Page 1 of Tentacles and Teeth

Chapter I

Katarina

Somebody was getting fucked against my car.

I scowled into the visor mirror and licked the smear of lipstick off my teeth. Past my reflection, the shadowy image of the biker currently pounding an ecstatic dryad into my bumper winked at me. I furrowed my eyebrows at him, shaking my head, but I was laughing silently as I flipped the visor up and climbed out. The feel of night-cooled silk and supple curves sent a curl of pleasure through me as I smoothed my dress over my belly and hips. Shaking back my hair, I savored a zing of excitement. I had a good feeling about this bar. It looked like just the place to let off some steam. I wanted something a little dirty, a little wild, and a lot fun. Work had been nonstop getting everything squared away before I flew to London tomorrow, so tonight was all I had and it needed to count. There wasn’t anywhere more likely to get a girl laid than the infamous Broken Crown run by the Cairn Riders Motorcycle Club. Except a brothel, but I wasn’t in the mood for that tonight. Too civilized.

I tilted my head at the rutting couple making my practical little blue car shake. Good sized dick, powerful rhythm, and she was clearly enjoying herself. I gave the dryad-fucker a cheerful thumbs up as I passed. He responded by baring sharp teeth and putting some grind into his thrusts. Lucky girl.

The building itself was imposing. Two stories, built of black stone that gleamed dully as it reflected the flickering pix lights that ringed it. Not the human-standard bulb lights, these were made to look like torches, but their “fire” spit and crackled with cerulean flames. The bar, pulsing with an unearthly and tempting glow, stood alone in the dark woods with only the gravel parking lot as a companion. Heavy, throbbing music laid a bass track to the revelers’ laughter, howls, growls, and moans. It was modulated for sensitive Meta ears, so I almost felt it more than heard it. The upper level was shuttered and dark, pricking my curiosity, but I only spared it a glance. All my attention was on the bacchanal happening on the ground floor. The Broken Crown was fronted by a sea of double doors separated by columns, every one flung open and spilling debauchery into the night.

To my “raised in a human neighborhood” eyes, the sheer variety of body parts and sizes was astounding. An ogre in the distinctive leather vest of the Cairn Riders leaned against a column while two small androgynous creatures I couldn’t identify swapped sloppy, enthusiastic kisses across his enormous green cock. A harpy, feathered wings outstretched, danced with a serpent-headed man on the hood of a car. Another Rider, this one a short woman layered with muscle and silky fur, held court over six men of assorted races who looked to be participating in some sort of dick-sucking competition. Around them, people cheered and hooted. To the far left, a tangle of tentacles, bat wings, and bouncing breasts pulsed and writhed. Was that two people? No...three.

Distracted, I stumbled. I cursed my heels as they crunched and wobbled in the gravel of the parking lot. Damn the stupid things for making my ass look so good. A sleek motorcycle saved me from walking in with skinned knees, and I gripped the saddlebag gratefully. I took a moment to steady myself from the overwhelm of just looking at the Broken Crown, admiring the shining paint and gleaming chrome of my accidental savior. I knew nothing about bikes, but it was gorgeous. Metallic green, it seemed to glow in the night’s darkness.

A growl rumbled under my palm. I blinked. The growl came again, louder, like the unholy union of a revving engine and a lion.

I leapt back, eyes wide. The fucking bikegrowledat me! Was it...alive? Were all of them? “Uh, sorry,” I said, backing up with my eyes trained on the definitely glowing and apparently grumpy bike. It stayed quiet, so I made my way to the bar, careful to avoid any other possibly sentient machinery as I passed.

I circled around the raucous crowd as one of the fellatio contestants gurgled, face held firm to his partner’s hips. Stepping through into the shadowed interior, I took a deep breath. Showtime.

I tilted my shoulders back, standing tall and feeling my generous breasts press against the lace cups straining to contain them. I’d pulled out the big guns, not wanting to leave anything to chance. A slip dress of shimmering pewter silk edged in delicate lace traced my curves lovingly, highlighting my narrow waist, soft belly, and wide hips. My breasts were almost obscenely displayed, the shadow of my nipples peeking through the lace. The salesperson had tried to talk me out of it, suggesting a looser-fit cowl neck sheath dress that would “flatter” my body better. I’d told them that my size 16 body didn’t need “flattering,” it was fucking gorgeous as is. Then I’d bought the slip dress as well as some seriously scandalous underwear. I’d left the panties at home tonight, not wanting any barriers between me and my goals.

As I worked my way towards the bar, an arm fell over my shoulders. I grunted, pulled into a slender but firm body. My eyebrows drew together, and I leaned away as much as the imprisoning arm allowed, twisting my head to scowl at whoever was being so presumptuous. It was a man. Tall, but not unusually so, he was indisputably a Meta. Power tingled against my skin where he touched me, and by his looks he was probably a Summer Fae. Pale skin with a hint of shimmer, pointed ears peeking through his flowing blond hair, eyes blue as cornflowers; he was beautiful. Pretty, even. Like a Disney prince who’d joined a boy band. Ugh.

“Don’t be like that, baby,” he laughed, pulling me closer. His breath smelled like beer and grass, which was...strange. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“No, thank you.”

He only grinned wider, rolling his eyes as I tried to push away. He adjusted his grip, turning me until I faced him. Trapping me in the cage of his arms, he slouched down to look at me through his lashes. He ran his tongue over pink lips, his gaze falling to lock onto my breasts. “Damn, baby. You’re fucking stacked. I’m down to skip the drinks if you are.”

“Charming, but still no.” My sarcasm didn’t seem to register. I tried to twist away, but he caught me, laughing.

“Oh, you want to play hard to ge—”

I stumbled as he was ripped away, his words choked off by the tentacle wrapped around his throat. He hung in the air two feet away for a second, before he was thrust none too gently onto a barstool. The bands around his neck didn’t release.

“The lady said no. You have a hard time with no, Silk?” The bartender—who was also my tentacle-waving rescuer—leaned forward, hands spread wide on the bar top. She wore an easy, casual smile, but her eyes burned. Literally. They were glowing. There were no whites, no pupils, just a solid expanse of deep purple that cast shimmering reflections on her ebony skin.

“Fuck off, Sid. It’s all part of the game,” my unwanted suitor gasped when the tentacle around his throat loosened. He glared as he yanked it off his neck.

“Were you playing, beautiful?”

“No,” I managed with remarkable steadiness, given that all the liquid in my mouth had dried up when the bartender, Sid, raised an eyebrow at me. Fuck, she was hot. Obviously Shadow Fae—the tentacles made of darkness really gave it away—she was also tall, a couple inches under six feet by my guess, and what I could see of her body was all lean muscle and grace. She had a sculpted jaw, full lips, and deep brown skin that glowed in a way that said it would feel like satin under my fingertips. Pointed ears held thick hematite plugs, while a matching ring glimmered beneath her nose. Her short, tightly twisted curls were cut in a fade, and as she turned her attention back to Silk, I caught hints of swirling designs worked into the side. She wore a fitted, button-front shirt with the sleeves rolled up, displaying forearms taut with a tension that belied her relaxed face. I stared with unbridled fascination. Her tentacles seemed to be comingthroughit. They moved with the liquid grace of an octopus, but their inky lengths were smooth and free of suckers. They seemed very...strong. Very...dexterous.

Silk’s glare whipped to me. I dragged my attention away from the sexy-as-fuck bartender and met his gaze with my head high.

He searched my eyes for a long moment, then he seemed to deflate. “Shit. Fuck, I’m sorry. I thought—” He broke off with a groan, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Can I buy you a drink? No strings, I’m going, just an apology,” he hurried to finish when I scowled and planted my fists on my hips.

“I’ll take care of it.” Sid snapped as one of the shadowy limbs reached back and poured a cup of coffee from a silver carafe. She shoved it at him and growled, “Drink this. Sober up. Try to be less of a dumbass.”

Silk, who I now saw was wearing a vest reading “prospect,” took the cup with a pained grimace. He held it at arm’s length, as if it might explode, but Sid stared him down until he took a sip. He shuddered.

Note to self: don’t order the coffee.

Sid jerked her chin at him, but I didn’t watch him slink away. I was completely captivated by her. I stared as she pulled a beer with two tentacles and poured a line of shots with another. After a few moments, her narrow-eyed focus flicked to me. Our gazes met and clashed. No longer burning pools, her eyes now looked relatively human, with round irises and pupils set in white sclera. The irises were still that vibrant purple shade, bringing out the blue-red undertone in her complexion. She slicked her tongue over the generous curve of her lower lip before pulling it between her teeth, making things low in my body tighten.

One of her tentacles slapped into the chest of a man halfway onto the barstool nearest her, shoving him back. He shouted as he stumbled into the crowd, but Sid ignored him, tipping her head at the now empty seat.

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