Damon had longed for the moment when he could seize power from the pompous fool who had been the pack alpha for so long. And now, he had taken control, wrested authority over the bloodline in one fell swoop. The feeling was intoxicating, luxurious even. And he knew exactly whom he would share it with.
The last three hours had been spent securing his hold. A few lieutenants of Marcus' had not been easily persuaded but there resistance was short lived. As were they. Years of subservient work and gradual manipulation had allowed him to extend his claws into nearly every aspect of pack business and when the chance finally came, things fell into place rather easily. Only his half brother remained on the loose. But that concerned him little- he was not the old fool that Marcus was. He would go hunting when the time was right.
From behind the doorway to his private office, came a plaintive whimper of exhaustion and suffering. He had other prey to attend to.
Slowly he opened the heavy wooden door, letting its creak signal his arrival for the room's occupants. Grinning sadistically, he stared across the room at the two figures opposite him.
Athena, Lucas' sister, was chained at the ankles and at the wrists, her naked body still showing some of the abuse that had been doled out to her by the old alpha wolf. Around her neck, a thick leather strap was cinched tight to the ceiling above her. As a result, she was forced to stand on her tip toes, back and calves arched in an effort to allow air to fill her lungs. She had been left this way for hours and was nearing the point of exhaustion. So intent on her plight was she, Athena did not hear her half brother come into the room.
Her mother, however, did. She had been trapped in canine form for well over two days now, since Marcus had first bound her with a choke collar to the door. The feeling was perturbing and already she could sense some of her humanity slipping away. The more bestial nature was beginning to seize control. If she didn't shift soon, she would go feral, losing herself in the evolved desires of a pack hunter. And then there was little that could be done for her. Which is exactly where Damon intended to push her.
For several moments, the young powerful figure studied his victims, admiring the handiwork that had them so cowed and beaten. Before they proud bitches had refused his attempts at alliance or to subvert the alpha male. Their old-fashioned senses of propriety within the pack had bothered him. He intended to take the wolves into a new age, where they could be masters and not the defenseless, fearful, lap dogs that they had become. Soon humans would realize that all their great nightmares were true.
Slowly Damon ran his thumb over his forefinger, savoring the slight textured overlay of his fingerprint. His mouth watered as he drew closer and closer to Athena. She looked so helpless, so broken. Her long hair was loose and wild, far from its normal pinned back styling. Across her waist, the deep scratch marks of Marcus' paws told a story of her use. The long muscles in her leg quivered, making her look soft and feminine in one glance and fit and lean in another. And that delicious backside, its gentle curve rising like a crescendo from her tensed thighs, peaking softly before ebbing away into the small of her back.
"Hello girls," he whispered, noting the flash in Athena's eyes as she glanced his way in recognition. "How are we feeling?"
Receiving no response except for the incontrollable whimpers of suffering, he laughed. By now he was close to Athena, close enough to smell her, to scent the aroma of her sweat as it dripped over her skin. Instinctively, his hand went to her rump, running from her thigh to her back and down again. His cock throbbed as a long awaited fulfillment drew closer.
"I must say, it is good to be king," he chuckled. "I don't know why I didn't take my rightful place sooner." His hand was now fully cupping her cheek, slowly tightening its grip on the soft flesh beneath it.
Athena managed another hateful glare at her perverted captor and a weak attempt to spit. All she managed was a dark spot on his silk shirt. For that, she was rewarded with a vicious blow to the shins that sent her weight collapsing down on her neck. Her usually melodic voice gasped hoarsely as her air was cut off and her bare feet scrambled on the smooth floor beneath her. By the time she had regained her footing, she was seeing stars in the corner of her eyes.
"Let's not play games sister. You know the rules. Alpha male takes what he wants. And with Marcus gone, the acknowledge leader of this pack is me. And I will have you!" Once more he kicked her legs out from beneath her and watched as she desperately tried to breathe.
When she had managed to balance precariously again, he unhooked her collar from the ceiling and guided her to his desk. Once there, he bound the long leather strap in an eyelet bolt carefully placed in the cement floor. He slowly tightened it, cinching her back down over the desk, and pulling her torso taut.
Now she was exposed completely to him. Her gorgeous full breasts lay across her chest, their nipples hardened with exertion and the caress of cold air. A bead of sweat dripped from between their valley down to the precious shadow of her navel. From two to three inches below it, a small strip of well groomed hair marked the pathway to the chalice that he had so longed to drink from. Athena continued to glare up at him, but she was silent atop the mahogany surface.
She knew that she had nothing with which to counter his claim, and that her family's survival very well depended on her ability to control her pride and anger. She must submit.
"Get on with it," she swore, her voice full of malice.
"I intend to, dear sister, I intend to. But it won't be quick. And you will come to enjoy it, of that I assure you."
"Don't toot your own horn."
"You'll be doing most of the work, sister. Then we will see how mother responds."
"Fucker," she spat.
"I definitely will," he chuckled at his own sense of humor.
He was leaning against the desk now, one leg pulled up along the edge of the thick top, its knee brushing against her waist. His large hands were clasped in his lap, clenching and unclenching as they surveyed with excitement the naked pink flesh laid out before them.
The fingertips of his right hand would have contact first, nervously perching between the base of her rib cage. They slowly pressed down on her smooth skin, allowing the sweaty surface to lubricate their contact and letting them slip down, till his palm and all five digits were splayed across the top of her abdomen.
Upward they would dart, in the small well defined gap between the two bone structures. Gently he moved his fingers together until they formed a unified wedge that shifted vertically between the proud thrust of her breasts.
"So young and full," he whispered in delighted amazement. His hand would open into a wide splay again once it passed between their valley. This thumb and little finger would press ever so slightly into the top of her tissue, crossing an invisible boundary between simple anatomical expression and into the realm of the sexual.
