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dreadhaus-literature · 6 years ago

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{Valentine’s Collection} #14

Note: Happy Valentine’s Day! We’ve reached the end of another collection, and I hope it’s been enjoyed! ♥ It was definitely nice to write, to do something to commemorate a holiday that really suits me as a romance author, haha.

This last piece is something special, and a little different from the rest of the collection--it’s a true one-shot, with an involved, AU plot that I’m pretty proud of. It may evolve into a chaptered story at a later date, depending on Monica’s reception of it; it definitely has the potential to be.

As always, thank you for starring in another collection for me, love! 💕 Enjoy. ��

“If you’re tempted to say no, then think of the tax benefits.”

“Oh, he did not say that,” Dot Dreadful tossed her head back, cackling loudly. “Girl please tell me he did not try to hit you with the tax benefits line!”

Felina Frenzy, known more intimately as Monica, joined in the laughter even as she rushed to affirm, “He did! He fucking did, like what kind of idiot even tries that?!”

“Only a straight white male.” Dot was quick to quip, hazel eyes locking with emerald as she gave Monica a look over her glass. “How many times have I told you to take a dip with some melanin?”

“It’s not my fault the guy was white,” Monica raised her hand, shifting on her high-backed bar stool. She hooked her stiletto around the bottom rung of the chair, crossing one tantalizing leg over the other without a second thought to the gazes that turned just to watch her move.

“How many times?” Dot pressed, tapping one long nail on the reflective bar’s surface.

“A ton, but you’ve also told me to switch to women indefinitely.”

Dot sat her glass on the bar with both eyebrows near her hairline. “Has it steered me wrong?”

“Are you or are you not alone just like I am on Valentine’s Day?” Monica countered. Logic would have pinned Dot to the ground but emotion’s like nailing jello to a fence post--can’t be done, and Dot cupped Monica’s chin, pulling her in for a loud, affectionate smack right on the lips.

“Oh, but I’m not alone, my love, I have the light of my entire life with me.”

Monica fought off the urge to blush at such a public display of affection, whether or not she returned it. “Sweet-talking me doesn’t change the fact that we’re celebrating Valentine’s Day single.”

“That’s why it’s a Gal-entine’s Day,” Dot released Monica’s chin, taking another sip of her Bloody Mary. “Who needs men, or women for that matter? Who needs anyone.”

“Now whose being the sad panda?” Monica teased, turning back to her sea-sapphire blue cocktail. It was some confection made in honor of the holiday and Monica couldn’t remember what the hell it was called, but it was strong and it tasted good, so she was content with the buzz warming her middle.

“On the contrary, my beautiful gal pal, I am embracing my singlehood with a pack of AA’s and a brand new purple best bed buddy.” Dot rocked side to side on her bar stool. “And I bought you a matching blue one.”

“The fact that our friendship has evolved to us sharing vibrators--”

“Ooo, that was not at all my intention but we should totally share!”

“Having a gay best friend is not at all like how they make it look on TV.”

“Oh yeah, if you’re of the same sex we’ll totally hit on you until we wear you down with our wicked gay ways,” Dot wiggled her fingers, pursing her lips in an ‘o’. “That’s actually #7 on our gay agenda.”

“What’s #6?”

“Find an attractive best friend of the same sex, naturally.”

Monica laughed, clinking her glass with Dot’s. “Naturally.”

Around the two best friends, Zealot was abuzz with activity of the rich, affluent, and famous of New Senzannini out to celebrate the most romantic day of the year. The expensive, high-class lounge was currently the hottest spot in the entire city, which was a feat considering the millions of people who called this capital of the world home. Monica and Dot had been living in New Senzannini for a couple years, now, each making their way in similar career paths, side by side. Dot turned to written word, and Monica double-dipped, releasing a series of wildly popular Young Adult novels that transcended simple novels into graphic novels, illustrated by her own hand. Getting your hooks into the upper crust of New Senzannini wasn’t easy to do, but the girls had done it. The problem was, it seemed dating here was the same as it was anywhere else in the world--which explained why Monica and Dot were single and spending Valentine’s Day as a Gal-entine’s Day instead, drinking together and telling horror stories of suitors past. It was easy for Monica to laugh at her most recent ex, who honestly thought proposing to her on the second date (after a very unsuccessful first date, on top of that) with a line about tax benefits was the right way to win her heart. Monica may be a logical girl with a good head on her shoulders but she had a heart that was still soft--even if she hid that from everyone. She’d thought she wanted a man who could meet her logic, but all that seemed to produce were walking, talking business degrees who thought it was romantic to treat marriage like a contract to extract extra tax benefits from the government. Monica may not watch romantic comedies but she did read shoujo manga--she deserved a little romance, at the very least!

“Excuse me?”

Monica turned, locking eyes with a green-eyed stranger dressed to the nines in a well-tailored, three piece suit. He flashed her an attractive smile, his teeth perfectly straight and white, and his $500 haircut was a compliment to the room lights...but Monica just wanted to yawn.

“Yes?” Monica put on a small, tight-lipped smile but the potential suitor didn’t seem to notice.

“I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.” The business executive extended his hand to the beautiful woman he was hoping to win over. “My name’s Reagan.”

Monica shook his hand, but she also shook her head. “I appreciate it, Reagan, but I already have a drink--”

It may not have been apparent to anyone else that Monica cut her sentence short, but she had. All at once, she became acutely aware that she was being watched. Her spine slowly stiffened the more her awareness rose, and she felt goosebumps raise on her flesh without really knowing or understanding why. Reagan was saying something to her but she wasn’t hearing a word he was saying; the lounge itself seemed to drop away, other sounds muting out, from the jazz singer in the far corner to the murmur of a hundred different conversations. As the world quietened as if someone had turned the volume down like a dial in her head, Monica became aware of an exhale, a rush of smoky air over her shoulder and it sounded so close she was surprised she didn’t feel the smoke caress over her skin. She turned, slowly, and was even more surprised that the exhale she’d heard was across the lounge, a ways from her seat at the bar. It came from the VIP section, and she watched the smoke curl like beckoning fingers as it drifted from lips she couldn’t see. Whoever was smoking that wicked, exotic looking pipe was leaned back against the lush couch and even as she squinted, she couldn’t make out anything but a tall, well-built frame. She could see his legs, the long limbs crossed elegantly, one over the other, and the silk she could see looked expensive, even by Zealot standards. The hanging lamp that was illuminating his legs was doing an excellent job hitting the glass table beneath it, and Monica could see a large, long-fingered hand move that smoking pipe from his mouth to rest over the back of the couch; the way he moved reminded her of smoke itself. He was elegant, whoever this was, and before Monica could look away, he opened his eyes and nailed her to her stool.

They were a shimmering, luminescent sapphire blue. They glowed, glittered like precious stones worth more than the entire outfit she’d painstakingly put together for this evening--

❝Don’t sell yourself short, beautiful girl. I think you look ravishing.❞

The voice that shimmered in her head reminded her of sunlight filtering through the ocean; it glimmered, caressed like fingers so she shuddered from the echo in her mind. That voice belonged to someone who wasn’t human, someone who carried himself above everyone else, and Monica had a feeling she recognized it simply by the way her entire body tightened at the intimate way he spoke to her. He all but purred at her, and by contrast, Reagan speaking to her sounded like a donkey braying.

❝Amusing, pretty little girl. Tell him to get lost.❞

That purr took on a decided sharp edge with the second part of his sentence and it did not come out like a request. It came out a command. And Monica wasn’t one for just...doing what she was told. People didn’t boss her around, they didn’t tell her what to do; she was independent and she had a mind of her own...except right now, her mind didn’t feel like her own. There was another presence within it, making himself quite at home amongst her thoughts so that she could feel his masculine smirk at her immediate want to defy him.

❝Your defiance is...adorable. I’m not unreasonable. Allow me to give you some incentive to do as I say.❞

Monica wasn’t prepared for him to lean into the light, but the second he did, she knew right away she’d been right--

Zaos Lakhani was the one staring at her, speaking to her telepathically, in a way no human could ever hope to do.

The Zaos Lakhani, the most famous Sorcerer in New Senzannini.

New Senzannini was known as the capital of the world for many reasons, but one of it’s shining examples of affluence was it being a gathering hub for all beings found in the known world. Humans, mutants, meta-humans, superheroes, supernatural creatures--it was a veritable melting pot here and as a result, was it any wonder certain races of creatures found themselves at the top of the food chain? The Elites, they were called, and while the government made no real acknowledgement of them...everyone knew they existed and they knew who they were. Zaos Lakhani was an Elf, and that put him in the shining light of the Elite as Elves were considered an Elite race. Monica may be biased but she felt Elves deserved to be there; she had something of a fixation on them. Dot called it a fetish, but Monica wasn’t going to do that even if it was 100% true--if only because it made her blush anytime an Elf so much as walked past her. Now one of the world’s most famous Elves was openly staring at her?!

❝Now that we have an...understanding, do as I say. Get rid of your little admirer. I detest competition.❞

Monica’s throat ran dry; the way Zaos spoke the word understanding made her think he was aware of her thoughts about his race and the blush that swept up her neck was the color of roses. She was finally able to look away from him, but not before she caught sight of his smirk revealing one elongated fang splitting his perfect, pouty mouth. Zaos was gorgeous and she was in way, way over her head.

“E-Excuse me, R-Reagan, but I really need you to walk away, now.” Monica was barely aware of what she was saying; she couldn’t focus, what with Zaos’s eyes still so clearly on her.

“I’m sorry?” Reagan was surprised by Monica sudden change in demeanor, but he’d been so busy talking about himself he hadn’t noticed she’d missed every word he said. “Was it something I said?”

“Who the hell could tell,” Dot muttered. “You haven’t shut the hell up since you came over here. She’s not into you. Hit the bricks, Wall Street.”

Monica knew the only reason Dot spoke up was in her defense; she probably took Monica’s stammering to mean she was uncomfortable with Reagan and Dot had a tendency to get overprotective real quick. Case in point, both women were staring at Reagan in silent challenge until he rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and excused himself. Dot rolled her eyes and signaled for another drink.

“And men say we talk to much,” Dot leaned back in her seat, doing a double take when Monica didn’t move to comment. “You okay, love? Did he actually say something that upset you?”

“N-No, no,” Monica shook her head rapidly. She cleared her throat and then leaned in, watching Dot mirror her movement. “...Z-Zaos Lakhani is here.”

Dot’s face showed she recognized the name, but then one would have to be living under a rock to not. Without having to be told, Dot’s gaze shifted to the VIP section and she pursed her lips; she didn’t share Monica’s fetish for Elves and she found Zaos to be a little conceited. That, and his Family was from the same island she was from, and she knew all about the Lakhani reputation. It was not a good one; there were nine men in the Lakhani line and not a single one of them was good news. From the tyrannical Patriarch with more blood on his hands than Vlad the Impaler, to the homicidal youngest set of twins who were rumored to be serial killers, getting mixed up with that family was asking for trouble. Zaos was one of the nine heads of the Tribe and he’d made his name in magic, dark sorcery that meant people often spoke his name in whispers, and he’d risen to the top of the magic game on a pile of cash from shady deals in other’s misfortune...and death.

You just didn’t mess with a Lakhani, and there’s nine big bad reasons why.

“I see him.” Dot turned to take her fresh drink from the bartender. “What’s that got to do with kicking Wall Street to the curb?”

Monica chewed on her lower lip, doing her best to ignore that Zaos was still staring at her. He’d called her a, “Good girl,” for getting rid of Reagan and Monica was grappling with why that made her feel so good. The longer she didn’t answer Dot, sneaking glances at Zaos, the more suspicious Dot became.

“Baby...I know you’ve got your thing for Elves, but maybe you should...find a different one.” Dot cautioned.

❝As if that would stop me.❞

Monica clenched her thighs together at that masculine purr; Zaos speaking to her so intimately was as though he was speaking against the shell of her ear, with her seated upon his lap, and it took Monica a moment to realize he was projecting that into her mind. Without having to look back at him, she could see his handsome smirk, the ambient room lighting flirting with his cheekbones until she would have sworn he couldn’t be real. With the mental picture he was building she could see him clearly; he was dressed like royalty from a far off land, silk draped over a physique carved from porcelain marble. He had no a single scar on his entire body, and his outfit left only some to the imagination; his chest was bare, the silk draping down his chiseled abdomen in a V-shape that revealed deep grooves in his hips, his pants slung invitingly low. The silk over his arms ended at his wrist, drawing attention to long, painted claws still cradling a pipe that smelled of a rain forest. Monica could smell it, smell him; he smelled good enough to make her mouth water, or maybe that was the way he looked? He looked an entire temptation, his long, pale blond hair framing his head like a halo...but it was a halo that would have to be propped up by horns. There was nothing innocent about Zaos Lakhani and as she continued to helplessly notice every single thing about him, she was unaware he was doing the exact same thing to her.

Zaos had been staring at her since the moment she arrived; he had simply hidden that from her. He’d been content to watch her, study her like a predator from the shadows as she drank and shared laughs with her friend. Zaos had not gotten to his lofty position as a godlike Sorcerer by rushing his hand, but then he should have known others would take notice of this Felina Frenzy...Monica as she was known to close friends and family. Zaos immediately counted himself amongst them; he was entitled and he was demanding, and he saw something he wanted. Needed, until the rest of Zealot dropped away and it wasn’t like anyone or anything could hold his attention for long to begin with. Zaos was a Prince, had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth and now that he was an adult, a formidable Sorcerer with access to realms others couldn’t even dream of, he could get anything he wanted. He’d seen it all, or so he’d thought, until Monica sauntered into the lounge looking like all the world’s treasure encased in red silk and stiletto heels. Zaos had actually commanded the entire VIP section to silence when she’d entered, waving his hand with an absent spell to silence his entourage because he wanted not a single distraction. The way she moved stirred heat in his belly, made his mouth water as she lifted herself onto her bar stool and her thighs parted just so she could cross her legs--as an Elf, his senses were nothing to scoff at and the scent of her was easy to pinpoint amongst the riff raff around them. Like a piece of forbidden fruit dangling out of his reach, he longed to sink his sharp teeth into her flesh.

Would she cry? Scream? Gods, he hoped so.

It had been unexpected, due to his own distraction, that someone else moved on her before he had but that was remedied easily enough. Zaos was not one to lose, ever, and if Monica hadn’t succeeded in getting that cretin to walk away, Zaos would have easily manipulated his mind and caused him to enter the bathroom, open one of the windows, and leap out to his death several stories below. Zaos had no regard for other life and he was certainly not going to apologize for being so...possessive over what he was pursuing. Who wouldn’t be possessive of such a delicious little treasure? Zaos’s clawed fingers actually twitched with the want to feel her soft skin, to trail his hand up her bare legs to delve between her thighs--he imagined her panties were silk like her dress, but she had to be in a tempting little thong. He couldn’t spot any pantylines on that round little bottom and he’d been staring at it, hard, for what seemed like hours. Her waist tucked in, and he knew just by looking at her that it would compliment his large hands; her waist tempted his eyes further up to her full breasts and his mouth watered, again, so eager was he to delve his tongue between them. To taste, sample, savor, and maybe he would pierce her nipples with his fangs, listen to her cry as he fitted her with two crystal barbells so that he could monitor where she was at all times. It wouldn’t do to have her out of his sight, not when she was so breath-takingly gorgeous. The world didn’t deserve her but he did. He deserved to be the one to fasten his lips, his teeth to her throat and mark her, drain her so that her sweet blood flowed like nectar down his throat and he could carry her in his heart, always. He imagined she’d struggle, push weakly at his chest but he would take her resistance and shatter her into a million pieces...only to put her back together again just to show her he was the only one who could.

Well...the only one of nine, perhaps.

Zaos’s free hand extended and with practiced, unconscious ease, his wine glass lifted from the table and floated into his waiting fingers. He took a casual sip, but even the expensive wine tasted sour when what he wanted was Monica. Now that he’d made up his mind, or rather she’d made up his mind for him by being so tempting, he knew he’d never be satisfied without her. He replaced his wine glass upon the table with a wave of his hand, ignoring the stares of awe he received from the others in the section; he knew he was impressive and he didn’t need the masses to tell him so. Instead, he was focused on his phone, retrieving it from it’s resting place in his lap. There was no shyness as he raised it, snapping a picture of Monica seated at the bar.

« Our new Pet. Thoughts? »

The group message between himself and his Tribe was scarcely used and thus, when it was, everyone paid attention to it. His father, Atamu, was the first to respond to the message and the attached picture.

« Do not come home without her. »

Zaos smirked; he was used to the abrupt, demanding way his father spoke and he wondered how Monica’s stubborn, fiery temper would handle standing up to the intimidating Patriarch.

« Gorgeous...What does she smell like? »

The Omega, Tod, was arguably the most...creepy of the Lakhani Tribe, and it was no surprise he asked this question. Zaos typed out a response with ease.

« Like heaven, Tod. »

« Send me her panties. Tonight. »

Zaos’s smirk only mildly concealed his laugh.

« But of course. »

It would be no consequence to port them to Tod and the poor boy deserved it; he needed a good release, and Zaos knew that was exactly what he would be doing--with those panties pressed against his nose, his other fist wrapped around his thick, weeping cock.

The next three to respond to the message were also no surprise; the Alpha Triplets, known to others as the Von Triplets, responded in their birth order. Cavon, then Savon, then Luvon, one right after the other in rapid fire succession.

« I’m gonna fuck her until she bleeds. Bring her home NOW. »

« Exceptional as always, Zaos. She is by far the prettiest Pet anyone has ever had. And I cannot wait to ruin her~ »

« The only good Pet is a well-bred one. I will make sure she is, until she is so round and swollen with child she won’t be able to think of leaving. »

Zaos looked impressed, which was saying something considering the source--for Luvon to be so vocal must mean Monica was truly calling to him, as she was doing to the entirety of his twisted, perverted Family.

« Is she as soft as she looks? As...breakable? »

That one was Markus, and Zaos could almost hear the controlled, measured tone. Out of the entire Family, Monica would likely fall the easiest for Markus because he was a master manipulator. He would seem her knight in shining armor, her safe place amongst monsters, while all the while he took from her greedily because he had both the most and least self-control of any of the Lakhani. He was needy, lonely, and Zaos could hear the desperation in his tone without needing to speak to the man. Monica was a tangible need in his life immediately, simply by a picture alone.

« You’ll have to tell me yourself once she’s home, Markus. »

« Send me a few more pictures, please. »

Zaos would indulge that for Markus, for the rest of the Tribe, and himself once he had Monica here beside him.

« Is she going to be our new Mommy? »

That was Jax, the youngest Lakhani but there was no mistaking he was one of the most dangerous because he had absolutely zero control over himself. He was maniacal, unhinged, a broken boy in desperate need of someone to cling to and while the question of wanting a new Mommy might sound sweet...Zaos knew his little brother better. The boy was going to pervert his relationship with Monica the second he sunk his teeth into her; she would be gaining two sons in the youngest twins, but it would be the most taboo Mother/son relationship in history.

« ...Mother. »

The last response was Jax’s twin Lucca, but like Luvon, the fact that the boy spoke at all was a momentous occasion. The text message read as if he was staring Monica in the eye, his hands reaching for her face before he pulled her in for a kiss that would steal her breath and her rejection all in one. Lucca was the void beside Jax’s tornado of a personality but he was just as insane as his twin. The two boys were young, freshly into their twenties, but they would behave like sick, depraved little boys for Monica. Their new Mommy.

« Lovely you all approve. I’ll bring her home to the Island in the morning, once I’ve got her life all packed up here. »

Zaos knew what he was bringing Monica home to, and he knew she had no idea what was coming her way--but he didn’t feel remorse for that. Why should he? The life of a Pet was a privileged one.

The secret life of Elite Society came with plenty of perks, but the most depraved was the buying and selling, the acquiring of Pets. It was an entire sub-culture of the Elite, and it was exactly what it sounded like. Anyone who was not an Elite could be considered a Pet, and it doesn’t matter the species. In other lifetimes, perhaps in other realities, one might compare it to the rich and famous wanting to own a tiger, to show off their wealth with such an exotic pet. Here in New Senzannini, the Elite have taken it a step further and begun owning people as Pets.

While it could be seen as a status symbol, owning a Pet, it also ran much deeper than that. For supernaturals, the acquisition of a Pet could mean a lifemate, a bond so deep it transcends lifetimes. Some Elites, supernatural or otherwise, take numerous Pets, either by trafficking or through more “legal” channels of purchasing them legitimately from Pet websites. To any who were not Elite, the life of a Pet may seem glamorous. Yes, one essentially gives up their freedom and becomes property of another, but becoming the Pet of a caring Elite means never having to work again. It means living in the lap of luxury, doted upon and spoiled much like one would expect from a Sugar Daddy/Mommy. Pet websites don’t list kidnapped victims but show willingly applicants wanting to become Pets, which says something for the lifestyle. Some aspects of it are legal, others...not so much. Usually there are contracts involved if an Elite wants a legal Pet, but kidnapped Pets are not uncommon. Zaos was hoping to meet Monica...somewhere in the middle. He was a persuasive man; he had every confidence he could get her to sign her life away to him, to put on a Pet ring and give herself over to the Tribe.

Unfortunately for her, he would not be taking no for an answer.

None of the Lakhani’s had ever taken Pets before. There was simply no interest, no desire, no one good enough to incite that primal need to possess, to claim, but Monica had changed all that and she had no idea. It amused Zaos, to know that her life was about to become their life, and the burning desire to keep her was a tangible thing, sitting heavily upon his chest. This was what they had all been waiting for. She was who they had all been waiting for. It was time to make his move.

“--and they’re just...they’re no good,” Dot was in the middle of trying to explain to Monica just what was wrong with the Lakhani but she didn’t feel she was making much headway.

Monica was listening, of course she was, but she couldn’t...help but find that aspect of danger a little...exciting. She licked her lips and sat up a little straighter. “They’re from your island, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like they just live there, love, they own that island. Rule it.”

“So most of them are still there?”

Dot nodded. “I think Zaos and Markus are the only ones who aren’t there very often.”

“Markus?” Monica tried to keep the interest out of her voice, but the more she learned about this Tribe...the more she wanted to learn.

“He’s a Skinwalker, not an Elf. Their whole Family are Shapeshifters. Most of them are Werewolves, but the Chieftain is a Werelion.” Dot realized a little late she wasn’t necessarily warning Monica off...more like feeding the flames. “Babe, you are hearing me, right? They’re seriously dangerous.”

“I know! I know, I hear you, I do.” Monica gave Dot a reassuring smile. “I really appreciate you looking out for me but really, it’s not like anything is going to happen! I’m definitely not just going to walk up to Zaos and--”

“Miss?”

Dot and Monica turned, spying one of the Bouncers from the VIP section standing in front of them. His focus was on Monica.

“Y-Yes?”

“Mr. Lakhani would like you to join him in the VIP Section.”

“Oh lord, here we go,” Dot muttered.

Monica couldn’t help it; she turned surprised eyes on Zaos, who only made it worse by lifting his hand, beckoning to her with two clawed fingers in a “Come here,” gesture that should be illegal, it was so sexy.

“I-I...I.” Monica trailed off, unsure what to say. She floundered for a moment, looking over at Dot, who had her eyebrows raised and was shaking her head. “P-Please tell him t-thank you, but i’m here with my friend--”

“Mr. Lakhani offered to pick up her tab if she’d be willing to relinquish you for the evening.”

“He thinks he can buy my date with free Bloody Mary’s?” Dot asked. The Bouncer nodded, once.

“Yes.”

Dot shifted her gaze from the Bouncer, to Zaos, then to Monica...and she had to admit, she could see the desire in Monica’s eyes. The Lakhani weren’t exactly...the sort of people you’d want your best friend hanging out with, but Dot also wasn’t going to ruin Monica’s Valentine’s Day. This was akin to a celebrity asking her over for drinks and Dot knew she wanted to go. Besides, what was the worst thing that could possibly happen? It’s a public place.

“...Aight, fine.” Dot gestured with a wave of her hand.

“A-Are you sure, Dottie?” Monica turned to the Bouncer. “Maybe she could come sit in the section with me?”

“Mr. Lakhani has already cleared the section. It will just be you two.”

That started Monica’s heart like a drum, and she barely had time to reason as to why he’d do that before Dot was giving her cheek a kiss--and speaking lowly against her ear.

“Text me the ❥ emoji if you need me to come get you,” Dot picked an emoji that wouldn’t raise alarms if Zaos happened to notice her sending it. “Be careful, sweetheart. These guys are the big leagues.”

“I-I will,” Monica returned Dot’s affection with a hug, before Dot took her fresh Bloody Mary and slipped off the bar to wander toward the couches by the pianist, still nearby if Monica needed her.

The Bouncer offered Monica his hand to help her down from her chair, but her knees nearly buckled when Zaos’s voice brushed against her mind again.

❝It amazes me how much I detest other people touching you.❞

She didn’t know what to say, and she wasn’t surprised when the Bouncer released her almost immediately after helping her down. She didn’t have to ask to know that was all Zaos’s doing, and it gave her a pause at just how powerful he really must be. Dot had been serious with her warnings and Monica knew enough about Zaos to know he was infamous and to some, feared, but there was a part of her that just couldn’t ignore the attraction, the want to bask in the attention he was giving her. Was this a bad idea? Probably, it was more than likely a terrible idea, but Monica had never said she had a ton of self-control. He was an Elf, and she’d never even had the opportunity to talk to an Elf before, much less sit down and share Valentine’s Day drinks with one.

True to what the Bouncer said, the VIP section was empty when Monica arrived. Zaos stood when she entered, an Old World gesture that was extremely flattering, but also showed Monica this Elf was over seven feet tall. Zaos was stockier than most Elves tended to be; with well-defined muscle mass that was easy to see now that she was so close to him. He offered his hand as she came to stand in front of him and as she placed her hand in his, he bent his spine to kiss the back of her hand.

“At last, Monica, we meet formally. You are even more beautiful up close.”

“T-Thank you, Mr. Lakhani.”

“Zaos, darling, please.” Zaos stressed, and he kept hold of her petite hand, urging her to sit upon the couch. He lowered himself beside her, extremely close, so that their thighs touched and she was nearly beneath the hollow of his broad shoulder. Only one they were seated did he release her hand, moving his arm around the back of her seat, his hand falling to her bare shoulder and she had to fight off a shudder at the touch of his sharp claws against her skin. “I’m delighted you accepted my invitation.”

Zaos had a...peculiar way of speaking; what he was saying sounded polite, charming, but Monica could hear that distinctive purr beneath his baritone, and it was a purr she knew could crack like a whip if he wanted to. He was an Elf, so his voice would be naturally, beautifully smooth, but on top of that he was a Sorcerer and their voice is half their power; Monica realized perhaps a little too late that he could probably get her to do anything with that black magic voice alone. His words seemed to be sentient, trailing over her skin like his fingers upon her shoulder and now that she was so close, his pipe was heady, a rich scent of incense that was a pleasing tickle beneath her nose. When he moved to take an inhale on the hand-carved long pipe, a jingling caught her attention and she was finally able to see his ears. They were long, splitting his tawny blond hair and they were pierced all the way up; the bells he wore jingled merrily when he moved and when he noticed her staring, he wiggled his ears. The bells rang and Monica had to fight off the urge to squeal excitedly.

Zaos Lakhani certainly had a presence to him and she was falling beneath it very quickly.

Zaos was not immune to her presence, however. There was nothing, nothing that could have prepared him for how much sweeter she smelled so close. He swallowed thickly, exhaling a plume of smoke from his nostrils in a desperate attempt to clear his head but every time he inhaled, he took her a little deeper into his body and he could feel her twisting around his lungs like rose vines. He had absolutely made the right decision in picking her out of the crowd and no matter what the outcome of this conversation, she would not be without him, without the Lakhani’s, again in her life. It mattered very little to Zaos how she might feel about the arrangement, about the offer to be a Pet--it didn’t matter what they called it, what label she was given, the bottommost line would be that she would be theirs, she would be his, and that was all that mattered. In the scant time Monica had been in his life, she’d taken it over--so it was only fair that he do the same for her with a Pet ring, right? Of course he was right. Zaos was always right. If Monica wasn’t happy with the arrangement initially...she’d come around. She wouldn’t have a choice, because he was not going to give her up and if she tried to flee, the other Lakhani would come. They’d had a taste and like sharks with blood in the water they would be relentless in their pursuit. Zaos traced intricate, ancient patterns into the bare skin of her shoulder with the tips of his claws as he smirked to himself; his Tribe was not known for many nice things but what he found nice was to have their support. Yes, it meant he would have to fight his possessive nature to share her with the rest of them but she would find it so much harder to escape all nine of them. It put the Sorcerer at ease, and he crossed one long leg over the other, fully aware as his body brushed against Monica’s.

“Tell me, Monica,” he drawled, his unique accent adding to his exotic appearance. “Why are you alone on Valentine’s Day?”

Monica could have no way of knowing she was walking in a minefield; Zaos was asking because he needed to know if there was competition to take out. He could pluck the information from her mind, and he would, just to make sure she wasn’t downplaying some idiot’s interest in her (how could a woman so beautiful not have a hundred suitors?) but if he were honest with himself he was desperate to hear her voice. She had a voice that made one long for the bedroom, for candles and silk sheets and hours to spend with her wrapped around him, milking him while she cried, screamed for him and him alone. Zaos’s touch became a bit more insistent, moving from her shoulder up into her hair, crushing the soft strands between his strong digits.

“W-Well I,” Monica tried to think around Zaos playing with her hair, touching her, but it was near impossible. “I-I just d-don’t have a b-boyfriend this year?”

Zaos’s smirk was downright savage, a thing of masculine beauty and Monica found herself helplessly staring at those rows of sharp teeth, right down to his elongated fangs.

“What a loss for the rest of the world,” he mused, turning those brilliant eyes down to her. “But not for me, hm?”

Monica didn’t know how to answer that, and she had to look away, fidgeting until she crossed her own legs--the pressure on her clit felt nice. She’d just been so...hot, since Zaos started talking to her.

“What if I could make you a promise that you would never have to spend another Valentine’s Day alone, ever again?”

There it was. That black magic that slithered over her skin like a mamba, and Monica’s gaze snapped back up to Zaos without her consciously aware of the movement. He towered over her but still he pressed closer, leaning down into her space so that their noses nearly touched.

“Everyone shames Eve for taking the apple, for biting into the forbidden fruit, but I have always applauded her initiative,” Zaos’s sharp teeth clacked audibly as he took a deep drag off his pipe, his eyes nailing Monica to her seat. When he spoke, the wisps of his rain-scented smoke wafted between them, caressing along her cheek and throwing a haze of magic like an unbreakable spell. “Why shouldn’t she have what she wants? And on that same hand, my dear, sweet girl, why shouldn’t you?”

“H-How...” Monica cleared her throat, desperate to look away from the ocean in his eyes. “How do you know...what I want?”

“Because it is the same thing I want, my darling.” Zaos brought his hand up, his fingers brushing against her temple as he pushed her hair from obscuring her face from him--he would have nothing between them. “Are you going to tell me you don’t want me?”

“I-I--”

“If you force me to play this game of Cat and mouse, I’ll slip my fingers between your thighs and feel that slick heat for myself,” Zaos’s whisper was sin against Monica’s mouth--when had he gotten so close?! His promise tinted her cheeks a beautiful rouge and he made a deep noise of approval, turning his head to nuzzle her heated flesh. “I bet you taste of honey and strawberries, don’t you, little girl?”

“Z-Zaos, w-wait,” Monica shakily reached up to push at Zaos’s chest but that was a mistake. His open silk suit was a trap in and of itself and as soon as she felt the heavy muscles beneath his unblemished skin, she forgot her objections. Zaos smirked against her cheek, his lips moving to her ear.

“You know who I am, Monica. What I can do,” Zaos tempted, his hand curving around her waist to ease her closer still, hating even the scant few inches of space between them. “I could give you anything in the entire world with the snap of my fingers.”

Monica exhaled shakily, all too aware of Zaos’s deep inhale in response, as if he was taking her into his lungs. Her trembling fingers slipped up to his throat for some sort of anchor and he made a deep noise of approval at the slide of silk skin against his own.

“W...What would you want in return?”

“Clever girl, knowing nothing in the world is free.” Zaos drew back from her ear--but not before leaving a teasing lick against the shell, earning him a startled whine that hardened his cock unbearably in an instant. He exhaled in a quiet groan, before giving up on fighting his desire and in a moment’s time Monica was in his lap, straddling him. Zaos was so much larger than she, it forced her thighs so far apart she was forced to settle right over his thick, straining cock and her startled eyes flew to his but he was already smirking. He knew he was...gifted, and he knew she was so petite it would be a delicious burn when he fitted himself between her thighs and claimed her for the first time. That tight little cunt would be sore for days afterward.

Now that she was in his lap, Zaos knew he held all the power, and he knew she would be too distracted to realize he was just as much under her spell as she was under his. Obsession is funny, that way.

“Are you aware of the Elite concept of Pets, Monica?”

She bit her lip, nodding, but it was a gesture Zaos nearly missed--he was too busy focusing on those little teeth fitted against her plump lower lip. Everything about Monica was petite, a small gift from the heavens and Zaos kept one hand around the small of her back, ensuring she didn’t shy away from him. He couldn’t tolerate space between them, right now--perhaps never again.

“Then you know what I want from you.”

Monica met Zaos’s gaze, her heart stopping and then starting so loudly she could barely hear anything else. The entire lounge seemed to cease to exist and if she had the presence of mind to ask, Zaos would have reassured her that he was the only one who could see her; it was effortless to obscure them from prying eyes, and Zaos had been desperate to keep her attention, her beauty, all to himself all evening.

“Y-You want...?”

“I want you to be my Pet.” Zaos was not exactly lying; he did want Monica to be his Pet. He simply wasn’t telling the entire truth; that if she agreed to be his, she was agreeing to his entire Tribe. That was a conversation for a later date, when she’d already signed her life to him and could not possibly hope to escape him. Right now, he conjured up his Pet ring (all Elites had them, whether they decided to use them or not) and as he held the shimmering, expensive piece of jewelry toward Monica like the apple that tempted Eve, he gave her a charming, serpent’s smile. “I want you, Monica. If you give yourself to me, the rest of the world can be yours.”

For the first time in her life, Monica understood that old biblical tale and she understood why Eve gave in. Everything about Zaos was otherwordly, from his appearance to the casual way he manipulated time and space with his magic; she knew he hadn’t had the ring on him, that he’d conjured it up from whereever he’d been keeping it. It shimmered even in the ambient lighting; it appeared similar to a normal wedding ring but she knew, she’d read they were different. They bind a Pet to their Elite, linked by magic or maybe technology or maybe it was some combination of both--that she didn’t know, but she knew if she put that ring on, she would never be able to remove it on her own. Elites take their Pet ownership seriously...and she had no doubt that Zaos would be the type to take it extremely seriously. She wouldn’t be able to leave him...but would she want to? If Zaos was trying to confuse her, to use his sexuality and his obvious advantage over her for so many reasons, it was working. For a fleeting moment, Monica thought to her phone upon the couch cushions but even as she turned toward it, Zaos caught her chin with his fingers, the ring in the palm of his large hand.

“I won’t have you paying attention to anyone else right now, little one.” There was little room for argument, even as Zaos ran his sharp claw over her lower lip, his eyes devouring her as he stared down at her. He was so much taller, she couldn’t even see over his shoulders. “Say yes to me. You know it feels right. It feels...good, doesn’t it?”

There was pressure exerted as Zaos gripped her ass through her dress, forcing her to grind against his covered erection and the pressure on her barely covered clit had her parting her lips in a gasping pant. In the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t fair, this was cheating, a tactic Zaos must be using to throw her off her logic. But it was so hard to think...because it did feel good.

“Say yes, Monica, and I will satisfy that ache you feel,” Zaos slipped his hand around the nape of her neck, pulling her forward so her forehead against against his, his smoky breath a caress against her mouth. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To feel me, deep inside, claiming you?” Zaos’s eyes were sin incarnate, his words a mirror of his actions and Monica could hardly think for drowning in him. His tone silken, imploring, so tempting she couldn’t imagine saying no. “Be a good girl and tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’ll belong to me.”

“...Y...Y-Yes,” Monica was barely aware of what she was saying, but her body was betraying her and so was her heart. Her mind could hardly keep up with the assault on her senses, and all she knew...was that she loved how it feel when Zaos purred out--

“Good girl,” he urged her forward, claiming her mouth in a searing kiss that curled her toes in her stilettos. There was no space between them, her body forced to his and she found she didn’t...want to resist. Her shaking fingers were pressed to his chest, trapped between their bodies as Zaos drank from her mouth, kissing her so thoroughly she knew she was in over her head. No one should be able to kiss the way Zaos could; he was all silk heat and Dominance, so that she was parting her lips for him without needing to be told. His tongue swept along hers, claiming, exploring, tasting every inch of her he could reach and she was so distracted by his kiss that it took her a moment to realize he’d slipped the ring over her finger--but when it bonded to her flesh, she drew back from the kiss to stare down at it. It didn’t...hurt, but she’d have to cut her finger off to get the ring off. The only one who would be able to remove it was Zaos--

“Don’t be silly, little one.” Zaos pressed a kiss to her forehead, finally able to relax now that he’d cemented her forever--by claiming it. “That ring will never be taken off. You are mine, now and forever.”

Monica took a shuddering breath, feeling her lips beginning to swell from the force of Zaos’s claim. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she was such a strange mixture of excited and petrified. Zaos slipped his hand up from her perfect little ass to her back, urging her to lie against his chest as he picked up his phone with his free hand, swiping to open the camera to take a picture of her lying on him, the ring clearly on display upon her finger.

“Smile, my love. We have to tell the others the good news.”

“T-The others?”

Zaos’s smirk could be felt against her hair as he snapped the picture to send to the ravenous, waiting Tribe. “Oh, darling. You have so very much to learn.”

The End...?

#{theme} : for monica #{collection} : 14 days of valentine's #{character} : zaos dreadful #{ MAN this was super fun to write! }#{ this really would make a killer story }#{ happy valentine's day punkin!! ♥ }

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shewhowantsmouseears · 7 years ago

Text

Love Like Lava, Epilogue

Notes: The final section of my story has completed, so it's time to doll out some thanks.

To my close pals for their wonderful friendship, ones who kept me going with their smiles - Boxlunches, Palooka, Chllstarr, Greta, friends old and new within the Mice Discord, without those last pushes I wouldn't be here!

Once again, a big thanks toward my great gal Angie, who is the co-creator of Millicent! And, by that line, Agalma too!

A special thanks towards Disney Diligent, who helped inspire/create the final look for Aphrodite Minnie.

As always, super ultra huge mega thanks to my fantastic editors, Drucilla and Blueshifted! Funny enough, this story seemed to create the most division between them, one adoring lines that the other insisted be kicked out! XD Thankfully I as the narcissistic writer get to ultimately choose =P But yes, these two put in hard work and great effort for my little hobby, and deserve all the praise in the world!

Finally, thank YOU, yes YOU, all of my fans for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging, and for ultimately enjoying this wild ride! It's definitely gone through some changes since I first bubbled the idea years ago - a simple romantic comedy turned into questions of loss and sense of purpose. I had to cut out a few ideas (at one point, I debated about a sideplot of Clarabelle as Medusa and Horace as her blind boyfriend), but I think in the end I came away with a better story overall. I hope you all had a good time, and I also hope you stick around for next lovey-dovey tale!

(... and apologies in advance to all the donald fans because yes I am absolutely going to kick him around again)

Summary: When it comes to legends and myths, the final curtain never rests. What can the love story between two unlikely immortals inspire for upcoming generations?

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Donald knew his statement was obvious, yet he felt a need to say it anyway. “You don't owe him anything... except maybe a kick to his almighty shin.”

“I know,” Mickey casually replied, finishing the last strikes with his hammer upon his project. “But when I had this in mind, it was for someone huge, and he's the only guy big enough to use it. Besides, I like makin' stuff for folks.”

“Oh, Mickey.” Minnie was sitting on his workbench, admiring him with a swooning sigh. “You've got such a big heart.”

“If you two are going to get all lovey-dovey,” Daisy warned, averting her eyes, “I'm out of here.”

One of the newly repaired Axelias came over to wipe away Mickey's sweat, and he gave her a smile. “Thanks, Axelia.”

“You-Are-Welcome-Welcome-Welcome.” This one had the newest feature, a movable mouth. It was still a work in process, so her smile was lopsided, but it was still a smile she chose to make.

Mickey brought the hammer down one last time, then decided he was finished, pulling back to admire his work. “What do you think?”

“Not bad, not bad at all.” Donald offered a thumbs-up, grinning with pride.

Daisy snickered. “I can't wait to hear the mortals' reaction when they see it for the first time.”

“It's positively perfect.” Minnie came up to kiss Mickey's cheek, and he chuckled. “Oh, Mickey, will you ever stop being amazing?”

“Only when you stop bein' cute as a button.” Mickey nuzzled his nose to hers, causing Minnie to giggle wildly.

“Guys, seriously, I'm gunna hurl.” Daisy pretended to gag with a finger in her mouth. “Look, can we get this over with already? The sooner we can drop it off, the sooner we can go sailing. The ocean misses us.”

Mickey laughed, and placed his hand on the project, his other hand steady on his walking stick. “Fine, let's get going! It's not going to deliver itself!”

Thus the four of them reappeared on Mount Olympus – it had been several months since they last touched the cloudy paradise. No, it didn't deserve them, but Mickey had ultimately decided he could grace them with his presence when he felt like it. It wouldn't be too often, but he found such joy in his creations that he wanted everyone to have them. They popped up near the rebuilt thrones of Hera and Zeus, now separated. Hera flinched when she saw them, ready to duck and hide if need be. Zeus grimaced until he saw the unusual glimmer in Mickey's hands.

“I have brought you a gift,” Mickey declared, his back tall and proud. “I want nothing in return. I call it... a lightning bolt!”

Zeus' eyes went as big as the planet itself, and he knelt down to take the mighty yellow arch in his hands. “Such electricity... such power... I have never felt anything so magnificent! I feel a thousand years younger!” He burst with glee, hoisting the mighty weapon above his head. It was the best toy he'd ever gotten, and he wanted to play with it right now. He opened the clouds with his hands, trying to find a good place to strike. “Maybe there, or, no wait, how about here? But there's good too...”

Hera eyed the group suspiciously. “You SAY you bring a GIFT, yet you want NOTHING? What MADNESS are you SPEAKING of?”

“Careful.” Mickey wagged a finger. “My girlfriend can kick your butt.” Hera promptly shut up, cowering from Minnie's gleeful grin. “Aw, naw, I meant it! And I want all of Mount Olympus to know that I'd be happy to craft them anythin' they want. I need projects to keep me busy.”

“And he's very good at everything he makes,” Minnie cooed, snuggling up to Mickey's free arm.

Nearby gods found themselves piqued by curiosity, and it was Fethry who dared to speak first. “Say, could I get new shoes? These ones keep molting their feathers!”

“I wouldn't mind a new vanity mirror,” Gladstone happened to comment.

Even Mortimer found himself wanting in on this. “Okay, if you're that good, maybe you can bring some new life to my goblets? If you can.”

Daisy groaned. “We're never going to go sailing at this rate.”

Donald put his arm around Daisy's shoulders. “Oh, how you suffer.”

Gods and goddesses began to line up in front of Mickey, asking for jewelry and armor and other trinkets. Out of the corner of his eye, Mickey saw Pete hiding behind one of his deformed statues, and he quickly retreated when he saw Minnie's eyes on him. Judging from the smell, he still hadn't fully recovered. But he would one day, and perhaps he'd foolishly try for revenge. There would always be people who didn't learn from their mistakes.

There would also always be people who became better from their mistakes. Mickey smiled at Minnie, but then blinked as he saw her licking her lips with a puzzled look. “Minnie? What is it?”

“Hm? … Oh, it's nothing. Just...” She shrugged. “I have the oddest craving for peaches again.”

That probably had to do with Goofy placing the finished carved peach in her temple, having felt for some reason that it was the right thing to do. He hadn't seen Minnie or any of his unusual friends in all those months, and while he missed them, he wouldn't allow his sadness to hold him back anymore. It was the last act he did in the village before he left for his trip around the world with Agalma, and with his newfound confidence, he also brought the story of Millicent, Agalma, Aphrodite, and himself to every shore. The story spread throughout the land, although a few creative individuals decided that Agalma was too lazy a name, and decided Galatea was far more suitable. It is the nature of stories to change, after all.

The stories of Zeus and Hera, of Hades and Persephone, of Hephaestus and Aphrodite also changed as the decades came and went, with some believing Persephone was Hades's prisoner, and others thinking Aphrodite saw Ares on the side. One day the history became legend, the stuff of fairy tales and impossibility. People no longer needed the gods, and thus couldn't believe they'd ever been around in the first place. Yet these stories stayed, inspiring generations in many ways – art, music, theater, and even morality for a few. Even though such tales couldn't possibly be true, they were still told and enjoyed, even in museums of the highest education.

That's where a young boy was admiring a carving of the mighty Hephaestus presenting a gift to the lovely Aphrodite, although the stone was so worn down it was impossible to tell what the gift was. The mouse boy smiled in admiration – so the Greeks and Romans believed even a powerful god could have been disabled? He looked down at his own legs, forever bound in a wheelchair, and felt an odd sense of pride. If Hephaestus could be capable of great things, maybe he could too. With a funny chuckle, he touched his wheels, ready to move on. But when he lifted his head, his jaw dropped in shock.

What a coincidence – the prettiest girl in his class, and who he had a gigantic crush on, was also in the museum, looking at a nearby vase depicting Persephone. What were the odds? The boy always wanted to talk to her, to have that melodious voice directed at him, but had also felt that because of his disability, he never had a chance. Yet... he glanced back at Hephaestus. If that guy could land the most beautiful goddess, the boy had no excuse not to try.

He cleared his throat. “Say, uh... hi there!”

The mouse girl blinked and turned around, equally surprised to see him. “Oh! I didn't know you were here too!”

She responded she responded she responded – CALM DOWN. “Uh, y-yeah! I love this exhibit.” Thank goodness the wheelchair was blocking her from seeing how hard his tail was wagging.

“Me too.” The girl giggled, nodding towards the vase. “These stories are so romantic! I just love them! Which one is your favorite?”

She wanted to know more about him she wanted – FOR REAL, CALM DOWN. The boy hoped he wasn't blushing as hard as he thought he was, pointing at the stone carving. “Well, uh, gee, I always thought Hephaestus was kinda neat. Even though his legs didn't work, he made gold servants and lightning bolts and all kind of nifty things.”

“Oooh, I love that story!” the girl squealed, walking over to see the carving closer. “And he won the heart of the fair Aphrodite! I bet they loved each other sooo much!”

“Yeah, me too.” The boy scratched his chin, wondering if there were gods since his luck had never been so good. “Say, uh...the cafe here ain't too bad! You... maybe... wanna grab some lunch together?”

The girl turned to face him slowly, her own delicate chinks pinking. “Really? … I'd love to!” She smiled shyly, hands curled up together. “You know, I've always wanted to tell you how great your art is.”

“W-what?” the boy stammered, his disbelief at new levels.

“Those drawings you're always making in class... I think they're really amazing! They're so lifelike! Do you think you could show me how to do it sometime?”

“YEAH! … I-I mean, yeah, sure, okay.” As long as she didn't know she was the subject of more than half of the things he drew, then he was fine with showing her his doodles. “I guess I could show you my sketchpad over lunch.”

“Great! Let's get going!” The girl took a step forward, but then hesitated. “Do you need help pushing your wheelchair?”

“Naw, I'm just fine,” the boy said, beginning to roll. “And, y'know, I'm glad you asked instead of doin' it right away. Folks see me like this and assume I can't do nothin'.”

“That's very unfair of them...but if I ever make you feel like that, please let me know.”

“Sure thing!” He smiled at her, and she smiled at him, and they began to exit the exhibit together.

But as they left, the boy could've sworn he saw the stone-faced Hephaestus smile. It must have been his imagination.

#disney #fanfic #love like lava #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #donald duck #daisy duck

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