Wild, Wicked & Wanton Page 6

  She found Mr. Mask standing next to the door and motioned to him. “Do you see some clothes around here? I really don’t want to wander around naked anymore. I’m freezing.” Teeth chattering, she lifted a corner of her toga up over her shoulder.

  Mask shook his head. “We can’t go to the portal yet. You must be accompanied by both of your Masters. Since you were the last to pass through, the portal will only open for you and your Masters… At least, I think it still will. There is no record of a bride and Masters passing back through the portal after more than a handful of hours. It was never meant to allow brides to traverse back and forth between worlds like a revolving door.”

  He sounded so doubtful she wondered if it was worth the trouble to even try. She had no idea where this magical portal was. She had no idea where her Masters were. And she had no idea how she’d get her Masters to take her there.

  “You must locate your Masters and convince them to take you to the portal.”

  Like she didn’t see that coming. “Me? What about some help?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t? FYI, I can barely stand. I have no clothes. I have no means of transportation. I don’t know my way around. Do you really think I stand a snowball’s chance in Hades of finding Xander and Bastien?” Worn out from standing, she slumped onto the bed. All she wanted to do was assume a horizontal position, close her eyes, and let her strange dreams carry her away again. “You’re absolutely no help. Go away. I’m too sick to deal with this right now.” She flopped onto her side and kicked her legs up. The blanket wrapped around her, like dough around a cocktail weenie, she rolled onto her back.

  Ahhh. Warmth.

  “Hey, I’m trying here. I can’t do everything for you,” Mask said, sounding injured. “If you don’t want to go home, then the hell with it. I’ll leave you alone and you can stay here and be a plaything for your Masters for the rest of your life…”

  “Yeah, well, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” she snapped, getting annoyed. If he wouldn’t help her, what the hell? Why not leave her alone? What kind of psycho tempts a girl with promises of escape and then more or less snatches her hope away at his first chance? Meanie.

  “Do you really think you’d be content to live the rest of your life like this? Fucking. Eating. Sleeping. That’s it. That’s all you’d do, day after day. Fuck. Eat. Sleep…”

  “Well.” She thought about it for a second. Her job had never been a thrill ride, but it hadn’t been dreary either. On the other hand, a future with the sex gods wasn’t looking all that bad.

  “… where you’d never again have a reason to step out of the house. No stress. No challenge. No responsibilities…”

  On second thought, she liked having a reason to wake up every morning, as much as she’d enjoyed her nightly escape into her books.

  “Your life’s focus would be pleasing your Masters…”

  And her boss, Mr. Holloway. Who’d drive him to the doctor for his monthly appointments and make sure he took his heart medicine? He wasn’t a blood relative, but he was the closest she had to one anymore. He needed her. Then again, he had a son who lived in Pennsylvania. He’d mentioned someday moving in with him and retiring.

  “… All you’d be expected to do is look pretty, serve your Masters as they wished, and then wait for the next time they had need for you…”

  “Sounds dreamy,” she said flatly. Gosh, after her husband’s death, she’d viewed her job as part-time-nurse-slash-secretary as both a necessity as well as a wonderful gift. Who’d have thought she’d find the possibility of luxury and nonstop kinky sex with two living gods empty?

  “… You could perhaps find something to do with all that extra time, like, I don’t know. Brush up on your counting skills…”

  “Counting skills?” Was he kidding? She slid him a questioning look and received a nod as an answer.

  “Brides do not work outside the home. A bride’s one and only purpose is to serve her Masters’ sexual needs. All other functions are handled by other servants, hired to clean, tend to any children that might come along later.”

  “That won’t be so bad, if I can have some books.”

  “You won’t find a single romance novel in Alyria.”

  A chill pricked her nape. “You’re kidding me. No books?”

  “There is a reason for that. It’s complicated --”

  It was Jack all over again. Books were evil, polluted a woman’s mind. Gave a woman unrealistic expectations about men, sex. “What about movies?”

  “Nope.”

  Shit. “Television?”

  “No.”

  Fuck. “Radio?”

  He shook his head.

  Double fuck. Shades of her marriage, the dark time. “Bad poetry?”

  He gave her a blank look at that one.

  Okay, so much like her dead husband -- may he burn in hell for all eternity -- her new Masters expected her to sit, stare at the walls and wait to be summoned? Why? Didn’t they realize a happy, contented woman wasn’t a threat to their manhood?

  Besides, didn’t keeping half the population of Alyria out of the workforce cause problems with their economy? How did they manage? Who did their filing? Fed their documents into the shredder? Answered their phones? Was there no one who had a need for a good secretary with exceptional communication skills and experience with Microsoft Office in this strange place?

  Or did they subscribe to the Jack Dunning philosophy on controlling women? Keep them on a short leash so they can’t move, breathe, think without your knowing it.

  “What about other brides? I hate gossip circles, but even sitting in a room of clucking chickens beats being lonely and bored to death --”

  “It’s our custom that you will remain at home for the first five years.”

  She gasped. “Five years?”

  “Again, there is a reason for this. We don’t have time to discuss Alyria’s long and somewhat unpleasant history. Just understand that this is the way it will be. They will mate with you every day. Sate their hunger and then leave.”

  “Mate? It sounds so… icky.” Her heart sank. There was no way she could live like some kind of animal again, a dog breeder’s choice bitch. She’d rather die first.

  Without a job, a hobby, something, she’d lose herself, who she was. Who she’d fought to become. She’d only begun her journey. She wasn’t ready to give up.

  Relying entirely on her two kidnappers to provide for every penny, stitch of clothing and meal wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t allow herself to fall back into such a vulnerable and powerless position. Not when she’d fought for the right to make her own decisions, to live her life as she wanted.

  Since her husband’s death, her new life might not have been perfect, but for the first time she’d had a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose, not to mention freedom. She did adore having the choice to do what she wanted, when she wanted.

  Oy, despite her fantasies, being a sex toy for a couple of men with to-die-for bods and sex drives to match wasn’t her thing.

  Resolved, she pushed herself back into a sitting position and scooted off the bed, dragging her toga with her. On legs no sturdier than half-molten marshmallows, she tottered toward the door. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve driven home your point. I give. You’re right. I wouldn’t be happy being a living blowup doll. I’d be miserable.” Exhausted, she sagged against the wall next to the door. “Maybe I’d never have another worry about paying my bills. It looks like Xander and Bastien live pretty good. They fed me well, and treated me…” Her cheeks flamed at the memory of their treatment. “… really good, even if they have this thing about making me run around naked all the time. Sooner or later, they’d have to give me clothes. I couldn’t possibly be expected to go in public nude, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Brides are never clothed.”

  “Well, that’s just wrong. I mean, ewww! Naked butts on public buses? Park benches? Theater seats? That�
�s not even sanitary.”

  “As I stated, there would be no reason for you to leave your home. At least not in the first five years. Your every need would be met, without your leaving home.”

  “I’d be a… prisoner.” Again. She heaved a heavy sigh. “Will you at least tell me where I’m supposed to find them? Where I’m supposed to go?”

  “I have a map.” He produced a folded piece of paper from his pocket.

  “Yay!” For the first time since she’d woken, she felt a glimmer of hope. She snatched the map out of his hand.

  “But you’ll have to lose the covering.”

  “Huh?” she asked, studying the confusing lines on the paper. Was she reading it upside down?

  “The covering on your body. As I said, brides remain unclothed, no matter where they are. If anyone sees you like this, they’ll know you’re new, and likely unclaimed. I don’t want to scare you, but it’s not exactly safe for unclaimed brides to be out wandering about.”

  “Screw that. You can accompany me.” She flicked her wrist, making the paper snap in the air. “I have no idea what this is. Which way does it go? What the heck is this?” She pointed at a string of meaningless symbols at the top. “It’s not even written in English. How am I supposed to figure it out? Huh?”

  “Well… I just can’t go with you… If anyone sees me --”

  “We’ll simply have to be careful. Come on. You want to help me get home, then for crissakes, help me!” She snagged his elbow and yanked him through the doorway.

  What kind of rescuer was this guy, giving a girl a useless map she can’t read and then telling her she’s on her own? He was going to have to do better than that.

  “Hold up.” Her uncooperative savior jerked his arm loose and, grinning, pointed at her blanket-clad body. “You can’t go out like that. Remember? Brides go nude, at all times.”

  Chapter 7

  Maggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d stepped foot in public without at least a tank top and mid-thigh length skirt or shorts on. She never went to the beach -- her body was not exactly bathing suit perfect. Even at home, in the middle of August, she covered the curvier parts of herself. With the exception of the shower, she was never unclothed.

  And this guy expected her to sashay down a public street in her birthday suit? Wasn’t going to happen. No way!

  Her face flamed. Her temples throbbed.

  “If you wish to return home, this is the only way.”

  She felt too yucky to argue. “Who made it a rule that women have to run around this place naked? I want to know that. Obviously, it was a man. Couldn’t have been a woman.”

  “Our society is roughly ninety percent male, and all our lawmakers are men.”

  “No surprise there. I say you could use a woman’s voice in your government.”

  “Are you volunteering to be that voice?”

  “Hell no. I’m going home. Remember?”

  “Are you?” He looked meaningfully at the blanket she clutched in her white-knuckled fists like a lifeline. “I don’t wish you to take this the wrong way, but there isn’t a man in our world who won’t find you captivating. Every inch of you.”

  “Is every man on this planet -- world -- whatever blind?”

  His gaze traveled down her covered body then back up. “Nope. We just like our women soft and curvy and feminine. Like you.”

  As if her face wasn’t hot enough, now it was scorching. “Shut up. I don’t believe you.” She narrowed her eyes at him, even though his compliment made her feel a little giddy. After being told for years she was fat and ugly, his words were like food for her soul. In the past twelve to fifteen hours, she’d had three men tell her she was beautiful. Three. That was more than in her entire life. “Fine. If I have to lose the blanket, I’ll do it. But I have to tell you, I don’t like this. Not even a little.”

  “Excellent. There is one problem, though, with me accompanying you.”

  “Oh no, you’re not dishing me some lame excuse when I just agreed to go out in public completely naked.”

  “I’m wearing this mask for a reason.”

  “So?”

  “So, I can’t go out in public like this. I’ll attract attention to myself, and to you.”

  “Then ditch it.”

  “I’ll be recognized. And that’ll ruin my chances for helping other brides in the future.”

  “But I can’t find Xander and Bastien by myself. This map is worthless; I have no idea where I am --”

  Silence. Mask shook his head, turned and stared at the wall. “Okay. I’ll follow you. Without the mask.”

  “Hell no. You are not going to spend the next hour -- minute -- whatever, staring at my butt. Some things are just… unacceptable.”

  “Fine. You can follow me. I promise not to look at your butt if you promise not to look at my face.”

  “Deal.”

  “Deal.”

  They shook on their completely insane agreement and then, with Mask’s back turned toward her, he stripped off the mask, and she dropped the blanket.

  The indignities a girl had to face in this bizarre world to gain her freedom!

  * * *

  Was that…? Impossible!

  Xander craned his neck, leaning far to the right in his chair. He could’ve sworn he just saw his new bride prancing down the walkway outside, gathering admiring stares from dozens of passing knights. His window was a narrow strip of a substance that allowed natural light into the office while limiting his view of the outside, which was normally no problem. But at the moment, he found the inhibiting size annoying.

  No. Couldn’t be Maggie. She wouldn’t have the courage to leave home, and she didn’t know her way around. It would be impossible for her to find her way here.

  He forced himself to return to the frustrating task of debugging his computer. He’d been at it for hours, but hadn’t made much headway yet. The virus that had attacked his machine had been extremely virulent, rewriting thousands of lines of code. He figured it would take him a full twenty-four hours to mop up the mess. Twenty-four hours that should be spent chasing the person responsible for exposing the knights to the humans.

  Twenty-four hours he wished could be spent with his new bride.

  If only he’d thought to take the time to prepare another computer, he’d at least have a backup to turn to and his suffering would be briefer. Not to mention, his bride’s life wouldn’t be at risk.

  Nothing he could do about his lack of planning now.

  He had completed work on one line of code when an unexpected visitor, breathless and wild-eyed, burst into his office.

  Dammit, he had no time for interruptions!

  “She’s gone! Maggie.” Bastien rushed to his desk, planted his hands on the top and sputtered, “Vanished!”

  “No.” Xander felt his brows draw together. His gaze shot to the window then bounced back to Bastien. “I thought I caught a glimpse of her a few minutes ago, but figured I was mistaken --”

  “Where?” Following the line of Xander’s ping-ponging gaze, Bastien strode to the window. “You saw her?”

  “Outside. I thought it might be her. But I’m not sure. I caught only a glance. Of the back of a woman. With the same color hair… and curvy ass… yeah, it was her. How’d she find her way here?” He bound from his chair at the precise moment Bastien lunged for the door. Bastien made it through the doorway first. With Xander on his heels, Bastien zigged and zagged around Xander’s startled coworkers. He stopped so suddenly as they rounded a corner, that Xander bounced off his back, the recoil sending him staggering into someone else behind him.

  “Maggie!” Bastien shouted.

  Both furious and relieved, Xander charged forward, a bull seeing red. He rounded Bastien, who he saw had a firm hold of their wandering bride, and drilled her with the fierce glower. He took a hold of her other arm and together, they hauled her back to his office. After the door was closed, he let loose with a blast of expletives, lost in the volume of Bastien’
s booming voice delivering more of the same, punctuated by the occasional question, such as, “How did you find us?” and “Why didn’t you wait for us at home?”

  On the receiving end of both of her Masters’ verbal assault, she looked small and remorseful as she stared, silent and forlorn, down at her clenched hands.

  Instantly the fire of his rage was doused.

  What the hell were they doing? They had only themselves to blame.

  Maggie didn’t know how dangerous it was to wander Alyria by herself. They hadn’t told her. They’d simply left, both of them, to attend to their respective obligations, leaving their unclaimed bride alone.

  Of course, she’d set about wandering. In her world, it was perfectly acceptable for a woman to go in public unaccompanied.

  He traded remorseful scowls with Bastien. The room went silent, except the sniffling of one teary-eyed bride. “We owe you an apology.” Xander reached forward, expecting, by the sudden glitter of anger in her eyes, to receive a hefty dose of what he and Bastien had just dished out. Instead, there was silence.

  Agonizing silence.

  Searing heat swept through his system, the effects of Maggie’s unique and utterly addictive pheromone. If she didn’t leave soon, he’d be completing the claiming right there, in his office. He’d be powerless to resist the urge. And then the next pair of knights to enter the portal would be in danger.

  Silently, he struggled to battle the temptation to kiss those trembling lips, to sculpt the perfect curves of her body with his hands and bury his cock deep in her slick passage. He stole a glance at Bastien.

  Oh yeah, he was losing it too. Bastien’s face was drawn into a mask of tense, restrained hunger.

  Damn it all, if that virus hadn’t attacked his computer, none of them would be suffering like this.

  “Xander,” Bastien muttered, an instant before he pulled their bride into an embrace, tipping his head to nuzzle her neck. Her body turned as Bastien manipulated it, providing Xander with a clear view of her round ass.

  The soft, sweet sound of her whimper nearly knocked him to his knees as a wave of pleasure coursed through his body.