by Kresley Cole
Who indeed? It was too good. "You always split well before the morning after."
"Depends on how drunk I got the night before. But to your point, I wasn't much of an afterglow kind of male. I always felt panic after sex. I don't know why."
Cas did. Because Mirceo was terrified of commitment. Fear doused Cas's hope, his instinct for self-preservation rising. This situation boiled down to a simple equation: If I claim him as my own and he rejects me, then I'll be destroyed.
More simply: Mirceo equals doom.
Cas shook his head hard. All of this agonizing would be moot if they didn't survive the next few hours. He needed to focus on their hunt, or he'd get them killed. "Up with you. We should talk some logistics."
Mirceo sighed. "Very well." He rose and adjusted his clothing. Tracing to sit on one of the trunks across from the bed, he secured his hair back with a leather tie.
Cas pulled his pants up over his still-swollen shaft. The mere glimpse of those fang marks nearly landed Mirceo back on the furs. Focus! "How long can you keep us in mist form?" He buttoned his shirt.
"By myself, indefinitely. With you, I don't know. Let's say half an hour."
"Then we should . . ." He trailed off, catching sight of the vampire's leavings on the floor of the cave. Pearlescent seed against opaque sand. Riveting--
Mirceo kicked more sand over it, burying it, breaking Cas's stare. Eyes merry, he said, "Had to, or else you'd never be able to concentrate--and some of us are professionals here."
Hating that the vampire was right, Cas struggled to concentrate. Where were we? Ah, half an hour. "That won't be enough time for us to cross the entire gulg valley. But I have an idea to get past them." Cas would turn a negative into a positive. He didn't explain his plan, and Mirceo apparently trusted him enough not to demand details.
"Do you think the sorcerer's guilty of all those things on the poster?"
Cas held up a palm. "Ah-ah. We don't care. Never concern yourself with any specifics other than who, when, where, and how much," he instructed, as if the prince was actually his new hunting partner.
"You aren't a touch curious about Harea?" Mirceo asked. "Or sympathetic? He sounds larger than life."
"Not at all. He's just a job."
"If the Gaolers are so imposing, why don't they go after the sorcerer themselves?"
"I don't know," Cas said. "Some say they can't enter all dimensions."
"They provided no contact information. How will we get paid?"
"I think they're keeping tabs on the sorcerer. The second Harea leaves Poly, they'll sense his new location. We'll take him behind the Red Flag and wait for them there." Cas traced to the flap again, glancing outside. "It's time." He turned back, snagging supplies from a trunk: a large tarp, mystical restraints, and two long rolls of cloth to cover their eyes and faces.
Mirceo donned his sword and his trench coat, then drew on a pair of gloves from his pocket. "Then let's be away."
"You can't go out like that. You need more protection." Cas tossed him a roll.
The vampire caught the cloth, blinking at him.
Cas unwound his own. "Watch me. It starts at your head. That will put this thin gauzy part over your eyes." He knotted the end around his neck.
"A little help here. I haven't had five centuries of practice with this."
Cas scowled. "Now I'm to dress you?"
"I'd much prefer the opposite, but yes, I'll need assistance. Whereas I mastered my blowjob technique on my first foray, I'd rather not risk my flawless face."
Muttering, "Arrogant leech," Cas traced to him and reached for the material.
Heat emanated from Mirceo, the young vampire as hot-blooded as ever.
Cas had given him some of that warmth. I nourished him. "Here." He began to wrap the material around Mirceo's head, forced to smooth a lock of the vampire's hair from his forehead. I'd rather not know how soft it is.
After lining up the thin part over Mirceo's heavy-lidded gray eyes, Cas wound the rest of the cloth around Mirceo's neck, nearly smiling when the vampire's Adam's apple bobbed.
Though they'd released some pressure, that chemistry between them had only grown. What if he's mine? "There," Cas said in a gruff voice, dropping his hands. He still couldn't believe he was taking young Mirceo into danger. I've got no choice. This was the sole way to prevent a kill order on his friend. "You pay attention and you stay alert, okay?" He exhaled with resignation. "Are you ready?"
A smirk in his voice, Mirceo said, "I was born ready, sweetheart."
Cas rolled his eyes.
NINETEEN
The demon traced Mirceo to the mouth of a canyon. The sand-laden winds howled, chasing ribbons of clouds. Moonshadows raced over the shifting dunes.
A few leagues in the distance lay Harea's fortress--a massive pyramid with muted firelight glowing from the few slotted window openings. Smaller structures and a perimeter wall fronted it.
Mirceo gazed at their surroundings in disbelief. His mate had chosen to remain in this wasteland for five centuries. Rather than be with me.
Doubt crept in about their future, even after what they'd shared in the cave. What if Caspion viewed that pleasure as Mirceo had once viewed sex?
As just a trade of orgasms.
What if he and the demon couldn't make it work? Caspion might have grown too unreasonable over the centuries to be in any relationship. Forgodsakes, he'd crushed a priceless talisman to rid himself of Mirceo.
Maybe I'm not . . . enough.
Seeming to sense his unease, Caspion glanced back at him. "What?"
"I thought the cave was bad."
Despite their head wrappings, Mirceo could detect the demon's frown. "Are you having second thoughts about this op?"
"Not about the op," he muttered.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that one day you might convince me we have no chance." They stared at each other. What is he thinking?
"Noted."
Seriously, demon? "That's all you'll say?"
"If we don't focus for the next couple of hours, someone's going to get killed. Or worse."
"Worse?"
"You want to live out eternity as a Wendigo?" A single bite or scratch from those creatures could transform even an immortal. "Now, look sharp." Caspion began to clap his hands loudly.
"Pardon me, demon, I'm not one to tell you how to do your job--but won't that attract Wendigos?"
More clapping. "Exactly."
"Ah. So we'll be the first in the Lore to voluntarily draw the notice of a legion of these creatures?"
"Yeah."
Mirceo shrugged. "Very well." If the demon said this needed to be done, then so be it. He brandished his sword and fell into place beside Caspion. "Onward!"
Red eyes glowed in the distance as a Wendigo loped out of the canyon toward them. Another followed it. And another. . . .
They had long, stretched-out faces, dripping fangs, and daggerlike claws. Patches of greasy hair grew over their gray skin. Remnants of clothing clung to their withered, hunchbacked bodies--because they'd once been sentient beings.
As the Wendigos charged, more joined them from behind dunes, their number growing like an avalanche. Dozens of them. A wall of the creatures approached from about a hundred feet away.
"Onward?" Caspion demanded, snatching free his sword. "You don't think I'm crazy for drawing that?"
Eighty feet away . . .
"There's a fine line between crazy and brave. I trust you in all things--except in relationship matters. Then you must bow down to me."
Fifty feet away . . .
Caspion scanned the wave. "If we live through this, the hunters at the tavern will never believe we took on this many Wendigos. Must be a hundred." He was in attack position, so comfortable with a sword.
Mirceo's gaze would've lingered on the stalwart demon's form, but even he had to take the approaching threat seriously. "They will when I recount our tale. Since I can't lie."
Thirty feet awa
y . . . As the creatures closed in, the blustery winds couldn't dispel their putrid stench.
Caspion slid him a look. "Any immortal with sense would cut and run at this point."
"Leave?" Mirceo scoffed. "You know I'll always fight by your side, demon. In any case, this is the best date I've ever been on."
"We are not on a date."
Mirceo laughed.
Ten feet away . . .
Caspion swung for the closest one, beheading it. The creature's brown blood sprayed on the wind. Mirceo got the next one, slicing the Wendigo so fast that its head remained in place until the body toppled over.
Mirceo shared a look with Caspion. Cool. "We're tied, old man. But I wager I'll drop more than you."
Voice exhilarated, the demon said, "Oh, you're on, leechling! A fool and his money . . ." He took down one more. And a third. But they kept coming.
Mirceo got busy, tracing into the fray. Soon they were tied at six each. Corpses began to pile up, body parts littering the fight zone.
"Watch where you're stepping! Don't trip over a head."
"Speaking of head"--Mirceo decapitated a hulking Wendigo--"I'll drink from you that way every night for eternity."
As Caspion swung a killing blow, he muttered, "Shouldn't have happened."
"Surely you don't regret that pleasure." Mirceo slashed at another Wendigo, dropping it.
The demon felled his as well. "Not many males would regret a blowjob. Doesn't mean I want to repeat it with you."
Lout!
Soon the creatures surrounded them. Mirceo and Caspion drew in, back to back, as they often had when outnumbered in brawls. Mirceo could always predict the demon's sallies and evasive movements, falling into a rhythm with him.
Even as he fought on, Caspion said, "What happened doesn't change anything. I can't let it."
"It changes everything! You've come with me four times. Safe to say that you lust for me as much as I do you. Anything else can be managed." I can learn to be what you need. Mirceo slew a large male.
Caspion hacked at a particularly belligerent one. "You mean I can be managed." Dead Wendigos lay scattered; the living clambered over the massacred to reach them.
"We both can. Aren't relationships made of compromise?" Slash.
Slice. "What would a spoiled prince like you know about compromise? When have you ever had to give an inch on anything?"
Swing. "I know I'm ready to for you."
"Above all things"--jab--"I want a faithful mate." Caspion dodged razor claws, then struck. "You might think you can be true, but you're too young to know for certain."
Mirceo pivoted, searching for another target. Caspion shifted with him, doing the same. Headless Wendigos twitched all around them--easily more than a hundred--and no more charged them.
Caspion flicked gore from his blade, then sheathed his weapon. From his jacket, he produced a folded tarp. When he spread it over the sand, Mirceo stepped on a corner to keep it from flying off.
With a grunt of thanks, Caspion hauled a Wendigo carcass over it.
"Ah, I see." Mirceo cleaned and sheathed his sword. "You plan to use them as gulg food." Thankful of his gloves, he grabbed the closest body and tossed it beside the other.
As they labored, Caspion said, "You did good back there."
Mirceo couldn't stop his grin. His plan to impress the demon was working!
After collecting a pile of headless corpses, he and Caspion each took a corner of the tarp and started dragging the mass over the sands. The stench was nauseating.
"Listen for a knocking sound," Caspion said as they headed deeper into the valley, ever closer to the fortress. "It's a gulg's jawbone opening."
"Lovely."
"And remember that you can't trace. It's so second-nature you'll try it reflexively."
"I understand. Just for reference, if I need to kill a gulg, where do I strike?"
"You don't. Its brain is supposed to be far below the surface."
Tremors began to vibrate Mirceo's boots. To his right? He snatched a corpse by a wrist and ankle, awaiting a target.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
A giant fang-filled mouth stretched wide, emitting rancid air. A long, serpentine tongue curled in the gulg's slimy maw. Mirceo tossed the Wendigo, and the jaws snapped shut. The gulg descended once more.
"Good job," Caspion called. They increased their pace. The next gulg was on Caspion's side. He hurled another Wendigo.
SNAP! The mouth slammed closed.
One gulg after another surfaced, each appeased by its meal.
"This is working!" Mirceo tossed another offering. "Where does their territory end?"
"See those red boulders?"
Mirceo squinted against the wind and made out a line of boulders some distance away. He glanced back at the few Wendigos left on the tarp. "We'll run out."
Nod. "Get ready to haul ass. You stay on me like my godsdamned shadow, vampire."
Mirceo grinned behind his scarf. "Eternally, demon."
As soon as Caspion used the last of their bait, he and Mirceo took off. They veered right, then left, dodging yawning mouths and snapping jaws.
Pumping his arms, Mirceo was right behind the demon, following him into chaos.
A wind storm had kicked up, gusting sand everywhere. Towering dust devils twisted. All around them: KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. The winds distorted the sounds. Dunes crested and toppled over, waves on a sea of tan.
Can't see him!
Caspion yelled, "They're fucking everywhere! Stay with me!"
Mirceo followed the demon's voice. "I'm behind you!" The gulg mouths outnumbered patches of ground. He and Caspion leapt and careened, trying to predict the creatures' movements.
Caspion kept glancing back. "Faster, vampire!"
"Eyes forward, demon!"
"We're almost clear--" KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Caspion's foot landed atop a gulg just as it opened. He teetered on the lip, arms pinwheeling. Before Mirceo could reach Caspion, a tongue seized the demon's leg and yanked.
Caspion disappeared inside the thing!
Mirceo vaulted to the fang-lined edge. In the large gullet, the demon supported himself with one leg; his other was wedged against the opposite side, holding the creature's jaw open. Caspion had already used his claws to sever the gulg's tongue.
Mirceo didn't think--just dropped down to mirror Caspion's position. The two maneuvered till they were back to back with their legs extended to pry open the jaws. "Now what, demon?"
"Afraid you were going to ask me that."
Mirceo craned his head back. "At least things can't get much worse--"
The gulg started to spin like a saucer.
Caspion bit out, "Still think this is the best date?"
"How will you ever top this?" Blood from Mirceo's stomach rushed to his head as they swirled.
"Lower down, there's a jaw muscle. If we can sever it . . ."
"We walk down like this?"
"That's the plan."
Dizziness reigned, but Mirceo believed in Caspion. In them. Working together, they descended closer to the jaw muscle. But they also neared its throat, which opened and closed below them like a trash compactor.
Mirceo spied a juncture of two bulging tendons. "I can almost reach it." As he pulled free his weapon, the thing spun even faster. With a yell, Mirceo swung his sword, severing the tendons. That side of the gullet sagged.
Tension gone, Mirceo and Caspion dropped from their wedged position. The demon dug his claws into the flesh, holding on with one hand, his other grappling to catch Mirceo.
"I've got a hold!" Mirceo had stabbed his sword for purchase, was now dangling from it. The throat was about to enclose his feet.
Caspion said, "I'm going to toss you out of here! If you can keep the thing open from above, I can leap up."
"Do it." Mirceo clasped forearms with Caspion. Giving the demon his weight, he retrieved his sword with his free hand. They met gazes.
The demon swung him to get mo
mentum . . . right . . . left . . . "GO!"
Mirceo flew upward, tumbling onto the lip. He used his sword to wedge open the taut side. "Come on, demon! Now!"
Caspion dug into the gullet wall with the claws of both hands, bringing up his knees and planting the toes of his boots. His body tensed. Gritting his teeth, he leapt.
He shot up toward Mirceo . . . didn't stop . . . just kept coming . . . He tackled Mirceo and sent them careening onto the sand.
"What the hell, demon?"
They scrambled up. Caspion had taken them past the red boulders! Had any gulgs followed?
The mouths milled about, sucking at the air and colliding into each other. But they'd stopped at that boundary!
"We made it, vampire!" Caspion whaled a slap on his back.
Between breaths, Mirceo said, "Dare I say we're bonding?" The way to a demon's heart is through the hunt.
"Here." Caspion had somehow snagged Mirceo's sword on the way out.
"Thanks." He sheathed it once more.
This close to the fortress, the winds had abated somewhat. Caspion tugged off his scarf, so Mirceo did as well.
"Okay, leechling"--the demon's glowing blue eyes crinkled at the sides--"you're on deck."
TWENTY
We actually might survive! Cas and the vampire had a possible shot at not dying. Unable to contain his excitement, he clamped Mirceo's shoulder. "You've got this."
He ignored the thoughts that had run through his mind while trapped inside that creature, burying those reflections deep. If he and the prince lived through the rest of the night, Cas would sift through and process them.
For now, he forced his attention to the job. "I think that firelight at the top of the pyramid is the sorcerer's personal chamber. Can you get us inside there?"
"We'll soon find out."
"You see the guardhouse up front?" Cas pointed it out. "The scylla tentacles will emerge just beyond it. The outer wall of the fortress marks the mystical barrier. Let's hope it doesn't affect your mist."
"Otherwise we'll turn corporeal and plummet right into the creature's tentacles?"
"Bingo. The hard part will be getting in; we'll likely be able to teleport straight out of the fortress."
When Mirceo reached for his hand, Cas hesitated. In conservative Abaddon, he'd never seen two males holding hands.
"Are you jesting?" Mirceo demanded. "Hand holding is taboo--after I nursed blood from your dick?"
Cas had to stifle a groan. Don't remind me. He accepted Mirceo's hand, frowning at the way they fit. If I was born for him, was Mirceo born for me? "Now what?"
