Unchain Me, Sister

Lea of Mirkwood

Author's Note: This chapter is dripping with sex. Guess what song I was listening to?

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"Do you play?"

Fiona yanked her hands away from the smooth ivory keys of the grand piano, her fingernails catching in the cobwebs laying like gossamer on the sleek teak wood. Dwayne smiled and leaned back, slightly satisfied with her reaction.

"No," replied Fiona, and licked her lips. She looked up at Dwayne and the corner of her darkly painted mouth twisted up in a sardonic smile. "I can't make it sing. I can play chords and a few little songs, but I can't make it sing."

He raised his dark brows, the sharp angles swooping up like the outstretched wings of a bat.

"Try," he said simply, the one word infused with as much encouragement yet dark threat as one syllable could be. Fiona turned back to the piano and swept one pale hand across the top of the keys, the long unused strings vibrating in a shimmering glissando. Her hand came away with long silvery spiderwebs clinging to her fingertips. With one dark look over her shoulder at Dwayne's expectant gaze, Fiona arranged her fingers against the keys and pressed a chord, deep, low and minor. The deep, eerie sound reverberated through the roundness of the cave and when Fiona depressed the pedal and released the keys, it hummed on, echoing in the bones of the Pack. She moved her fingers up a few keys, splaying them among the black and ivory keys and played another series of chords. She had told the truth. She could play the notes, and they echoed through the grotto, but it refused to sing. With a quick change in tone, Fiona moved her hands up a few octaves and played a sweet, poignant melody, her long fingers fluttering over the notes, but there was no heart in the song. Fiona stopped abruptly and swung her legs back over the bench, standing up to face Dwayne.

"I told you," she said with a shrug. "I can't make music."

She turned away and walked over to her luxuriant bed and slid on top of the covers, crossing her bare legs in a way that made them look alluringly long. The Pack's attention wavered from whatever they were doing to openly admire her. It was the limbo time of late afternoon, and they were all waiting with bated breath for the dusky evening when they could move freely. Fiona lifted her head from the soft mattress and looked around at the furnishings.

"When was this built?" she asked, noting the ornate Victorian light fixtures and rich velvet curtains around her bed.

"Early twentieth century," said David in his distinct voice. "The time of luxury."

"Luxury, huh?" asked Fiona, rolling over on her back and propping herself up on her elbows. "Velvet curtains and gold lights, I think that's luxury too."

"You know what's a real luxury, Fiona?" asked Paul loudly. Fiona swiveled her head to look at him. He was laying stretched out on a rock outcropping with his leather jacket under his head. His muscular arms were stretched up and his hands were pressed to the ceiling. Every posture he made radiated boredom.

"What's a luxury, Paul?" asked Fiona, taking the bait lightly. Paul bared his white teeth.

"The taste of blood after someone's been drinking and partying."

A collective sigh went through the cave. Even the thought of the rich liquid, more full-bodied than good red wine, made any true vampire shiver with want.

"Shut up, Paul," groaned Marko. "It's just an hour more, please stop talking about it."

"I'm hungry now," whispered Fiona, but the soft sound was heard by everyone, their acute senses picking up everything.

"Don't complain, sister," said David. "You can have blood now."

Each of the boys grinned lasciviously and pulled down the collar of their shirts and jackets to expose their pale necks. Fiona gave a short laugh.

"No, I want their food." She licked her lips. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for a juicy hamburger, or a hot dog, or just a soda."

David chuckled, the low, throaty sound surprisingly loud in such a big room. Fiona fell silent. After a time, Dwayne ducked his head into the hall leading to the surface. He reemerged with a smile.

"It's time."

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The rave that night didn't have a live performer, but a DJ. However, the music was just as good and loud, and the pulsing beat gave the illusion of life to the five undead. Fiona gave it the most heart. She spotted the great mass of writhing, twisting bodies and immediately entered the throng. The loud percussion vibrated in the pit of her belly and made her tainted blood race. She raised her hands above her head and twisted her wrists playfully, casting her eyes down and turning all her attention to the dance. Marko raised an eyebrow and looked at David for permission to join her. The tall creature tilted his head noncommittally and jerked his head in the direction of the gyrating horde. Marko whooped and ran down the little set of stairs to the sandy pit and found Fiona right away. The rest of the Pack watched from a distance as Marko approached Fiona and placed his hands low on her hips. She turned sharply in his arms and seemed to recognize him. A wicked smile crossed her lips and she leaned into him, letting the rhythm of the dance take her away. Marko's scent was distinct, even from the Pack's vantage point. One by one the other two Boys descended the stairs and surrounded Fiona. Only David stayed aloof, like a wolf stalking his prey from afar, the pack leader waiting for the small ones to finish off the kill and let him feed first. A few songs passed, during which David watched with keen eyes as his Pack surged around Fiona like small killers, their hands moving over her skin under the pretense of dancing, but really to see how she felt beneath their hands. Fiona seemed not to resist the contact and the easy physicality and raw sexual energy emanating from the Pack, even appearing to relish it. Their hands ran through her hair, down her back, sliding down her sides and resting on her softly curved hips. David shook his head and fished in his pocket for a small pack of cigarettes. He flicked open a lighter and lit the little round end of the Lucky Strike. The glow lit up his eyes momentarily, and he exhaled deeply, a cloud of grey smoke settling around his head.

"Hey," purred a low, seductive voice from behind him. David turned to see a blond mortal woman behind him, holding an unlit cigarette between two fingers. He raised one eyebrow.

"Got a light?" she asked, a challenge in her voice. David appraised her coolly and took the cigarette from her fingers. He took the one from his own lips as well, breathing out a slow stream of smoke as he did so. With a slow movement, he lit the woman's cigarette with the end of his own and handed it back to her, looking steadily into her eyes the whole time. She smiled wickedly and showed him the most seductive pair of bedroom eyes she could muster.

"Wanna dance?" she asked suggestively. David lifted his shoulders.

"Sure," he said in a low tone. She smiled and winked at him, taking his hand and leading him down to the dance floor. Her little blue leather top left little to the imagination, but after the mind-games Fiona's presence had him playing, he was ready for a little simplicity. She pulled him into the midst of the dancers and started to sway her hips back and forth, back and forth like a pendulum. The thought made a smile spring to his lips, which she interpreted as a sign of interest. She pressed closer and closer until finally David forced himself to wrench away from her. With a playful, cryptic smile, he bent down and cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her forehead, then walked away. She stared after him in shock as the crowd closed around him.

David found his Pack near the stage, Fiona still the sun in their planetary orbits around her gyrating hips. With a nod he let Marko know he should move away, and walked up behind Fiona. As she dipped down, bending her knees and twisting her feet in the dirt, the other two boys noticed him and started to retreat in deference to their leader and friend's unspoken wishes. When Fiona rose back up David slid his hands around her waist and let them rest on the front of her hips. He felt her jump with surprise when she noticed all the other boys had left. David bent his head down to the hollow between her shoulder and her neck, his breath scorching her skin.

"Hello, sister," he whispered, and planted a tiny kiss on the top of her shoulder. The speakers a few feet away from them started to blare out a song from a popular cult movie.

"Do you like Rocky Horror Picture Show, Fiona?" asked David, sliding his hands along her sides.

Don't get strung out by the way I look

Don't judge a book by its cover

I'm not much of a man by the light of day

But by night I'm one hell of a lover

Fiona smiled lazily and raised her arms up, wrapping her arms around David's neck and tangling her fingers in the long hair at the nape of his neck.

"Is that really what you're asking me?" she breathed. David smiled and pulled Fiona close, pressing his hips against her leather-clad backside.

"I don't know," he said, enjoying the mind-games and toying. "What am I asking you?"

Fiona turned around in his arms and slid her hands underneath his jacket to encircle his waist. David raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and leaned back slightly.

"All right," he said. "Sister."

Pulling back from her hands, he shrugged off his jacket and laid it on the edge of the stage, then with the utmost dexterity, slipped his fingers under Fiona's jacket and relieved her of its leather weight. David let his fingers make their way over the top of her shoulders and down her back, finally settling at her slim hips. With a strong, forceful movement, David pulled her close to him and pressed his hips against hers. As they moved to the music, David bent close to her, letting his mouth hover over the side of her face.

"Are you hunting with us tonight, sister?" he breathed, the warm feeling of his breath making Fiona become pliable and limp in his strong arms.

"Yes," she whispered back, tipping her head back to look up at the walkway over the pit. Standing there, their eyes piercing and mischievous, were the other three Lost Boys, watching her and David.

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