Love's Disbelief

by Flynn Eire

  If you did, thank you. Thank you for respecting me and other authors for their hard work, understanding this is our job, and while we love it, we do deserve to be compensated for all the hours, and hours, and hours we put into it.

  If you did not… Go buy one! You are a thief and your parents and grandparents and cute animals all around the world are ashamed of you. There is no justification for committing this crime because it is a crime, no different than walking into a physical bookstore, taking a print copy off the shelf, and walking out of the store without paying for it.

  There is no such thing as a victimless crime. If you truly believe that, you’ve never been a victim. And the victims aren’t only the authors, but the fans who lose authors that quit over our constantly being stolen from and mistreatment. Mistreating the authors that write the books you like or read—not liking them isn’t an excuse for theft, it’s just extra weird then—that’s not a fan. Fans leave reviews to support. Fans send messages of love. Fans… Well fans are nice. Be nice.

  There are lots of ways to fight ebook piracy, reporting the site even if you’re not the copyright holder is always a good option. If you want to help in the fight, Google it and you can see there are many ways.

  When a never before seen zacasacs attack happens to their camp, it’s understandable that fear drowned them. The crazy circumstances even threw Gary into having his transition months before his birthday and blamed by some as the domino that started others to transition as well.

  And not all of them survived. Plagued by nightmares, the post-trans spiraled for months. But now that they’re under control, there are months of training to catch up on, or Gary will be another first… First to not pass his warrior test as he should.

  Lynx finds the oldest post-trans studying in the lounge once again, working his butt off until the guy falls asleep. What he didn’t expect to find out was the guy was stalking him, begging in his sleep to be in Lynx’s bed. A tempting offer, and one he wants to collect on but mucks all up. Now that the sexy post-trans is on his radar, can he stop being oblivious enough to get him back in his bed, or was it best to leave things a fantasy?

  1

  I was a stalker. I’d finally crossed into stalker territory just short of “it rubs the lotion on the skin or else it gets the hose.” Okay, maybe not that far, and I only knew that reference since word got out of the cool tricks Evan taught the camp’s search dogs, but I was pretty damn close.

  As I sat in the lounge of the warriors’ dorm just for another glimpse of Lynx before bed—not having enough of my fill of staring at him at meals—I could officially call myself a stalker.

  My eyes started to close on their own, Matteo having worked us extra hard to get back on track after the post-trans program went off the walls. I mean, it made sense why. The camp was attacked in a never seen nor heard of before sort of way that other camps still talked about as their greatest fear. But the zakasacs showing in such large numbers that we would have been slaughtered if not for Wyrok help and Helios at our camp meant we needed to change too.

  Unfortunately, that started with me and having my transition months before my birthday. The panic and stress and uncertainty of it all had thrown me into it somehow, and that had triggered others as well. But I had gone first and, in an effort to hold the transition off, had done something to help me, as they’d assumed I wouldn’t make it because it was so early since the new cocktail of drugs they gave us left some side effects.

  Like all of us continuing to flip out, trapped in that panic state, after our transitions. It wasn’t until we had gone to La Salvezza that anyone realized it wasn’t just worry but a chemical switch that got flipped that needed to be flipped back. It had taken Sam a bit to work it out, mixing some great drugs to return us to even, and then our vampire bodies handled the rest and kept us there as the new norm of healthy.

  I didn’t understand the science of it all, but I knew I didn’t feel clawing panic every moment of every day anymore. I was glad for that. I was also glad the program was back on track because that never-ending, unproductive question fest all training had become hadn’t helped our panic that we would survive the next attack.

  Except that meant training all day, every day, and way too much of it, along with the pressure of being the next post-trans to take the warrior test if I ever caught up to where I should be so I’d be ready for the year mark when I should test. I didn’t see it happening, too many months wasted, but Matteo wanted it and so did the camp, as if that would make at least something return to a state of normal when so much else was in the air.

  “Which room?” someone sighed, and I realized I’d fallen asleep and was dreaming.

  “Lynx?” I murmured, more meaning to say I was waiting for him than anything, always on my mind.

  “Yeah. Which room is yours, kid?”

  “Take me to yours,” I answered, snuggling up against the warm body I was against, letting sleep take me and not caring about anything but having a nice, sexy Lynx dream again.

  But I didn’t wake in the lounge. It took me a few moments to realize that. I blinked a few times, glancing around and getting I was in a room. Not my room, but a dorm room… And I wasn’t alone in the bed.

  “Simmer down,” a deep voice grumbled behind me. “Your racing heart woke me, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t abduct a post-trans. You fell asleep in the lounge, and I tried to get you to go to bed.” He let out a chuckle. “You were sexy sleep talking. Asking to be in my bed and saying you were my stalker, praying I would ravage you one day. Who knew post-trans could be so much fun? Well, besides Bowie.”

  “Why Bowie?” I asked, wondering why Lynx seemed to focus on the new warrior so often. “He’s not a post-trans.”

  “Right, post-trans, baby warrior, same diff when you’re old. And he’s got the magical prostate. He might be mated, but it’s not something a single guy like me can forget after feeling it go wild while inside him.”

  That was why a lot of people didn’t like Lynx. He didn’t have much compassion or like tact. Here he’d just said I’d admitted to liking him, and he’s babbling about wanting to bed someone else again. It was the only reason I opened my stupid mouth.

  “Well, the post-trans who got the new mix when we were early got the same thing,” I blurted, wanting him focused on me when I was in his bed.

  His arm tightened around me, drawing attention to it being there, which I hadn’t noticed. “Are you saying the drugs they gave you to try and hold off your transition gave you a magical prostate too?” I didn’t blame his disbelieving tone. It sounded insane. Even to my own ears, and I lived with it and the results.

  “No, not a magical prostate,” I drawled, moving to get my head back on the pillow so my neck didn’t hurt. Lynx relaxed as if done with the conversation since I’d said no and was ready to go back to bed. “There was a reaction, and some of our nerves maxed out or something, and we’ve got some sensitivity issues.”

  Though “issues” was an understatement, as a few of the guys could barely take anything but lukewarm showers, they were so sensitive to heat on their skin.

  “So where are you sensitive?” he purred, his hand rubbing my stomach as he pushed closer against me. “That’s a nifty side effect. Almost like Sam planned that to divert our attention from his mate and his magical prostate.”

  You’re such a damn player. It was the only reason I hadn’t offered myself to Lynx. I knew he’d sleep with me, hell, he slept with just about anyone, but I wanted more than that. I should have looked elsewhere because I did, but I couldn’t seem to move past him and his hotness.

  “Was I heavy to carry?” I asked instead. “I’m sorry about that. Matteo’s working us extra hard to get caught up. Is there something I can do to—”

&
nbsp; He chuckled as he pressed his huge cock against my ass. “Yeah, there’s a few things you can do to help my sore muscles. Release some tension.”

  I knew what he meant, and I knew my body wanted it—and him—but my heart wouldn’t be able to handle his flippant ways, so my mouth took over again before my brain caught up. “How about a massage? My mom’s a massage therapist, and I started learning early, helping at her shop until I was ready to come here and train.” I rolled out from under his arm, his shock at the suggestion probably the only thing that let me since he was stronger.

  “Yeah, sure, a massage,” he joked, waggling his eyebrows at me. “Should I get naked?”

  I shrugged, glancing around the room. “Your shirt’s off. I don’t need more than that really. Up to you. Just need lotion or oil and for you to lie face down.”

  “You’re serious,” he sighed and pointed to the dresser. “Top drawer I keep some moisturizer. My hands get super dry in winter with how often I’m washing grease and shit off.”

  Yeah, made sense, because Lynx was the camp’s mechanic. The super sexy, always had a streak of grease on his cheek or in his hair, mechanic that I wanted to slide under trucks with and do dirty, dirty things.

  He did end up taking off his shorts, so I got the full view of his backside naked. And ohhhh what a view it was.

  I cleared my throat after getting the lotion as I turned back to him. “I can’t reach you like I would on a table, so I’m going to have to get closer.”

  “Sure, whatever,” he grumbled, not hiding he thought this was lame after he’d been pushing for sex. He said something else, and I couldn’t make it out, but from what I did catch, I would have guessed it was something like “fucking virgins and prudes.”

  Great. Yeah, this wasn’t mortifying.

  I straddled his ass, keeping my shorts on but taking off the shirt only so I didn’t get lotion all over it when I leaned over since it was just a baggy tee. Then I squirted a liberal amount all over his back since it wasn’t massage oil but moisturizer that was meant to be worked into skin and would slow down the flow. I started at his lower back, putting light but firm pressure as I worked out the tight muscles.

  “Shit, you actually know what you’re doing,” he groaned, relaxing into the bed.

  “I told you I did,” I chuckled, moving up his back. “Did you think it was just a lame cop out like I sat in my mom’s massage parlor and worked the phones and I considered that experience?”

  “I’ve heard worse exaggerations.”

  “I don’t like to exaggerate. I tend to downplay actually,” I muttered, swallowing a sigh when he turned his head so he could see me and raised an eyebrow. I needed duct tape for my mouth eight out of seven days a week. “I’m actually a licensed massage therapist as well. I was nervous waiting to come here, and we didn’t have money for college like a lot of the other guys went to, so I did that and helped build Mom’s business.”

  “A dutiful son,” he pushed when I stopped talking.

  “My dad bailed when I was born a warrior,” I admitted, not sure why I was using the time to tell him all my secrets, as I’d not even confessed some of this to my friends at the camp. “They were engaged when I accidentally happened, and he bailed when I was born early and clearly a warrior. I don’t know why. Mom thinks he was insecure. Didn’t want to be short and soft next to his warrior son. Joke’s on him since I turned out short too.”

  “Was that part of the early transitions?” he asked, and when I stopped massaging, I think even he realized how crass that was. “You’re not short. You’re over six feet, but the bunch of you early didn’t get as big as some of us. I mean, Wally shot up to massive and he’s young. Nate’s only a few years older.”

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “There’s been some talk of it being a factor. Sam’s not sure, but researching it. He told me it’s probably more I came from short parents, so six-one is still a huge gap over my five-two mom, and she said my dad wasn’t but an inch or two taller.”

  “Makes sense. I’ve got like eight inches on my dad, and I’m six-seven, so yeah, better than thinking something went wrong in your transition with it being early.”

  “Yeah, just a few of us died,” I drawled, swallowing down my issues that the second and third guys to transition early like me didn’t make it.

  “It’s sad, but it happens,” he reminded me gently. “Hell, the survival rate is amazing here. I remember when it was one out of two warriors made it.” He sat with that a bit and then snorted. “Then again, it probably had a lot to do with everyone ignoring us until we made it so they didn’t waste their time training kids who wouldn’t be of use.”

  “How cold.” I shivered at the idea of not going through all the prep and help, left to deal with it all. “So they just left you to suffer alone?”

  He shrugged. “It was the way back then. My mom gave me a kiss and told me she would pray I made it, and then they went about their day, fields to work and things to do that didn’t handle themselves because I was transitioning. When the screams stopped, they checked to see if I was dead or alive, bringing a human for me to bite when I did, as there wasn’t any blood bags back then.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so instead, I focused on his massage and trying not to get hard as I worked my hands all over his many, many impressive muscles. When I scooted down to massage his legs, I let out a yelp as he rolled under me so I sat on his knees.

  “I at least get a happy ending with this massage, right?” he challenged, the look he gave me daring me to.

  I bristled at what he said. “I feel like I should say no just for implying all massage therapists are sluts who give hand jobs to clients.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, nor was I disparaging your mom,” he assured me. “You did tease me with all your sexy sleepy talk that you were going to let me do all kinds of dirty things to you.”

  “Fair enough,” I agreed, mostly because I wanted to touch his hard and massive cock that was standing so proud and tall right in front of me. I squirted more lotion on my hands and touched him, ignoring the intense look he was giving me.

  “Shit, I like foreplay like this,” he moaned several minutes later. “Normally I go right for the fuck, but you’ve got good hands.”

  “Thanks.” I wasn’t sure it really was a compliment, but I went with that instead of… I wasn’t sure how else to respond to that.

  “Massage it with your mouth, baby,” he groaned as he grabbed my wrist and yanked me towards him and throwing me off balance… So my face was inches from it. “Shit, you are so damn sexy.”

  I felt my face flush as I leaned over and did what he wanted, too shocked at hearing such praise and compliments from him I was practically under a spell from it. Besides, my hands were tired after giving a half an hour massage when I was out of practice.

  Sure, that was why I ended up sucking his cock.

  I gave it a lick, spurred by his moans as I took the head in my mouth. He moved his hand to my hair, not pushing but guiding maybe? It was almost as if he had to touch me or something. I took more and was rewarded with more praise and happy noises.

  “Do you not have a gag reflex?” he asked, his eyes wide as I took more and more of him. I shrugged. “Damn, I have to thank Sam for those drugs you got. No gag reflex nerves is an awesome side effect.”

  Again, tactless, as if another man, the doctor we had should get the praise and I couldn’t just be talented. Then again, I had a feeling no gag reflex the first time giving head was odd.

  Just as my jaw started to ache, his breathing became weird, and I glanced up at him to check I was still doing it right. His eyes met mine, and he licked his lips. “Gonna—I’m about to, umm, you—”

  My stomach rolled as I realized something; I pulled off his dick to ask what I needed to… Except he came when I did.

  All.

  Over.

  My.

  Face.

  I was so shocked that I froze, letting mo
re and more of it squirt out on me as somehow my hands still did what they should for him. When he finished, he was gasping for air even as some dripped off my cheeks.

  “Shit, I’m so doing you,” he groaned.

  “Do you know my name?” I whispered as he sat up and reached his hand in my shorts. He went right for my dick, and I turned to mush.

  “Yeah, Glenn,” he answered, his voice not sounding all that confident.

  Well, he shouldn’t have been since that wasn’t my fucking name.

  “Sure,” I moaned as he stroked me faster and faster. I had embarrassingly little endurance and made his job super easy, whimpering as I finished.

  “Are you super sensitive there too?” he asked when I was done. I nodded, coming back to my head and about to handle the horribly awkward situation I was in somehow when his alarm went off.

  I glanced at the clock, and awkward was replaced with panic, as he normally got up way later than I did. “I have to go. I’m going to be late.” I jumped off of him, glad his hand wasn’t still on my dick, as I’d not even thought of that in my fear of getting chewed out by Matteo. I used my shirt to wipe my face off so I wasn’t running around with his cum on me and headed to the door.

  “Um, thanks?”

  I glanced at him over my shoulder and saw he was looking at me funny. I didn’t know what it meant, nor did I really have the time to figure it out, so instead, I made my escape. Unfortunately, I had to hurry back downstairs to the lounge to get my shit he’d just left there—including the key to my room—then to my room, which was on the same floor at least, before I could hit the shower and get ready.

  The cafeteria was full of people as I rushed in to get something at least before training. One of the changes since the zakasacs had changed patterns and were attacking covens and our camp was training security for the covens at our camp since we could hide it easily being remote. Plus, we were the best. It was also decided that there weren’t going to be only twenty-five warriors at camps anymore, raising it to forty if possible.