my hair off my shoulder, fingers leaving my back to travel to my neck. "Your name little witch?' It was harder to breathe, and suddenly far warmer than it should have been on a rainy October night. "Diana." His hand squeezed just enough, exerting pressure to let me know he was still connected to me. "Your real name, little witch." I inhaled bringing in smoke from the fire and spice. The spice I knew was all him. I licked my lips and with a start realized his eyes were glued to my lips. "Annabeth Harper." "Annabeth Harper." He rolled my name over his tongue ,across his lips and I felt that tug all the way inside to my soul. "I should get back to the party." I moved to get up and he jumped into a crouch, hand still on the side of my neck. "I'm Derek." I looked at him. Staring up first into his eyes again, and then moved my gaze to his lips. "Derek." He jerked, almost as if I struck him. He placed his lips next to my ear. "It has been years since I've seen a witch." Years? Was he nuts? He couldn't be older than 30, if that. His touch was setting my blood on fire and his closeness was almost too much. "Derek- I," And he kissed me. So hard if he hadn't been holding on to me I would have gone right off that cliff. I don't know why I didn't fight back. But his lips where soft but hard, hot and cold all at the same time, so I kissed him back. Derek moaned and fisted both hands into her hair. She smelled of fire and lavender. She pulled something deep inside him and it wanted out. He put his back against the rock and pulled her astride his thighs. He moved her hands, which where fluttering at his chest into his hair. She moaned and he pulled her hips forward to grind against his cock. Annabeth pulled back. "No. I shouldn't be doing this, we really should get back." She looked toward the sounds of party and the light of the fire. Derek growled he didn't want to share his witch. It had been years, decades since he's tasted one. Let alone find one that set his blood on fire as she did. "Stay. Stay here, no one will find us, and they won't hear us." He pulled her face back and ground his cock into her panties again. She moaned and leaned forward toward him even though her body was still tense. "I dare you." I should have left, grabbed my wits and left. But he made me hot, and the fire made me feel wet and itchy. It left me wanting more and needed something out of reach, something that needed to be filled. I should have stopped thinking with my pussy and used my head. But then 'I dare you.' -- And I've never been one to step away from a dare. Annabeth leaned her full weight into him, using teeth to bite his lower lip. She was rewarded with a growl and the air on her face as he pulled her mask off. "I want to feel you inside me," she breathed into his mouth pulling at the buttons on his shirt. In return he pulled at the leather straps that bound her corset together pulling it off entirely. Annabeth moaned as he bent her backward latching his mouth onto her breast, sucking her nipple. "Bite me." She begged. "Use your teeth. Please." She was begging that Derek obey her, he did. The sharp pain that jerked her eyes open was replaced by more hot fire that started at her nipple and moved straight down into her clit. Grinding her hips against him she used her free hands to untie the strings at the side of her skirted tutu pulling it off she was let sitting on top of black pants in nothing but her black lace boy shorts. Derek groaned and reached for the ties at his pants, his closed the marks on her breasts and moved up to her neck then her lips, tugging on her teeth. That had her rank her nails down his now unbuttoned shirt. "God you set me afire." He stuck his face in her hair to calm down, he didn't want to rush and hurt her but Annabeth pulled his face back to hers and kissed him again. Derek reached for his pants again. Putting his arm around her back and pushing against the wall he used his free hand to pull the pants down. Annabeth looked down and grinned. "No boxers?" He shrugged and watched her face. "I never did like them." She laughed and latched onto his neck. "Annabeth you can't do that." 'Hmm' was his only response. His control was slowly slipping and he wanted to feel her hot and wet. He knew she was wet, could smell it and he could feel it through her lace underwear and he wanted them off. "Off Derek, rip them off!" He granted her wish and groaned as her wet pussy met his cock. He traced both hands up from her waist over her back and held on to her shoulders. "Put my cock inside you Annabeth." Shaking with fire, liquor and passion Annabeth did as he asked gasping as the head of him pushed at her entrance. "Fuck, my little witch you are far too tight." Derek started working himself in and out, working her wetness onto his cock. Finally after what seemed like an eternity he slid home all the way to the base. "Holy shit." He couldn't help but smile at the curse that came from her mouth. "I feel like I'm on fire Derek." He nodded putting his mouth to her neck. "I know. I feel it as well. Now, ride me little witch." The control in his voice sent a trill through her and he groaned as her vaginal muscles gripped his cock. He tugged her hair tilting her head back and making her gasp. "Ride me," he growled, and she did. Picking herself up and then slamming herself back down over and over. The air filled with steady moans as he gripped her hips to pull her down harder and faster, meeting his almost unnatural pace. "Put your feet flat on the floor, little witch and hands behind you on my thighs." Annabeth obliged and moved into the new position which set a scream from her and it deepened the angle and he thrust harder. "God: hot, so hot and tight. You feel incredible." "I'm close Derek, so very close." Digging her nails into his pants she tried to set a faster pace. He took the pace for her and brought her flush up against his body. One hand tangled in her hair and the other holding her waist he kissed her neck. "Tell me when little witch." He pushed into her faster, knowing that she was almost gone enough to not noticed that pace he was setting with his hips. "Almost Derek, please, please... fuck so close." She began to squeeze his cock and he felt his ending coming up from the bottom of his sack. "Tell me, little witch, tell me when." "Fuck, fuck... Derek.... I'm... Cumming!!!!" Between one trust and the next her scream split the air as his teeth sank deep and both crescendo to climax. **** **** **** **** "Annabeth...." Groaning Annabeth sat up. "What the hell? Are you alright? I've been looking everywhere for you! You can't just disappear like that." Confused she looked around and started into Josh's eyes. "What are you talking about?" "It's almost dawn I've been looking for you for almost 2 hours! I knew that punch was to strong." Gasping Annabeth looked down, oddly she was fully clothed. Corset up tight, mask on, skirt and shoes in place. "Where did that cape come from?" Josh bent down to help Annabeth to sit up. "What?" Looking down her fingers tangled in the satin and she flushed remembering her cries and green eyed suitor from last night. "It was... It was here when I sat down." Sighing Josh knew he was in for it later. "Come on, let's get you home and showered." Reaching down he grabbed both the cloak and Annabeth. He doubt he could have left it, she was gripping it so tight. Halfway down the mountain Annabeth turned around and glanced back. "Josh..." "Hmm?" Was his repose rolling down the windows in the car. Glancing out the window Annabeth took her mask off and shook her hair out. "Never mind." Annabeth kept her thoughts as they left Wood-Low Road, but she couldn't shake the feeling that nothing was ever going to be the same. Shadows Fall at Sunrise NOTE: Rape is a bad thing, its cool to role play about it with a willing partner, but if you are seriously thinking about actually raping someone, go get a shrink. Oh yeah, and you're not a vampire, so don't go around biting people unless its your idea of kinky sex, ok? As the sun sets in the far away city of Mantion the demons and freaks of nature come out of their slumber to hunt among the living, to hunt the living. One of the poor creatures that will be slaughtered on this night is a peaceful dark soul that will finally find her place in this world. We meet the young girl as she is leaving a late night party with friends, "hey Wendy where are you headed?" Asked a friend. "I'm getting out of here and heading home, I'm totally baked." She replied. With those final words spoken, she left and returned home. Once she arrived home she got out of her clothes in front of her bedroom window, with the blinds wide open all the bums and whores on the dark cold streets watched as she removed her clothing, they could see her beautiful ripe breasts and smooth pale skin, the light seemed to reflect off of her black hair, she was a sight of pure beauty, and they all could see it. Now she wasn't normally so careless, but on this night after such a late party she felt drained and wasn't thinking very clearly. She decided to go take a shower to see if it would help her get her head straight, so she headed for her bathroom and turned on the shower. She gently stuck her hand beneath the stream of water coming from the shower head to feel its temperature, when it was finally right she slowly got in. She enjoyed the feeling of the warm water beating down on her shoulders almost giving her a very gentle massage, she turned and began to soap up her body, running her soapy hands down her smooth legs and lathering her stomach. She washed her raven black hair and got out of the shower, when she finally realized that her blinds were up she ran to shut them. As she ran she dropped the towel she had wrapped around her and the mix of cold air with the water on her body made her nipples stand erect as the people in the streets continued to stare at her gorgeous naked body. She quickly struggled to clothes the blinds, when she finally got them shut she went to lay on her bed, forgetting about the cold or the fact that she was naked, she laid there with her eyes closed and fell into a deep peaceful sleep. As she had dreams of love and grand treasures that will never be found by any man, the dark creatures that could easily become a part of us slowly crept into her room while she peacefully slept. She was startled out of her gentle slumber by one of the creatures grabbing her by her hair and dragging her onto the floor. She looked up at the pale evil looking young man and spoke in a dying voice: "Who are you and what the hell do you want?" The dark soul simply smile showing dog like fangs and spoke in a voice as beautiful and haunting as the wind. "I am Lesten and all we want is you my dear." Wendy looked at him with fear in her eyes and he stared back with his cold dark stare, and without a moments warning he put her on her knees right in front of him, and began tugging at his pants. Wendy knew what he wanted but with a foolish idea she began to beg him to leave her be, and as she did Lesten looked her and said "Listen, you can do what we want and have eternal life, or we can kill you right now, its totally up to you." With this new ultimatum in front of her she chose the same as any other would. She opened her mouth and accepted Lesten's cold soft dick into her warm mouth and began to suck, she sucked on it ever so gently as she could feel it begin to get hard in her mouth. Just as it reached its full size Lesten turned from the gentle person he seemed to be into a wild crazy animal, he grabbed two hands full of her hair and began fucking her face with brutal force, showing her no mercy as he slammed his hard dick deep into her throat. She began to gag and choke on his dick and she started scratching at him to try to get her head free, but it was no use. Finally with one final thrust Lesten shoved his dick into her mouth one last time and fed her all of his dark demon seed. She coughed and thought she was going to vomit the semen she was just forced to swallow. As Lesten walked right by her she heard him say "She's all yours." As he spoke those final words she saw the others come towards her, in fear her first reaction was to try to run but as she got to her feet they got hold of her and through her back onto her bed. Now she was laying flat on her stomach on her bed with her knees on the floor, she could hear the sounds of zippers being undone and pants falling to the floor, and when it finally hit her that they would all use her she began to cry and scream. While she was screaming Lesten came over to her and grabbed yet another hand full of her hair and whispered in her ear "if you do not shut up, you will die right now." With the new found fear of death once again in her heart she kept quiet and laid there as the first of 5 men took his place behind her, she couldn't see his face but she could smell the sent of death all around him as he slowly pushed his hard penis into her exposed pussy. He gave one weak sigh as he got all 7 inches of his dick into her and then began to savagely pound his hard cock into her pussy, she could do nothing to fight him as he used her, she could only lay there and listen to the springs of her bed squeak as he continued to thrust his dick into her time after time. She laid there with tears in her eyes as her body rocked back and forth with the man using her from behind until she heard a grunt and felt him cum deep inside of her well used pussy, once she felt that, the tears began to flow twice as much as before. "Oh god, don't let me be pregnant with this monster's baby." She thought to herself as the man pulled his soft dick out of her pussy. The man that just fucked her got up and walked over to Lesten, just as he got up another man picked Wendy up and laid her does on the floor, he climbed up on her chest and pointed his smelly dick right at her face. She got a good look at this man, he was of average height but he had a big beer gut and he smelled of rotten meat. He was as pale as the others but something about this man was different, and then she noticed, he didn't have fangs like Lesten or the other men she had seen. As she was realizing this the man shoved his soft penis into her mouth and she almost began to struggle but quickly remembered what Lesten had said to her, so she laid there on the floor as this smelly man humped her face, he continued to hump and her head began to bang on the floor from the speed and force he was using until he suddenly pulled his dick out of her mouth and stumbled back a few inches. She wondered what he was planning, but it soon became clear as he place his dick between her breasts and began to mash them together and hump, as he began humping another man came up and put his dick into her mouth and started humping her. Now she was being used by two men at once, and she hated every moment of this. Finally the man that was raping her tits grunted and covered her beautiful tits with his cum, and got up and joined the others. The man in her mouth continued, he humped her mouth and started grabbing her cum covered tits and sticking his fingers in her semen-filled pussy. She could smell his strange aroma and it made her sick, she couldn't stand smelling him and it was worse that she had to continue feeling his hairy smelly balls bang into her nose as he used her mouth like it was a hole in the wall. She felt used, and humiliated, she felt worthless and weak at the hands of these evil men. When she finished that thought she was interrupted by what seemed to be a river of cum being shot into her mouth and she began struggling to swallow it all as the man using her mouth grunted and groaned. After the man got off of her the others went to work on her, throughout the night she had a dick in every hole of her body. She was even forced to lose her anal virginity to Lesten, who carried her into the shower and used shampoo to lubricate his dick as he rammed it into her ass and he listened to her cry and beg and it was all music to his ears. When they finally finished with her Lesten drug her over to the door where the others had just left through, he kissed her cheek gently once again becoming the gentle person he was when they first arrived, he kissed her and licked down her face till he got to her neck, then he gently kissed her and began to nibble. For a moment Wendy began to feel safe, even comfortable with the position she was in. All of that was torn away as Lesten sunk his teeth into her neck and began to feed on her, her screams echoing in his ears as he feasted on her beautiful neck. When he was finished he let her go and walked out of the door, she began to crawl towards her bed, she didn't have the strength to make it. She crawled to the window where everyone could see her naked body only hours ago. She looked out of that same window and saw the homeless, the whores, and all the others laying there in the streets dead. As she felt the final drops of blood fall down her neck, as the bright lights became so dim, she knew that they would awaken the same as her. They would awake as vampires and zombies, and she knew she should we be giving birth soon, giving birth to her bloodsucking baby. With that final though floating out of her head, she fell to the ground and slowly died. This story is for a "friend", by request.