Prison of Blood and Lies

Eleven

“You there. Back up.” Gemba pointed a slender finger at one of the prisoners, a slim, sallow-looking man whose clothes hung off his frame. His beard was long and unkempt. It looks like he'd been in her for a while.

The man backed up against the wall and hiked his pants up. The prisoners all wore dingy gray scrubs. Scrubs weren't the most attractive or form-fitting garment on the average Joe, but they were really disagreeable with this prisoner. The excess fabric swallowed his lithe frame.

“Good. Now turn around,” he said. He twirled his finger in a circle and the prisoner complied, frowning. He must have known what to expect next because he put his arms behind his back. Gemba waved his hand and shackles of light appeared on his wrists. They glowed like halos.

“What did? How did you?” I’d never seen anything like that before. I was stunned by the angel’s ability. No wonder my pitiful attempt to sway him the other day was unsuccessful.

“Angel. Perk of the job.” He grinned.

The door to the cell opened and the prisoner walked out, eyes cast downward. “You know where to go, dog,” Gemba growled.

I followed Gemba and the prisoner to the room he had named his favorite during the tour. He opened the door and flipped on a light. I don’t know what I had been expecting, but this was certainly not it.

The interrogation room looked like a stereotypical police-style room. The bare walls and bare floor were only interrupted by a single metal chair bolted to the center of the concrete floor. Near the chair was a small, circular drain in floor. Against the far wall, a long faucet dripped water into a steel water basin. Blood stains speckled the doors of a cabinet next to the sink.

“And this,” Gemba started, “is where the magic happens.”

I crinkled my nose. The room reeked of fear and pain. A different smell than the prison floor just on the other side of the door.

“Sit,” Gemba commanded the prisoner. He sat. Gemba waved his hands again and the man’s arms were restrained to the chair’s sides with the same glowing halos.

He clapped his hands together once and turned to face me. “This, is your first lesson. He’s a werewolf, like the one that got away yesterday.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the prisoner. “He’s hungry and weakened. Perfect for our playtime today.”

“O-okay,” I said, confused.

“Tell me about when you lost control of the situation with the other wolf?”

I thought back on it. “I gave him too much.”

Gemba tutted. “Not quite. What happened to make you think you gave him too much?”

“He, ah, fell asleep. Kind of.”

“Bingo.”

I wasn’t catching his point. “So?”

“So, have any of your humans fallen asleep on you?”

“They didn’t get the chance. I didn’t have to throw so much at them, either.”

“Right. The key to your succubus ways is eye contact. You lose their eyes, you lose the fight.”

That made sense. I had Tucker well under my control up until he closed his eyes.

“The humans, though, they—”

“They’re weak. Forget everything you know about them when you’re dealing with our kind. Now. Approach our man here. Get him under your spell.”

I nodded once and focused on the target. He looked back and forth between Gemba and I with fear in his eyes. His aura trembled around him.

“Relax,” I cooed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He looked at me and spat on the ground.

I smiled. “Now that’s not any way to treat a lady, is it?” I sauntered up to him and caressed his face, throwing out seductive energies as I tried to get his attention.

He looked at my face. Got him. I gave a push and tried to hold his gaze. He relaxed and his aura shifted from quivering fear to desire.

I could sense Gemba’s pleasure from behind me. “Good, good. Now keep his attention and start asking questions.”

“What’s your name?”

“Max,” he said.

“Good. Max. Where are you from?”

His head drifted off to one side.

“You’re going to lose him, pull it back a little,” Gemba said. His voice was patient, like a parent teaching a child a skill for the first time.

I slowed the flow a little and hoped that I wouldn’t take back too much. His eyes remained unfocused but on mine.

“Where are you from Max,” I pressed.

This time he responded. “New York.”

He strained against the restraints to try and lean toward me more. His desire smelled delicious. I inhaled and savored the fragrance. I yearned to sink my fangs in him. I never was one to play with my food.

“Keep going, Alice.”

“Max, dear,” I ran my finger down his chest. “Who do you work for?” I twirled a lock of my hair and c****d my head to one side.

He shook his head. I knew that I needed to give him just a bit more for him to answer me.

“Don’t leave me hanging here. It’s not polite.” I stuck my bottom lip out in a pout and ran it along a fang. He exhaled heavily.

“I-I, it’s Tucker. Tucker Smith.”

That son of a b***h. He worked for the elusive scumbag.

“Good boy, Max. What do you do for good old Tucker?”

I pulled myself up onto the chair with him and coaxed him with some encouraging contact from my pelvis on his thighs.

“I met girls.”

That was all I needed to hear.

“Gemba, I’m going to rip his throat out right now.” Max pressed his face to my bosom and nestled himself there.

It took no time for Max’s body to stiffen. He turned his face back to mine, this time in a snarl, fangs bared.

Luckily, he was restrained. I stepped off his lap and just out of his reach.

“You b***h,” he snarled.

The dog in him just couldn’t help but to try and stare me down. I used the opportunity to gain the upper hand again.

“Excellent, Alice. Simply fabulous.” Gemba clapped his hand on my shoulder and I ducked out of the unwelcomed contact. He didn’t react.

“Go ahead and take a nip. Remember, we aren’t to kill him. Keep him alive.”

Gemba’s advice was so soothing to hear. I wished that when I was brand new to this life several months ago, I’d had someone guiding me. Instead, I had the seemingly unending pain and confusion.

I approached the werewolf again, this time leaning in toward his face.

“What happens when I bite him? I’ll lose eye contact.”

“You’ll see. It’s even better.”

I sniffed the air around Max and wondered how he’d taste. In all the smutty vampire books I’d ever read, werewolves weren’t supposed to taste good. That, however, was fiction and this was real life.

The mixture of his desire and his blood tempted me. I couldn’t control my own desire any longer. I tilted his head to the side and launched myself at his jugular.

We both moaned together for drastically different reasons. He seemed to be pulled completely into my little bubble of lust. I, on the other hand, was blissfully aware of how rich and aromatic his blood tasted. I’d never tasted anything so sublime. Not even when I was a human.

I swallowed a few mouthfuls and was satisfied. I licked the puncture wounds and left him alive. For the first time, I didn’t bleed my meal dry. I could get used to this.