Celestial Seductions: The Complete Series: An MM Gay Paranormal Mpreg Romance Collection

by Odin Nightshade

  “Who are you?” Hunter asked, after a moment, his voice filled with amazement. “I mean,” he hastened to add, “I know who you are.” He kissed him. “But, who were you? What have you been? Where did you come from? How did you come to be here, now?” He could not stop the questions; they all spilled out of him, fueled by an immense need to know, and love, every aspect of this strange and wonderful being.

  Behind him, Orion laughed softly. “I am Orion.” He said, kissing him. “I am here because of what I feel for you.” He kissed him yet again and Hunter felt his soul soar on the strength of the words so overwhelming he could scarcely believe he heard right, and that this was really, truly happening.

  Hunter lay back, his head spinning, a grin splitting his features. He felt incredible; happier than he had ever felt in his entire life.

  “I feel the same way.” He said, reckless and emboldened by his care for this man. “But why, then, do you have to leave me?” He could not help how that sounded. He had to ask.

  Orion leaned down and kissed him, and the violet eyes that looked into his were level and entirely serious.

  “I wish I did not have to leave you.” he said, solemnly. “I will come back.” he kissed him on the nose, the side of the head, the mouth. His kisses felt as tender and as urgent as Hunter's own feelings.

  “I will come back.” Orion promised. They lay beside each other and dozed a little longer.

  When Orion finally stood, it was almost dawn. It was dark, still, but with a strange fluidity to the time that suggested to Hunter it was after midnight.

  Sighing, he wrapped his arms around his visitor, who stood at the door and kissed him.

  “I will come back.” he said again. Hunter nodded, not trusting the ability to speak.

  He opened the door and let Orion walk ahead. He turned and lifted a hand in salutation, and Hunter, swallowing, returned it.

  Orion walked three paces, and then he was gone.

  Hunter, dazed and exhausted, shook his head and returned to bed. He slept, the exhausted sleep of sated desire, but even as he did so, he wondered about his violet-eyed partner, and why it was that he always seemed to vanish into thin air. Exhausted, elated and too delighted to think too much about it or anything else, Hunter fell into a deep, overwhelming and blissfully refreshing sleep.

  Chapter 5

  The sun shone through the window, lancing onto Hunter's eyelids. He woke, remembered, and then smiled. He rolled over, knowing Orion was not there but still smiling nonetheless because he had been.

  “I feel wonderful.” He said to the room in general, a blissful smile on his face, even with half-open eyes.

  He sat up.

  Nausea gripped him, rising from within to smother him, sending him back onto the pillow with a start, rolling in on himself to protect his heaving, twisting, aching stomach.

  Hunter rolled out of bed, trying not to stretch his stomach. He felt the cramps rip at him again, and crawled into the bathroom, where he was sick.

  “Oh, man. Oh, man.” He went to the sink and rinsed his mouth, gasping with the pain and the sudden breathlessness of being sick.

  He held onto the rim of the sink, feeling weak and breathing heavily.

  After a moment, the cramp lessened and he stood up, feeling better. He smiled. After such a night, he assured himself, nothing could get him down.

  “It must be nerves. Or relief, or something.” he reassured himself in the mirror after brushing his teeth.

  Hunter showered, singing, and still singing, dressed and went through to the kitchen. He made a large breakfast, but still felt nauseous afterward.

  He drove to his office and sang behind the wheel, finding it impossible to keep the events of the previous night out of his head, to stop remembering snatches of conversation or to stop smiling.

  “Morning!” He said brightly, passing the desk of his receptionist, Mrs. Wyatt.

  “Good morning, Mr. Cavendish.” She smiled. It was so nice, she reflected as he passed, to see him looking so happy again. Hunter Cavendish was a good man, if a little unusual. And he looked so much happier compared to the day before, that she was pleased.

  After a moment, Hunter was back.

  “Could you have these stamped and sent on to the right departments, Mrs. Wyatt?” he asked, bringing out a series of forms she had been waiting for over the last couple of days. Mrs. Wyatt grinned, bemusedly.

  “Of course, Mr. Cavendish.”

  Hunter smiled, and returned to his office, singing under his breath.

  In the office, Hunter smiled to himself. He had so much energy! He had been so exhausted, so miserable, so utterly dejected. Now he felt wonderful. He smiled.

  The work on his table was already reducing fast, most of the papers dealt with, signed or filed away. It would not take long to finish this backlog. He shook his head at himself, a huge smile covering his handsome face. He felt wonderful.

  As Hunter worked, filled with a new strength, he thought of that beautiful violet-eyed face. He could not help it. The words they had exchanged played round his head all morning, too; fragments of conversation each as precious as rubies.

  I wish I did not have to leave. I will come back. Come back. He smiled, thinking of those words. He would see him again! Hunter did not know why, but he trusted absolutely that that was true. He knew Orion would return as he had said he would.

  “Mr. Cavendish?”

  “Oh! Mr. Everett.” Hunter stood up quickly, to shake the hand of one of their most important clients. “The quarterly meeting? In a moment. You've had coffee?”

  Hunter indicated the coffee machine with a flamboyant hand, and then sunk back into the chair as if pole-axed. The pain! His stomach felt like someone had shot him, the sudden knifing ache of nausea almost unbearable.

  “Mr. Cavendish?” Hunter was surprised to feel a hand on his arm, as their important client hovered anxiously.

  “I'm fine.” Hunter made a deprecatory gesture with his hand, biting his lip for fear of being sick at once.

  “If you say so...” The man looked nervous.

  “Yes.” Hunter waved him away, gently. “Really I am. Maybe you can go to the boardroom ahead of me?” He suggested weakly. “I'll be down in about five minutes.”

  “Okay, if you're sure you're fine.” The man left.

  Hunter bit his lip, struggling for control of his heaving, aching stomach. He felt like being sick at once and very much hoped he would not have to be.

  After a moment, he stood up, and walked to the door.

  “Mr. Cavendish?” Mrs. Wyatt appeared at his side, looking concerned.

  “I'm fine.” He smiled at her, hoping it was convincing and less like a sickly grimace. “But maybe...could I ask you to call Dr. Watney for me?” He asked.

  “Of course.” She nodded, frowning. “Certainly, Mr. Cavendish.”

  “If he could fit me in this evening, I'd be grateful.” Hunter nodded, feeling drained. What was this? He had noticed it starting about a week ago; sudden bouts of illness that attacked him early in the mornings, usually just before he had his coffee and shower. They had been extending longer into the day, lately; this was the latest he had had an episode like this. And he seemed to be putting on weight, too. Nothing noticeable, he just felt heavier, was all.

  Oh, well, he told himself, trying to be positive. The doctor will know best. No point worrying about it for now. He smiled. On a day like today, he could not really be worried about anything. At that moment, he thought, smiling as he prepared for his meeting, everything in his life was absolutely perfect.

  Hunter ran to the boardroom, elegant blazer flapping about his lean body as he slid in through the doors and sat down. His stomach clenched and he gritted his teeth painfully.

  “Good afternoon, everyone.” He smiled at the assembled representatives. His stomach was aching, and the smile was more of a grimace. They did not notice, however, or if they did, they did him the kindness of not mentioning it.

  “Shall we,” he
said after a moment, “go straight to the figures?”

  “Yes. Let's do that.” A young woman with her hair in a stylish chignon suggested tonelessly.

  “Very well.” Hunter nodded. Geez, these people are tough customers, he thought to himself, as he reached for his notebook and found the slides that showed projected savings for the next ten years.

  “If I could draw your attention to the sudden rise in 2025..?” He began, finding his laser pointer and standing. His stomach still ached, and he felt himself start to sweat with the effort of standing as he went through the slides.

  It took most of the afternoon, but by the time Hunter was finished, the representatives seemed convinced. They would come to Investec for all their financial needs. Hunter breathed out and shook their hands. When they had left, he sank back into the chair, stomach aching and heart pounding.

  “I think you'd probably be pleased with that.” Hunter said to the room in general, speaking to Orion in his thoughts.

  He shook his head at himself and grinned. He had never really wanted to discuss work with a lover before. This, like so many other things, was new.

  “I must be crazy,” Hunter said to himself, cheerfully, “I'm in pain, I'm crazy and I'm happy. Maybe,” he added, laughingly, “it's just as well I'm seeing the doctor tomorrow, after all.”

  Chapter 6

  Hunter rolled over. He felt Orion behind him, and smiled to himself. He had been dreaming, and he had woken in his arms. This was, he remembered, not the first night this had happened. In fact, it had happened rather a lot.

  “Orion?” He asked, sleepily.

  “Yes?”

  “Where do you come from?”

  It was a question that had been turning over in his mind a lot.

  Silence. Hunter lay back for a moment, thinking.

  “Mm?” Hunter asked again, prompting an answer.

  “I come from far away.”

  Hunter found that a little unsatisfying, but decided to be content with it. It was, after all, probably true.

  “What is it like, far away?” Hunter asked. He hoped he could get some more information indirectly.

  “It's...” Orion swallowed. Hunter heard a note of pain in his voice, and wondered why. “It's beautiful.” Orion said, finally.

  “Somehow,” Hunter said, turning to face him, “that doesn't surprise me.”

  “Why?” Orion sounded amused.

  “Well,” Hunter kissed him, “it would take a lot of ambient beauty to make someone as lovely as you.”

  Orion looked into his eyes. Despite the darkness, Hunter could see how intense his expression was.

  “Thank you.” Orion replied, simply.

  Hunter smiled. They kissed.

  As Orion caressed him, the thought of a faraway land played through his mind. Hunter tried to imagine that land that Orion might have come from. He was sure it was beautiful. Somehow, as he thought about it, the image of a land asserted itself on his mind. Tall, green plants. Flowers. Waterfalls. Mountains and fresh air, the haze of the waterfalls hovering in the air above them like a mist.

  Hunter smiled, enjoying the stroking, and thought more about the land of his lover's origin.

  He was amazed that, as he thought about it, he saw pictures in his mind. Hunter had never had an acute imagination; far from it. So he knew these pictures must be more than that. He smiled and let them flow through his mind.

  The first images were all of hills and mountains; the same misty scenery of the first ones. Then, Hunter saw an image of a small child, running through a field. The child was delicate and dark-haired, and he felt without having to be told that it was Orion, when he was a boy. The same eyes looked up at him, big and almond-shaped. He wanted to reach out to him, but then the vision changed. He saw the boy a little older, perhaps fifteen. He was swinging in the trees, and he looked out at Hunter with wise, beautiful eyes.

  The vision changed again. This time, Hunter saw mines, chimneys, smoke. The beautiful forests were gone, and they were replaced with heavy, choking industry. The picture was accompanied by a feeling of profound pain, a sadness which reached out to Hunter and hit him like a physical ache.

  “No...” He murmured, feeling the ache twist painfully at his heart.

  Just as quickly as they had started, the pictures stopped, a whirl of fragments of the industry, the destruction and the small, plaintive face of the boy appearing on Hunter's mind just before they disappeared again.

  “What...?” He breathed, and Orion stirred. When Hunter looked at him, he noticed that he looked in great pain, his cheeks streaked with tears.

  “I thought...” Hunter began, and then stopped, feeling slightly silly. Whatever he had seen, should he tell? Maybe it was all imagination; unlikely, but not as strange as the thought that Orion had somehow made him see those images in his own head.

  Orion merely nodded. He still looked pained. “You wanted to know.” He said, simply.

  Hunter breathed out. So he did send them! That was surprising and strangely reassuring all at once. It explained some other things, too; like how they understood each other without words.

  And that meant the images had been real. The boy was him as a child. The far country was his homeland. And the images of destruction? Perhaps the land he had been born on, had been raised on as a child, had been sold to the mining industry? That would explain it.

  “That is too bad.” He said, simply. The pain in Orion's heart, which he had felt himself now, was so great.

  Orion nodded, eyes closed. “It is.” His brow was creased, his face tense. Hunter could not bear the look of pain, and kissed him, gently. As he did so, he noticed a tear trace down Orion's cheek. He kissed it, the salt warm, still, as he did.

  “It's okay.” He murmured, as he stroked a hand down the man's soft, dark hair. “I won't ever let that happen to you again.” He wondered what on earth he meant by that. How could he, personally, prevent takeovers of land? He couldn't. But maybe, he thought, and wondered as he did so, he could buy some land. Dave had all sorts of contacts. Maybe they could buy some land and share it? Make a new version of the home Orion lost.

  As if he heard the thought, he leaned in and kissed Hunter, his lips so gentle that Hunter thought his heart might dissolve in all that sweetness. He held him close, and whispered in his ear, saying all the things he felt and had never thought he could feel; all the sweetness he had never imagined could be in his life, and which he now felt for this man.

  Orion eventually stilled, his tears ending, and they lay together.

  Hunter lay awake, thinking about the pictures and the strangeness. He did not know much more than he had. He knew Orion had lived in the countryside somewhere, but could not even guess if it was in America, or Europe, or somewhere else entirely. It could be anywhere, really. It was beautiful. And he had no accent, either, nothing to identify him as coming from anywhere. He simply spoke proper English, neutral, as he would if he had attended some fancy school.

  Hunter mused about his origins, smiling. With the man asleep, there were no more pictures, so he was free to guess. He imagined a vast estate in the countryside as his home, some exotic, highborn origins, and the family in disgrace. The land was sold, and the child sent off to school. Hunter filled in details from his mind, imagining the man a childhood not unlike his own – filled with a profound emptiness. He hoped he was wrong.

  In his arms, Orion stirred. He opened his eyes and kissed him.

  “Thank you.” He said simply.

  “It was nothing.” Hunter said, shocked that the simple kindness he had shown would touch the man so deeply. How had he been raised? It must have been even worse than the life he had imagined.

  Orion wrapped his arms around him and held him close. They kissed, and the kisses were more passionate, more urgent, awakening all the fire that built in Hunter whenever they were near, and which threatened, now, to overwhelm him.

  As Orion stroked him, he smiled, and reached back, his own hands running over the sm
ooth, muscular form which lay behind him. He felt arms wrap around him and hold him close, surprisingly powerful in their strength. The touch, however, was gentle, the caresses arousing all the desire he held.

  That morning, when Hunter woke, alone in his bed, he was smiling.

  Chapter 7

  The doctor's office was small and tidy, the same pile of shiny magazines on the low table, as far as Hunter could tell, that had been there every visit since he had started coming here five years ago. As he sat there, his mind ran through all the possibilities, from colon cancer to ulcers and back again.

  Stop being silly, Hunter, he told himself sternly. It's probably nothing that a good holiday wouldn't cure. He still felt uneasy.

  Dr. Watney, a spare, thin man perhaps ten years Hunter's senior, greeted him when he went in, the doctor looking about as cheerful as anyone with a perpetually-grave face could manage. Hunter appreciated the man taking his work to heart, but at that moment he could have wished for someone less somber. It was not reassuring.

  “So.” The doctor concluded, at the end of Hunter listing his symptoms. “Your blood pressure is normal; your weight seems normal. You don't have a temperature, and you're not passing blood in your stools, are you? No? Good.”

  “So?” Hunter asked, anxiously.

  “So there's nothing I can detect wrong with you straight away. I'll have to send off a blood sample for some tests, but right now, it seems like you're fine. I can prescribe painkillers and antacid? Good.” He took out his pen, wrote out the prescription and signed it flamboyantly, passing it to Hunter with a strained smile.

  Hunter hesitated. He considered telling the doctor about the changes in his mental state. How he suddenly did not want to live loosely, but was completely obsessed with one person. About his thoughts. About the dreams. But he was afraid to. What if he really was going mad? He doubted if the stomach-cramp and the mental state were connected, anyway. Hunter might not be an expert in things medical, but, he told himself wryly, even he did not know an illness in which you started getting stomach cramps and going mad, at the same time. No, he decided, they must be disparate. In which case, he smiled, he would keep the dreams to himself. They were, after all, too good to share.