Fighting Fangs

Fighting Fangs Copyright © 2015

Dedication

Even when times are hard, there are those few special people who keep you going every day. You know who you are. Thank you.

Fighting Fangs (Book 4 Bound & Bonded Series)

Copyright © Lisa Oliver, 2015

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Cover Design by Lisa Oliver

Pictures purchased through Dreamstime.com

First Edition January, 2015

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, Lisa Oliver.
[email protected]

No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without permission from Lisa Oliver.
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The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights and livelihood is appreciated.

Fighting Fangs is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning:

This book contains material that maybe offensive to some people including graphic language, cursing, explicit sex between males, male-male sex, anal intercourse, oral, rimming.

Chapter One

Ace Tarlton couldn’t stop the growl rumbling from his chest as he took in the pathetic offerings in the club. It had taken him over a week before his provisional membership in the supposedly upmarket Whips club had been approved and he had been assured, when he applied, that there were subs of all types available who could cater to any needs of a discerning Dominant. Unlike his last place, this club didn’t care about where he had been before, or whether or not he was trained as a Dom. All they were interested in was the state of his bank balance and whether or not he had a police record.

Knowing that he could satisfy on both counts, Ace hadn’t worried about putting in his application. When he had got the call, letting him know his provisional membership had been approved, Ace had wasted no time pulling on his leather pants, a buckled harness the only clothing needed under his jacket, leather of course, and heading down to the club.

An hour later, slowly sipping a bottle of water at the bar, Ace could see there were some major problems with his new club. The lighting was tacky for a start – the strobe lights making it difficult for Ace to keep his sensitive eyes focused.

There were far more Dominants than subs in the club if the evening crowd was any indication. The Doms themselves were, for the most part, part-time posers who clearly had office day jobs that left their physiques flabby and unattractive. Ace was appalled to see there were women in the club – he was used to male only places. Many of the women were also Dominants, if their dress and mannerisms were to be believed. As a confirmed gay man, watching some woman have her pussy eaten out by a bald-headed female sub while the Domme chatted with a friend, made Ace discretely shudder with disgust.

But by far the biggest problem with the lame assed club – aside from its outdated décor, poor lighting, sticky floor and pounding music – the biggest problem from Ace’s point of view was that it was full of humans. Loud, smelly,
weak
humans. There wasn’t a sniff of another wolf shifter in the place, and Ace had cased the place thoroughly when he had first arrived, hoping against hope that he could find a submissive wolf shifter among the crowds.

Closing his eyes for one brief moment, Ace thought longingly of the last club, the last pack he belonged to. The Bound and Bonded Club was run by his ex-Alpha, a wolf shifter, and the club served as the main house for the Washington pack. The entire club was populated by gay wolves and it was heaven on earth for Ace. Three subs to every Dom, weaker wolves loving the security of a big male only pack. Subs who could take a solid whipping and come back begging for more.

Ace had been a member, a respected Dom, building his way up to a pack enforcer for more than eight years. His life had been perfect until Kyle, one of the head enforcers, had taken a cat shifter for a mate and that cat, Ace couldn’t even think the word without snarling, had become an automatic member of what had been, until then, a wolf only pack.

For Ace,
everything
went downhill that one fateful day, just three weeks ago. Kyle, with his rock star good looks, wearing his cat shifter on his arm, like the little man was anything but the scum Ace knew him to be. A manipulating, conniving cat shifter who had somehow got lucky and managed to lay him out on the floor, right in the Alpha’s office.

Forcing away those humiliating memories, Ace took another look around his current club, trying to find someone, anyone, who looked like they could take a beating and a hard fuck without breaking. He wasn’t having a lot of luck.

“Your attention on the center stage, if you please. Master Marco will be testing Devin, one of our house subs on his ability to take a bull whip.” A male voice came out across the music.

Ace snorted.
Yeah, gonna be a short show. Like a human is going to be able to take more than one or two lashes. Not like a wolf shifter sub.
His mind flashed back to the last sub he had taken at Bound and Bonded – Jules. The boy had taken ten lashes easily, his cock hard and leaking throughout, and then begged to be fucked. More than happy to oblige because Ace couldn’t help but get hard from inflicting pain on the willing, he cheerfully pounded his cock into the screaming boy until they both had explosive orgasms.

Reminding himself that he would have that again, once he got rid of that pesky cat shifter out of the Washington pack, Ace headed over to the stage area. He needed to do something about the urges he had now. Wolf shifters were notoriously sexual creatures and Ace had enjoyed nothing but his fucking right hand for three weeks. Even if he didn’t dare do a scene with any of the human men around him, he might be able to live vicariously through this Master Marco and fuck some boy’s mouth afterwards.

Choosing a place by the wall close to the stage, Ace concentrated on the boy who was being prepped for the whipping. He had no interest in the Dom who was prancing around on the other end of the stage, flicking a short, 6 foot bull whip all over the place like he was some fucking artiste. The fact that the man was using a six foot whip as opposed to the ten or twelve foot ones used at the Bound and Bonded club, had already dropped Ace’s interest by a good ten points. But then he wasn’t interested in other Doms, period. Nope, his interest was at the other end of the stage where a blond, well-built man was currently being attached to the St. Andrews cross against the wall.

Ace couldn’t see the boy’s face, because the man was surrounded by another four subs, who were twittering around, checking bindings and generally making more fuss than necessary. If it had been him doing the scene, Ace would have bound the boy to the cross himself, not trusting anyone else to check the bindings, and making sure his boy knew his safe words and was prepared to use them if necessary.

The Dom at the other end of the stage was clearly more into his image, rather than the health and safety of his sub. That made Ace snarl again. He might not like humans but any sub was worthy of respect and care, and this Dom’s attitude screamed look-at-me instead of caring for the man who was going to take his whip.

Finally, the house subs were done, and they cleared the stage. Now the area was lit with just two spotlights, one on the Dom and one on the boy, Devin, Ace remembered, bound to the cross. Ace admitted to himself that the boy looked good, at least from what he could see. Long limbs, with fine muscles outlined in a faint sheen of sweat. Two beautiful glute muscles that Ace would love to worship with whip, paddle or his bare hand. A broad back, that Ace noticed had more than a few pale white scars on it already, slimming to a trim waist. Blond shaggy hair falling around his head, was obstructing Ace’s view of the boy’s face.

“Ready boy?” Ace almost doubled over laughing at the sound of the man’s voice. He might look like a Dom. He dressed like a Dom but when Master Marco opened his mouth he sounded like a dweeb on crack. Ace thought it was hilarious.

Devin lifted his head. “Yes Sir,” he called back before dropping his head again. But not before Ace had got a good look at the boy’s face and damn if lust didn’t hit his balls, hard. Fuck, Devin was beautiful. Lean, hard face. Huge violet eyes, a cute straight nose and full pale pink lips. Even if the boy wimped out at the first lash of the whip, Ace knew he had to have him. It wouldn’t be tonight, but he was determined to have him at least once.

The crack of the whip echoed just after a flash of red appeared on Devin’s back. The boy barely moved, just shuffled his feet a little in the restraints and settled for the next one, which came quickly after. Four lashes later, Ace chanced a quick look at Devin’s cock, which was big, hard and leaking slightly. Barely suppressing a whimper Ace did a fist pump in his head. The boy was a pain slut – which meant he was perfect for Ace, for at least one scene, maybe more. For the first time since he walked into the Whips club, Ace started to think that the money he had outlaid for membership might be worth it.

At six lashes, the Dom stopped, clearly confused as to why Devin hadn’t cried out, or called out his safeword. Devin had six distinct lash marks on his back, although the skin wasn’t broken.

“Had enough boy?”

“More please, Sir,” Devin called out firmly. The crowd around the stage voiced their approval, and Ace could understand why. A bullwhip was hard for anyone to take, anyone human that is. Six lashes would normally be the harshest limit, but Devin wanted more. Oh he was fucking perfect and Ace felt almost giddy as he willed the boy to continue.

The Dom was getting annoyed, Ace could tell. The man’s hand was shaking as he brought the whip up again, putting a lot more force into his next slash than he had before. Devin jerked, but called out, “More please Sir.”

Lips snarling, eyes flashing, Marco brought down the whip four more times, each time to Devin’s call for more. Ace didn’t agree with any Dom hitting a sub when he was angry. That was when mistakes happened. Sure enough on the next swipe, Marco had got the angle all wrong, and the whip wrapped around Devin’s side, drawing blood on the man’s stomach.

It was only because Ace had enhanced hearing that he could hear Devin’s snarl above the roar of the crowd, before the man called out “Red, red.”

“About fucking time,” Marco muttered, before calling out to the other house subs who were standing on the side of the stage. “Take him down,” he yelled before he stomped off the stage, his face twisted in anger. Ace couldn’t believe that the Dom wasn’t even going to provide the aftercare that Devin would need and he moved closer to the stage – compelled to reach out in some way. The boy was bleeding, probably in subspace, and had a cock that should have at least been given permission to come.

Up close Devin was magnificent. Light sweat graced his small but well-formed muscles, his skin marble pale under the spotlight, his blond shaggy hair just hitting his shoulders. Devin wasn’t overly tall. Ace estimated him to be about five foot eight given how he was arranged on the St. Andrews cross. Perfect for his own six foot three. Where Ace was built like a tank, Devin had the lean lines of a dancer and for the first time in his life, Ace was enchanted.

Ace wished he was close enough to scent the man. His wolf spirit gave him a sense of smell second to none, but there were so many people around – stale sweat, cheap colognes, dried spunk and more assaulted his nostrils, but nothing else. Nothing that suggested the man on the cross was anything more than human.

As Ace watched two other house subs came and released Devin from his bindings, bringing the boy closer to where Ace was standing in their efforts to get him off the stage. Devin lifted his head, just as Ace caught the scent of frangipani and oranges, and Ace was captured by those intense violet eyes set in an angelic face. As those same eyes flashed red for just one second, Ace stumbled back suddenly aware of just two things. Devin wasn’t human – he was a vampire, and the delicious looking man was his mate.

“It’s a mistake, it has to be. The fucking Fates have made a mistake,” Ace mumbled to himself as he flung himself from the club.

/~/~/~/~/

Devin winced as he pulled the dressing off of his wounded stomach. As he expected the cut had already healed, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still angry at Marco for being so fucking sloppy with the whip. Devin had made it clear to the Dom, before their public scene, that he would take as many lashes as Marco could give out without a whimper, provided the man didn’t draw blood. He should have fucking known that the blasted man was more concerned about his own image, instead of meeting the terms of their contract. Probably thought Devin’s lack of noise showed Marco up as the weakling he was.

The owner of the club, Ben Donavon, didn’t allow any of the house subs to work for at least week, if they had been cut open in any way. Hence Devin’s strict no blood clause in all of his contracts. In most cases, especially in private scenes, he could avoid letting the boss know, and continue working because of his accelerated healing. But the business with Marco was a very public scene and now he was faced with a week’s suspension. He was likely to go quietly insane without work to keep him occupied.

Hearing the door to the aftercare room open, Devin quickly covered his stomach and looked up at the worried face of Misha, one of the other house subs. Devin had always thought that Misha was a typical twink, small, blond, pretty, toned and very submissive. But the boy harbored a huge heart, and in the six months Devin had been at the club, the two men had become friends.

“Hey Devin, you feeling okay?”

“Yes, all good.” Devin gave Misha a small smile, and then looked for his bag. He really wanted nothing more than to head off home. He’d found the scent of that huge wolf shifter strangely distracting – having noticed him the moment the wolf had come closer to the stage. Although Marco’s last hit certainly brought him back into focus. As far as Devin was concerned he was never doing a scene with Marco again.

But that wolf shifter. Something about the man had tickled at Devin’s brain making him think things…no, surely it wasn’t possible. Or was it?

“I’m sorry about the hit, you know,” Misha broke into his thoughts, his face red with embarrassment. “If you need any help, with you know, money and stuff, you can just tell me. I know it sucks having to take a week off when you don’t want to.”

Devin smiled in spite of himself. Money definitely wasn’t why he worked as a house sub, but he appreciated Misha’s generous gesture. Standing up, conscious of their size difference, Devin was at least four inches taller than Misha, he leaned over and gave the blushing man a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks Misha, but I’ll be okay.” Stepping around Misha, Devin headed out, stopping by the office to pick up his pay check.

“Hi Devin, you okay boy?” Ben was in the office as usual.

“Bit pissed at Master Marco, if I might say so, Sir,” Devin said respectfully.

Ben laughed. “You may say so, and I quite understand. However you know my rules. I can’t have people with open wounds, even covered ones working on the floor. The health risks are too high.”

Devin was too well trained to roll his eyes, but the urge was definitely there. There was no way he could catch or spread any human diseases through blood or any other fluids but of course Ben didn’t know that. That was just one of the problems working in a human club. “Of course, Sir, I quite understand,” he lied smoothly.