Sleepy Willow's Loosed Soul (The Narcoleptic Vampire Series Vol. 3)

Prologue

~Last episode of Sleepy Willow’s Heartless Soul~

I’d been so deep in thought that I’d missed the threat beside me until it was too late. He was a regular patron anyway, so I wouldn’t normally be alarmed to see him. He was a registered member. Card-carrying Hades patron, who spent lots of money with the BDSM fetish crew. This time, however, he carried a handful of silver chains which he threw on me as I passed. Then he pulled something attached to them that caused them to tighten around me. Burning my skin, of course.

You scream and I’ll squeeze this. The device looked a lot like a stun gun. It won’t kill you, but believe me. You’ll wish you hadn’t screamed.

Easy for him to say while I was the one burning. I gritted my teeth, just in case. Didn’t want to find out if he was right. I knew what he was capable of based on where he spent his time in here. The chains had all come from that room. And he was not a sub.

Do you remember me? he said.

You come in here all the time.

You remember me from anywhere else? He had mocha skin, dark eyes, short curly black hair, and a goatee. Focusing on the scar across his cheek that appeared distinguishable enough, I still couldn’t recall anywhere else I’d seen him.

Should I? Damn those chains burned.

I’m Dougie George. Dr. Dougie they call me. He led me quickly to the parking lot, making it look like I was going willingly, like we were a happy dom/sub couple.

Was I supposed to be impressed by his God-complex profession? Congratulations.

I work with Dr. Floyd.

Tell him I said hi.

He threw me in the back of a van. I’ll take the chains off once we get you to the cage in my research lab.

Dr. Floyd put you up to this? I’d been betrayed by Saybree, but I’d gotten over it. Dr. Floyd had been the closest thing to a non blood related father I’d had. I’d rather jump off the highest mountain than find out he had double-crossed me.

No. He would never go along with this, which is why I had to do it myself. He started driving.

Great. You want to turn me in for reward money. Did the nightmare never stop?

Money? Please. I got plenty of that, he said matter-of-factly. Charging outrageous medical fees, I presumed. Not long ago we ran some tests on your blood for our narcolepsy drug treatment study. Yours looked strange. Predatory. Got me to thinking. Floyd had asked a few of us doctors for our opinions, then later came back and said the blood had been contaminated. I didn’t buy that. So I kept a vial or two and kept studying it.

Somebody needed to get a new hobby. Have you tried golfing?

He kept going like he enjoyed the sound of his own voice. The government can keep its money, and I certainly won’t let anyone kill you. Your blood is too special. It actually heals. Stupid asses in Washington have screwed everything up. They shouldn’t be eradicating your kind. We should be studying it.

Using it, is what he really meant. Great. I’d been abducted by a mad scientist. Studying it? Is that all you plan to do?

No answer.

Bad sign.

We rode the rest of the way in silence. Once stopped, he led me into the basement of a hospital and strapped me to a table with silver chains.

When I heard a motor running, I flashed back to Dario’s reinforcements and panicked. I thought you weren’t going to kill me!

I’m not. Then he showed me the hair clippers he’d turned on before he started shaving my head bald. I need hair samples. The fucker had me looking like Sinead O’Conner in six waves of his clippers across my head. Next, I’m going to harvest your organs. Your regenerative properties will have you growing enough organs to save the lives of many who’ve been waiting for donors. Then he pulled out a scalpel as if he was about to begin cutting into my side. Of course, it’ll take longer for some organs to grow back, but I’m in no hurry.

Wasn’t this a titty twister.

If I was going to turn the men I’d promised I would, I had only a little while to drain a virgin and get to it. Conda’s birthday was coming soon. Monroe was anxious for sight after being teased with the hope of it. I couldn’t let them down. Had to keep my word.

Ever-hopeful, I asked Dr. Dougie, Are you a virgin, by chance?

Nope.

Fuck.

I’d just gotten my heart back. Wasn’t anywhere near ready to have some Dr. Who going in and cutting it out. Kind of liked my liver, kidneys, and lungs right where they were too, even if they didn’t function anymore.

Had no intent on letting this fucker take out my organs, especially not my heart, and give them to some transplant patient. For all I knew, he was probably creating a Frankenstein monster.

So now I had to drain a virgin, convince myself and my day companions that it was okay to have sex with other men in order to turn them, two of which I’d promised I would already. Not to mention, giving them the cure of vampirism would push me towards freeing myself permanently from Max. Then there was Rδum’s army and the upcoming battles I needed to prepare for…

But before I did all that, I had to get my ass out of here.

In one piece.

Great.

Chapter 1

From this angle, his thighs were huge. Hell, everything on him was ginormous. His feet, his calves, his balls. Rippling chocolate muscles covered every inch of his body, and my reverse cowgirl position made his thick dick stroke my guts in a nearly uncomfortable way…that got progressively worse. Screaming Ouch! right now would not be sexy, but it was forming in the back of my throat, no matter how superhuman I was supposed to be.

Since my first time with Ivan, I hadn’t experienced pain from merely intercourse and didn’t understand why I felt it now. I was a G, dammit. I could ride a mean dick, but boy was he hitting it hard. And the line between pleasure and pain was distinct for me. One that couldn’t be ignored. An adjustment needed to be made to accommodate Punch’s length and strength. Sure, I could take the pain, but I preferred unadulterated pleasure. The kind that had me screaming in ecstasy, not agony. With that in mind, I let go of my tight grip on his legs where I’d been digging my nails in, drawing blood, and leaned back towards his massive chest and washboard abs.

Ahhh. Much better.

More than one way to fuck a giant.

My long, coarse black hair cushioned my head while the mega heat from his body immediately engulfed my limbs. Warming me inside and out, like I’d been thrown into a volcano. I became lost to that heat, especially the molten one spreading from the vise grip I still held around the endowment that made him all male.

Mmmm. Damn, that’s good. Punch’s deep, rattling moan vibrated throughout my entire body as he massaged my breasts with both hands, kneading them like a chef preparing steaks for grilling. He continued pumping his hips upwards, burying himself in me. Deeply. Rhythmically. Nibbling my earlobe. Growling with each stroke. Lightly flickering his thumbs over my nipples to make sure I remained tender and juicy.

My back arched as I reached above my head to grasp handfuls of his long dreadlocks and pulled roughly, urging him on. Begging him, without words, to give me all the power in his strong, muscular body. To hold nothing back. Surprisingly, I could take it from this angle and wanted more. Needed more. He took the hint and ran with it. Or at least his hands did, sliding leisurely from my breasts to my stomach to my thighs. His knees raised, spreading mine wide to give his big hands access. To probe me on the outside while he prodded my insides.

Ow! What was that?

All this probing and prodding almost reminded me of something horrific, something jarring. Frightening knowledge danced just outside my mental grasp. If I reached for it, I’d capture its essence and know the truth. But no. I wouldn’t let my brain focus on anything other than this moment with him. When one of his thick fingers found my pulsating clit and rubbed tentatively at first, then more firmly, I couldn’t think about anything else if I tried.

Oh, yeeesss. Just like that. I was speechless again, as I’d been known to get sometimes when I was close to climaxing. Our supernatural bond gave me a telepathic means to praise him anyway. To let him know how badly I wanted it, and that he was giving it to me right—in case my moans and groans and panting and writhing didn’t clue him in well enough.

The same finger went to his lips for a wet, noisy suck, before resuming its delicious assault on the part of me that craved his attention most.

"Damn, that’s good," I whispered. For shooting my pleasure level up ten notches, he more than deserved to hear that one aloud.

Oh, yeah. He liked auditory encouragement. The pace and depth of his thrusts increased. The volume of his baritone moans rose too, until he no longer sounded human but feral like his inner wolf. The sensation, the intensity, our combined energies…all of it made us urgent to reach the end together. Desperate to reach the ultimate sexual fulfillment.

Oh, yes. Faster. Harder. More. Please.

Amazing that he could still be inside me so deeply from this angle, but boy could he ever. Filling me up again and again.

No one could tell me size didn’t matter.

My eyes rolled and closed, but not before I saw Remi enter my bedroom and shut the door. He didn’t bother talking or waiting for an invitation. No lollygagging whatsoever. He began stripping, exposing lean muscles and hairy, olive skin. Skin that appeared close to my caramel complexion but a stark contrast to Punch. The contrast of Remi’s features was beyond complementary, forming the perfect blend like peanut butter and jelly or vanilla ice-cream and apple pie. Double yum. Food analogies worked well since I was spread before him like an all-you-can-eat buffet with Punch working me like a famished construction worker using a jackhammer to devour his meal. A big, hot jackhammer, that is.

Remi didn’t say anything because words weren’t necessary. He would only benefit from action. Swift action. He was all about removing the garments that prevented him from being as naked as we were. And he was in a hurry to do it. In a hurry to find pleasure and release inside me. Being familiar with my body, he recognized the signs of an impending orgasm and didn’t want to miss my walls clenching around him, extracting every drop of his semen.

I picked all that up from his mental trajectories…because we were bonded like that. Permanently. The bond I’d once dreaded had become an instrument of foreplay.

Stealing a peek through squinty eyes, I moaned at the sight of Remi disrobing. His physical aura manifested the same vibes as his thoughts. He was erect, his body straining to get at me in the same manner a paperclip would be drawn to a magnet, only hornier. Hotter.

I licked my lips through a haze of lust, struck immediately by how beautiful and delicious he looked. Statuesque and edible…which made perfect sense to me since I was a vampire. My hungry, sexual nature justified why I couldn’t wait for him to lay the full weight of his sinuous body on me while I sunk throbbing fangs into his neck and rocked my hips on Punch. Multitasking at its finest. Being able to have them simultaneously would be worth prolonging the finale. I had two orifices that could be filled, after all, especially now that neither served to excrete waste from my animated body.

I’d seen enough of Conda’s pornos to know the anus could be a delightful erogenous zone. What better time than the present to give it a try? Neither my inexperience with anal sex nor Punch’s daunting size would preclude me from shifting him to the rear and leaving my cookie wide open for Remi to plunge in. Trying new things came with being a G.

That’s right, sexy. Come to me. Come in me—

Ow!

That gnawing pain still lingered in my subconscious. I didn’t understand how or why or when it had come back. But whatever. Double penetration with Punch and Remi would be worth some pain. Or maybe I should turn over, switch Remi to the rear. Yeah…

Ignoring the nagging feeling that something was askew, I writhed wantonly at the sight of Remi approaching. Seeing him, clothed or nude, always had that effect on me. He. Was. Gorgeous. From the crown of his long black, wavy hair to the mesmerizing metallic blue of his eyes, he belonged to me, and I couldn’t wait to claim him again.

But the nag wouldn’t recede. In fact, it worsened. The wonderful penetration of Punch’s dick now felt like he’d stabbed me with a sharp knife and pulled my cookie out. Conscious thought slowly pulled out towards the surface as well.

Thinking of Remi’s hair had triggered an alarm in the back of my mind, because his hair was oddly slicked back from his forehead with holding gel. And he hadn’t removed a t-shirt with leather wristbands and jeans. He’d been wearing a button-down, long-sleeved dress shirt and slacks instead. Matter of fact, his eyes were downcast with the guardedness of a shy man. Definitely odd for him. Remi usually stared like a shocked corpse, which was fitting really, since he loved corpses so much.

But that was the point, wasn’t it? This wasn’t Remi at all. I’d been mistaken. Only Aaron behaved in that manner, and dressed like that, and wore his hair that way, and… No. Wait. There was no way Aaron would have an erection already. His erectile dysfunction, brought on by the same traumatic childhood event that gave him a personality disorder, didn’t allow it. Honestly, it was difficult to discern which personality occupied that glorious body sometimes, but there were usually telltale signs…that were blown to hell at the moment.

Come to think of it, Punch wasn’t my lover. That should have been the first sign that something was off here; that I was either in an alternate universe, having another crazy dream, or hallucinating. There was no way I’d be riding Punch without his fire-breathing redheaded bitch having something to say about it. And neither Remi nor Aaron would be cool about approaching the bed with that hungry look on their face, that said they loved watching me ride Punch and couldn’t wait to join us. Remi would be too jealous, Aaron too self-conscious.

Apparently, my body had been overwhelmed, stressed to the max, and my mind had escaped to a safe dream in order to cope. My built-in, automatic coping mechanism. At least it had been a good dream. Arguably. With my sleep disorder, I never knew when sleep was on the horizon, or when my own troubled past would manifest itself in a nightmare. Narcolepsy notwithstanding, somehow I knew this nap had been induced by something other than my body’s inability to regulate its sleep cycle. Something more frightening, more painful, more mercilessly malicious was going on.

Fearful of what I’d find upon returning to reality, my eyes flew open. I tried to sit upright and couldn’t. Something had me bound tightly, and there was only one thing that could be—silver.

What a buzz kill.

Looking around frantically, I realized the room had changed. Long gone was my monochromatic bedroom. Its sparse black decorum was now replaced by a bright light directly overhead that blinded my extra-sensitive eyes but, no doubt, made me more visible to whoever needed to see me better.

Reality set in. My memory returned, and with it, all out despair.

Damn. Wished I’d stayed in fairyland now. Where was Fantasy Island or even the Bermuda Triangle when I needed it? I’d give anything to have Punch and Remi or Aaron in my bedroom with me. I’d even ass-kiss Punch’s fiancée, Fire, for an opportunity at my fantasy menage a trois. Or fight her again and risk a quick, final death by her hot breath. It would be better than this. Anything would be better than being strapped to a cold operating table, bound by silver, and being cut open by one psychotic Dr. Evil.

I see propofol doesn’t work for you very long, said the evil doctor himself as his mocha skin, goatee and facial scar came into focus.

Propofol?

Then the pain hit. Hard.

Oh, shit! Propofol! An anesthetic.

I screamed in agony as millions of pain signals flooded my brain at once. Excruciating pain that radiated throughout my whole body, until I couldn’t tell what hurt most or if any part was unaffected. I’d been submersed in a sea of pain where even my faint arm hair and teeth enamel ached.

Dr. Dougie George had abducted me from Pit of Hades Fetish Club, where I worked as a Necrophilia Specialist, and brought me here so he could research my species and transplant my organs to sick humans. Right about now, I wished he’d known sedation would have very little effect on me. Then again, would it really have mattered? Nope. The sadist in him would have performed his experiments and operations on me anyway, with the same gusto. That’s what made him a popular Dom at the club. The doctor in him would have been equally too high on power to thwart his mission over a lil’ pain to his unwilling donor. He’d expect me to suck it up.

Just my luck to wake up from the fantasy of an afterlife and find myself on a table, being gutted like a trout, especially since human drugs did not work for me. Not well, at least. I’d be cured of narcolepsy by now if they did. Maybe.

He started barking orders at owners of the other heartbeats I heard in the room, and his accomplices got busy with their tasks to make his organ theft a success. I heard all this even through my ear-splitting screams. I just couldn’t stop screaming for some reason.

Shhh. Try to calm down, Willow. We have lots of etomidate, ketamine, and morphine, he spoke in a spookily casual voice next to my ear as he rubbed my bald head. The head he’d shaved my illustrious mane from. Though it had already started growing back, it would be awhile before it was the same length as before, and that pissed me off. My hair didn’t hold the same significance as it did for Sampson, but it was still important. Especially since I valued being beautiful. This evil son-of-a-bitch had robbed me of some of my outer beauty, and for that alone—before we even got to the pain part—he’d have to pay dearly. He had the nerve to still be rubbing my head when he spoke again. Don’t you worry. You’re too important to modern science and medical advancements to let anything happen to you.

What the fuck do you call stealing my organs! I yelled through clenched teeth. Like there wasn’t some major shit happening to me at the present. I had every right to worry. I wasn’t even sure which of my insides had been taken already, but I wasn’t intending to leave without everything I’d come into this shithole with, especially my heart. I’d just went to another dimension and defied my maistre vampire to get that sucker back, and I’d kill anyone who tampered with it. Sixth Commandment be damned. I was probably on my way to hell anyway.

A necessary evil.

What the…? You got the evil part right! Dr. Dougie was going to hell with me. I’d make sure of it.

"It’s not like you need them anymore."

No he did not act like that justified his actions! You fucking—

There was moderate shuffling as he moved away from my head, signaling our conversation had ended. A moment later, I felt an agonizing tug in my abdomen. Daring to open my eyes, I saw him lift something meaty and bloody out of my body cavity and hand it off to another scrub-wearing sadistic fuck. It passed to another set of scrubs, who held out a plastic bag as I watched my organ get dumped into it like a bloody loaf of bread. The bag was placed on a small weigh station then into a cooler while Sadist Scrub Number One wrote in black marker on the cooler label. Aside from wanting to jab that marker up his pee hole, I did nothing except watch in horror as Sadist Scrub Number Two carried the cooler with my body part out the door. Just like that. Without so much as a backward glance.

Unsure of whether to scream or close my eyes to prevent seeing anything that offensive again, I did both. I also thrashed about and puked a little blood, opting for the most manic reaction possible. The most involuntary one. The one most likely to remind them that I was NOT in agreement with this.

Too bad none of it helped my current predicament. The silver bindings were too tight and too busy burning every ounce of flesh they touched: my throat, wrists, waist, and ankles. There would be no spontaneous escape. At this rate, the silver would burn through my skin like a knife through butter. If I didn’t chill out, my own thrashing would help Doc cut my flesh into itty-bitty transportable pieces.

I stilled myself as best I could, which wasn’t much considering my whole body was electrified with pain. I dared a look at him…which turned into a maniacal glare.

Dr. Dougie nodded to the scrubs across from him who took that as a signal to stick me with an extra long needle. I felt it go into my temple with the gentleness of a snake bite and was surprised it didn’t come out the other side. Envisioning myself jamming that same needle through his eye then up his ass, made me smile. Or maybe it was the immediate short-term effect of the drug.

We are prepared to inject you with drugs, oh… Dr. Dougie looked over at the clock on the wall, at least every ten minutes, to ease your discomfort. I’m sorry it won’t be a pain-free experience for you, but that’s the best we can do with your metabolism. He casually gave more orders to the remaining soon-to-be dead assistants in the room.

Yeah. I’d just bet he was sorry.

It didn’t look like he was even going to give me stitches or staples. I guess knowing that my body would heal itself made him unapologetic about removing my body parts AND too lazy to close me up once he was done.

Fucker.

When I took out your kidney and liver, I thought that may throw off your metabolism, but—as I’m sure you know—your organs have nothing to do with keeping you undead. I struggled to stay focused as he continued speaking. I tried not to be too distracted by his admission, though I really wanted to scream again, while wrapping the silver chains around his neck and squeezing hard. I suppose magic is the key to your survival, but I have no magicians on staff. I’ll need to conduct further studies to learn how to make your stay here…a little less unpleasant. Just bear with me, please.

He’d said it as if I were a patient who had requested a private hospital room and had to be wheeled into a joint room until a more comfortable space became available. He had done nothing more than explained an inconvenient situation and asked me to be understanding while he remedied it. Really.

He glanced up at a monitor that I’d just now realized was there, removed his bloody gloves, and walked out. His air of superiority followed close behind.

How did he manage to be kind and mean at the same time? Kidnapping and organ theft wouldn’t be so bad if I was just…comfortable. Apparently.

Evil doctors were always so courteous even when they did evil. Was it because they believed the end justified their means? They always did seem to have some cause that trumped any normal sense of decency and ethics. The ones on TV did anyway. Guess they figured they didn’t have to