Kissing Chaos

by Jill Knowles

Dax brushed the soft fur on the end of his tail across his erection, imagining that it was the dark-haired librarian’s fingers. He grinned, baring wickedly sharp teeth, as he remembered the look on her face when she realized her rather provocative comments had been overheard. She’d been embarrassed, but determined to brazen things out. The lavender-apple scent coming from the brunette had intensified with her blush, appealing to the hedonistic Incubus blood he’d inherited from his father.

  The little blonde, on the other hand, had been terrified. The acrid bite of her fear had teased his latent hunting instincts. Luckily for her, he was a demon of chaos, rather than of vengeance. The Fury blood from his mother’s side had smelled fear and wanted to rend and tear until hot, sticky blood covered his claws and tongue.

  Tickling the soft fur over his balls, he pictured the librarian -- Maggie. What a delicious woman. Rich, chestnut-colored hair, blue-gray eyes, and lush, wonderful curves. He knew that by human standards she was overweight, but he’d never been attracted to skeleton women. Dax wanted a woman he could hold, a woman with ripe, glorious hips and generous tits. Maggie-the-librarian was scrumptious. He mentally penciled seduction into his plans for the town, then paused, erased it, and reimagined the note in pen. Underlined twice.

  Giving himself one last, lazy caress, he turned onto his side, grinning as the hotel bed squeaked beneath him. This wasn’t the nicest place he’d ever stayed, but it wasn’t the worst either. The bed was decent, the table and chair only a little scarred, and the carpets clean. Even the television bolted to the wall worked, and he didn’t even have to pay extra for the remote. Best of all, it was clean and didn’t smell of stale cigarette smoke. Most strong smells didn’t bother him, even those that humans found distressing. But he just couldn’t stand the smell of tobacco.

  Dax opened the map he’d purchased earlier from the local Forest Service office, folding it to show the area he was interested in. Using the Red Queen mine as a reference point, he positioned the aerial photographs he’d torn from the library book so they mimicked the view he had with the map. If his great-great-grandfather’s memory was correct, the site he needed should be about a mile from the flooded mine shaft.

  And that was the kicker. His great-great-grandfather was over seven hundred years old -- beyond ancient for a Fury -- and had gone beyond “I remember when,” and into drooling venom and demanding raw, bloody antelope liver. Three-Gramps had told the tale of the caves to Dax and Dax’s three littermates as a bedtime story. It was a story Three-Gramps had been told by his own great-grandfather, who’d been told by his, and so on. Dax guessed that the actual site would be around thirty-five hundred years old, maybe a bit older.

  The details of blocking the entrances and exits with rock falls, then slaughtering all the trapped oathbreakers had never failed to make his two sisters -- both Furies -- clap and squeal with glee. Dax’s brother, the only true Incubus his parents had spawned, had been interested in the demonic orgies that had taken place at the celebration following the massacre. Dax just wanted know where the cave was so he could see the remnants. He’d always enjoyed learning his family’s history. And when knowledge of history could be used to stir things up, so much the better.

  The town of Keily was fading -- slowly drying up as its main industries of timber and ranching died lingering deaths. Entropy was creeping into the town, killing it in tiny, devastating increments.

  Dax hated entropy. As a demon of chaos, it was anathema to him, and he’d do whatever it took to stop it. Despite the bad press they’d received in myth and legend, demons weren’t evil. Though by their very natures they were drawn to violence and sex, things deemed wrong by most religions, they had a choice. Dax didn’t care one way or the other about evil or violence, and sex was merely a means to scratch an itch. He craved change, growth, upheaval -- whatever it took to shake up the status quo.

  In this case, the town’s salvation might very well rest with a cave full of ancient bones. Family legend said a village lay inside a series of caves made from old volcanic tubes, about two miles west of a mountain peak that looked like a finger pointing to the sky. Picture Rock was the only peak in the county that fit that description. According to the story, the people had foraged for camas roots and other greens in a meadow at the base of the peak, then walked back to their underground village. Currently, the Red Queen uranium mine lay where Dax calculated that the meadow had been, making it a good reference point.

  It would take a lot of hiking, but the spikes of energy he’d receive when the discovery was made public would be well worth it. This could be one of the most important archaeological discoveries in North America, and if the organic materials from the village were preserved as well as he hoped they were, it would be the biggest. Stone tools were commonplace, but organics were rare. Dax looked around at his hotel room, imagining what it would look like with everything organic missing. He wasn’t left with much but screws and nails, the springs from the mattress, the lamps, and the television. How badly rusted and broken would these things be in thousands of years? I don’t envy archaeologists their jobs. Too hard.

  The massacre site, if it was half the find Dax guessed it would be, was an archaeologist’s wet dream. The scientific community would be drawn to the caves by the uniqueness of the discovery, and the tourists would flock to see it because of the twisted and broken bones of the villagers.

  Then again, he might not be able to find the cave at all, and if he did, there might be nothing left. It was a gamble, but not much of one. In 1938, an archaeologist had found a number of seventy-five hundred year-old sandals in a cave in the Fort Rock area. Dax hoped that was the norm rather than an exception -- in fact, he was counting on it.

  The area around Keily was well suited to the preservation of organic materials. The summers were hot and dry, and even in the wintertime, there wasn’t much moisture. Besides which, the village was in a sealed cave, where it was protected from the elements and most animals. What animals did manage to get inside would be driven away by the scent -- both real and magical -- of marauding Furies. The fact that the village had been destroyed in such a vicious, concentrated attack meant that even now, traces of that magical scent might still linger.

  So. He had his plan. Hike around, seduce the librarian, find the caves, fuck the librarian, and then bring the caves to the attention of the Forest Service. Fuck the librarian again, and bask in the chaos created by the discovery. I love it when a plan comes together. And in the interim, he’d get to spend time with a beautiful, interesting woman.

  Knock, knock, knock.

  Dax jumped, closing his eyes and forcing his true form into its innocuous human shell as he tucked his cock into his sweat pants. He opened the door, grin firmly in place.

  The woman’s eyes widened when she saw his bare chest. “Uh, did you order a large pepperoni, mushroom, and jalapeno pizza with extra cheese?”

  “I sure did.” He took the box from her and set it on the end of the bed. “What do I owe you?” He could smell her arousal over the scent of the pepperoni. While she was not his type, she was attractive. He guessed she was in her early forties, with long hair bleached reddish-blonde, decent, if small, tits, and boyishly slim hips in jeans tight enough to impair her circulation. Before he’d met Maggie, he’d have attempted to seduce this woman. Now, though, he just wasn’t that interested.

  She tore her eyes away from the silver hoops piercing his nipples and checked the slip. “Uh, that will be eleven ninety-five, please.” Her voice was husky, and deeper than it had been when he answered the door.

  He pulled a ten, a five, and two ones from his wallet, handing them to her. He could feel himself getting hard as the musky-sweet scent of her arousal fed his own. The woman’s pupils dilated when her fingers brushed his. “Keep the change.” Chaos swirled up through him, drawn by the disagreement between his mind and his cock.

  She nodded, her gaze traveling down his body and stopping on the bulge at his crotch. “Can I suck you?” she blurted out
. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, and she flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I like to suck dick, and you’re gorgeous.” Stricken, she backed toward the open door. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Wait.” Dax held his hand out to her. The pheromones his body released when he was horny wouldn’t make someone desire him if they weren’t already attracted to him, but they gave this woman just enough of a push to lower her inhibitions. He couldn’t hold her boldness against her when he was partly to blame. “I’m not upset, I’m flattered.” She wasn’t nearly as delicious as Maggie, but she was interested and her arousal was feeding his. Oh, well. He grinned at her and rubbed the palm of his hand across the front of his pants. “And very willing.”

  “Really?” She stepped back inside, closed the door, and dropped to her knees in front of him. Before he could even blink, his sweat pants were pulled down around his thighs and his cock was somewhere warm and wet. She suckled the head for a brief moment, then swallowed him down to the root, wrapping her arms around his hips to keep him from thrusting. Dax’s mind was as blown as his body. Apparently, she really liked to suck dick. And she was quite good at it. In human form, his erect cock was just over eight inches long, and wider than most. Yet, she took him in easily. He stroked her hair, moaning as she swallowed around him, the muscles in her throat working him like a pussy. When she began to hum, he said, “Hey, I’m close,” and tried to pull away. She tightened her grip around his hips and her tuneless humming segued into The Star Spangled Banner. Dax lost control, spilling his load down her throat when she hit the high note.

  Land of the free, indeed, he thought, restraining his amusement at her technique even as the aftershocks pulsed through him. “Wow,” he said, panting. “Let me catch my breath, and I’ll take care of you.”

  She looked down at her watch. “Crud.” Looking back up at him, she said, “I have too many more deliveries to make.” She opened the door and started out, then turned back. “The next time you order a pizza delivered, be sure and ask for Becky. I’ll leave your delivery until last.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said, chuckling.

  He pulled his sweats back up and sat on the end of the bed. Opening the box, he took out a slice of spicy, cheesy goodness. His first bite was almost as good as the orgasm he’d just had. The combination of flavors made his mouth very happy.

  After munching his way through the entire large pizza, he tossed the pizza box on the floor and leaned back against the headboard. The encounter with Becky was nice enough, he supposed, but it left him feeling unsatisfied. Picking at a loose thread on the nubby beige bedspread, he tried to pinpoint just what it was that he was missing. Pushing the obvious away, that it wasn’t Maggie’s luscious lips bringing him to a climax, he scooted down until he was lying flat.

  Lately, he’d been disappointed in sex more often than he’d been satisfied. Even the well-trained prostitutes his family employed hadn’t done any more than scratch a purely physical itch.

  In the past few years, he’d noticed that he enjoyed sex with humans more than with other demons, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. His best guess was that it involved tenderness. Humans were softer and less prone to doing permanent physical damage, and they were so much less durable than demons that he had to be careful. Dax loved being gentle with his partners; he enjoyed lots of slow, sensuous touching and long, gentle pleasure. The demons he’d been with wanted it hard, fast, and brutal.

  But with demons, he could be himself. He kicked off his sweatpants and let his human façade fade away. He looked down at his cock, trying to imagine Maggie’s response to seeing him in his natural form. Even if she was willing to overlook the blue-gray skin, horns, claws, fangs, and tail, he couldn’t see her wanting anything to do with the wrist-thick, ten-inch dick he treasured. The ropy vein that spiraled up around his shaft was designed to give a woman maximum pleasure, assuming she’d let him get anywhere near her with it.

  Unbidden, the memory of Gina’s face filled his mind. He’d loved her and wanted to bond with her for life. He’d told her the truth about himself and shown her his true form. She’d been horrified when she’d seen his demonic self, and had started screaming when she saw his cock. He’d shifted back to human form and gone to her, but she wouldn’t let him touch her. She’d never spoken to him again, and he’d left Reno to avoid running into her. Pity, party of one? His inner voice had a snotty faux-French accent. It was a horrible cliché, but he’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved when she’d seen his true form.

  It was a long time ago, Dax. Get over it. Sighing, he got up and headed for the shower. He needed to get an early start tomorrow.

  Chapter Three

  Maggie slapped at the alarm clock, willing the ringing to stop. Nothing happened. She hit the snooze button again and got blessed silence. Groaning, she looked at the clock. Seven thirty-eight. Odd, the alarm shouldn’t have gone off until eight. Was there something special she had to do before work? She squinted at the date display on the clock face. Sunday. The library was closed on Sundays. Why was the alarm set?

  She stared blankly at the clock until her brain stuttered into gear and realized that her alarm didn’t ring, it buzzed. “Ah, phone,” she muttered, picking her cordless phone up off the nightstand and switching it on. The broken dial tone told her she had a message, so she punched in the code and listened.

  “It’s Julie. I have to cancel lunch.” Click.

  Stunned, Maggie let the phone fall onto the bed beside her. She and Julie had a standing Sunday lunch date at the Keily Café. It had started just after Maggie’s mother had died, as a way to spend some uncomplicated, undemanding time together. They didn’t talk about work or their personal lives, just sat and discussed politics, or a certain book or movie, or what flowers to plant in the spring.

  “No way, Julie. No way!” Maggie hit the speed dial on her phone, chanting, “Pick up, pick up,” as she listened to the rings. When it kicked over into voice mail, she said, “Damn it, Julie, I don’t accept this. Get your ass over to my house in an hour or prepare to be invaded. I have a key to your front door, and I’m not afraid to use it.” Turning the phone off, she set it back on the nightstand, resisting the urge to slam it down.

  The phone rang. “Hello?”

  “Please, Maggie. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow at work. Just, please, let it go for today.”

  “Promise?”

  “Pinky-swear.”

  Maggie sighed. “Okay.”

  “Thanks, Mags, I owe you one.”

  Maggie lay back down, the phone sitting on her chest. Something must be really wrong in Julie’s world. And she hadn’t seen it coming. They hadn’t been spending much time together lately, but she’d blamed it on Julie spending extra hours working in the café for her parents, trying to keep the restaurant open, while Maggie poured her free time into trying to keep the library open with steadily increasing costs and a steadily decreasing budget. She was dismayed to realize that other than Sunday lunch and scattered times at work, she hadn’t really talked to Julie; certainly not about anything earth-shattering.

  We’ll work it out, whatever it is, she promised herself. They always had.

  * * * * *

  Dax glared at the thick stand of manzanita. He needed to get to the base of the mini-ridge, and the damn brush wouldn’t let him.

  “Oh, for a flamethrower or a pissed-off fire elemental.” Jethro, where are you when I need you?

  A squirrel scolded him from a nearby fir tree, its burk-burks shotgun-loud in the quiet forest.

  “Shut up, climbing rat.”

  The squirrel turned its back on him, flicking its tail in disdain.

  He kicked and scuffed at the leaf litter until he had section of the dirt uncovered. Shifting into his true form, he sat cross-legged on the ground, pressing his palms flat against the cool earth. His tail wormed its way over the waistband of his jeans, giving one quick, agitated flick before curling around his legs.

 
His parents had insisted that all their children learn to meditate; it kept casualties due to sibling rivalry to a minimum. Liara, his younger litter-sister, claimed she could use the meditation techniques to find the gophers that tried to destroy her garden. Finding a large cave should be much easier than tracing gopher tunnels.

  Concentrating, he heard his meditation instructor’s voice in his mind as he let his awareness sink into the ground. Feel your connection to the earth; she is mother and father, and she welcomes you. Let your senses expand out to greet her.

  The hard rock poking his left butt cheek kept intruding on his concentration. Squirming, he pulled it from beneath him and threw it at the squirrel. Closing his eyes, he settled back into position.

  Become one with the earth, and she will tell you all her secrets.

  The warm sunlight on his head was soothing, helping him to relax. Something fell into his hair. He brushed whatever it was away, and pressed his hand back to the dirt.

  “Yee-ouch,” he said, leaping up, cradling his abused tail in his hands. “Son of a bitch, that hurts!” He plucked the over-sized fire ant from just above the fluff on the end of his tail, crushing it between his fingers. “All right, I have had enough.” He popped his claws and started forward.

  * * * * *

  The theme from The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly played in her mind as Maggie stared at the printout of the library budget. Somehow, she had to find the money to stay open on Saturdays. Crank jumped up and planted her fuzzy tortoiseshell butt on the papers. Deftly, she used a single claw to remove the paperclip and carry it to her mouth.

  “Kitties don’t like paperclips,” Maggie said, reaching to take it away from the cat.

  Crank hunkered down, growling as she protected her toy.

  “Drop it,” Maggie said sharply.

  Crank dropped the paperclip and jumped down to the floor, her tail lashing her displeasure.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m a terrible mom.” Maggie spread the papers out, hoping to find some bit of revenue she’d missed the last twenty times she’d looked.