“When can I take him home?” Rion hovered anxiously, his attention divided between the doctor and Rex.
Noemi glanced at a clock. “It’s pretty late. I’d like him to stay overnight and then check him again before you leave.”
He nodded, looking around for a chair. Oddly, it was the nurse who took pity. Cynthia was usually slightly hostile to men in general, white men in particular. Noemi had experienced her own share of trouble with men, but she didn’t carry a chip on her shoulder like Cynthia did.
“There’s a cot in the break room. I’ll bring it in if you’d like.”
Rion started to protest but the nurse was out of the room, quickly returning with the folding cot. She set it up and turned to the supply closet, pulling out a pillow and blankets. “Here’s an extra in case he gets cold.”
“Thank you.” Rion’s voice was soft and harsh and melodic at the same time. Noemi wondered if he’d had an injury to his vocal cords. He ignored the cot and pulled a chair close to the bed, reaching up to grip Rex’s hand. The patient was again seemingly unconscious.
“Did he tell you what happened?” Noemi paused by the door, looking back at the two men. Her throat felt tight and her chest ached. Watching them made her feel lonely. As Noemi had spent most of her life on her own, loneliness had become a comfortable companion. This feeling was not so comfortable.
“Car wreck. And then some people stopped. They pretended they were going to help him, and then jumped him instead. I found him down the embankment of Highway 7, nearly to the river.”
She winced. Those canyon walls were brutal. He was lucky he’d survived the fall.
“What caused the wreck?”
“He probably swerved for a rabbit or something.”
“Fox.” Rex’s voice was harsh and sleepy. “He kept me company till you came.”
Noemi smiled as she left. He’d swerved for a fox. You never knew who that fox or coyote might really be…a shifter or a trickster, or maybe just a fox. You never knew. She shook her head and closed the office door behind her. She’d make a call to the sheriff to report the accident and the attack, then try to catch a nap before her late-night patients started.
* * * *
Rion lay on the cot, looking up at Rex, and oddly enough, down at himself. He was clearly not awake, but even for a dream, this seemed strange.
He looked at himself in detail, seeing the long, muscular body with a subjectivity that did not belong to him. At the same time, he watched Rex’s still form, his limp hand lay over the side of the bed, the slender fingers still blood-stained. As soon as he got Rex home, he’d give him a sponge bath.
When he saw himself again, Rion knew what was off about this dream. He was seeing himself through the eyes of another. He wanted to be angry, to curse her and run. That was always his reaction to the succubus. But he owed her this time. A debt he’d never be able to pay.
“Thank you. Thank you for finding him.” That statement cost him a great deal. His pride stung and fear still tinged his perception of the succubus. Anahita. He remembered who she was now, she was the Fallen who’d truly fallen, and locked herself into an icy grave to save others from her dangerous needs.
For all these years, no one had known the true fate of Anahita.
“That night all those years ago, when you first attacked us… You were breaking free, weren’t you?”
Before his eyes, she began to take a red, shadowy form, just as she had all those decades before. She didn’t have features, but somehow, she seemed to look at Rex with longing.
“I was called forth… By a demon. He took my place in the ice.”
“You killed him?”
“No…I don’t take life…” The form turned to him once again. “I was saved.”
“You were saved once before, when you first fell.”
She didn’t answer, but Rion felt the heat of her anger. Literally. It crawled up his arms and face like an invisible flame.
“I have no words for how he used me.” And the story became vivid in Rion’s mind. The fragile, confused angel had been poorly treated by her rescuer. He’d ignored her when it had suited him. His words and actions had been harsh and cold. Dyffyd had left her behind when he’d gone to harvest the dead from the world’s battlefields.
Alone and unprotected, she’d fallen victim to the rapacious attentions of the men who’d inhabited the medieval landscape in which she’d dwelt. Rather than take Anahita to the Other Place where his people resided, Dyffyd had left the broken angel alone on a tiny, poorly provisioned farm while he was gone. Instead of seeking magical assistance from his people, he’d dealt with her wings by keeping their stumps burned to prevent them from growing back.
No wonder she’d become succubus.
“I was reborn to another protector.”
“You are still truly Fallen, Anahita. You embraced evil by choosing to become demon- kind.”
“The choice was not mine, Kokabiel. I have never embraced evil.”
Her attention was now fully on him. The heat that engulfed his body was no longer anger, but something else entirely. Something he rejected, and yet embraced. It had been years since he’d felt her touch, and like an addict, the moment of submission to the drug was the sweetest pain imaginable. He didn’t want to want her, but he did, with a fiery need that rivaled any sensation he’d ever experienced. It was a need he’d fought all these years, even when he woke at night to find Rex deeply in the grip of her embrace. He hated that he felt this way.
“You’ve missed me,” she whispered. He closed his eyes, his chest rising rapidly. “Open your pants, Kokabiel.”
“Rion. My name is Rion.”
Even as he denied her, his fingers followed her bidding. They trembled as he fumbled over the buttons, but soon he lay naked beneath her touch. He knew she had no physical substance, yet he luxuriated in the familiar drag of her fingers on his belly, the sweep of her tongue across his achingly tight balls. He closed his eyes, feeling tears trickle from the corners, running down his cheeks to pool in his ears.
Why? Why did he crave her so much? Why did he welcome her, even as his mind sought escape? The beating of his heart signaled his mounting arousal, but something else as well. Panic. His lungs pumped, his belly and chest heaved as though he’d been running. It was his conditioned response to her.
Her mouth melted over his cock, finding places that he didn’t even know existed. She tested the weight of his balls, a shadowy finger rimmed his ass.
“He fucks you here.” He gasped at the sensation. “I should be angry, jealous. But I’m not. I wouldn’t know which to be jealous of.” Her kisses ran up his inner thigh. Her hands stroked his flanks, then the wet heat that pressed over his shaft was no longer her mouth.
He sought a grip on smoke. She was over him, fucking him, but he felt only air in his clasp. She rose and lowered herself, and his hips bucked to meet her. Phantom hands stroked his skin, the whisper of kisses on his lips.
“You have missed me.”
“Yes.” The admission was painful. She was fucking him, extracting confessions of his need while Rex lay unconscious just feet away.
“Don’t feel bad, Rion. This is for him.”
He remembered that sensation of longing he’d sensed from her.
“Do you love him?” he asked.
Their hips churned together and she did not answer. Rion gripped the side of the cot, and in his mind he saw her above him, her delicate, beautiful face twisted with unmet need. Because truth was truth. She was a succubus, a phantom who drained the sexual energy from men. Her physical needs would never be satisfied.
“Do you love him, Anahita?”
She didn’t answer. She drove him into a harder pace, and all of Rion’s focus shifted to the fiery-hot grip on his cock. It had all changed again. He was being pumped in a vise-like hand, heat and pleasure coiling into his ass. His balls went tight and his back bowed. White-hot streams of his semen spewed onto the bare skin of his belly.
; It didn’t stop there. As before, she coaxed him on, long past the point of satisfaction. Another climax roared through his body and his hips pumped and thrust into her ephemeral grip. Rion shuddered, dragging his gaze to look up at where the shadowy form hovered over his body. He was limp, drained from the two powerful orgasms.
As he watched, she drifted closer to Rex. “Please… No, Anahita…he’s not strong enough.”
He felt the sensation of her tolerant amusement, which was surprisingly reassuring. Rion lay back and watched in wonder as the succubus suddenly became luminescent. The light from her form grew and intensified, and gently rained down on Rex like a shower of rainbow-colored energy. The beauty of it took his breath.
“You can take, but you can feed others as well.”
“One does not need to be perfect to be…beneficial. That is nature’s law.”
Slowly, the light display came to a gentle end. Rion rose weakly on the cot, trying to see his partner in the dim light of the exam room.
“Let him sleep, Kokobiel. He’ll grow stronger with rest.”
Rion reached for Rex’s hand, feeling it warm and alive in his own. The form of the succubus began to dissipate.
“Anahita…”
Lips brushed against his. “Sleep, angel. He will survive this night.” She floated like mist to the top of the room. “I’ve missed you too, Kokabiel.”
The loneliness in her voice squeezed his heart. “Thank you, Anahita.” There was no answer. “Thank you.”
Chapter Five
The sun had no business shining so brightly this early in the morning. Rex tried to turn away from the light, but failed. A soft hand held his chin in a firm grip, forcing him to face the burning sun. He made some unintelligible noise, and when his lids finally opened, they felt as though they’d been peeled off his eyeballs.
“Sorry. I’m not sure if you have a head injury, so I need to wake you.”
“Fine.” He wasn’t sure if he sounded surly or drunk. Probably both. “Take it easy.” She probed the tender bruise around his eye, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. A muffled groan across the room told him that Rion was stirring.
“I don’t think any of the bones in your face are broken.”
The back of his bed began to rise and Rex relaxed, letting the machinery do the work, bringing him to an upright position. From here, he could see that Rion was sleeping on a cot. He’d turned to his side, his back to the room. Odd, Rion was usually a restless sleeper. Now he was out like a light.
A subtle fragrance filled the room. “Here, it’s chamomile and wintergreen tea. Since you won’t take drugs for pain, I thought maybe you’d take this instead.” He reached for the Styrofoam cup with his good left hand, amused to see that it trembled slightly. Thankfully, the tea was cool enough to drink. He sipped, and winced as Dr. Gastineau leaned over him, daubing a fragrant salve onto his abrasions.
He sniffed. “Lavender and wintergreen…”
“Plus emu in a base of almond oil,” she said. “One of the reasons I chose to work at this clinic is that we are encouraged to practice alternative medicine. Cynthia has a wonderful knowledge of local plant lore.”
Once she’d finished with the salve, Rex sipped the tea again. “But lavender and wintergreen aren’t native to this area.”
“No, but I expect they are part of your medicine kit.”
That was certainly true. “You aren’t local either.”
“I’m First Nations. From Canada.”
That explained her slight accent. And the subtle differences in her appearance. She was taller than the local Native Americans, and her face was more angular. Even the tone of her skin was a bit different.
“What tribe?”
She shook her head and smiled slightly. “I was adopted by an Inuit woman who raised me in her culture. I expect my origins are Cree or Huron, judging by where she found me.” She pulled up the rolling stool and sat, observing Rex as he finished his tea. “Once she passed away, I left the villages for college.”
He emptied the cup and she took it from his hand, setting it on a rolling table.
“So tell me more about the accident. Incidentally, I called it in to the county sheriff.”
Rex had that sinking feeling… Hours of questioning, having to think quickly and evade the full truth. He didn’t look forward to it.
“I know you think it isn’t necessary, but this isn’t the first time I’ve ended up with patients who came here after an…accident involving you people in the county.” He looked at her with a frown, so she continued, “I’ve been here about three years. In that time, I know of about a half-dozen cases in which local high school students have suddenly acted violently out of character. Girls as well as boys.”
“That could be alcohol. There isn’t a lot for young people to do around here—except getting drunk and fucking, I suppose.”
She smiled and Rex was momentarily stilled. It softened her face, brought light to those dark almond eyes.
“That’s why the reservation has so many youth programs—drumming and dancing, traditional language. They do their best to keep them engaged here.”
“Has this happened to any of the reservation youth?”
She shook her head. “It happens to the kids off rez, and I end up with the mess.” She rose and tossed his cup into a waste can. “I think you can probably sleep safely. I won’t wake you again. Can’t promise Cynthia won’t, though.” She smiled again and suddenly Rex remembered that first moment that he’d seen her. She’d been vibrant with an otherworldly beauty. If he hadn’t had Rion to compare her to, he might think she was one of the Fallen. Now he could see that she was simply a beautiful human woman.
He noticed that she was looking past the bed at where Rion lay sleeping.
“How long have the two of you been together?”
Automatically, he went soft inside. Thoughts of Orion did that to him. “A very long time. I found him in a muddy field and he followed me home.”
She didn’t laugh at his joke. Instead, she continued to stare at the angel, and an expression came over her face that twisted Rex’s heart. Stark loneliness. It shook him.
“The two of you are very lucky to have found each other.” She looked away, and that moment of pain fled her face as though it’d never been.
“We are. I wasn’t looking for him. I wasn’t looking for the love of my life. It just came, and happened to be this man.”
She took a deep breath, as though she’d stopped breathing and had forgotten to begin again. “Like I said, lucky.” Her hand came up to the front of her blouse and she fingered an object under the fabric. He supposed it was a medicine pouch or something else that gave her comfort.
Without another word, she turned and left the room, flicking a switch on the wall and leaving them in darkness.
Chapter Six
The house was a welcome sight.
It was small and low. Rion had to duck under some of the doorways, but Rex loved it. The cabin was made of rough honey-colored planks that had grown dark with age. He’d planted every type of flower that grew easily in this region. Old rose bushes flanked the porch and hummingbird feeders studded the eaves.
Inside, the rough floor creaked under Rion’s feet as he carried Rex to the plush old sofa. He’d obligingly lowered Rex’s weight to the minimum he could manage, but even that simple trick was nearly beyond his skill. If it weren’t for the inked charms on his skin, his wings and tail would be hanging out for all to see.
“I would give much for a bath, Rion. There’s blood and all sorts of garbage caught up in my hair.”
“That might be a challenge. Let me get the water started.”
Rex lay back and absorbed the good vibes of their little house. It wasn’t the croft in Scotland, but it had its own charm. Over the years Rex had grown accustomed to the idea that home was wherever he found himself sleeping in Rion’s arms. There was great comfort in that knowledge. There was a bit of loss as well, for Rex was a steward of t
he Earth and the green things that grew. He craved the wild places as well as the domesticated farmlands. He wanted to stay put and tend to a forest of his own.
This little home fulfilled some of his needs, but it was a poor substitute for the acres that had once been his. Technically, they were still his acres, and the last time they’d visited, the croft had still been sturdy and standing, hidden in the mists by a powerful charm. Someday Rex wanted to go home to the cottage in Scotland. Someday he would go home.
It was late. They’d meant to leave the clinic early in the morning, but as she’d left to go home from her shift, Dr. Gastineau had made them promise to wait for the sheriff. He’d shown up midmorning and taken over an hour quizzing Rex on the accident itself, the fight and the identities of the young men who’d attacked him. Rex had ‘forgotten’ the plate numbers on the back of the truck and couldn’t exactly remember the color of the vehicle. One of the boys had looked far too much like this good-natured man who was questioning him so thoroughly. It had been a relief to see the sheriff on his way out of the door.
In truth, Rex was worried. Very, very worried. While he hadn’t expected to heal overnight, his healing was nearly as slow as a human’s would be. The break in his leg ached fiercely, the cuts and abrasions stung and burned.
“I don’t know that you can manage the tub just yet, not with your ribs and collarbone being injured, but I can help you with the shower.” Rion stood there with a towel around his lean hips and Rex gave an obliging leer. He was grateful to see an answering smile on Rion’s face. His angel was taking this whole thing very hard.
They struggled with his clothing for a few moments, finally freeing him of the loose scrubs he’d worn home. It was a spare set that belonged to Dr. Gastineau. Oddly, both men were reluctant to ruin the clothing. Though they were clean when he’d put them on, Rex could smell her scent on the garments, sweet and earthy-green, like wildflowers.
Once Rex was undressed, Rion checked the running water, then moved him under the stream, his broken leg outside the shower curtain. Rex held his arm tightly to his chest, breathing through the pain.
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