by Jana Downs
He should have left, but to turn away from the sight of a naked Salvatore caught up in such a feral hunger took more willpower than even he possessed. His long, red hair hung down his back in perfect, crimson waves, despite the ordeal he’d gone through. His eyes glowed a red, feral light, and his body shone with the familiar sparkle of a newly born fae. Fiery-red dragon’s wings protruded from his back, and his bared teeth held a new set of razor-sharp canines. Destin had been right. Salvatore had never been human. He had a strong line of dragon somewhere in his past, and it came out strongly during his transition.
The King reached for the curtain to draw it aside and help Mar, who was struggling against the awesome power of the newly born fae, but he needn’t have worried. Salvatore gripped the back of Mar’s head and dropped his mouth down on his in a brutal kiss. Destin’s breath caught. His hunger was showing a distinct favor toward the emotion of lust, and, Lord and Lady, Destin wanted to feed him.
He watched in fascination as Salvatore pushed Mar away from him, down on all fours, his ass upturned for his pleasure. Mar groaned in obvious enjoyment, helping the nearly crazed man yank his loose pants down to his ankle to expose his already fluttering star. Destin did part the curtain then. He wanted to watch. Needed to watch. Salvatore would be a fine addition to his Court.
“Oh!” Mar groaned, pushing his hips back. Salvatore snarled at him, baring a mouthful of fangs, and mounted him. His wings flared wide as his eyes slammed shut and his head fell back. Another animal sound of pleasure filled the room. His beautiful, thick cock was buried to the hilt inside Mar, who thrashed with enthusiasm at being so quickly skewered.
Destin echoed his moan, gripping his own length through his soft pants. He nearly came from the sight alone. The power of Salvatore’s lust drowned him in its intensity, and the erotic nature of his response to the turning made him as equally mindless. Destin hissed as Salvatore set a brutal pace, thrusting in and out of Mar’s pert backside with an intensity that bordered on violence.
“Destiny.” Salvatore growled, tossing his head like the animal he’d become in that moment. His eyes sought and found the Faery King’s through the curtain. “Destiny. My. Destiny. Mine!” He came with another roar, and Destin jetted in answering pleasure into the confines of his pants.
Mar must’ve joined them in their orgasm because the level of lust in the room dipped ever so slightly. Destin watched in fascination as he was shoved off of Salvatore’s length and Quis was grabbed and put in his place. Mar stroked his softening cock languidly from his position on the bed as he watched Salvatore mount his friend and begin the same hard pace he’d set with him. It was an incredible show of rare animal beauty.
Salvatore’s eyes once again met Destin’s, and he froze, buried inside Quis. “Destiny.” He growled. It was a command.
“No,” Destin whispered. He didn’t sound very convincing, even to his own ears.
“Yes. Mine,” Salvatore snarled. His wings fluttered in irritation. If he didn’t watch it, Salvatore could spiral out of control very quickly. The first rule of thumb when changing a mortal, even partially, into a fae was to give them what they needed. Their bodies would be giving all the road maps to their needs during this time.
“Yours,” Destin agreed. He deliberately pulled the front of his pants down to expose his sticky cock, which was still hard from Salvatore’s display. He gave a stroke to the tip, and Salvatore growled in approval. Quis whimpered, trying to move to get his own relief, but Salvatore’s strong hands on his hips stayed him.
“Come,” Salvatore rumbled, beckoning the Faery King closer.
Destin shook his head. “No. Let me watch. Let me watch you take them. You’re beautiful. Show me how virile you are.” This seemed like acceptable logic to Salvatore because he nodded and went back to fucking Quis. Destin had to argue with himself for a good five minutes to keep from stroking his dick to completion again. Salvatore’s unwavering eyes were going straight to his head.
“Watch. You watch,” Salvatore commanded as Destin went to turn away. The Faery King sighed. This was torture. He didn’t want to watch. He wanted to fuck. He sat on the very edge of the bed and watched Salvatore work his cock into his subject.
“You should go to him,” Mara suggested where she leaned into one of the posts that held up the canopy.
“No,” Destin said stubbornly, his eyes glued to Salvatore. “He’s going to need more, though. He’s not reacting in the normal way. Go to the Court and collect at least four more that would be willing to lay with a newly born fae.”
She nodded her head, and her gaze flicked between Salvatore and Destin. “And what will you do?” she wondered.
Destin swallowed and gripped his cock hard as Salvatore bit off another snarl as he came. “I’m going to watch.”
Chapter Five
The Ravyns burst into the alleyway that Salvatore had disappeared into just the moment before, clutching their chests in agony. They’d felt their Prince’s injury the second it had happened.
“I’m so stupid. So fucking stupid.” Tony swayed before collapsing to his knees on the hard cement. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the pool of dark-red liquid that was soaking the ground where their Prince had last stood. “I knew better.” His hands came away smeared with the stuff, the stuff which he was not thinking of as blood very deliberately, and brought it to his nose. The scent hit his nostrils and a scream ripped itself from his throat. He had failed. They all had failed.
The ache in his chest where the Ravyns’ bond had once been filled them all with a shared emptiness. They clung to one another, weeping wildly, uncaring of any manner of appearance. Tony backed himself into a wall and slid to his knees. He didn’t know what to do. He always knew what to do. He realized vaguely that he was babbling his thoughts aloud but couldn’t seem to get a grip long enough to stop. Everything was a haze of sensation.
The vampires teleported in a second later. Tony watched as Alex and Damian tried to console their hysterical mates, but they were having none of it.
“Baby, what’s wrong? Christ, baby, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” Damian demanded as Ally collapsed against his chest, thick tears streaming down his face and a constant stream of pain-filled sounds issuing from his throat.
“He’s gone. He’s gone. He’s gone.” Germany didn’t seem to believe it. He clutched his own arms as if he was afraid that he was going to fracture apart at any second. Tony ached to go to his brother but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate.
“Who’s gone?” Alex added his voice, shaking Dageus as his bride started making a keening sound of agony. Michel and Cord held a thrashing Druas between them as his internal pain turned into violence, and he struck out again and again against the hard flesh of the shifters. Tony didn’t know what to do. Everything ached. His chest felt like someone had detonated a bomb inside its cavity.
“Salvatore,” a new voice whispered. “Salvatore’s dead.” Tony looked up to see the newest addition of the group and the last heir to the Dragon Throne standing in the doorway. He was looking at the Ravyns but addressing the vampires. How odd. “That’d be the only reason they’d be acting like this.” Theron’s eyes were sad. “They won’t survive the loss of him. A bond like that, once broken, is something you don’t recover from.” Tony clutched his chest. Theron was right about that. He’d never forgive himself even if he lived through this.
Damian and Alex blanched. So they’re finally getting the picture. Tony thought bitterly. “Let’s get them home,” Damian suggested, pulling Ally and Germany into his arms and teleporting them out of the alley.
Alex nodded and picked up Dageus and pulled Tony into his arms. The vampire smelled like sweat and sorrow, an appropriate combination in Tony’s mind. Is this what shock feels like? He shivered as a coldness set in that had nothing to do with the temperature. Gods, he just wanted to sleep. He trembled and leaned into Alex, trying to warm himself off the vampire’s body heat. Alex glanced toward the shifters. “Can you get Dru
back home?” The two shifters nodded silently, and Druas raged on.
* * * *
“What a mess,” Damian whispered quietly, holding a sleeping Allasandro in his arms. It had been early dawn before the tears had finally dried up for most of them, and they’d adamantly refused to separate. They were all piled in Salvatore’s California King Bed like a basket of puppies. Dageus and Alexander hadn’t wanted to let their lovers out of their sight either, so the vampires had made the decision to spend the day with them. Damian continued to stroke Ally’s back even in sleep because, though it was a deep sleep, it was troubled. He whimpered and tensed at regular intervals like he was caught in the midst of a nightmare.
“Do you think he’s really dead?” he added as his adopted son, Dageus, snuggled to his side in between Alex and himself.
Alex gave a pained shrug. “They seem to think so.” He leaned down and kissed Dageus’s forehead, pushing the hair away from his face.
“Something doesn’t feel right to me,” Damian said. “There was no body.”
“There was a ton of blood,” Alex reminded. “Most creatures would have trouble healing from that blood loss. It would take a matter of minutes to bleed out from such a wound.”
“Still doesn’t make sense. Why would they haul off a dead body?”
“For a trophy most likely,” Tony spoke up. He had fallen asleep reclining against the headboard to the right and had apparently woken up because of their talking. “Desmond would want the people to know without a doubt that he was gone.” His breath hitched and he was wracked by sudden sobs. Alex reached out a hand to comfort him, but he shied away from it.
After the sobs subsided, he continued. “Under normal circumstances, if a bound warrior’s ward dies, they follow him in ritual suicide.” The vampires inhaled sharply. There was no way in hell they’d let that happen. “However, he entrusted us to take care of Theron, and since he is the last heir, we will do so. When we return the kingdom to Theron by killing Desmond, we will have avenged our Prince and we can choose rest if we wish.”
“That’s not the only thing that is strange about this situation,” Damian continued stubbornly. “I didn’t smell any other demons except Salvatore in that alley. Even if they made a bolt-hole and vanished, they would’ve left a scent behind. I guarantee you if we go back tonight there still won’t be a smell.”
“It doesn’t matter, you asshole!” Druas snapped awake. He lunged toward Damian, only to be held back once again by Michel and Cord. “He’s dead! Don’t you fucking get it? He’s dead! The only reason we had for existing for the past two thousand years, endless incarnations, is dead!” He dissolved into tears, but his shouts had awoken the rest of them.
“Don’t talk to Damian like that!” Ally and Dageus yelled in unison.
“I’ll talk to him however I want. He’s trying to play detective and all that matters is he’s—”
“Stop saying that! I don’t want to hear it anymore!” Germany snapped. He pressed his hands over his ears. “I can’t take you saying it like that anymore. Just stop. Please. Just stop.”
“We need to find those fucking Doves of Desmond’s and rip their bleeding hearts out,” Druas continued.
“Shut the hell up, Druas,” Tony commanded. “Damian’s right. If the Doves had been there, we would’ve smelled them. Dageus would’ve smelled them, even if we didn’t.”
“So?” Druas snapped. “Who the hell cares who killed him? The fact is that he is dead!”
“He might not be dead if someone was aiming to capture instead of kill him, you idiot!” Tony rarely yelled like that, but it seemed he had just about reached the limits of his patience. They all sat up for that. “We need to go investigate tonight, but until then, we have to operate like Salvatore is still alive, and he’s put us in charge of Prince Theron’s welfare. Until we know for sure…”
“But the bond,” Germany whispered. “The bond is broken.”
“It has been broken before,” Tony reminded.
“Only between us, never between us and him,” Dageus voiced.
“It is possible.”
“What if you’re wrong?” Druas whispered.
“You can’t think like that.” Ally let go of Damian so that he could hug his brother.
“What do we have left?” Druas asked a little desperately. They all looked to their leader for an answer, and he didn’t disappoint.
“We have hope.”
* * * *
Theron made sure most everyone was asleep before he locked his doors and prayed a small protection spell into existence before he began. He glanced at his statue of Sucellos and nearly whimpered. As a former priest of the Green Order, he and his god Sucellos had shared a bond that went beyond simple prayer. He was a god of nature and of harvest, prosperity on demon kind. Sucellos would not approve of what he was doing.
He took out a large, ornate bowl that had diamonds encrusted on the edges of it. He used it for scrying most often, but he could also use it to communicate with the demon realm through it.
He filled it with water and sat down to concentrate. Within seconds, the surface shimmered and rippled, changing the scenery from the bottom of the bowl to the royal palace in Demontia’s capital city of Pandemonium.
“Hello, little brother,” Desmond sneered. “Nice of you to make your report. Late.” He sat nonchalantly on his throne, a palace servant rubbing his feet with fine oils. His brother was a handsome man. He shared the family’s traits of bright-red hair and smooth skin. But his eyes were his mother’s, a shade of jade instead of garnet. He picked something out from his fingernails and flicked it aside. “I almost lost my patience with you, and that would be tragic for your friends.”
Theron’s heart constricted as he thought of Kith, Kin, and Kit. The triplet Cranes, his bodyguards and versions of the Ravyns, had been captured by Desmond months ago and been held effectively hostage so that Theron would go along with this farce. He hadn’t meant to betray his cousin or the Ravyns whom he found to be the kindest people in the world, but he had no choice. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that Desmond wouldn’t hesitate to kill his Cranes if he didn’t obey his older brother’s dictates to the letter. He’d already killed the others. Those three were his last, and he desperately wanted to save them.
“I have good news,” he murmured.
Chapter Six
Salvatore woke for the second time several days later. He groaned. His whole body was sore. He never wanted to fuck anyone again. Ever. The past three days was a blur of faceless bodies and insane urges. He’d never felt so alive and out of control and so damn powerful. It had thrummed through him like a tidal wave of energy. The feeling had intensified when Destin’s eyes had devoured his and he’d given forth his seed in unison with Salvatore. He hadn’t touched him, though.
He slowly opened his eyes as his stomach rumbled in hunger. Destin was reclined beside him in bed, fully dressed for the first time. He wore loose-fitting suede pants and an equally loose-fitting, cream, vest-like shirt. The outfit didn’t seem to go with his normal attire and tattoos and piercings. He seemed like two different people merged into one.
“Hi there,” Destin greeted. He was stroking Salvatore’s hair rhythmically as if he was lost in thought.
“Hi,” Salvatore returned. He put his nerveless fingers to his forehead. “What happened?” He felt like he’d missed something important. This definitely wasn’t a bartender’s apartment. The décor alone indicated they weren’t even in Haven anymore. Furthermore, unless Destin had a harem he was keen on sharing with his new would-be boyfriend, all the people he fucked were independently coming here to help him through…whatever the hell that had been. He wasn’t dwelling on his behavior these past couple days. He’d been a complete animal.
Destin tensed. “You were stabbed,” he said simply. Salvatore’s eyes bulged.
“Last time I checked, a hard cock was not a symptom of being stabbed.”
“I healed you.”
The b
ottom dropped out of Salvatore’s stomach, and he struggled to sit up. He didn’t want to be flat on his back to receive bad news. “Don’t tell me you’re a vampire and you had to change me or whatever. And who the hell stabbed me?” Destin helped him struggle to a sitting position.
“I’m not a vampire.” The relief was quick on his face. “My bodyguards stabbed you. They mistook what you did as something threatening. They’ve been reprimanded. I’m sorry.”
“Why would a bartender need a bodyguard?” Salvatore demanded. He had a bad feeling about where this was going. His anxiety spiked. “And why would he stay in this massive of a space? I really don’t think this is a studio apartment. Is it a studio apartment?”
“I’m not just a bartender, Salvatore. Please calm down.”
It was then Salvatore noticed the gold-and-silver circlet that rested ever so gently on Destin’s head. He knew exactly what the hell that meant. He had one himself.
“You’re a royal? A royal what?” Salvatore asked a tad hysterically.
“I’m a faery,” Destin said softly. That hadn’t been what Salvatore had been expecting. He started laughing. “It’s not funny, Salvatore.”
“Like Tinker Bell? That kind of fairy? Please tell me you stay my size.” Salvatore cracked up again. Even though Destin was starting to look annoyed, he couldn’t help himself. “That’s such a relief. I thought you were something dangerous.” He wiped his eyes to get rid of the tears of mirth.
“Tinker Bell?” Destin asked dryly. “I don’t think you have a true understanding of faery kind.”
