| Flesh, Fangs, and Magic

| The Vivienne Vance Confessions

| By Ancient Scribe Woo

Chapter Nine

The Onyx Tower rose above downtown Detroit like an ominous tombstone. To the mundane humans scurrying past its base on Woodward Avenue, it was just the glittering headquarters of Karanja Enterprises. To anyone with a spark of the Sight, the building was a fortress.

It was nearing ten in the morning, meaning Jasiri Karanja was currently dead to the world, safely rotting away the daylight hours in some heavily reinforced, sun-blocked vault beneath the foundation. But his wolf would be awake. Wolves didn't fear daylight.

I marched through the rotating glass doors, looking and feeling like maybe I belonged under an overpass like so many of the city's homeless. My denim jeans were ripped down the hip from Silas's rough treatment, the stiff fabric held together by a miracle. Underneath my heavy, buttoned-up leather trench coat, my black tank top was entirely absent, having also been torn and ruined by Silas. This left me topless... again. My bare breasts rubbed agonizingly against the cold lining of my coat with every step, my nipples still hard and hyper-stimulated, catching fire whenever the leather shifted.

I also reeked of the morning downpour, cheap gin, old sex, and the thick, unmistakable musk of a raw werewolf encounter. A normal girl might have rushed to the nearest bathroom for a "whore's shower": handsoap and paper towels. But for starters, I didn't really give a shit. And for seconders, I'm not a normal girl. I'm a witch. A quick little spell and my scent became something much more pleasant: lilac after a spring rain with some calming pheromones mixed in for good measure.

As the security guards behind the marble reception desk looked up, their eyes widening as they took in the wild-eyed witch with copper-red hair and a silver-skulled cane, I smiled and whispered a few arcane words while gathering my magics from the cool morning air. Then I forged the proper aura, manipulated it, and exuded it.

"Ma'am, you can't be in here looking like..." the lead guard started, stepping out from behind the desk. His voice trailed off as my aura engulfed his senses. He was no doubt one of Jasiri's thralls, which made him stronger than mundanes. But not strong enough to entirely resist a witch's magics.

An aura doesn't have a scent and isn't visible. It's the natural electrical energies generated by all living beings. It's wrapped up in a person's true self, their inner core, their soul, if you will. It also changes with a person's mood or circumstance so if you're angry, your aura is angry. If you're happy... well, you get the idea. And when a talented witch such as myself can manipulate it properly, and at will, it can be quite the powerful friend. Right now my aura was emanating my arousal... for these sad, serious looking guards.

"Karanja Enterprises, executive penthouse," I smiled. My magic was no longer short-circuiting like carbonated battery acid. Silas's rough grounding had hammered the liquid fire down to a manageable simmer. But it was still dangerously dense, vibrating just beneath my skin. That made my aura less than stable but I risked letting out a fraction of that raw, heavy power anyway, letting it bleed into my green eyes, causing them to sparkle and grow sultry and emanate desire. "I'm expected. Please don't make me late, boys, okay?"

The first guard blinked as his brain struggled to process the magical static jamming his thoughts. He stumbled back a step, gesturing vaguely toward the private, mirror-black elevator bank at the rear of the large lobby. "Floor... floor fifty. Yes, ma'am. You don't wanna be late."

"Good boy," I smiled, my lips curling into a bitter smirk as I strode past him.

At the executive elevator I faced a new challenge. Instead of an electrical keypad waiting for a code to be punched in there was some kind flat panel with the symbol of a lock in relief upon it. I glanced around the lobby and spotted someone taking a credit-card sized piece of plastic and press it against a similar pad, causing a door to open.

New technology. Shit. A witch can bypass and manipulate tech but only if she knows how it works in the first place. I'd long since developed a spell to handle electronic keypads. This devilry was beyond my knowledge and looked brand new. Sighing, I went back to the guard's station.

"Excuse me boys, I'm so sorry to bother you again," I pouted, leaning my elbows on the marble counter. My coat parted slightly and my C-cup breasts pressed against it, giving them quite a bit of cleavage to admire. "I lost my plastic card thingy. I need it to get into the elevator, don't I?"

The larger of the two guards straightened up, his eyes a little glassy from my aura and cleavage both. He smiled and said, "No problem, I'll just make you a temporary key-card you can have."

He took it out from a desk drawer, placed it into a computer slot, and a moment later took it back out. He looked like he was about to give it to me but then hesitated. For a moment I feared my charms were failing. Then before I could amplify my aura he grabbed a black sharpie pen and wrote something on the card. As he handed it to me I could see it was a phone number and a name.

"That's my pager," he whispered. "Page me anytime."

I gave him a wink and said, "Sure thing, Carlos."

Back at the elevator the new card worked perfectly and the ride up was a silent, vertical sprint. The pressure change sent a sudden, sharp throb straight to my lower abdomen, a reminder of the unfulfilled delicium pact still clawing at my center. If I didn't bring Julian to Marcus Sterling by midnight, Allan was a dead man. Or worse, a mindless husk. That ticking clock was a physical weight pressing against my ribs alongside my.38 revolver.

I checked my little timer-vial. The color had grown pink. Time was wasting.

When the elevator doors dinged open on the fiftieth floor, the sleek, high-end corporate luxury of Jasiri's penthouse suite hit my senses... but the air had been completely colonized by something else. The sharp, overwhelming pheromones of the Wild hit me like a physical wall. It wasn't the dirty, grease-stained scent of the urban strays Silas ruled over. This was old-world, primal, and suffocatingly thick.

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the rain-slicked sprawl of Detroit, was a mountain of a man.

Jericho.

Even in his human guise, the ancient wild Alpha was terrifying. He stood over seven feet tall, possessing a frame so wide he practically blocked out the morning light filtering through the glass. He wore a heavy, oil-stained flannel shirt and rugged work trousers that suggested he'd stepped straight out of his repair shop, but there was nothing mundane about him. His massive, corded forearms were thick with dark hair and old, silver-white scars from ancient pack wars. His jaw was a square block of granite, covered in a thick, dark beard, and his eyes, when he turned them onto me, were an intense, luminous amber that didn't look human at all.

Despite our encounter earlier he looked none too much the worse for wear.

The sheer, staggering wave of his Alpha testosterone hit my hyper-attuned, dirty mind like a freight train. My treacherous pussy immediately cataloged the immense, brutal power radiating off him, my ungrounded magic sparking invisibly against the marble floor tiles in sheer, instinctual submission to his dominance.

Dominance. Because yes, that's exactly what he was: the physical manifestation of raw power, absolute control, and authority. Even in the middle of a literal death-match against time, an intrusive, deeply inappropriate shudder ran down my spine. The man was a goddamned apex predator and I was struggling mightily not to give into the sudden yearning desire to prostrate myself in front of him.

Remember when I said I like being charge? In so many ways, it's true. In so many other ways it's an absolute lie, a lie I tell myself. Because the truth is that when it comes to sex I generally lean more towards being the submissive in any encounter. But I hate that about myself, so I usually try to be the dominant in bed. If that's not possible I try to at least establish equality. When even that can't be done, well... then I'm usually in for a particularly good time and some shame and remorse in the aftermath.

"You're late, witch," Jericho rumbled. His voice was a low, seismic vibration that rattled the liquor flask in my trench coat and sent a resonant ache straight between my thighs.

"You... knew I was coming?" My voice was small, soft, but I was too on edge to gather much strength or force to it. I said, "How?"

"Before locking himself in his tomb, Jasiri received word that the bitch who shot me was the witch-detective Vivienne Vance. The thrall's mistress hired you to find him, yes?"

I hated giving away more information than I was receiving. That's not how good detective work is done. But I just dumbly nodded my head, unable to bring myself to deny him answers or even dodge his questions.

"Jasiri said you have a reputation for stubborn thoroughness," he went on in his commanding, gravelly voice. "So I've been expecting you. Even weakened the wards for you. Now. Put down your cane and take off your clothes."

"What?" I exclaimed, voice trembling.

His brow darkened. "Your shield trick caused me quite a bit of pain, as did those bullets you put in me. I need you to understand how vulnerable you are or else you might start thinking if you hurt me once you could do so again. So give up your silver cane, take off your clothes, and get on your knees."

The sheer audacity of his command made my knees want to buckle. The sexual energies coursing through my veins wanted me to obey. But all of my knowledge and experience, not to mention the wardic spells enchanting my trench coat, screamed for me to get away. I took a step back and started to turn...

...and he was right in front of me. His wasn't the supernatural, vampiric speed of Eleanor's, but the speed of a large man in exceptional shape. And now he was between me and the exit.

"Don't," he said, hissing, "do anything stupid, Witch. I don't want to have to kill you but I will snuff the life out of you right now rather than risk seeing our plans fall apart."

I gulped, and nodded.

"Now, obey."

I staggered back away from him, glancing around feverishly, eyes wide with fear. The casual way he said he could snuff the life out of me made me realize just how weak I was compared to this Ancient. And still my slutty mind betrayed me, refusing to focus on options to get away from him, refusing to focus on anything but the need to submit to this man.

With a trembling hand I held up the cane for him, not meeting his eyes. He snatched it away, then threw it across the room in one fluid motion. I untied the belt around my trench coat and slipped it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the ground, exposing my breasts. He took it, inhaled deeply from it, then waited.

In a weakened daze I untied my boots, kicked them off, then unzipped my torn jeans. A moment later I was completely naked, trembling with fear and arousal, tiny, invisible electrical sparks crackling off my skin.

Jericho gathered up everything: coat, boots, jeans, gun, and flask. He said, "Wait here. On your knees."

And there I was, on my knees before I could even think to disobey. Gods but I felt humiliated. Yes he was an Ancient and yes I was at his mercy. But not only had I walked right into it, I wasn't even trying to fight! I was just accepting the fact he was my superior, that he was the Alpha, and I was just this weak pathetic thing too afraid to so much as try to formulate a plan of escape.

Maybe I didn't want to escape. Because I know I was more aroused than afraid, trembling from excitement more than terror. Yes I was scared but I was also growing damp between my legs, my nipples were hard, my breathing, shallow. I kept my hands on my knees as I knelt there, eyes downcast, and waited.

When he returned he said, "Good girl. I have locked away your belongings so unless you're willing to walk out of here naked and defenseless, you will do as you are told. Understand?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"I know you have questions, that you wish to talk about your 'case'," he said, standing before me, looming large and powerful. "But before we do you will service me. I smell the scent of another lupine on you, an inferior urban pup. His seed marks you as his own and this cannot stand. Look up at me, Witch!"

I had looked down in shame, but my head snapped up at his command. I was not surprised to see that he'd unzipped his pants. My jaw dropped at the sight of his cock, though. I'd imagined it'd be big but this one put even Allan's to shame. It was longer than my forearm and twice as thick around as my wrist. The heavy thing was uncircumcised, dark, and veiny, with a wild mass of coarse looking dark pubic hair covering its base.

Allan had been a challenge. Just how was I supposed to service *that*?

Now, at 5'8" and 125lbs, I am not a large girl by any means. Even so I had taken some large cocks in my day. But this? This was impossible. This was bigger than a novelty dildo I'd bought for a friend's bachelorette party. This looked like something Cecil Fielder could hit a few homeruns with. This was... madness!

"Submit to me, Witch," the man said. "Remove my pants."

I had to get closer to him and to the monster hanging between his legs to do so. I reached up and began to pull his jeans down his thick, muscled legs. As I did his cock twitched and began to harden. My heart hammered in my chest as a thrill of pride rushed through me: he was getting hard for me. Just the touch of my fingers on his thighs was getting him hard!

Gods what is wrong with me?! I wondered.

After stepping out of his jeans he kicked them away. He didn't have to tell me what to do next. I reached for his cock and when I touched it, the monstrous device grew even more erect. I had to straighten my back and get off my haunches to do so, but a moment later I was licking the tip of his cock, pulling back its sheath with my other hand as I did so.

"Good girl," he grumbled.

Encouraged, I began to stroke my hand up and down the length of his impossibly long shaft as I kissed and licked his head.

"Your mouth," he said. It was a command.

My jaw got sore just thinking about what he wanted. "I don't think I can..."

Suddenly his hand was in my mess of coppery red hair. "Do not speak," he growled. "Obey!"

With an inward groan I widened my mouth as much as possible and somehow managed to get the head of his cock inside my wet mouth. I usually pride myself on my oral sex abilities, for both men and women, but here there wasn't much I could do. I ran my tongue on the underside of his shaft, sure, but I couldn't take much of his cock into me and I...

Suddenly his hands were holding my head in place and he was forcing his cock deeper into my mouth. I struggled instinctively but his hands were like a vice. My hands began to ineffectually slap at his thighs as his cock's head reached the entrance to my throat and didn't slow down. I groaned and salivated around his massive member. He grunted as his cock pushed its way down my throat.

My esophagus swelled with his girth. Suddenly I couldn't breathe, not even through my nose. My face began to redden. Still he pushed, painfully managing to get his cock deeper and deeper down my throat until I thought it was going to reach my stomach. I could do nothing now, not even slap at his thighs, not even breathe, not even hold myself up. It was his cock holding me up, his hands gripping my head holding me up, with me like a ragdoll hanging there.

Now my face was going form purple to blue. For the second time that day I thought I was going to die in the middle of a sexual act, only this time wasn't accompanied by the pleasure Eleanor's feeding had given me. Sure my pussy was sparking something wild. But this was just me being completely dominated and used, rendered less than human, unworthy of life. I had hurt this man earlier and now he was going to suffocate me on his cock.

*Allan*, I thought desperately. I could see his face flashing behind my eyes, those brown eyes going vacant, the pink vial, no time, no time, I'm sorry I'm trying I'm trying...

Then the ultimate act of dominance occurred: Jericho gave me my life. He pulled his cock out of my throat quickly but gently and when it was free of my mouth he let me collapse to the floor, gasping and whimpering and sucking in lungs full of air. I was sobbing in relief, adrenaline and hormones flooding my senses. But he didn't give me long to recover.

"On all fours, Witch," he commanded me.

The thought of disobeying never even occurred to me. On weak arms and legs I got on my hands and knees and looked up at him with glassy eyes. He grunted and circled behind me, then got on one knee.

"OH!" I gasped as his cock began to press against my pussy. One hand of his was under my flat tummy, holding me up, while the second pushed down between my shoulder blades until my face was pressed against the floor. All the while his cock began to stretch me out as inch after painful inch of his massive cock entered me from behind.

With my head down and ass up he grunted and groaned while pushing into my pussy. Sparks of heat and desire exploded between my legs. My toes curled, my sore mouth opened wide and I moaned and cried with pleasure. Somewhere something electrical popped and a nearby glass table cracked and shattered. Now he was halfway inside me with still so much more to go and I couldn't imagine taking another inch!

But Jericho was not a man to be denied. One hand went into my tangled mess of hair, pulling my head back, while the other looped around my waist, pulling me against him as he pressed farther into me. I felt organs shifting, making room for this intruder, and was quite certain that a normal woman would be torn to shreds. My magics were keeping me safe, if only barely, from tearing. I hoped.

Now I finally felt his scratchy pubes on the back of my smooth ass and I whimpered with relief. He was all the way inside me, he couldn't go any deeper. It was impossible but it was there. *Thank gods.* But then he started to pull out and the sensation made me cry out again as another orgasm rocked my body. I could hear more glass shattering in the distance as literal electricity sparked between my body and his own.

He yelped from the sparks and slammed himself into me, causing me to cry out. Then he pulled out some again and slammed home again, and I whined and groaned.

He had me properly stretched out now and really began fucking me. Saliva drooled out of my mouth as I held myself up on my elbows. Occasionally he pulled my head painfully back by my hair. I felt the slather from his mouth dripping across my bare back as he fucked me like a dog, hammering into me repeatedly, joining our bodies and separating them over and over again until finally he howled with his cock embedded all the way inside me, and came.

*Allan*, my mind screamed as Jericho spent himself inside me, *the pink vial, the ticking clock, twelve hours, maybe less, please gods let me save him*...

He wasn't just pumping his seed into my womb either. Along with his cum he was forcing his dominant life energies into my receptacle of a body and I could feel my own will splinter, my own strength disintegrate. As his mark was imprinted on my womb it spread rapidly to my heart and head, too, and I could feel all of my willpower seep out of me.

He was marking me with his Alpha dominance and I was breaking beneath it.

He continued to come in me for so long I thought it was never going to stop. It began squirting out of me, dripping in long gobs down my thighs to the floor. He pulled out maybe halfway and continued to pump more and more cum inside me, declaring me as his marked territory. Then, finally, he pulled out the rest of the way and staggered back.

I crumpled to the floor, exhausted, worn out, raw and eager for more.

What? Yes. Despite all the orgasms he had left me more worked up than ever. Part of me no longer cared about the case, or Allan, or anything else. Part of me wanted to beg Jericho to take me with him back to Milan, to be his top bitch, to own me and control me for all time. A large part of me wanted to just acquiesce to the claim he had made on my body. Part of me wanted to be *his*.

*Allan. Focus. The pink vial. Midnight.*

Thankfully all of those raw desires faded as I got control of my breathing. I'd been dominated by men in bed before and one benefit of being a supernatural slut is that I have experience dealing with those who would claim me using their raw sexuality. I concentrated on my breathing, calmed my thoughts, and used a form of quick meditation to ground myself as much as possible. My body calmed and, though still thoroughly aroused, I was no longer a slave to that arousal.

I could feel the claim he'd made for my soul. There was a natural compulsion to surrender to it, to become his. But I resisted.

I sat up in a mess of cum and sweat and saliva. Jericho had stood back up and was staring down at me, arms folded across his chest, and seemed to be waiting for something. Finally I said, "I... wish I had a cigarette."

The look of surprise on his face was somehow deeply satisfying.

***

"No human women can truly take my cock," he explained. In disbelief he went on, "And those few lupine bitches who can always give themselves to me after. Always."

I shrugged. We were in the living room of the enormous suite, sitting on a long black leather sofa. Outside the sun was shining, the thunderclouds of the night before a distant memory. "You've never fucked a witch," I said.

"But I have," he insisted.

I frowned at him. "Truly? Who?"

"This was before your mother was even born," he said. "Very long ago. A witch named Amelia, of the Ann Arbor Coven. She gave herself to me, just like all the rest."

I knew of Amelia, had heard of her anyway. A powerful witch who had served her coven with distinction for many years before all but disappearing. Now I knew why.

He was looking at me with a respect I had not enjoyed earlier. "Matters not," he grumbled. "After this is all over you will submit to me."

I kept a neutral expression, hoping to hide my fear. Truth was that I could already feel the pull to just get on my knees and bow to him, to offer myself to him, to become his bitch. For him, I thought, I could gladly give up my autonomy. For this tower of a man I could see myself pulling up stakes and moving to the country, living with this stranger out in Milan, maybe learning how to help him fix boats or just becoming his eager whore and plaything.

That pull toward submission was strong but my will is stronger. I pushed away his burdensome aura of pure subjugation and bowed my head to placate him. I said, "If you say so, Sir."

He snorted at that. "You will call me 'Master'," he said.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes; I fought the urge to touch myself. I said, "Yes, Master" and shuddered.

Thankfully my fear for Allan's safety was still strong and growing by the minute. That alone was enough to keep me grounded, to keep me from begging Jericho for a collar and a formal position within his 'pack'. With some difficulty I said, "Look, Jericho... that was fun and all but I'm here on serious business."

"You will address me as 'Master'!" he snarled. "And I know why you're here: to kidnap the thrall Julian for your vampire mistress. But you may tell her she'll have him back, and safely, a week from now."

"Not good enough, Master!" I protested. "I need him today, by midnight..."

I explained the situation, seeing no reason to lie or embellish. When I spoke of Marcus's entry into my home and his subsequent threats, the old wolf grew agitated.

"He has no respect for the domain of others!" he said.

"And what about you, breaking into Eleanor's estate, murdering her guards... Master?" I said, keeping the contempt in my voice at a minimum.

He bristled at that. "That was... ill done," he acknowledged. "The runes outside her walls should have rendered all her outdoor protections mute, including the guards. But the rain was so intense, the runes were weakened. The collateral damage was an unfortunate necessity."

"Understand this, witch: we need Julian, but will not harm him," he went on. "I would have explained all this to your mistress. I returned to her estate for that exact reason, only to find two of Marcus's scum trying to break into your vehicle. The pitiful pup inside was blaring that horn and the sensory overload and my rage... well, you arrived to see what happened."

So that was why he came back: to explain things to Eleanor. Interesting, if true. Despite having developed a sound theory, I decided to play dumb when I said, "What's so important about Julian? Why kidnap him? Why hold him still?"

"Many of us, myself included, have long suspected that Count Marcus kidnaps my kind and keeps them like casks of wine from which he drinks daily. He is addicted to lupine blood, you see, but he cannot hunt us nightly or else his crimes would be impossible to hide. So instead he grabs a lone wolf, or a straggler, and then keep them alive, sometimes for months, until he grows tired of that particular 'vintage' and seeks out another.

"Alas, suspicions are not proof," he said, "or I would have brought this to the Coven years ago. It's Jasiri who found the proof. He reached out to me recently when he learned that there was finally a witness to Marcus's crimes."

"Julian," I nodded. So Silas and I were right. "You need him to testify before the Coven."

"As soon as the Coven rules that Marcus is in violation of the accords, Jasiri can lawfully depose him," Jericho said. "With Marcus stripped of power, his thralls, property, revert to neutral status. Jasiri becomes the new Count of Detroit, Eleanor may have Julian back, and you may have your boy."

The logic chain clicked into place with cold precision: help Jasiri become the new Count and Allan would survive. But to do that we needed the hearing before the Detroit Coven.

"What are we wasting time for, then? Why not go to them now?"

Jericho scowled. "You... witches are stubborn creatures. The Coven has agreed to hear our case but they're in no rush to do so. Jasiri sent two thralls and myself to demand an immediate audience. The Detroit Coven sent us away."

"They what?"

"They said they are presently busy," Jericho growled, his massive fists clenching at his sides until his knuckles cracked like breaking ice. "They said the local packs can file a formal grievance next week. Next week, Vivienne! They care nothing for the silver cages beneath Marcus's estate. They care nothing for my people being drained like cattle!"

"Next week," I whispered, the words freezing the blood in my veins.

Next week was a death sentence. By midnight tonight, Marcus would realize I wasn't coming with the boy. At midnight, he and his minions would drain Allan dry and likely send me his head. Marcus's cruelty was legendary.

A profound, vicious anger flared to life inside my chest. I turned away from the giant Alpha, pacing across the polished floor as my mind raced at a million miles an hour.

Gods dammit. I knew the seven witches of the Detroit Coven. Hell, nine years ago I had briefly sat on one of those velvet thrones myself. I had been Witch VII, the youngest and most volatile member of the High Council, before I realized I couldn't stomach their sterile, bureaucratic tyranny and chose to resign. That had been as difficult as it was unprecedented: being in a coven, especially one as powerful and influential as the Detroit Coven, was considered a huge honor. It also came with lots of perks like having sisters who can help you harness and channel your energies, making your magic less wild and unpredictable. As such there was really no formal way to resign; it simply wasn't done.

But resign I did. Mother Iriana had not taken it well. She considered it a personal insult to her leadership, the immature act of a reckless young witch, an unacceptable blemish on the prestige of her coven. She had wanted to banish me from the city but thought better of it for two reasons. First, given my profession I am extremely useful in helping maintain the Veil. And second...

Second. Well. The more I thought about it, that second reason gave me leverage. Leverage enough to convince the coven to hear Jasiri and Jericho's witness soon. Leverage enough to get them to hear the case today.

"What is it, witch?" Jericho said.

I had stopped pacing and was leaning back against the wall, fingers at my temples, a grimace on my face. I said, "I know how to convince them to hear the case today."

"How?"

I sighed, my stomach tightened, and I felt like I might get sick. I said, "I can offer to rejoin the coven."

END OF CHAPTER NINE