Dangerous Games

but I could feel his gaze on me, long after we'd left the room.

We passed through another doorway filled with the feel of resisting power, and into a small square room. In it was a set of standard wooden medieval stocks, though this one had an odd, stomach-height wooden bar set about two feet out from the stocks themselves. There was nothing else in the room. Nothing living or inanimate, anyway.

There were wisps of smoke that stirred in dark corners, and I swear they whispered of horrors I could only hope never to experience.

Fear rose briefly, and I stumbled, fust for a moment, the fog dissipated and clarity of thought made a brief appearance. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I had to get out of here. Had to.

I wrenched my arm from Jin's grasp and spun around, one foot lashing out, kicking him hard in the gut. Dragon or not, he was still wrapped in human flesh, and the human went down with a huge gasp for air.

But he wasn't down for long enough.

As I ran for the door, he lunged forward, grabbing my heel and yanking hard. I came down face-first, and my chin split open on the cold tiles. Blood sprayed, and pain exploded. I swore and twisted, kicking him in the head, trying to get him to release me. I had the strength of a were and a vampire behind me, but it didn't seem to be making a whole lot of difference. Inch by bloody inch, I was being drawn inexorably toward him.

I swore again and pushed into a sitting position, lurching for one of his fingers and yanking it backward brutally. Bone snapped and he screamed—a sound filled with fury and pain and desire.

He hit me with his free hand, the blow landing hard and snapping my head backward. I hit the tiles a second time, and for several seconds I saw stars.

By then he was on me, his weight pinning me, his legs pushing mine apart as he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head. 'I thought you didn't like it too rough,' he said, his hand between us, yanking at the zip on his pants.

I struggled against him, but when he thrust deep inside, I couldn't help the tremor of pleasure. The moon was high, the fever raged, and I wanted sex. Any sex. Even his.

But I wasn't so far gone that I'd let pleasure overwhelm the need for safety.

'Rough is one thing. Force is another.'

I somehow managed to buck my body, threw him off me, then scrambled to my feet and ran again for the door. Straight into the warm and naked body of John Kingsley.

It was like hitting a steel wall, and I rebounded off him with a gasp. Before I could recover my balance, he lashed out with one hand, hitting my bloody chin and throwing me across the room. I hit the wall with a grunt and slithered to the floor.

'Enough,' he said. 'You will fight no more.'

I wanted to, desperately wanted to, but it was as if someone had pulled the plug on the sink that was my anger and desperation. It all just floated away, and the odd detachment came back full force.

'Jin, place her in the stocks.'

He picked himself up off the floor, then roughly grabbed my arm and yanked me upright. Without ceremony, and with very little care, he thrust me toward the wooden stocks. The reason for the stomach-height bar soon became evident. I was made to lean over it, and then my head and arms were placed securely locked into the stocks and my spread legs chained to either leg of the stomach rest. It was a position that was uncomfortable, a position that left me open for invasion, a position that stretched every muscle to its limit, and one that would soon have me screaming in pain.

Which is what they wanted. Precisely what they wanted.

But not all that they wanted.

Jin stood behind me, his thick cock resting against me, teasing but not entering. Kingsley moved to the front of the stock. Though he was naked, his cock was flaccid. Some deep down part of me prayed like hell it stayed that way.

He stopped. The heat, the acrid, male scent of him, rolled over me, calling to the wolf, making her hunger.

He sensed it. I don't know how, but he did.

'Look at me,' he said softly.

His words were a command that whipped around me. When I didn't immediately obey, he chuckled softly and slid his finger under my bloody chin, lifting it up. The position had the muscles in my neck screaming and yet the pain was a distant thing, much like the alarm and fear and the desperation to be gone. I knew they were all there, but they just weren't touching me.

I wish the same could be said of Kingsley.

The heat and need in his eyes would have melted steel, and I have never claimed to be that strong. My body began trembling in response, my blood like quick fire through my veins.

His gaze blazed with power, and the energy of it ran over my skin, burning me, consuming me, in a way that went way beyond anything physical. And through it, a connection formed, a connection that wasn't telepathic, wasn't anything I recognized, but one I felt through every quivering inch of my body and soul. It was almost as if he were stroking me, teasing me, from the inside out, using that raw energy to strum the taut strings of my desire.

'You wish a completion?'

His free hand caressed my left hand, his fingers playing with mine. Something inside screamed a denial but it was still such a faint sound. I had no idea why his innocent action should cause such terror. Maybe it was just the fact he was physically touching me.

'We can give it to you, you know,' he continued. 'Give you satisfaction of a kind you have never felt in your young life.'

I didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything. My tongue seemed stuck to the roof of my mouth.

'Do you wish a taste, little one?'

My tongue unstuck itself, as if in preparation to say yes, and despite the fog, despite the distance, I bit down on it, hard. Acquiescence to this man—this dark god—was not a good thing. I had no idea why, and couldn't seem to battle the fog long enough to reach clearer thought processes. But I wasn't about to ignore it. Not when something more precious than life itself was at stake.

Kingsley laughed—a soft, seductive, and totally evil sound. His gaze moved from mine and he nodded briefly.

Jin's hand came down hard on my rear. I groaned, caught between desire and pain, wanting and not wanting.

Both men drew a deep breath, as if sucking in the taste of my pain and desire. Kingsley's fingers trembled against my wrist, evidence of a lust I could smell. Oddly enough, that lust still hadn't reached his cock. Maybe someone was listening to my prayers upstairs.

Jin hit me again, and again, until my muscles quivered, my flesh stung, and my traitorous body ached with a desire fiercer than anything I'd ever felt before.

I wanted. God, how I wanted.

Whatever they could give me. Whatever they would allow.

Sweat trickled down my forehead, tickling my cheeks before moving on to mingle with the blood still dripping from my chin. Some of that blood was now coming from my mouth, from my cut tongue. I was still biting it, still holding in the need to plead, to beg, for the ending my body so desperately required.

Just as I thought I could take no more, Kingsley nodded, and Jin thrust inside me. There was no gentleness about it, no smoothness in the way he withdrew and thrust, withdrew and thrust, but I couldn't have given a damn.

Besides, it wasn't Jin I felt, but Kingsley. He was all around me, all through me, filling me with his darkness, his desire. He touched me, caressed me, claimed me—not physically, but psychically, and in many ways, it was far more powerful than any mere touch. My body, my senses, responded eagerly, wantonly. Somewhere in the last few moments, I'd become his to do with what he wished, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

Truth be told, I didn't want to do anything about it. I was lost in the moment, lost to the passion and intensity, drowning in it willingly. My heart pounded furiously, my body screamed for release, and