The Secret, the Shifter, and the Sex-Slave Shanghai
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by Melanie Thompson
Category: Erotica/Paranormal Erotica/Romance
Description: When single mom Alexandra St. John gets conned into a night on the town with her friends, she wanders into the wrong bar on Fetish Night. Lost and disoriented, she is accosted by several sinister characters. Baine Tenbrook, a shapeshifter working as a U.S Marshal, and Antonio Salazar, a flamenco-dancing vampire, save her. Unable to choose between them, she tries both. But her night on the town lands her on a ship to Istanbul as a pleasure slave. When Alex and her gay assistant Lyle get kidnapped, it's up to Baine and Antonio to save them. The shifter and the vampire, with the aide of Antonio's old lover, an ancient vampire named Africaisi, follow them around the world. Alex was just looking for a break from her real life. What she got was the adventure of a lifetime and, perhaps, the love of a shapeshifter.
eBook Publisher: Ravenous Romance/Ravenous Romance, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: July 2010
10 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [245 KB]
Reading time: 154-216 min.
Alexandra St. John parked her silver Maxima on the steep hill outside her tiny house, set on the side of a hill in a picturesque neighborhood on Mercer Island.
Her neighbor's three Bullmastiffs thought she was a giant doggy biscuit, so she was thrilled to see the hounds from hell locked in their kennel. Every evening--sometimes trailing chains and leashes--they waited for her to pull up.
Safe from dog slobber and feeling good about the evening ahead, she grabbed her briefcase and climbed out of the car. The case contained information, contact numbers, sales figures, product descriptions, and other assorted necessary facts about the new account her firm, Seattle Advertising Solutions, was trying to acquire. She'd been assigned the research, and if she did well and her company snagged this lucrative new account, it was supposed to be hers.
While climbing her front steps, a flock of pigeons spotted her and swooped down, close to her head. She ran up the steps with the briefcase over her hair to provide shelter from random bird poop.
She was always ready for this. Animals loved her. All animals, even wild ones like pigeons, squirrels, song birds, and once while on a hike, a bear had followed her and her Girl Scout troop all the way to the parking lot in West Tiger Mountain State Park.
She'd almost reached the front door when the hounds apparently heard or smelled her and leaped the chain-link fence surrounding her neighbor's house. She squealed, raced up the last steps, and dived into the front door just in time to avoid being covered with dog drool. The three mastiffs howled in frustration.
Alex flicked open her cell phone and hit the number two on speed dial. Her neighbor, Mrs. Ida Pulansky, a lonely widow who believed all men were rapists and murderers, answered.
"They're sitting on my porch, howling and scratching the paint off the front door," Alex snapped without a "hello" or "how are you."
"I'm so sorry. I had them in the backyard. I can't believe they jumped the fence."
"Nice try, Ida," Alex replied. "They've jumped it a hundred times. Get them off my steps. Ralph is on top of the fridge and won't come down."
Ralph was her cat. When he saw her, he meowed and leaped onto her shoulder. "Don't worry, buddy," she said. "They can't get you in here."
Her twelve-year old son, Oliver, wandered into the kitchen. "Hi Mom, I didn't hear you come in. When's Dad coming to pick me up?"
"He should be here any minute. I have to go out later." She had plans. She'd been divorced from Oliver's father for three years, but between taking care of Oliver, her job, and Jerry, the neediest, wimpiest wiener of an ex-husband ever, she never seemed to be able to find time for herself. So her friends at work had finally forced her to commit to an evening out at one of their favorite watering holes. She'd promised she would be there.
"Did you do your homework?"
Alex grabbed his T-shirt and stared him in the eyes. "You're lying."
That was her second gift: besides being an animal magnet, she was a human lie detector, which was probably why she'd married Jerry. He was so weak and pathetic; he didn't even have pickup lines. With him, what you saw was what you got. And that wasn't much.
"Honest, Mom, I did it."
"Oliver, you know I know."
The boy turned and stormed up the stairs to his room. "Why can't you be like other moms?"
"Don't forget your trumpet. And pack some warm clothes. It's raining."
After knocking once, Jerry let himself into her living room.
"Why can't you wait until I answer the door?"
"Hey, this used to be my house too."
"It's not anymore."
"Do you mind if I stay here tonight? My roommate has a date."
"Not again, Jerry. This will be the third time this month."
"I'm sorry. It's easier for me this way, especially since I have Oliver tonight."
"Whatever. I have to get ready. I'm going out."
"Where?" He followed her up the stairs. Once she reached her bedroom door, she shoved him in the chest and slammed it in his face.
An hour later, she was headed downtown to the Capital Hill area of Seattle and the Backlight, a bar her friends said was lots of fun. It was rainy and dark as she hunted for a parking place. They'd told her the bar was on Broadway and Pine ... or maybe it was Olive Street. She found a spot on 12th and climbed out, umbrella protecting her from the driving rain.
One glance told her there was only one bar on the street. It had to be the one. When she got closer, she saw the name in purple neon: Backstreet Bar. Her friends must have gotten the name wrong. This had to be it. Right location, and the name seemed close enough--she was going in.
Spanish guitar music filled the air inside the bar, along with the strange smell of wet fur. This was a smell she was familiar with, having been molested and drooled on by large dogs most of her life.
As she turned her back to close her umbrella, she was grabbed from behind by something tall and furry. "You smell absolutely delicious," she heard a strange voice say in her ear.
Struggling, she stomped on a big orange foot and threw herself away from her attacker. When she regained her feet, her balance, and her composure, she was stunned to see someone--she assumed it was a guy--wearing a huge, Garfield-like cat costume covered with damp, orange fur. Its eternally smiling face leered at her.
"I'm Hank, Hank Mew Mew from Sedro Woolley. What's your name, delicious one?"
"What are you?"
"I'm a plushie. We like yiffing. Let me show you." He grabbed her in his orange, furry embrace and began rubbing his crotch area all over her knit dress.
Alex was dizzy, grossed out, and confused. Where were her friends?
Before she could rebuff the stranger, she was grabbed from behind by another large furry creature that began rubbing itself all over her butt. The two of them were making her the filling in a smelly fuzz sandwich when Mew Mew was rudely grabbed from behind and dragged away.
Her savior was a gorgeous man she easily recognized as the US Marshal who'd arrested Jerry for dealing ecstasy the year before they were divorced. As he led her to a corner table, she wondered if he was here on an assignment or for fun.
"You're Baine Tenbrook," she said as she straightened her bun and pushed stray black hair out of her eyes.
"Yes, I am. And you're Alexandra, married to some pathetic weasel named ... uh, Jerry, I believe. I'm here on official business, so I'd appreciate your keeping my occupation to yourself."
"No problem, and Jerry and I are no longer married."
Baine's eyes lit up. "Congratulations. You can do much better."
"Yes, I can, if I ever find the time."
Baine was at least six foot three, had thick golden hair he wore short, and almond-shaped, golden eyes. He was heavily muscled and looked like he lifted weights for a living. She knew better. He was a cop and he'd just saved her from a terminal yiffing.
"What are those weirdoes in the animal suits?"
"Plushies. This is fetish night at the Backstreet. What's your thing?" He growled low in his throat and moved closer.
She leaned back in her chair and examined the bar. Though it was poorly lit, she could see the place was overrun with people wearing leather, fur, or very little. In a corner booth a man tenderly stroked, sniffed, and licked his partner's high-heeled foot, which rested on the table. More shoes sat in boxes on the floor, waiting their turn to be ravished. A tall woman wearing black leather led a man with a dog collar and a leash to a back table. He wore a mask with a zipper where his mouth should be. As Alex examined one weirdo after another, she felt like she'd stumbled into some alternate reality. Her friends were not here and probably weren't coming. She was in the wrong bar.
She got up, and Baine grabbed her hand. His grip was strong and warm, and the look he gave her sent shivers up her spine and heat into regions she'd neglected for three years. When he squeezed her fingers, her nipples actually hardened into aching points inside her Victoria's Secret BioFit bra.
"Stay, have a drink with me."
"Hey, you're working, and I'm supposed to meet some friends at the Backlight. I'm guessing I got the wrong bar. They're probably waiting for me. I'd better go."
He held onto the hand. "I just got off duty."
She hesitated, and then the Spanish guitar music she'd noticed when she walked in suddenly escalated into the throbbing, staccato rhythm of flamenco. The most beautiful man Alex had ever seen leaped over the bar in one fluid movement and into the middle of the floor. Plushies, sadists, masochists, gimps, Goths, vampire-wannabes, fake priests, and fake Catholic schoolgirls moved toward the walls to make room for him.
The gorgeous man began dancing, his movements graceful, powerful, and quick. Alex stared. He had pale white skin, long dark hair swept back from a high forehead with a widow's peak, a black goatee and mustache, huge warm brown eyes, and a rock-hard body. There was something unearthly about his appearance and his fluid movements. As he danced, his hair flew around his head, and he held his white hands high, clapping in time to the music. He wore tight black and red leather bullfighter pants, a short, black-velvet bolero jacket, and a red cape. He tapped his boot heels, whipped off the cape, and swirled around the floor. Alex was mesmerized. She sat down.
A drink appeared on the table in front of her. Without asking what was in it, she sipped and watched the dancer. "Who is he?"
"He owns the bar. His name's Antonio Salazar. Why? You like him?"
"He certainly can dance."
The drink tasted like almonds, hazelnuts, and cream, and it went down smooth as silk. When she was finished, another magically appeared. By the time Antonio ended his dance, she'd polished off three drinks, and Baine was sitting a lot closer. She didn't complain when he draped a thick arm over her shoulder.
The plushies had all gathered in the corner with several non-plushie women. They took over three booths. Alex saw a bunny, a Bassett Hound, two cats, plus Mew Mew, a raccoon, a bear, and what looked like Barney the Dinosaur. The plushies had the three women between them and were all rubbing against each other. The rubbing seemed sexual in nature, although they were all completely covered in fur.
"Frankly, I find that very weird," she said, tasting a fresh drink. "What are these?"
"Good." She felt terrific.
Baine Tenbrook couldn't believe his luck. Alexandra St. John, one of the most aloof and frigid women he'd ever met, had just dropped into his lap. Memories of seeing her in her underwear when they busted her idiot of a husband for selling drugs flashed through his head. In the days following the arrest, he'd spent a lot of time interviewing her. He found her to be a beautiful, hot, desirable ice queen, and for weeks she was featured in every one of his erotic fantasies.
Stretching, Baine flexed his muscles. He felt his inner animal stir. He ran his tongue over lengthened canines.
Antonio finished his dance and strolled over to their table. "Tenbrook, who is this lovely creature?"
The pale man held out his hand, and Baine fought to control the desire to bite it off. "Alex, I'd like to introduce you to Antonio Salazar. This, my friend, is Alexandra St. John."
Salazar bent over Alex's offered hand and closed his eyes. He smelled her flesh. She had an appealing aroma, which he noticed immediately. Her scent was masked by damp plushie fur and spilled beer, but he could still smell her. He wanted to rub against her right now.
"You must visit my establishment again some day," he purred as he dropped a soft kiss on Alex's hand.
Alex stared up at him, her eyes a startling blue. "You want me to come back?"
"Of course, my dear, very much so. Mi casa es su casa."
"The lady is with me," Baine snarled.
Salazar backed away, letting Alex's hand slowly slide out of his.
"She came in alone. But have it your way, my friend. Buenos noches."
After Salazar left, Baine tightened his arm around Alex. She was tiny compared to him, and when she looked at him with those sky-blue eyes and smiled, he found her beautiful features to be a perfect blend of Asian and European ancestry.
She lifted her hand and touched his face. "I know you. You hate me."
"No, no, I arrested your husband. It had nothing to do with you. I think you're beautiful."
"I think you're beautiful."
"Want to get some air?" Baine's voice dropped an octave. His desire for Alex suddenly felt hot and urgent and more important than tracking down a gang of white slavers operating in Seattle. It felt more important than anything.
She blinked her beautiful eyes, and he noticed her long, thick black lashes, her alabaster skin, ripe cherry lips he longed to taste.
"We could ride in my car, out to the beach, or maybe my cabin."
He helped her slip her black leather coat over her gray knit dress. She wobbled, and he took her in his arms. She felt warm and soft and smelled incredible. Her odor had an earthy, spicy tang that tickled his nose and went straight to his crotch.
Alex felt like she was in a dream. The liquor had made her mellow. What could possibly be wrong with a one-night fling? She hadn't been with a man for a very long time, so long she couldn't remember. She'd been divorced for three years, and Jerry had turned her switch off a long time before that.
Hormones raced through her like an aphrodisiac. Between the alcohol and her own body, her resistance to Baine's powerful attractions was zero.
"Go for a ride? Sounds like a great idea." She managed to get this entire statement out clearly, no slurring.
Baine ushered her past Hank Mew Mew, who bowed as she left the bar. It looked like one of his big, wide-opened Garfield eyes winked. But that was impossible.
Baine led her to a black Hummer parked right outside. He opened the door and stopped her when she tried to climb in.
"Hey," he said, only it was more like a low growl. He pulled her against his huge body and then lifted her so she was eye level. His golden eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared. The smoldering look sent heat straight to her neglected sex. Then he kissed her.
His lips were hard and insistent on her mouth. His tongue tickled her lips until she opened and let him in. He squeezed his grip over her ass, and she moaned against his mouth. He used his hands to grind her sex against what could not possibly be his erection. It was just too big.
When he came up for air, she tilted her head back, and he went for her throat, sucking and kissing up and down her neck. She grabbed the back of his head, threading her hands through his hair, breathing hard.
He gently set her feet on the ground, and her knees shook.
"Let's go to my house."
Her throat was too constricted with desire to speak. She just nodded.
* * * *
Baine took her north on I-5, got off the highway at Marysville, and headed toward the beach. Alex began sobering up on the drive, but Baine didn't allow her to forget why they were there. His physical presence was enormous. He radiated masculinity and power.
"Where do you work?" he asked as they drove down the dark road to Tulalip Bay.
"I'm in advertising. I work downtown." Alex leaned back against the soft black leather seats, enjoying the feel of luxury.
Baine turned on the radio, and Barry White's deep, sexy voice added to the tension in the cab of the big vehicle.
"I know you're a cop. Why were you at the bar?"
"Were you undercover?"
He grabbed her hand. "I can't really say."
Her hand disappeared in his warm grasp. She felt the connection between them, like hot water flowing from his hand, into her arm, and straight to her crotch. She didn't think she'd ever been this horny in her life, not for a man, not for anyone. Every nerve ending was screaming with need. Her breasts were swollen and ached. Her sex throbbed. She couldn't help squirming in the seat, and she fervently hoped Baine hadn't noticed.
When he looked at her and grinned, his white teeth shining in the dash lights, she knew he had.
Halfway to the bay, he turned off the road to the right and drove along a narrow lane with tall firs and cedars on each side. He rolled down the window, and the fresh scent of the forest, damp from the recent rain, flooded the vehicle.
Baine's cabin was on a ridge overlooking the forest and the lights of a small town far below. "You can see the bay when it's light out and there's no fog."
He helped her out of the Hummer, holding her close for a moment before letting her go. He took her hand, and they stared into the dark. He waved to indicate the bay. She made out a few scattered lights. Overhead, the clouds had cleared, and millions of stars glittered in the velvet-black sky.
"It's beautiful out here," she whispered. Somehow it felt wrong to shatter the quiet by speaking.
"I love it here. I feel like the forest rejuvenates and nurtures me."
She smiled. "That's a lovely way to put it."
He led her into the cabin. Two cats greeted them at the door, walked right past their owner, and rubbed against her legs.
"Russell, Charlie," Baine said. "What about me?"
Alex bent to scratch each cat. One was a huge tiger and the other a fluffy, orange Manx. "Don't feel bad. Animals think I smell delicious."
He pulled her into his arms. "So do I."
She could swear he growled again. She didn't care. His passion roared over her. His hands were everywhere. Her knit dress fell to the floor, followed by her bra, tights, and underwear. She tugged and pulled at his clothes as he kissed her throat, her neck, her lips, pulled her nipples taut and sucked each one.
Right there in his dining room, he tossed her onto the edge of the table, whipped on a condom, and entered her. She had to stifle a scream. He really was that big. He stretched her wide, her juice flowing, her legs opened and wrapped around his hips. As the delicious feeling of being penetrated fully hit her, she actually screamed, arched her back, and writhed beneath him.
He held her butt in his big hands, squeezing each cheek as he thrust into her, pulling her cheeks apart and pushing them back together. She clawed at his back as he bent his head to suck her neck and breasts. She knew he must be leaving marks, but it felt so wonderful, she didn't give a shit.
As he pried her buttocks open again, her first orgasm washed over her in huge waves. She was speechless, panting, and moaning. Her legs quivered and shook with the force. He sped up, his huge organ filling her like she had never been filled before.
He lifted her and carried her to the couch like she weighed nothing. She ran her hands over his broad shoulders and traced the curves of his hard muscles. He laid her on the couch and moved with her, pushing her legs higher, up over her shoulders. She normally hated this position, but with Baine it felt wonderful. His cock touched exactly the right spot, rubbed her clitoris in exactly the right way, and the ribs of the condom scraped the sensitive insides of her sex, stimulating the nerve endings. She was on edge, her legs stiff, and she knew she was going to orgasm again.
He bent to nip her shoulder, and she jumped. He nipped her neck, and she moaned. When he nipped the top of her breast, she came, gushing and moaning in a way she never had before. The sensations were so strong, she completely let go, forgetting everything, all reservations tossed aside.
Baine was still going strong. She felt her body melting and her legs quivering, all the strength draining from her body. He slowed his pace and kissed her lips, sucking the bottom and then the top one, slid out of her and moved down, kissing her stomach and thighs.
Holding her legs wide, he looked at her sex in the light of the moon shining through the huge windows. His eyes narrowed, and he growled again. The low, primitive sound stroked her nerves. A new need grew, and when he buried his face between her legs, she gasped.
His tongue lapped and stroked her swollen clit. He sucked each lip into his mouth and licked it while he traced the inside of her sex with his finger, circling, tickling. In seconds, she was bucking and squirming beneath him.
He growled again and shoved his huge cock into her heat. She screamed as he pounded into her. Unbelievably, it had grown even bigger. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and rode with him, hanging on to every stroke, feeling him deep inside her.
When he came, he roared. The animalistic sound rolled over her, and the thick pulsing of his organ brought her over the top. She held on to him as wave after wave of pure pleasure swept through her. They collapsed on the couch, panting and gasping for breath.
It seemed like an hour later before he rolled off and stood up. She stared at his body in the blue moonlight. He had very little body hair, and his wide chest and stomach rippled with muscles. As he strode into the kitchen, she leaned off the couch to get a good view of his ass flexing with each step.
She heard the microwave running and, in minutes he was back with a warm towel and two glasses of wine. He gently wiped her stomach and sex, the warm towel soothing and exciting at the same time. His eyes on her naked body were appreciative.
"You have beautiful legs, long and sleek." He rubbed each leg with the towel and then moved to her breasts. "These are perfect."
"Not too small?"
They sat together looking out the huge windows. The moon lit up the bay far below. The dark trees separated the shining water from the velvety sky.
After two glasses of wine, Alex was drooping.
"You're tired. I'll carry you up to bed."
"Bed" was in a loft. Baine tucked her in between plaid flannel sheets. Minutes later, she was sound asleep.
Baine left Alex sleeping in his bed and walked out onto the balcony. The moonlight hit him and he flexed, his shoulder muscles bunching. He could feel the change coming. There was no way to stop it.
His body contorted briefly; he roared with pain and joy as his other nature took over. His eyes assumed a yellow-gold hue, and a tail rippled out over his skin as he leaped the railing and charged into the forest.
The cool air against his fur felt exhilarating. He reveled in his power and strength. Putting on a burst of speed, he shot between trees, leaped rocks, and raced up the mountainside. The freedom he felt when in his mountain lion body was incomparable.