Warders, Volume One

by Mary Calmes

  “Malic!” he screamed, pushy little bottom that he was. “I need you, drill me through the goddamn floor!”

  I buried myself to my balls in his ass again, and he spattered the sheet below him with semen. It was thick and messy, and seeing his body contort in ecstasy brought my orgasm roaring through me seconds later. I froze, only my hand moving, massaging his head where I had yanked on his curls.

  He slid off the end of my cock, lurched sideways so he wouldn’t hit the come-splattered sheets, and rolled over on his back. I stared down at my wicked man, and he arched one mischievous eyebrow for me.

  “You wanna do it again?”

  I flipped him off.

  “Can’t do it, old man?”

  I gave him both fingers. “I need food and water and sleep.”

  “I can do that with you.” He grinned at me, motioning for me to go to him. “First we’ll eat, then we’ll shower and change, and then you can fuck me again when you’re all rested.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Like I give a shit.”

  “Why you gotta be so crass?” I said even as I realized it was probably the most hypocritical thing that had ever come out of my mouth.

  “Maybe someday you can make love to me,” he sighed, “but for now, I want you to hold me down and tie me up and do whatever the hell you want to me. I just wanna be the only guy in your bed, sucking your cock, making you come.”

  “Dylan, you gotta slow down, you’ve got to think about what you really want and––”

  “Malic, you’re lying your ass off if you say you want any other guy’s dick in me. Go ahead; tell me it’s okay for other guys to fuck me.”

  Shit. “I didn’t say I wanted any––”

  “If you don’t wanna keep me, then other guys will get to fuck me. If you tell me that’s okay with you, then I’ll go.”

  Pain-in-the-ass conceited smirking self-righteous son-of-a-bitch brat from hell!

  “Malic, kiss me ’til I come again,” he moaned, licking his lips. His feet, his beautifully arched, fine-boned, feet started sliding up and down my thighs.

  He was insatiable. I arched over him but didn’t sink down, and his hands wrapped around my neck as his back bowed up off the bed to try and slide across my chest and abdomen.

  “Malic… I’ve never come that hard in my life. Just your hands on me and your mouth… your eyes get so dark and your skin is… sit down and lemme get in your lap. My ass feels empty without your thick cock stuffed inside of it.”

  Jesus.

  I sank down over him, pinning him to the bed, and kissed him to shut him up. He tasted so good, and his tongue swirling over mine sucking, drawing me down deeper, made me wonder if I could end up drowning in him if I wasn’t careful. All of him, his entire body was wrapped around me, but instead of feeling powerful and strong, I felt nurtured and… loved. But surely he didn’t feel the same––

  “God, I love you, Malic… don’t ever lemme go.”

  I was so screwed.

  VII

  WE WERE arguing as I walked him down the street toward the restaurant where we were meeting Ryan and Julian for dinner. Marcus was my best friend, but his hearth and I were not on good terms, so introducing Dylan to him first was out. Leith wasn’t around or I would have called him next, and since Jackson was still mad at me, that left Ryan. To be fair, Ryan was okay, and I really liked Julian, so sharing a meal with them sounded like it just might work out. I had to introduce Dylan to the other warders eventually, even if I didn’t end up keeping him.

  The idea of not waking up beside Dylan every morning for the rest of my life had me breaking out in a cold sweat the night before. Watching him sleep next to me, in my bed for the fifth night in a row, it was hard to imagine him anywhere else. And the way he had taken over my house, accepting the spare key with a look like it was about fucking time, had made me growly and mean for the entire afternoon. He was driving me nuts, but even as I remained annoyed and on edge, I could not stop kissing him, holding his hand, grabbing him and hugging him. And each time, every caress, every display of affection was met with a surge of enthusiasm and him clutching me tightly. I thought of myself as rough and bruising without meaning to be, but to Dylan, with Dylan, I was gentle even when I squished him.

  As usual, he was questioning me, which he did all the time, and it was always, consistently the same. “You’re gonna keep me. Right?”

  “You’re too young,” I replied, again, “you’re gonna get bored.”

  “Bored of what? You? Your life?” The scowl I got had been adorable.

  “You need to be careful of me,” I told him for the millionth time as I walked beside him. “I’m not a good man, I’m not some big teddy bear, I’m a mean-ass war––”

  “Malic!”

  I turned to the sound of the squealing voice, turned in time to see the little girl tearing down the sidewalk as fast as her little six-year-old legs would carry her. Running toward me like it was life and death. I knelt and she was there, filling my arms, squeezing me as hard as she could.

  “Malic,” she cried, hugging me tight and kissing my cheek before turning her little head to lay it on my shoulder in complete and utter trust.

  There was a noise above me, a sharp exhale of breath. I tilted my head up, and Dylan moved so I could see him.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, grinning wickedly, and I saw that he was on the verge of tears, moved by the cherub in my arms. “You’re a very bad man.”

  This was not helping me make my case. I opened my mouth to say something.

  “I lost the angel feather you gave me,” Sophie Everett said as her father ran up, skidding to a halt beside Dylan before he doubled over, hands on his knees, heaving.

  “You all right there, Mr. Everett?” I snorted out a laugh.

  He lifted a hand as he panted, and held up a finger for me to give him a minute.

  “I can’t find the feather anywhere,” Sophie whimpered, leaning back to look into my face. “Do you have another one?”

  “I––”

  “I looked and looked and no one believes me, but I know you gave me an angel feather and I need another one.”

  “Oh, baby, I don’t have––”

  “I do.”

  She and I both looked up at Dylan as he flipped open the flap of his messenger bag, felt around inside the smaller pocket, and then pulled out a pristine white feather. Her eyes went round, as did her mouth.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, her eyes glowing as she looked up at him. “Do you know the angel too?”

  “I do know the angel,” he told her, stepping closer, hand on the back of my neck, stroking up into my hair. “And those come off his wings all the time.”

  It felt so good, his fingers petting me. I loved that he had to touch me all the time.

  “Malic had the feather in his jacket; he said it was from an angel, Dylan from heaven.”

  Christ, I couldn’t remember what I had for lunch but she could remember a month-old conversation?

  “Did he.” Dylan nodded. “From heaven.” He smiled wide, leaning next to me so his hip was at my shoulder.

  “Oh, thank you so much,” she said, beaming up at him.

  “Thank you for wanting it,” he told her.

  I let out a deep breath and so did Mr. Everett, his because he could finally breathe and mine because I finally gave up.

  Turning fast, I buried my face in Dylan’s abdomen, feeling it contract with the contact, the muscles there tightening. I lifted the T-shirt, kissed the warm skin hard, and pulled back, covering him up.

  “Crap.”

  “Say it,” he pressed as I rose above him until I was looking down at him.

  “You’re with me now,” I told him, leaning in, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat before I eased back to look at him. “And I love you and that’s it.”

  His breath caught as he stared at me with wide eyes, his mouth dropping open, and I wondered why he was….

 
“Awww, shit,” I groaned, realizing what had just come out of my mouth.

  “That’s a bad word,” Sophie reminded me.

  Double shit.

  He caught his breath. “I just wanted to live with you.”

  “Dylan––”

  “It was all I was hoping for.”

  “Dylan––”

  “I figured I’d wear you down eventually, get you to love me.”

  “Malic––”

  “Shhh, honey,” Mr. Everett said softly, shushing his daughter, “the adults are talking.”

  “Dyl,” I began, “just forget I––”

  “No.” His hands went to my face. “Malic, you love me?”

  What the hell was I going to say? The sweetest eyes in the world were staring up at me, waiting.

  “Of course I love you, idiot,” I growled at him. “What the hell?”

  “Is hell a bad word?” Sophie asked her father.

  Dylan’s smile was luminous.

  “But I fu––” Sophie was there. “Screwed it up,” I grumbled, annoyed, disgusted. “I wanted to be—” I stopped myself, grabbed him, and shoved him a few feet down the street into an alcove, up against a wall. It was rough and I manhandled him, but the look on his face, the narrowed eyes, let me know it was okay. More than okay. “I wanted to be in bed with you and tell you how much I––”

  “Malic.” He cut me off, breathless. “You love me and you told me, and I could die happy right this second!”

  I grunted, mortified with my delivery. “I just, I wanted it to be special.”

  “It was perfect,” he said as tears slipped down his cheeks.

  “Don’t cry, baby,” I soothed him, burying my face in the side of his neck, kissing gently. His breath quavered, almost stuttered, and I opened my mouth and ran my tongue over his collarbone. When I sucked hard, his hands went to my waist, burrowing under the shearling jacket, marled sweater, and beneath that to the T-shirt covering my bare skin.

  “You’ve got too many clothes on.”

  “It’s the middle of winter,” I reminded him, defending my layers.

  “Malic.” He moaned my name, distracted now as he squirmed against me, pressing, pushing, rubbing, trying to get closer. “You feel… so… good.”

  I bit his shoulder, making sure I left a mark before I licked the bite, swirling my tongue over his skin, bathing it to take away the sting. The answering groan was full of absolute agony and shot racing heat straight to my groin. He loved it when I left marks on him with my mouth, would stand in front of the mirror in the morning and trace the raised bruises with his fingertips, a look of dreamy bliss on his face.

  “Malic,” he whimpered, shifting against me, hands moving over the skin he’d bared as he rubbed against my leg between his.

  When I pulled back, I exhaled slowly, which put goose bumps all over him.

  “Tell me again.”

  I watched him tremble, saw the jaw clench as he looked up at me. “I love you, you belong to me, and so that’s it. I need you to move in, all right?”

  “It’ll be my house too?” He smiled up at me. “My home?”

  “It already is.”

  His head bumped against my shoulder, his face buried there as his arms wrapped around me tight. “I knew it, you know, and I know you think it’s stupid or not true or whatever, but I knew.”

  He was a mess. “What’d you know, honey?”

  “I knew when I met you, when I looked up at you the first time. I knew you were the one… I just knew it. You were supposed to be mine, my man.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “It’s all right, you don’t hafta agree with me, but just look where you’re standing.”

  I couldn’t argue the point with him.

  “And I know it’s been weird ’cause it’s been so fast but, Malic, I know this is it for me, I know you’re it for me.”

  He didn’t say, I know it’s been weird because you kill demons. That part didn’t come into play for him. He couldn’t care less.

  “You’re the one.”

  “It’s the same for me, D.”

  We stood like that for several minutes before he nodded and gave me a heart-stopping grin. He was all fixed up.

  “Let’s see if the angel and her daddy want to have dinner with you and me and Julian and Ryan.”

  But he was the angel; at least he was to me. Holy crap, how did I ever get so lucky to get an angel?

  “Oh, is that her mom?”

  Oh yeah, the whole Everett clan was there to witness my fall from badass warder to big romantic sap. Everyone was watching us from down the street. Mrs. Everett had teared up; Mr. Everett looked sheepish, uncertain what to do. Sophie zoomed up to me, eyes big, pointing at Dylan.

  “Is he your boyfriend?”

  Oh, good grief.

  “Yes, I am,” Dylan assured her.

  “Yeah, can we go?” I growled even as I kissed his forehead.

  The Everetts accepted the dinner invitation happily, and I called Ryan to get him to add more people to the reservation. I knew he was smiling on the other end.

  “What?” I snapped at him.

  “You’re happy, Malic,” he sighed into the phone. “Who knew you even had that emotion in you?”

  “I––”

  “So then what? This guy… he’s your hearth, right? You’re claiming him.”

  It was time just to say what I was certain he already knew. What everyone did. “Yeah,” I said, trying to sound irritable and annoyed but failing miserably. I was too damn happy.

  “You don’t fool me a bit with this tough guy act of yours. I know you’re in love, asshole.”

  “Nice.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him, your hearth; I’m really looking forward to it.”

  And he was. He truly was. Christ.

  Walking between Dylan and Sophie, each one holding a hand, I tried not to strut. It was hard, though, knowing that to the little girl, I was her hero, and to the man at my side, I was the reason for his joy.

  I never thought I would mean anything.

  “God, Malic,” Dylan sighed beside me, “what would I do without you?”

  He was never going to have to find out.

  I

  I WAS working late, which had been happening a lot lately, but there was always some pressing employee problem that turned into a fire drill if it didn’t get handled quickly without missing any steps in the process. Being as I was at the bottom of the human resources department food chain, a generalist not a manager, my desk was the first stop for everything, without fail.

  Of course, the one night when I had somewhere else to be was when it took even longer than usual to send out all my e-mails and return voice messages. I was still done earlier than I thought I would be, and even though it was Friday and the traffic would be nuts, I was hoping I could still make the gallery opening. When I was finally ready to go, I was startled to look up from my laptop screen to find Eric Donovan standing in my doorway.

  “Shit, Eric.” I caught my breath. “You scared the crap outta me.”

  “Sorry. I asked at the front desk and they said you were still here.”

  I squinted at him. “Why are you here?”

  “’Cause I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Why not call?”

  He cleared his throat, raking his fingers through his thick brown hair. “Because I can never say what I want to on the phone.”

  “Okay.” I nodded. It was strange but I let it go. “So what do you need?”

  “Can you look at me?”

  “Yep,” I answered even though it took me a minute. I made sure my laptop powered down and then lowered the cover before I gave him my attention.

  “It’s so good to see you.”

  I nodded.

  He crossed the room, and as he moved, I noticed the smile he was giving me was more leer than anything else. I hated it.

  “I always love seeing you in a tie.” He smiled at me. “Very hot.”

 
I was annoyed but forced myself to smile. “What do you want, Eric?”

  “Why are you mad?”

  “I’m not mad,” I told him. “I’m just trying to get out of here, so if you could just tell me what you want, that’d be great.”

  He cleared his throat. “So I saw you out the other night with a guy. Who—who was that?”

  “You saw me when?”

  He scoffed. “Can’t you keep track of all the guys you go out with?”

  “I have friends and family, Eric,” I snapped at him, irritated by his presumption that I was sleeping around. “And if it was last Tuesday, I was out with my cousin Roger and—”

  “The guy I saw you with has long blond hair.”

  “That’s Leith.” I smiled. “My boyfriend.”

  “What kind of name is Leith?”

  “What’s your question about him?”

  “I just wanted to know who he was.”

  I squinted at him. “Which I just told you.”

  “Simon, I just—who is he?”

  “My boyfriend,” I repeated.

  “Yeah, but I mean, is it, is he—”

  “I live with him, it’s serious… anything else?”

  “It’s only been six months since we broke up, and you’re already living with somebody? How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” I asked. “C’mon, Eric, people move on. It’s how things go when you break up with somebody. You both get on with your lives.”

  “But how do you think you’re making me feel?”

  “I don’t really care,” I told him. “We’re not together anymore; I don’t have to care how you feel.”

  “That wasn’t my choice.”

  “But it was the one we mutually made,” I reminded him.

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “But you did.” I drove home the point because I wanted him to hear it.

  “Simon—”

  “C’mon.” I cut him off, grabbing my messenger bag, flipping off the light on my desk as I herded him out of the room and locked the door behind me. “I’ll walk you out.”