Dasher's Bargain

By Danica Avet

Everyone in the North Pole territories knows Lady Grim as the right hand of the evil Lord Grinwich, but what they don't know is that she's just a human woman who wants to go home. Desperate times call for desperate measures and she'll make a deal with the Devil to leave Virdian City. Or, rather give her complete submission to a wrathful, highly attractive reindeer shifter she accidentally wronged.

Dasher Hightower takes the little scientist's deal. What better way to exact his revenge against her than to make her want him so much it hurts? But Lady Grim's innocent reaction to his touch enthralls his beast and the thirst for revenge turns to the desire to mate, even if it means going against his own people. He'll learn there's no greater battle than the one fought for love, especially for a male who doesn't feel he deserves it and for a human female trying to run from the ghosts of her past.

Be Warned: BDSM, menage sex (MFFM), public exhibition, forced seduction, f/f sex, sex toys

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Publishing
• Release date: Dec 18, 2016
• ISBN: 9781773391120

Danica Avet

Danica was born and raised in the wilds of South Louisiana where mosquitoes are big enough to carry off small children and there are only two seasons: hot and hotter. With a BA in History, she figured there were enough fry cooks in the world and decided to try her hand at writing. When she isn't writing, working, or contemplating the complexities of the universe, she spends time gathering inspiration from her insane family, reads far more than any sane person would want to, and watches hot burly men chase an oblong ball all over a field.

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Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2016 Danica Avet

ISBN: 978-1-77339-112-0

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: Melissa Hosack

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

I'd like to dedicate this book to my readers. I hope your holidays are bright and you discover your own Christmas miracles.

DASHER’S BARGAIN

Reindeer Games, 3

Danica Avet

Copyright © 2016

Chapter One

He hated her.

Oh, he hated all of them. Their pale skin, the way their yellow eyes studied him with feral intensity. He hated how they kept him chained with his arms over his head and beat him over and over, expecting him to give up information on his friends and family. He hated that they’d done something with the cuffs that prevented him from shifting and maiming them all with his antlers. He hated their lack of honor and integrity. He hated the way they smelled, like body odor and garlic mixed with trash.

But he hated her more. She never laid a finger on him, but she never looked away as they tore his back to ribbons with a single tail whip. She watched, her gray eyes empty of all emotion. No matter how much blood flowed, she kept a silent vigil on the other side of the room, never taking her gaze off his face. He didn’t know what she was looking for, but she never showed pleasure, or dismay, or disgust. Her face remained perfectly blank as though she didn’t even see what was happening.

Her sweet scent would waft to him over the stench of blood and the thick odor of the Drows who tortured him. She smelled like fresh snow, evergreens, and freedom. But she was the cause of his captivity, the one who’d helped his enemy and he hated her most of all.

She watched his torture, pale, blue eyes showing no remorse, no disgust, no emotion. It was maddening, that blank look. Why, he didn’t know. Was it because she appeared as angelic as the elves who worked at Claus’ factory? With her sweetly curved cheek that held only the barest hint of pink and the twisted, scarred ripples that took up the other cheek, she looked like a two-sided coin. On one side, unmarred, porcelain skin showed the firmness of youth. On the other, agonizing burn scars gave evidence to unimaginable pain. The angel and the demon.

Dasher Hightower of the North Pole Elite Guards hated the female because she’d helped spring a trap on him, using his twin’s mate as the bait. She was called Grim. He’d heard through other prisoners in Eric Grinwich’s dungeons that Grim was actually a human who’d been adopted by the evil elf. Her name suited her, he thought as his eyes teared from another lash of the whip. She always wore gray or black gowns, the garments hanging on her little frame and accentuating the paleness of her skin, making her face shine in the darkness of the dungeon.

He gritted his teeth as the barbed whip cut deeper into his back, but refused to cry out. They wanted him to break. They wanted him to scream and beg for mercy like many of his fellow prisoners had. But Dasher never did and he never would. He’d done what he set out to do when he and his twin, Blitzen, broke into the palace. He’d rescued Alera, freeing his brother’s mate at the cost of his own freedom.

Grim’s fingers were laced together in front of her, like a child receiving a lesson. Dasher bared his teeth at her, hatred bubbling in his veins. He wanted to hurt her, make her cry, make her bleed. If he got out of there, he’d do all of those things until she understood what real pain was. But his animal, his inner beast stamped its feet with anger. It didn’t want to hurt her. No, it wanted him to explore every inch of her skin, to mount her and show her who was in control.

He heard another brutal crack and the fiery pain carved down his spine. Black dots danced in front of his eyes, the only release he was allowed. As he sank into oblivion, Dasher glared at Grim, her face the last thing he saw before his eyes closed.

****

The reindeer shifter slumped in his chains, his long black hair falling over his face, shielding it from her gaze. Elise Grim Henry hid her shaking hands in the folds of her skirt as the Drow guards released Dasher from his shackles.

He fell to the ground, his long, muscled body folding in on itself.

Blood ran freely down his back, following the puckered scars from previous torture sessions. She wanted to scream at the guards to be careful with him but knew any show of softness would result in a harsher punishment for her. She had to hide any sympathy she felt for the noble reindeer for fear Grinwich would kill both of them. Her master destroyed anything she might develop affection for, breaking it completely until nothing of it remained. He’d do the same with Dasher if she expressed anything but cold indifference.

So every day before she headed to her own punishment, she stopped to watch Dasher’s. His black eyes burned like hot coals in his taut face. In the three weeks he’d been taken prisoner, he’d lost a lot of weight and his dark skin had lightened considerably. His hair was longer, reaching the middle of his back. Filth and blood covered him, but he still retained his innate nobility.

And he hated her. When he didn’t spew hateful, hurtful words, his eyes promised dark retribution. She hadn’t slept a full night in weeks and her work had suffered for it, which was why she had spent so much time down here.

Straightening her shoulders, Grim turned on her heel, leaving Dasher to his well-earned oblivion. She couldn’t be seen as sympathetic, not anymore. Grinwich had nearly killed her after her hastily aborted escape attempt. He would never allow her to leave, had promised she’d die if she tried again and she believed him.

The thick, magical mesh of her panties rubbed against her inner thighs as she walked, reminding her that while she was treated as Grinwich’s daughter, the Drow guards here would rape her in a heartbeat. It was the nature of the beast Grinwich said when he ordered her bound. He wanted to protect her purity. Grim snorted to herself. She hadn’t been pure since the day Grinwich took her from the fire that killed her family.

She’d been a naïve and heartbroken young woman, in pain from the burns she sustained in the fire, but even then she’d been able to tell there wasn’t an ounce of compassion in Grinwich’s heart. If he even had one. He just didn’t want her injured in the chances she wouldn’t be able to invent for him.

Grim paused for a moment, leaning against a wall for support. The things she’d made in some misplaced belief she was helping the human world. God, she’d been so stupid. She hated Christmas for the silly traditions that’d taken her family from her, but to condemn a whole territory to death over it? Tears burned her eyes but refused to fall. She’d done it and like her mother used to say there was no use crying over spilled milk. It was her fault Dasher had been captured. Her fault the reindeer shifters faced a slow extermination. Her fault.

Lady Grim, it is time for your chastisement.

The raspy voice of her usual disciplinarian broke into her thoughts. Looking up, she saw Okeal waiting for her in the doorway of the chamber they always used. Her back and legs hurt at the thought of crossing into his domain, but it was better if she went willingly. Otherwise they’d bind her to a table to work her over. She preferred having some semblance of freedom than none at all.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the room, the door clanging shut behind her. She could do this; God knew she’d been doing it for well over a hundred years already.

****

They’re carrying her out again, a soft voice whispered from the cell next to Dasher. Grinwich must beat her, or have Okeal fuck her in there.

What makes you say that? Maybe she’s just tired, a doubtful voice whispered from the cell on his other side.

I been watching them. She goes in on her own and comes out on a litter. She always wears those dark colors which can hide blood or cum stains, the malicious voice said with glee. I want to fuck her, too. Maybe if we’re good, they’ll let us have a go at her.

Dream on, worm. Grinwich would kill you if you so much as looked at her wrong. Haven’t you noticed how none of the guards touch her though they look plenty?

There was a thoughtful silence. Yeah, but maybe they don’t want to upset the prisoners if we see them fucking the scarred bitch. I just know I don’t care what she looks like; cunt is cunt.

Dasher snarled at the crude words, causing his neighbors to split to the opposite sides of their cells. His back hurt, but he didn’t want to hear any more about Grim. Opening his eyes, he saw the giant Drow guard, Okeal, carrying something along the central corridor between the rows of cells. A dainty arm swayed where it’d fallen from the litter. It was Grim, her eyes closed, her scarred cheek bared to the world.

He crawled to the edge of his cell, ignoring the mutters of the bastards on either side of him. He needed to smell, needed to see— And there it was, her wild scent combined with the coppery scent of blood. She was bleeding beneath the baggy, dark clothes. Something feral raged in his soul, his beast more than likely. It wanted to have domain over Grim, to be the one to cause her harm. It was almost possessive because her pain, and her pleasure, belonged to him. He deserved it after what she’d done.

He snarled, his hands gripping the bars of his cell until his knuckles turned white.

Okeal glanced over at him, his yellow eyes glittering with unfulfilled lust. The bastard wanted to fuck her, but hadn’t. He was one of Grinwich’s most loyal retainers which was probably why he was the one to dole out punishment to the little human.

Dasher would kill the bastard and take Grim away from him.

Once they passed, he scooted back across his cell, his mind a seething mass of hatred, jealousy, and pain. He’d once been a man of honor, if somewhat dark passions, but now there was nothing left except the need for revenge. Revenge he’d have on a certain scarred female. Soon.

****

There was no hint of malice in Grinwich’s eyes when Grim made her way into the great hall where all of his staunchest supporters gathered for the annual Festival of Nights celebration dinner. The Drow nobles—although there was nothing noble about them—watched her with twisted anticipation. She was very aware of their regard, could almost feel their lecherous eyes on her, but she kept her gaze focused on the massive stained-glass window behind Grinwich.

That brief glance at him she’d allowed herself upon entering the hall was enough to tell her whatever was coming was bad. Very bad. Still, she kept her face composed, her gait steady, and her heartbeat calm. The Drow were predators. If they smelled the fear threatening to explode from her pores, they’d attack. They wouldn’t be able to help it.

She shouldn’t have attempted escape. It had been a stupid impulse as soon as she saw the female Drow. Her punishments were more severe than ever, which was part of the reason for her slow progression down the center of the hall. Each step was agony, pulling at the whip marks which would never heal if Okeal kept attending to his duties with such enthusiasm.

After so many years of being a ‘guest’ of Grinwich, she should’ve known better than to try to leave. Every scar on her body with the exception of the one on her face, had come at his bequest. Her so-called foster father.

Inside, she curled her lip. Her real father had been a brilliant man, a scientist dedicated to improving the world, to unlocking the secrets of electricity. Grinwich was a monster. But she hadn’t known that at the time. To her, he’d been her father’s friend, a fellow scientist intrigued by his newest invention. When her world burned down around her,