Unbalanced (6 page)

Scent rich with pheromones drifted with the gentle air currents, teasing.

Arousing.

Stef bucked his hips, raising Anton slightly. His breath was choppy and fast, his lips parted on a tight, feral grin. “You gonna play all night, my friend? Or do you know where you’re going with this?”

“Oh, I know all right.” Anton swept his tongue over Stefan’s leaking crown and once again caught a tiny bubble of cream. The sharp taste stirred his senses. He inhaled, filling his lungs with Stef’s musky scent. His breath hitched in his throat as he wrapped his fist around his lover’s erection and gave him a few hard, fast strokes. “I merely wanted to make sure we’re in agreement. No argument. You’re mine tonight, Stef. All mine, in all ways.”

Stefan’s amber eyes blazed in the pale light of dawn as he nodded his head. Short, sharp—almost frantic—jerks of his chin. When had the day begun to grow light? How long had they lain here, the two of them touching and tasting?

Keisha might be wondering where he’d gone. Anton pulled his mind out of the moment and sent a brief thought her way, finding only the resting mind of his beloved mate. His wife slept, her body wrapped close around their slumbering three-month-old daughter. He searched wider and found the twins, Gabe and Mac. Almost four now, they sprawled loose-limbed and dreaming in their bunk beds. Then on to the next room, where Lily slept peacefully, practically lost among stuffed toys and dolls. He paused a moment, curious about her dreams, but her powerful mind was closed to him. Moving on, he left her dreaming alone in her princess bed with the pink canopy draped all about.

Someday he’d have to ask Lily what she dreamed. He’d loved the way her mind would take him on amazing journeys when she was tiny. Now, though, as she grew older, she wrapped her privacy about her like a warm cloak.

Much as Anton had learned to do. Still, she amazed him, this perfect daughter he and Keisha had created. Already she showed signs of holding more magical power than Anton had ever imagined, even for himself, but that was a worry for another time. For now, all of them were where they belonged.

All of them were safe.

Relieved, Anton crawled off Stef’s legs, shoved them apart and knelt between them. He sat there a moment, feeling the warmth of Stef’s thighs against his own calves, admiring the perfect body lying before him. Goddess, how he loved this man!

So many years now, so much history between them. They’d wasted some, and they’d put each other through hell. But they’d not only survived, they’d come through all of it stronger than ever. Strong enough to withstand anything the fates might throw at them.

At least Stefan appeared to have given up on arguing that point—he no longer insisted all that had happened was mere coincidence. Happenstance had nothing to do with a love as powerful as theirs—one born of so very many mixed emotions, so many terrible mistakes.

Anton sighed. He really had to quit worrying, but he bit back a grin as his mind whirled with the myriad changes he’d gone through since discovering he wasn’t just a man at all—he was, instead, a powerful shapeshifter who’d barely tapped his magical powers.

Stefan watched him with a small grin on his face. “I’m in your mind, my friend. Stop thinking. We don’t have a lot of time. I insist on being the focus of your attention. You can worry about how we got to this point later.”

Anton laughed. Then he palmed Stef’s knees and pressed them back. Stefan’s amber eyes drifted closed and he sighed his pleasure as Anton slowly bent his legs until they folded tightly against his chest. He ran his palm over Stef’s muscular flank, trailed across his taut buttock and found the crease between his cheeks. Sliding his fingers slowly along the warm valley, he stroked and circled the tight ring guarding entrance. Using his fingertips and saliva, Anton rubbed lightly over the puckered muscle.

Stefan groaned and raised his hips to Anton’s slight pressure. One finger. Just one, pressing harder until he forced entry. Then two, and it was easier now as he sawed in and out with total concentration. He added a third, drawing a soft curse from Stefan, stretching the tight muscle, preparing him. Stef’s groans turned to sighs as Anton pushed his middle finger deep inside to rub gently over Stef’s small, hard prostate. This time Anton forced a whimper of pleasure from his lover’s lips.

“Shit.” Stefan groaned and reached for Anton’s wrist, grabbing him. Stopping him. “I’m too close for that.”

Anton laughed. “I told you, you’re mine. Let go.” He slipped his finger in and then out again. “I’ll just have to make you come more than once. It’s good for you, old man.”

“Cut the old man crap. Just fuck me.” Stefan clutched his knees and flashed a grin at Anton. “I was wondering what you were planning. Thought maybe you were the one getting too old for this.”

“Never.” Grinning ferociously, Anton clasped his cock in his fist and rubbed the broad crown over Stefan’s anus. Stef groaned and held his knees closer to his chest as Anton eased forward, breaching the taut entrance, filling him, slowly pushing deep inside, and deeper still until Stef’s tight hole clasped the base of Anton’s thick erection, flexing and squeezing him almost painfully.

They held there a long, silent moment, both of them panting, straining for control. Anton’s mind drifted to their teasing. They’d hassled each other about age for years. Hell, he was fifty-eight and Stef eight years younger. They’d just celebrated his fiftieth birthday.

Yet both of them could easily pass for men in their early thirties. In fact, Stefan, with silver lacing his thick, dark hair, actually looked a bit older than Anton, though both of them appeared younger now than they had when they’d first met over fifteen years ago.

One more miracle of embracing their Chanku heritage. In the beginning, they’d all wondered if they aged like normal humans. Liana, Adam’s mate—and once their goddess—had explained that Chanku, while not immortal, were almost ageless. Their bodies, if they were born into their heritage and always lived as Chanku, reached their prime age and stayed there for untold years.

If, like Anton and Stefan and the others, they didn’t find out about their heritage, didn’t get the nutrients to enable their Chanku abilities until they were older, their bodies slowly but surely returned to that perfect age. It seemed to take longer for men than for women—Millie West had been close to sixty before she had started taking the nutrients that brought her shapeshifting abilities to life. Within a couple of years she’d looked like a young woman in her twenties with a body once again able to bear children—which would only happen when hell froze over, according to Millie.

With four grandchildren and one on the way, she preferred being a grandmother. It had something to do with being able to spoil the kids rotten and then give them back to their parents.

On occasion, when the baby fussed or the boys were making them crazy, Anton figured she definitely had the right idea. It was all a mystery, though. No one really knew just how long their lives might be.

Already it was growing difficult to explain his ageless appearance to business associates. One more thing they’d have to address at some point, but not now.

No, now he intended to fuck Stefan Aragat until his eyes crossed. Anton slowly withdrew from the clasping heat of Stefan’s tight passage, absorbing each sensation, each ripple and clench of powerful muscles. He paused with the head of his cock almost pulling free of the dark, damp clasp that held it. He grabbed Stef’s flanks with both hands while the thick crown of his cock stretched Stefan’s taut sphincter. Felt the throb of blood, whether his pulse or Stefan’s he couldn’t tell, but it pulsed in time with his breathing, with Stefan’s deep breaths, with the thundering rhythm of both their hearts.

He held there for one heartbeat after the next. Until his body trembled. Until Stefan’s legs quivered and his skin rippled beneath Anton’s palms.

Then he tilted his hips forward and drove deep.

Stef groaned. The sharply defined muscles across his belly rippled. He tilted his head back and arched into Anton’s powerful thrust. Again Anton speared him hard and deep, and again, harder and faster, until the forest seemed to spin around them and Anton’s heart raced to keep up with the demands of his muscles, with the growing coil of desire spiraling from his spine to his belly to his balls.

He wrapped his fingers around Stef’s cock, clasping tightly, stroking him in time with his powerful thrusts. Creamy trails of pre-cum covered the back of his hand, spread over his fingers and filled the early morning meadow with the rich scent of sex and arousal.

With his left hand, Anton palmed Stef’s heavy sac, holding Stefan’s testicles down against the length of his own cock as he thrust in and out of that hot, wet channel. Anton opened his thoughts again and linked with Stefan in time to feel the tight clenching of muscles at Stef’s spine, the hot rush of semen from balls to cock to freedom.

Stefan cried out. His body went rigid, his cock jerked in Anton’s grasp as his climax exploded, splashing both of them with thick streams of ejaculate. The sight of the creamy fluid erupting from Stefan’s cock, the rich scent and the hot flow as it covered his hand and spilled between his fingers took Anton over the edge.

He hammered hard and deep, emptying his balls in a series of hard, fast jerks, of clenching muscles and mind-blowing images. His mind linked tightly to Stefan’s and threw the emotions and physical sensations of two orgasms shared into a loop, so that each man felt what the other experienced, each of them knew the love and the need and the overwhelming sense of family that held them forever linked, forever bonded as packmates.

As lovers.

Over and over and over again. Climax shared. Need shared. And love. Always that deep abiding love.

As the involuntary pulsing of his orgasm slowed, Anton leaned forward, supporting himself over Stefan’s chest, but Stef wrapped his arms around Anton and pulled him close. Still tightly locked within his lover’s body, Anton hugged him close, kissed the beard-roughened cheek, and sighed with the sense of completion that always followed lovemaking with this man.

It was good. So damned good, but the sun was rising and the day moving forward, and so must they. It took Anton a moment before he had the energy to separate from Stef, but finally he slipped his softening penis free and practically crawled the few short steps to the woodland pool and the gently falling water.

Stefan was right behind him. Together, laughing like a couple of kids, they tumbled into the cold water and played like children while the sun rose over the forest.

DemonSlayers

Book I: DemonFire

Chapter 1

Sunday Night

He struggled out of the darkness, confused, disoriented . . . recalling fire and pain and the soothing voices of men he couldn’t see. Voices promising everlasting life, a chance to move beyond hell, beyond all he’d ever known. He remembered his final, fateful decision to take a chance, to search for something else.

For life beyond the hell that was Abyss.

A search that brought him full circle, back to a world of pain—to this world, wherever it might be. He frowned and tried to focus. This body was unfamiliar, the skin unprotected by scales or bone. He’d never been so helpless, so vulnerable.

His chest burned. The demon’s fireshot, while not immediately fatal, would have deadly consequences. Hot blood flowed sluggishly from wounds across his ribs and spread over the filthy stone floor beneath his naked hip. The burn on his chest felt as if it were filled with acid. Struggling for each breath, he raised his head and stared into the glaring yellow eyes of an impossible creature holding him at bay.

Four sharp spears affixed to a long pole were aimed directly at his chest. The thing had already stabbed him once, and the bleeding holes in his side hurt like the blazes. With a heartfelt groan, Dax tried to rise, but he had no strength left.

He fell back against the cold stones and his world faded once more to black.

***

“You’re effing kidding me! I leave for one frickin’ weekend and all hell breaks loose. You’re positive? Old Mrs. Abernathy really thinks it ate her cat?” Eddy Marks took another sip of her iced caffé mocha whip and stared at Ginny. “Lord, I hope my father hasn’t heard about it. He’ll blame it on the Lemurians.”

Ginny laughed so hard she almost snorted her latte. “Your dad’s not still hung up on that silly legend, is he? Like there’s really an advanced society of humanoids living inside Mount Shasta? I don’t think so.”

“Don’t try and tell Dad they don’t exist. He’s convinced he actually saw one of their golden castles in the moonlight. Of course, it was gone by morning.” Eddy frowned at Ginny and changed the subject. She was admittedly touchy about her dad’s gullible nature. “Mrs. Abernathy’s not serious, is she?”

“I dunno.” Ginny shook her head. “She was really upset. Enough that she called nine-one-one. I was on dispatch at Shascom that shift and took the call. They sent an officer out because she was hysterical, not because they actually believed Mr. Pollard’s ceramic garden gnome ate Twinkles.” Ginny ran her finger around the inside of her cup, chasing the last drops of her iced latte. “I heard there was an awful lot of blood on her back deck, along with tufts of suspiciously Twinkles-colored hair.”

“Probably a coyote or a fox.” Eddy finished the last of her drink and wished she’d had a shot of brandy to add to it. It would have been the perfect finish to the first brief vacation she’d had in months—two glorious days hiking and camping on Mount Shasta with only her dog for company . . . and not a single killer garden gnome in sight. She grinned at Ginny. “Killer gnomes aren’t usually a major threat around here.”

Ginny laughed. “Generally, no. Lemurians either, in spite of what your dad and half the tourists think, but for once Eddy, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Let your imagination go a little.”

“What? And start spouting off about Lemurians? I don’t think so. Someone has to be the grown-up! So what else happened while I was out communing with nature?”

“Well . . . it might have been the full moon, but there was a report that the one remaining stone gargoyle launched itself off the northwest corner of the old library building, circled the downtown area and flew away into the night. And—” Ginny paused dramatically. “—another that the bronze statue of General Humphreys and his horse trotted out of the park. The statue is gone. I didn’t check on the gargoyle, but I went down to see the statue. It’s not there. Looks like it walked right off the pedestal. That thing weighs over two tons.” She set her empty cup down, folded her arms and, with one dark eyebrow raised, stared at Eddy.

“A big bronze statue like that would bring in a pretty penny at the recyclers. Somebody probably hauled it off with a truck, but it’s a great visual, isn’t it?” Eddy leaned back in her chair. “I can just see that big horse with the general, sword held high and covered in pigeon poop, trotting along Front Street. Maybe a little detour through the cemetery.”

“Is it worth a story by ace reporter Edwina Marks?”

Eddy glared at her. “Do not call me Edwina.” She ran her finger through the condensation on the scarred wooden tabletop before looking up at Ginny and grinning. “Maybe a column about weird rumors and how they get started. I’ll cite you as Ground Zero, but I doubt it’s cutting edge enough for the front page of the
Record.
”

Ginny grabbed her purse and pulled out a lipstick. “Yeah, like that rag’s going to cover real news?”

“Hey, we do our best and we stay away from the tabloid stuff . . . you know, the garbage you like to read?” Laughing, Eddy stood up. “Well, I’m always complaining that nothing exciting ever happens around here. I guess flying gargoyles, runaway statues and killer gnomes are better than nothing.” She tossed some change on the table for a tip and waved at the girl working behind the counter. “Gotta go, Gin. I need to get home. Have to let Bumper out.”

“Bumper? Who’s that? Don’t tell me you brought home another homeless mutt from the shelter.”

“And if I did?”

Ginny waved the lipstick at her like a pointer. “Eddy, the last time you had to give up a fostered pup, you bawled for a week. Why do you do this to yourself?”

She’d be lucky if she only bawled for a week when it was time for Bumper to leave. They’d bonded almost immediately, but she really didn’t want a dog. Not for keeps. “They were gonna put her down if no one took her,” she mumbled.

Ginny shook her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. One of these days you’re going to take in a stray that’ll really break your heart.”

***

Eddy heard Bumper when she was still half a block from home. She’d only left the dog inside the house while she went to town for coffee, but it appeared the walls weren’t thick enough to mute her deep-throated growling and barking.

Thank goodness it wasn’t nine yet. Any later and she’d probably have one of the neighbors filing a complaint. Eddy picked up her pace and ran the last hundred yards home, digging for her house keys as she raced up the front walk. “Bumper, you idiot. I only left you for an hour. I hope you haven’t been going on like this the whole time I’ve been gone.”

She got the key in the lock and swung the front door open. Bumper didn’t even pause to greet her. Instead, she practically knocked Eddy on her butt as she raced out the front door, skidded through the open gate to the side yard and disappeared around the back of the house.

“Shit. Stupid dog.” Eddy threw her keys in her bag, slung her purse over her shoulder and took off after the dog. It was almost completely dark away from the streetlight and Eddy stumbled on one of the uneven paving stones by the gate. Bumper’s deep bark turned absolutely frantic, accompanied by the added racket from her clawing and scratching at the wooden door to Eddy’s potting shed.

“If you’ve got a skunk cornered in there, you stupid dog, I swear I’m taking you back to the shelter.”

Bumper stopped barking, now that she knew she had Eddy’s attention. She whined and sniffed at the door, still scratching at the rough wood. Eddy fumbled in her bag for her keychain and the miniature flashlight hanging from the ring. The beam was next to worthless, but better than nothing.

She scooted Bumper out of the way with her leg and unlatched the door just enough to peer in through a crack. Bumper whapped her nose against Eddy’s leg. Shoving frantically with her broad head, she tried to force her way inside.

“Get back.” Eddy glared at the dog. Bumper flattened her ears against her curly head and immediately backed off, looking as pathetic as she had last week at the shelter when Eddy’d realized she couldn’t leave a blond pit bull crossed with a standard poodle to the whims of fate.

She aimed her tiny flashlight through the narrow opening. Blinked. Told herself she was really glad she’d been drinking coffee and not that brandy she’d wanted tonight, because otherwise she wouldn’t believe what she saw.

Maybe Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t nuts after all. Eddy grabbed a shovel leaning against the outside wall of the shed and threw the door open wide.

The garden gnome that should have been stationed in the rose garden out in front held a pitchfork in its stubby little hands like a weapon, ready to stab what appeared to be a person lying in the shadows. When the door creaked open, the gnome turned its head, glared at Eddy through yellow eyes, bared unbelievably sharp teeth, and screamed at her like an avenging banshee.

Bumper’s claws scrabbled against the stone pathway. Eddy swung the shovel. The crunch of metal connecting with ceramic seemed unnaturally loud. The scream stopped as the garden gnome shattered into a thousand pieces. The pitchfork clattered to the ground and a dark, evil-smelling mist gathered in the air above the pile of dust. It swirled a moment and then suddenly whooshed over Eddy’s shoulder and out the open door.

A tiny blue light pulsed and flickered, followed the mist as far as the doorway, and then returned to hover over the figure in the shadows. Bumper paused long enough to sniff the remnants of the garden gnome and growl, before turning her attention to whatever lay on the stone floor. Eddy stared at the shovel in her hands and took one deep breath after another. This was not happening. She
had not seen
a garden gnome in attack mode.

One with glowing yellow eyes and razor-sharp teeth.

Impossible.

Heart pounding, arms and legs shaking, she slowly pivoted in place and focused on whoever it was that Bumper seemed so pleased to see.

The mutt whined, but her curly tail was wagging a million miles a minute. She’d been right about the gnome. Eddy figured she’d have to trust the dog’s instincts about who or whatever had found such dubious sanctuary in her potting shed.

Eddy squinted and tried to focus on the flickering light that flitted in the air over Bumper’s head, but it was jerking around so quickly she couldn’t tell what it was. She still had her key ring clutched in her fingers. She wasn’t quite ready to put the shovel down, but she managed to shine the narrow beam of light toward the lump on the floor.

Green light reflected back from Bumper’s eyes. Eddy swung wider with the flashlight. She saw a muscular arm, a thick shoulder, and the broad expanse of a masculine chest. Blood trickled from four perfectly spaced pitchfork-sized holes across the man’s ribs and pooled beneath his body. There appeared to be a deep wound on his chest, though it wasn’t bleeding.

In fact, it looked almost as if it had been cauterized. A burn? Eddy swept the light his full length. Her eyes grew wider with each inch of skin she exposed. He was marked with a colorful tattoo that ran from his thigh across his groin to his chest, but other than the art, he was naked. Very naked, all the way from his long, narrow feet up those perfectly formed hairy legs to . . . Eddy quickly jerked the light back toward his head.

When she reached his face, the narrow beam glinted off dark eyes looking directly into hers. Beautiful, soul-searching dark brown eyes shrouded in thick black lashes. He was gorgeous. Even with a smear of dirt across one cheek and several days’ growth of dark beard, he looked as if he should be on the cover of
People
as the sexiest man alive.

Breathing hard, her body still shaking from the adrenaline coursing through her system, Eddy dragged herself back to the situation at hand. Whatever it was. He hadn’t said a word. She’d thought he was unconscious. He wasn’t. He was injured . . . not necessarily helpless. She squatted down beside him, and reassured by Bumper’s acceptance and the fact the man didn’t look strong enough to sit up, much less harm her, Eddy set the shovel aside.

She touched his shoulder and grimaced at the deep wound on his chest, the bloody stab wounds in his side. Made a point not to look below his waist. “What happened? Are you okay? Well, obviously not with all those injuries.” Rattled, she took a deep breath. “Who are you?”

He blinked and turned his head. She quickly tilted the light away from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I . . .”

He shook his head. His voice was deep and sort of raspy. “No. It’s all right.” He glanced up at the flickering light dancing overhead, frowned and then nodded.

She could tell he was in pain, but he took a deep breath and turned his focus back to Eddy.

“I am Dax. Thank you.”

“I’m Eddy. Eddy Marks.” Why she’d felt compelled to give her full name made no sense. None of this did. She couldn’t place his accent and he wasn’t from around here. She would have recognized any of the locals. She started to rise. “I’ll call nine-one-one. You’re injured.”

His arm snaked out and he grabbed her forearm, trapping her with surprising strength. “No. No one. Don’t call anyone.”

Eddy looked down at the broad hand, the powerful fingers wrapped entirely around her arm, just below her elbow. She should have been terrified. Should have been screaming in fear, but something in those eyes, in the expression on his face . . .

Immediately, he loosened his grasp. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, but no one must know I’m here. If you can’t help me, please let me leave. I have so little time. . . .” He tried to prop himself up on one arm, but his body trembled with the effort.

Eddy rubbed her arm. It tingled where he’d touched her. “What’s going on? How’d you get here? Where are your clothes?”

The flickering light came closer, hovered just in front of his chest, pulsed with a brilliant blue glow that spread out in a pale arc until it touched him, appeared to soak into his flesh, and then dimmed. Before Eddy could figure out what she was seeing, Dax took a deep breath. He seemed to gather strength—from the blue light?