Roux took a deep breath, and his shoulders sagged. At least he didn’t look like he was about to murder Jack anymore.
“We’re not ditching it, we’re taking a detour. Get some furs in the marketplace. It’s cold where we’re going.”
Jack smiled sheepishly. “Or you could just hug me all the time.”
Roux squinted at him. “Be ready in two hours.”
Next time on Jack Addison vs. A Whole World of Hot Trouble:
Will Jack and Roux use one another’s body heat to combat the freezing air in Siberia?
Is the monster a fire giant about to melt the polar ice caps?
What creature can Jack possibly fuck in Siberia? Yeti?
Jack Addison vs. Foxy Lies
Jack Addison Vs. A Whole World of Hot Trouble #7
K.A. Merikan
“Everyone deserves a chance. It’s not his fault his mother was a murdering beast.”
After one night of passion, Jack and Roux travel to Siberia to hunt down a mysterious monster that has crawled out of a deep mine shaft and keeps attacking the workers. With Roux regretful about giving in to temptation, the atmosphere between the two venators remains tense, but private matters need to stay in the background when the unknown being proves more deceptive than expected.
Something dangerous lurks in the blizzard, but how can they protect themselves when they don’t trust each other? When new truths about Roux are revealed, will Jack be able to man up and become who Roux needs him to be?
POSSIBLE SPOILERS:
Themes: pride, shapeshifter, demons, Siberia, winter setting, love, trust, self-discovery, tolerance, fame, monster hunting, interspecies relations, love, deception, kitsune
Genre: M/M romantic erotica, horror-comedy
Contains scorching hot, explicit scenes
WARNING: This story contains morally ambiguous characters and scenes of sex that might be considered taboo.
Previously on Jack Addison vs. A Whole World of Hot Trouble:
Jack Addison might come from a line of legendary monster hunters and scientists, but real life has taught him that the world isn’t anything like he’d been told all his life. After encountering the alluring Nessie during the annual hunt, he’s opened up to the idea of dating nonhumans and after years of experimenting, settles his interest on a rival hunter, the cat-like Roux Chat-Bonnes.
After a period of mistrust, Roux learns to appreciate Jack for his good heart and invites him on a joint mission to Transylvania, but his behavior on the way is surprisingly adverse. Jack eventually finds out that Roux’s behavior has been affected by hormonal changes brought on by his heat, and the two of them give into temptation and spend a night together. Jack’s happiness is short-lived, since Roux denies an interest in pursuing a relationship, after accidentally finding a journal of Jack’s sexual conquests.
They agree to still work together on a dangerous job in Siberia. Will Jack be able to prove himself to Roux?
Chapter 1
Jack daydreamed about the warm beaches of Italy and Greece, projecting their image over the endless snow outside. When he and Roux boarded the train in Transylvania, he’d thought it wouldn’t be an issue to experience a tough winter once more, since they were always white and cold where he was from. But the Siberian winter was nothing like the coziness of the cold months back home. It was bitingly tough, reaching for them through the tiniest gaps.
Jack was too busy to think about it much at first, fascinated by the different way people dressed out here, by their food, and the fact that they mixed their tea with jam, but the farther east they traveled, the less people there were, until he spent endless hours watching barren landscapes untouched by men.
In the first days of their journey, they’d met other venators heading the same way, but as the snow became thicker, familiar faces were replaced by those of locals. He didn’t mind. Many venators were out for their own glory and were difficult to work with, but it was the attitude some displayed toward Roux that made Jack resent the notion of having to travel together.
Sadly, things weren’t rosy between Jack and Roux either.
‘Civil’ would’ve been the best way to describe the atmosphere between them, but no matter how much they didn’t talk about what had happened in Transylvania, there was no denying that it had in fact happened. Jack had slept with Roux, loved every second of their closeness, and without his defenses up, Roux had admitted he liked Jack.
So Jack would just trudge on and try to gradually chip at the chat’s icy attitude until another opportunity arose to prove his worth as a prospective lover, because now that he’d been inside Roux’s tight body, there was no going back. He kept fantasizing about the long tail tightening around his cock, the large, tempting eyes looking at him over Roux’s shoulder, about the touch of soft fur on skin.
Somehow, someday, he would capture Roux’s heart.
Hopefully, sooner rather than later.
It was dreadfully dark when their train rolled into the Krasnoyarsk station, but despite the icy air assaulting Jack’s face from the moment he got off, he was glad to see lights and people.
Roux gasped, and his lips parted, releasing vapor. He stared forward with eyes wide and he was so pretty Jack couldn’t take his eyes off.
“Is that a yeti?” Roux whispered, and only then Jack’s brain snapped out of his infatuation coma.
A giant in furs stood by the small bar at the platform. Too big to fit through the narrow doors, he accepted a steaming mug through the window. Black, leathery fingers looked like gloves, but when the creature faced Jack and rose to his entire height, one glance at its face was enough to conclude it was not human.
“I-I think so,” Jack whispered, wondering if being stared at would annoy the giant, but he couldn’t look away, nonetheless.
“A specimen for your memoir?” Roux asked with a smirk.
It was the first time Roux had mentioned the topic since the Transylvania fiasco, and it made Jack’s heart skip a beat to hear that Roux was able to find humor in it. Even if Jack was the butt of the joke.
Jack cleared his throat, noticing the glimmer of beads at the trim of the yeti’s clothes, and when the creature walked past them, the slenderness of its body was noticeable under the fur. “I think it might be a woman,” he said and rubbed his hands together, because they were freezing despite the gloves.
Roux pulled on the hood of his thick jacket. The emblem on the back proudly announced to the world that he was an accomplished venator, yet all Jack could think about was Roux’s bare feet freezing in weather he wasn’t accustomed to. He’d gladly rub them warm.
“Not your type then. Let’s go find the local pactor.”
“Are you sure you don’t need boots?” Jack asked as they dragged their luggage along the platform.
“I doubt they have my size here. I’m fine. My kind is resilient. We’ve come from a different dimension, yet managed to thrive here. What’s a little snow?” he said, even though his fingers trembled.
Roux was right, but it didn’t stop Jack from wishing to protect him from the cold. A stand with postcards caught his attention, and he approached the window of the restaurant to knock on the glass. The young woman inside was wrapped in layers of scarves, and she didn’t speak English, but getting the right stamp and a postcard depicting a large local church with onion-shaped domes had been easy enough.
“Just a second. I want to send this to Chad. He collects postcards from me.”
Roux squinted at him. “Seriously? He doesn’t exactly have hands. I still can’t believe you kept that abomination.”
Jack flinched, staring back at Roux and tightening his fingers on the pen. “Stop saying that. He’s a child. For someone who fights for creature rights, you have very little sympathy for creatures who aren’t like you.”
Roux huffed and pulled his scarf up over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t understand. Why did you keep a tarantoid?”
Jack inhaled sharply. “Because everyone des
erves a chance. It’s not his fault his mother was a murdering beast.”
Roux watched Jack for a long time before rubbing his arm. “You make me sound all too much like that other Addison I know of.”
“Then don’t be like him.”
Jack took a deep breath and focused on the postcard instead of memories of his father and his specist rants. His first instinct was to write Wish you were here, but he didn’t truly want for Chad to ever experience such adverse conditions, so he used simple greetings instead and tossed the card into the postbox.
The big, soulful eyes were like a grassy plain Jack wished he could lay on in the sunshine. “What do you think will become of him? Of Chad? He won’t be like other tarantoids, but won’t fit in with the human world either.”
Jack sighed and led the way toward the exit from the station. The wind howled in the distance, but they could still hear one another. “He’s smart. I’m sure he will fit in with the right creatures. I want him to have a life like any other kid. Develop his talents, find love... it’s my job to make this world a place where he can do that.”
He’d thought about it before, but saying it out loud and Roux looking up at him in awe made Jack’s heart beat faster. Yes, that was what he wanted. That was much more important than being famous or bedding as many different creatures as possible.
“That’s sweet, Jack. I will help you with that, you can count on it,” Roux said, and even though the topic of their lovemaking was left unmentioned, it still pulled on Jack’s heartstrings to hear the declaration of support.
He smiled and squeezed Roux’s shoulder. He was getting bitterly emotional when he thought that if Roux agreed to vacation in London, he’d actually get to know Chad, but that perspective was still distant. “Let’s find a place to stay first? We don’t want to end up stranded in this weather.”
Roux nodded, but silence hung in the air. They would be once again facing the issue of sharing a room. Roux wasn’t in heat anymore, but things could get awkward. Or steamy and so fantastic they’d forget all about their mission, but Jack was pretty sure the second option was just his wishful thinking.
“So, about sleeping arrangements... I hear lodgings are expensive out here, but I’m fine with it if you want your own room,” Jack said as they left the station and entered a broad street.
There weren’t many carriages in sight, and people seemed to be walking everywhere in their somber furs and thick boots. The place was an oasis of human culture in the wilderness, and seeing decorated facades after staring at snow and trees for days on end was a revelation. Though the large, monumental structures seemed to be few and far between, with most of the buildings made of wood and surrounded by flimsy fences.
Roux stared at some kind of commotion down the street with a frown. "Let's stay close. We don't know what we might encounter here."
Just as he said that, an inhuman screech echoed through the air, and Roux darted toward the small crowd of people in furs.
Neither of them understood the local language, but as the commotion grew more violent, Jack stormed into a gap made by a group of women who left the gathering in a hurry. Three people were needed to hold down a thrashing man. His feet kicked about clumps of hardened snow, his chest arched, but before Jack could have intervened, fearing that the stranger was struggling for air, he saw the absolute terror on his face. And it wasn’t because of the force keeping him in place. He looked into the sky, uttering words of fright and crying out.
A sense of dread overcame Jack when he saw the same fear, even if restrained, in all the faces around him, and when someone touched his arm, he barely kept in a yelp.
But it was only a policewoman. Dressed in furs and a large hat that covered her ears, she had the iron symbol of her role as an officer of law attached to the front of the coat.
“You’re not from here, yes?” she asked in a heavily accented yet perfectly understandable English.
Relief flooded Jack’s muscles, and he relaxed, letting her pull him away from the gathering and toward Roux, who was also easily identifiable as non-local.
“Are you the local pactor?” Roux asked. “We need to know what’s going on if we are to help. This is Jack Addison, the Kraken slayer’s son, and I am Roux Chat-Bonnes of the Paris Academy for Interdimensional Matters. Have any other venators arrived yet?”
“I’m Patrycja Popova, a member of the local police. What you see here is not violence. They are trying to help this poor man,” Popova said, watching as members of the crowd led the still-struggling man down the street. “They’re taking him to church. They say there’s demons walking among us now,” she said, getting a bit paler.
Jack was too dumbstruck to speak at first. “What?” he asked, briefly glancing at Roux, who appeared similarly dumbfounded.
Popova sighed. “This is a mining town. But the greed of the mine owner pushed things too far. I have not seen it with my own eyes, but people say the miners have drilled their way to Hell. So many of them have been afflicted by this recently. They say voices of the damned scream from the pit day and night. Some of the spirits manage to flee and possess the workers like the one you just saw. It’s such a hard time for us all.”
Roux cleared his throat, and his whiskers twitched. “We are venators. The local pactor issued an open call for a job here. He believes it’s an unknown creature that attacks your people.”
Popova shook her head. “A beast nobody’s seen,” she said, but her expression sobered when she focused on something behind Jack.
He spun around, only to freeze. This time it was not the wind, the snow, nor the bitter cold that chilled him to the bone.
A venator’s jacket covered a body that lay on the back of a horse-drawn sled, which stopped right in front of them.
Chapter 2
Jack couldn’t believe this shit. They’d dragged their luggage through the snow-covered streets in cold that had his nose feeling like an icicle about to fall off, only to find the Pactor’s office shut for the day. And since all the writing on the door was in Russian, they had to rely on the help of a friendly local, who told them that throughout the week, the Pactor held office in various places around the area and was only present in Krasnoyarsk from Monday to Tuesday.
What. WHAT?
The same helpful stranger informed them that the dead venator had been Moscow’s Mikhail Ivanovich Petrov, and someone—or something—had stripped him of his furs, cut his throat, and then left him to die in the frost. Neither Roux nor Jack knew him or of him, but the fact that he’d died trying to capture the mysterious monster in this remote country still left them somber.
The room they’d rented had two beds, and in the night Jack wished for the heat of Roux’s body more than ever before. Their lodgings were warm enough, but the frost still penetrated Jack’s dreams, taunting him with howls and visions of walking through a snowscape until his feet turned to ice and crumbled under his own weight.
He was relieved to see light peeking through the wooden blinds in the morning, and rolled out of bed, instantly heading to the pitcher of water left on the mantelpiece. The night terrors had left him sweaty, and he was glad to discover that the proximity of the fire prevented the liquid from cooling beyond a pleasant temperature. The room was chilly, so he shed his sleeping shirt and quickly washed with water poured into a basin. He was about done when a glance toward Roux’s bed revealed that one of those large green eyes was open, secretly watching him from the pile of covers.
A part of Jack wished to confront him about it, but Roux’s previous reactions to flirting had been adverse, and he didn’t feel like dealing with another rejection so early in the morning. So he walked to the wooden wardrobe and chose a fresh change of clothes instead, acutely aware of the green gaze following him.
Why not? He could make a show of it.
He dressed, making sure his muscular back was exposed and tense for Roux’s viewing pleasure. If it wasn’t for the chill, he might have even gotten a bit over-excited about the idea of R
oux lusting for him. All this time, he’d been pining for the skittish chat, but he now knew Roux liked him too. They both knew it, even if it was being left unsaid.
Roux only yawned loudly once Jack was dressed. He stretched in the bed, pretending he’d only just woken up. Sneaky chat.
“Morning,” Jack said, preparing a simple breakfast of crackers and canned meat, because he didn’t want to waste too much time before exploring the area. Days were not long at this time of the year, and he wanted to make use of all the daylight available.
They sat at the table, and Roux opened himself a can of fish. They’d seen murder and supposed ghost possession since their arrival last night, yet there they were, having breakfast as if they were a couple of friends on vacation. Or a pair of lovers on their honeymoon. Jack rather liked the latter idea.
“Will we really be looking for ghosts?” Roux asked, between one bite and another.
Jack snorted. “I don’t believe in ghosts. I once met”—fucked—“this scientist who worked in an asylum, and he said that people can go mad if they believe something very strongly. This might be the case here. It’s way more probable that the cries those people hear in the mine are made by a creature.”
“Let’s explore that first then. I’ll rent us a sleigh.” Roux patted his mouth with a handkerchief when he was done with the oily fish, and Jack stifled a groan at how cute that looked.
The sleigh came with an additional set of furs, which Jack appreciated, since the sunlight didn’t help much in terms of temperature. They’d considered going for the cheaper option of a dog sleigh, but canines acted weird around Roux, and on top of that, none of them knew how to work with a pack like that, so they settled on a horse.
Either way, an hour after breakfast, Jack and Roux were buried in piles of coverings and dashing beyond city limits, into the white tundra.
Jack Addison vs. a Whole World of Hot Trouble - The Complete Series Page 24
