AN: for those of you waiting for the next chapter of "Kiss to Savor", there will be a further delay because I have to do a little bit of rewriting. Don't worry, I will update! The next chapter of "Losing It" will be both the last chapter and the Big Sex Scene. Also, points to anyone who can spot the Sookie Stackhouse reference in this chapter :D

Disclaimer: although I take full responsibility for Bob and Jack, all recognizable characters belong to Karen Chance.

Warning: This chapter deal with nonconsensual sex. If this topic is extremely upsetting to you, you may want to use your back button at this time.

Losing It

I decided that I would never let Billy Joe borrow my body for a drinking binge ever again. I'd had hangovers before, but this was terrible. If he wasn't going to take care of my body, I wasn't going to let him use it.

Someone whimpered nearby, and I wished they would stop because the sound really made my head hurt. Then I realized the someone was me. With an effort of will I stopped the sound and forced my eyes open a crack. Thankfully there wasn't much light, but I hurt all over, which might have had something to do with the fact that I was apparently sleeping on the floor. I guess I hadn't made it to bed before I passed out.

"Are you awake?" someone asked. The voice was male and deep, and made my head pound. I closed my eyes again and tried to remember why the voice sounded so familiar. I hadn't taken someone to bed with me, had I? My heart raced for a few seconds before I remembered that I couldn't have a one night stand because of the geis. I was relieved, but only until my hurting brain recognized the voice.

"Pritkin?" I croaked. I forced open my eyes and tried to focus on the blurry shape leaning over me. "W—?"

"If you say 'Where am I?'," he interrupted, "I will hit you."

"I was going to say 'Where are we?'," I muttered, "but I'll settle for 'What happened?'."

Pritkin snorted, which made my vision go black for a second. "We were hit by a disorienting sphere. You were knocked out, but I was able to keep fighting for a while. They overwhelmed me, bludgeoned me into unconsciousness, and brought us here."

"Where exactly is 'here'?" My vision was improving, and I could focus now. I saw a small, dark room empty of everything: no furniture, no carpet, not even a light. The floor was dirty concrete, the walls unpainted wood. There were no windows; the dim light filtered in through tiny gaps in the walls. There was also no door, and I wondered how our captors had got us in here.

"I'm not sure where we are," Pritkin admitted. "I don't think I was unconscious for long, and I doubt they would have been able to carry us through the ley lines, so we are likely still in Nevada."

I didn't know what a ley line was, but it didn't seem to be important."What do you think they're going to do with us?" I tried sitting up, and was pleased to discover I could move without vomiting. Pritkin had folded his coat, divested of its weapons, under my head as a pillow, and I handed it back to him.

He took it. "Hand us over to the Black Circle. They will no doubt drain me, but I don't know what they want with you. The Circle is probably already on its way to collect us."

He seemed very calm for someone predicting his own death. "Hand us over?" I repeated. "You mean those mages weren't with the Black Circle?"

"With it, certainly, but part of it, no. They are hangers-on, criminals p0werful enough to attract the Circle's attention, but not powerful enough to warrant becoming members."

"So that's it?" I asked. "We just wait here for the Circle to come and kill us?"

"No." Pritkin gestured at our cell. "This room is warded. The wards are crude, but I cannot break them." He showed me his wrists, which were encircled by thick iron bracelets that looked like manacles. "These bind my magic. But you can get us out."

"Right," I said, but I felt a little uneasy. The last of the disorienting sphere's effects had worn off and I felt physically fine, but after I hadn't been able to shift in the parking lot I was worried the power would fail me again. But I had to at least try. I took Pritkin's hand, noting again the callouses. "Here goes."

I closed my eyes and tried to think of somewhere safe, someplace I could visualize clearly. Where...? Dante's would work. I pictured the lobby, with its rows of bright, noisy slot machines, reached for the power that would take us there... and felt nothing.

"What are you waiting for?" Pritkin demanded. "Shift us out!"

"I can't!" I said, too worried to snap.

"What do you mean you can't? You shifted us across an ocean and an entire century this morning!"

"Well, I can't do it now. The power won't come."

He narrowed his eyes. "It's being blocked?" He scanned the tiny room. "There is very little that can affect the Pythia's power, and I doubt our captors could craft such a complex ward."

I shook my head. "It doesn't feel like it's blocked, it just feels like it isn't there."

His head snapped around and he glared at me with open suspicion. "That makes no sense. If you are truly Pythia, as you claim you are, you should be able to control the power."

I sighed and stood up. "Look, I didn't get a manual with the job, okay? I don't have a clue about what I'm doing or how to do it. And this morning's joyride was not my idea."

He jumped to his feet. "That is not possible. The Pythia controls the power, not the reverse."

"Obviously it is possible, because it happened," I snapped back. "And instead of harping about what theoretically is or isn't possible, maybe you could apply some thought to getting us out of here."

"There is nothing I can do," he said, gesturing at the bracelets on his wrists. He sounded frustrated, and I couldn't blame him. After living your entire life with magic it must be infuriating not to be able to use it. It must be even more infuriating to have to depend on someone you don't even like, let alone trust, to save your life.

Especially when she doesn't know how.

As I fumed at my lack of training and at Agnes for dying without giving me any of said training, I remembered what she'd told me when she passed on the power: "I suggest you complete the ritual as soon as possible if you expect to control the gift instead of vice versa... if you leave the ritual half done you will have imperfect control."

I closed my eyes and groaned in despair.

"What is it?" Pritkin demanded.

I debated not telling him, since I didn't feel like discussing my sex life with him, but he'd just pester me until I did. "I didn't complete the ritual to become Pythia," I sighed. "That's why I can't control the power properly."

He stared at me blankly. "You haven't finished the Pythian Rites? But..." His eyes widened in shock. "You're saying that you are still a virgin?" He said like it was something possible but highly unlikely, like a UFO landing on the White House lawn.

I felt myself getting angry. "Not that it's any of of your business, but yes," I snapped.

He looked stunned. "I would never have considered that," he said.

I lost it. "Just because I wasn't raised with your pure-as-snow initiates in a walled garden guarded by eunuchs doesn't mean I'm a whore! I suppose you're like that dark mage, assuming that I screw every vampire I meet and that I'll spread my legs for anything with a cock!"

His face reddened. "That's not what I—"

But I didn't want his excuses. "Do you think I'm stupid?" I demanded. I was so angry I could barely see. "Of course that's what you think! From the instant you saw me you've done nothing but insult me, hate me, and try to kill me. And why? Because I was raised by vampires—which wasn't my choice—and because I'm Pythia—which I don't even want!"

The last word came out as a scream. Pritkin flinched, and I realized out face were only inches apart. In my fury I'd advanced until he was backed into a corner, and he held his hands between us as though he wasn't sure whether he was going to placate me or push me away.

Embarrassed that I'd lost so completely lost control, I backed off and looked away, feeling my own face color. Growing up at Tony's, I'd learned that showing emotion got you hurt, or worse. It was a good lesson, and I'd never forgotten it, but I guess the stress was getting to me. I took a deep breath of the hot, stuffy air and forced myself to calm down, to regain control.

"I may have made certain unfounded assumptions," Pritkin admitted stiffly, and then stopped. I got the feeling he wasn't used to admitting he was wrong.

Before I could decide whether I would accept his half-hearted apology, a door appeared in one of the walls. One minute there was just a stretch of bare, splintered wall, and the next there was a narrow, ill-fitting door, complete with a rusty doorknob. I gaped at it in astonishment, wondering where the hell it had come from, but Pritkin pushed me aside and crouched between me and it, fists raised. The door flew open with enough force to bounce off the wall behind it, revealing two mages. One was the scarred mage with the unlikely name of "Bob", but I didn't recognize the other. He had slick black hair and girlishly long eyelashes, and I was pretty sure he hadn't been part of the ambush.

Pritkin charged the mages and landed a solid blow on Bob's jaw. The mage rocked back, and I hoped he would fall onto his buddy so we could use the confusion to escape, but of course my luck's not that good. Bob staggered against the doorframe, shielding the second mage from Pritkin long enough for him to cast a spell. With the bracelets blocking his magic, there was nothing Pritkin could do to protect himself; sparks of electricity danced over his skin and he dropped to the floor, twitching.

I backed into the farthest corner as the two mages crowded into the tiny room. They were both large men, and they seemed even larger in such a confined space. There was no chance I could slip past them, and even less chance that I could take them down.

The black-haired one who had thrown the spell began tying up Pritkin with large quantities of stiff yellow rope, while Bob kept an eye on me. His eyes looked small and ugly in his mangled face. He saw me staring and licked his lips meaningfully. I remembered his crude comments in the parking lot and went cold.

When Pritkin revived enough to put up a fight, Bob turned and casually delivered a brutal kick to Pritkin's head. Pritkin became frighteningly still, blood oozing from a gash on his forehead.

"Not so tough without his magic, is he?" the strange mage sneered, wrapping rope around Pritkin's wrists.

"Shut up, Jack," Bob snapped.

Bob and Jack. I almost laughed at absurdity of it, but I knew that if I started I'd just go into hysterics. Weren't dark mages supposed to have powerful, intimidating names, like Antoine, or Basil, or maybe Langford?

Jack heaved the unconscious Pritkin into a corner. It looked like they'd hogtied him, but had added an extra length of rope running from his wrists to his neck. The rope looped around his neck in a noose, threatening to choke him unless he kept his back arched and his head high. Since he was currently out cold, I was afraid he would strangle to death, but there wasn't anything I could do about it because it looked like it was my turn.

I wasn't sure what they were going to do with me, since they didn't have any more rope, but I really didn't want to find out. I waited until Bob was almost on top of me, then kicked out with one bare foot. He turned at the last moment, and the blow hit him on the thigh instead of where I'd been aiming. His scarred face twisted grotesquely. For a moment I thought he was grimacing in pain, but then I realized he was smiling. He thought my attack was amusing.

Before I could try again, Bob grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the wall. I dug in my heels, but he moved my like I was made of paper. Jack grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms behind my back while Bob drew a knife from his belt.

I gasped and struggled, but I didn't scream or beg. I wouldn't give them that satisfaction, even as the knife flashed toward my chest. Pain stabbed through me, sharp and burning. A moment later it receded, and I realized with a shock that I was still alive. Bob had cut through the sequined corset and the strapless bra underneath, leaving a long but definitely not life-threatening gash between my breasts.

The corset and bra fell away, leaving me naked from the waist up. Sweat, from fear and from the heat, mixed with the blood running down my stomach. Jack craned his neck so he could look over my shoulder.

"Yum," he said. He had an ugly voice, thick and gravelly.

I thought fast. In the fight in Dante's parking lot, after I'd escaped MAGIC to find Jimmy the Rat, the dark mages had definitely wanted me alive. In fact, they'd been pretty interested in convincing me to go with them willingly. But then, they weren't exactly the most trustworthy of people. Plus, the Black Circle was allied with Myra and Rasputin, both of whom definitely wanted me dead. It looked like I couldn't use the "your boss will kill you if you hurt me" ploy after all. I'd have to find some other way of getting out of this.

"You're working for the Black Circle, right?" I said quickly. "If you rape me, they'll kill you."

Bob laughed pawed at my chest, his hands rough and sweaty. "The Circle wants you alive," he said. "As long as we don't kill you, they don't care what we do."

"They'll care if you make me Pythia."

"What's she talking about?" Jack muttered.

"Shut up," Bob snarled. He pushed his face close to mine. "What are you talking about?"

Up close, his breath smelled fetid and rotten. I gathered up my courage and spoke as boldly as I could. Never show fear to dogs and dark mages. "All that's keeping me from being Pythia is a hymen. You rape me, and your Circle's pet initiate will be out of a job—and I don't think they'll be too happy about that."

Bob shrugged. "So? They'll just kill you and the power will go to their little bitch."

Damn. I'd hoped he wouldn't think of that. "They'd have to catch me, first. Once I'm Pythia I'll be out of here before you can say 'sorry, boss'."

"She's lying," Jack growled into my ear. "She's trying to trick us. Let's fuck her, Bob."

"She's trying to trick us," Bob agreed, grinning unpleasantly. His teeth were surprisingly white and straight. I guess his bad breath came from dark magic rather than poor dental hygiene. "But I don't think she's lying."

"No!" Jack tightened his arms until my shoulders screamed in protest. "I want her."

"You'll have her," Bob said soothingly. "First let's see if she's telling the truth about that hymen."

Oh, shit. He reached for the front of my tiny red shorts and I started struggling again. The zipper jammed, but he forced it open and pulled the shorts down my hips. They fell to the floor in a very small puddle of red satin. I'd put on a thong that morning—it felt like a lifetime ago—and I now realized that had been a mistake, though I suppose even a chastity belt wouldn't have made a difference. Bob didn't even bother with the knife, just pulled until one of the strings snapped.

A strangled gagging sound told me Pritkin was coming around. He struggled blindly against the noose before realizing he was choking himself. Once he figured out how his restraints worked, he arched his back, and some of the redness left his face. When he saw what our captors were doing to me, though, it returned with interest.

"Get away from her!" he shouted.

The two mages laughed, and Bob twisted my nipples until I cried out in pain. "What?" he mocked. "Don't like to share, knight? Tell me—" he shoved a hand between my legs and moved it suggestively. His touch was shocking and repulsive. "—is she as good as she looks?"

Pritkin swore and threatened them and called them every bad name I had heard and then some, but they only laughed at him again. I appreciated his chivalry, even if it was useless. Bob's finger's moved roughly between my legs, probing, and then suddenly he thrust two fingers into me. I forgot about my previous resolution not to give them any satisfaction and screamed. Only Mircea had ever touched me there, and that touch had been about sweet emotion, passion, and mutual pleasure. This was about control, humiliation, and pain, and I felt sick, violated.

Growling incoherently, Pritkin struggled against the ropes until his face turned purple from lack of air. Bob removed his hand, scowling, and I sagged in relief, though I knew the reprieve was only temporary.

"She's telling the truth," Bob said.

"But—" Jack protested.

"Shut up! Put her on the floor."

After a bit of maneuvering, which I did everything I could to resist, I wound up on my back on the floor. Jack still held my arms behind my back, forcing me to half-lie on his lap, with my head propped awkwardly against his stomach and the gritty concrete cold against my bare buttocks. I bent my knees and pressed my legs close together, trying to decrease my feelings of exposure.

Bob opened the fly of his jeans and pulled out his swollen sex. I clamped my mouth shut, refusing to scream again, but I could feel terror constrict my throat like the noose around Pritkin's neck. The mage did not try to pry apart my knees, as I had expected, but straddled my body instead. He bent his knees slightly and grabbed a handful of my hair, and I realized what he was going to do.

"Open your mouth," he told me.

I gave him a scathing look and kept my mouth shut. Did he think I was going to cooperate with him?

Apparently he didn't, because he let go of my hair to hit me. The blow knocked my head against Jack's chest and left me dazed, darkness clouding my vision. As I struggled to hold on to consciousness, Bob grabbed my chin and forced apart my jaws.

I am not a very violent person. Growing up a Tony's exposed me to enough violence to know that I wanted no part of it. But when Bob shoved his sex into my mouth, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to hurt him, to humiliate him, to take him apart piece by piece until he died. Later, the knowledge that I had the capacity to hate so strongly would scare me; now, it just felt good.

The cold, burning rage gave me the strength to wait until he pushed himself all the way inside me. I gagged, tasting bile in the back of my throat and feeling involuntary tears burn my eyes. Then I bit down as hard as I could.

Bob screamed in falsetto and wrenched his body away from me. I held on for a second, digging my teeth into his swollen member out of spite, before letting go. He collapsed to the floor, curled protectively around his injury, screaming hoarsely.

"What did you do, you crazy bitch?" Jack shouted in my ear. I turned my head and spat out a mouthful of blood. I was shaky with adrenaline, knowing things were about to go from bad to worse.

Bob levered himself into a half-sitting position, still holding his hand against his crotch. "I'm gonna kill you," he gasped. "I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Jack squeezed my arms until I was certain my shoulders would dislocate. "Can I fuck her first?" he asked eagerly.

"Yeah," Bob said, his eyes filled with malice. "Fuck her till she screams. Fuck her till she dies."

Things were getting a little worse than I had expected. Jack hauled me to my feet and slammed me face-first into the wall. For the second time in as many minutes my vision went dark. I felt Jack's hands leave my arms, and I tried to turn to fight him off, but the room lurched drunkenly and I had to grab the wall to stay standing.

By the time I could move again, Jack had seized my wrists. He shoved me roughly against the wall, and I felt the cotton of his shirt against my back and his hot, stiff sex against my buttocks. I will not scream, I told myself. I will not beg. But inside my head I was saying every prayer I knew, pleading for someone, anyone, to help me.

And then, miracle of miracles, someone did. Or something. Suddenly a wave of heat surged over my skin, and Jack fell back screaming. He collapsed onto the floor beside Bob, writhing and thrashing like he was being tortured. I didn't stop to question my good fortune. Bob's knife lay forgotten on the floor; I snatched it up and thrust it into Jack's chest.

His flailing threw off my aim, and the knife slid into his stomach instead of under his ribs like I'd planned. He redoubled his screaming and jerked away from me, the knife pulling free of his body with a sickening wet sound. Blood poured over my hand and spattered my arms and chest.

I held the knife awkwardly, wondering whether to finish him off or go for Bob. Bob answered the question for me by throwing the same spell Jack had used on Pritkin. I managed to throw myself aside in time to avoid most of it, but I still felt like I'd been hit by a taser. I staggered and fell to the ground, barely managing to avoid falling on the knife as it dropped from my suddenly nerveless hand. As I struggled to regain control of my twitching body, Bob grabbed Jack and dragged him from the room. The door shut behind them and vanished into the wall as if it had never been there at all.