“Are you alright?” he asked.
Raven stuttered but managed to find his voice. “Yes, yes, thank you.”
Raven thought he caught a smile on Freshán’s face. It wasn’t a smile, but more of a smirk on the left side of Freshán’s mouth. Raven’s heart stuttered a tad too fast for his liking.
Raven trailed his stare from the man’s jaw down to his neck and along the V-shape the black satin robe made against his chest. He swallowed at the raised pecs peering through the exposed gap.
“I’m terribly sorry for disturbing your evening, Mr. Chetlér, but—” A finger was placed against Raven’s lips.
“Hush, love. You’re not disrupting anything. It’s this bloody wolf upsetting my guest!”
Raven opened his mouth to speak, but the glow in Freshán’s eyes at the Lycan made him still. The Lycan whined while making a hasty retreat down the hallway.
“Unless,” the demon turned his gaze to Raven, “you did not come as my guest?” He removed his finger.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Raven said shaking his head.
“Ah, I’m disappointed, in myself of course, expecting someone of your splendor would grace me with their presence.”
Raven straightened his spine and looked the demon with confidence in the eyes. “Mr. Chetlér, I’m sorry, you—achoo!” The sneeze wheeled out of Raven’s nose with such force he felt his nostrils burn. His own nasal mucus had spattered directly on the demon’s face.
“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry…” Another sneeze followed. Raven stumbled backward against the door. “I better go.”
“No!” the demon growled. Raven felt it down to his toes. Even the chandelier rattled, tinging the crystals against one another.
The demon sneered, showing the tips of his fangs, making his displeasure known. His eyes, though glowing, appeared dark green. Raven could see droplets of his mucus glisten against the demon’s face.
He was going to die.
His heart pounded like a ticking bomb in his ears, making a swooshing sound, pumping blood through his system. Raven reached back slowly, his fingers brushed the heat of the door. He prayed he didn’t have to sneeze again. The demon caught his flee attempt, lunged forward with a snarl, pressing its right hand against Raven’s chest, and pinned him to the door. Raven’s attention snapped to the demon’s left hand, slamming into the door, his eyes aware of the fingers and nails digging into the black material. A thick, white substance leaked as the nails burrowed deeper. He felt the door behind him tremor.
Yeah, okay. The door was a living, organic demonic entity. Raven wasn’t too sure about his future.
“Mr. Chetlér, I’m really sorry. I never meant to sneeze on you.” Raven’s left hand carefully cradled the demon’s wrist. The fingernails drawn against his chest didn’t dig into his skin, yet, but it probably would in a matter of moments.
The demon’s breaths became sharp and fast. Raven saw that Chetlér’s green eyes had changed. Instead of vertical slits like the lower ranking demons, the higher ups had a glowing halo on the edge of their corneas signifying their superiority over the lesser. It was what he knew about demon rank, their hierarchy, and command. Horns too signified some form of authority.
The color change took Raven aback and made him hold his breath. The green bled red, as if an ink drop had spilled in the demon’s eyes. It stained the green color, the halo now smoldered a violet pink. The peeled back lips displaying sharp rows of teeth pinned Raven to the door. The image alone could keep him there.
“Want you. Need you too much. Mine,” it growled in a primal voice. “I beg.”
Breathless, Chetlér removed his hand from the door, but not from Raven’s chest. With a quick flick of his wrist, he caught Raven’s own, pulled, and spun him around. The demon’s left arm gripped his waist and drew Raven against its body. Raven closed his eyes. A warm tongue licked the side of his neck, sending a shiver through him.
“Please…stay, pet…for dinner, I beg...” Again it spoke in the primal voice, yet it sounded much more tender than before...and the licking thing, God, it went straight to Raven’s dick.
Super and para kind were always so fucking possessive over what was theirs. A starving greed of burning passion, one panther shifter explained two years ago. Raven wasn’t going to stand and pretend he didn’t like it. Fuck, he fantasized about this exact situation.
“I will stay, Mr. Chetlér,” he said. His breathing had become uneven, his heart thumped in his chest like a drum, but whether it was from fear or excitement, Raven wasn’t certain.
While it might be his fantasy, this is Chetlér and not some lower ranked demon or paranormal. Chetlér was, as they say, an old one.
“The dining room is this way, Detective.” Chetlér loosened his grip and stepped away from Raven.
Raven turned to follow the man—shit, demon. He stopped when he looked into Chetlér’s face, blushed, and lowered his gaze.
“I’m sorry for sneezing on you, I have canine allergies. Please accept my—” A finger tapped Raven’s lips again silencing him. It seemed to be a thing the demon did.
“It’s nothing water won’t clean, Detective. Please, do walk with me.” Chetlér held out his hand.
To say Raven felt like a red balloon didn’t quite match how he blushed. He took the demon’s hand. Those fingers curled around his, pulled him to the demon’s chest, and into his right arm. Chetlér turned them around and let go of Raven’s hand, but not his waist. The demon’s heat spread into Ravens coat and down his back.
Leading him into a lavish room with a large table, Chetlér let go and pulled out a chair for Raven.
“May I have your coat?” Chetlér asked, arching a brow.
Raven pulled the ox skin from his shoulders, handed it to the demon, and sat down at the table. The room was rather small in comparison to the mansion. The table only seated six. A fire crackled in the center of the wall to his left. A mantel of black stone reaching the ceiling looked almost similar to that of the door. Most of the interior structure, that was visible, seem to be from the same type of material. Raven wouldn’t be surprised if the carvings on the black stone unexpectedly moved. Large windows overlooking the graveled front yard were to his right. The candles here were fewer yet no light hang overhead. He knew the older para and supers stuck to their old ways, and as Raven took in the beautifully sculpted interior of the room, he had to wonder how old Chetlér was. Two wingback chairs stood on either side of the fireplace and a small table behind one holding liquor, but the liquid was too black to make out what it was.
“Hans,” Chetlér said and Raven turned his head, spying a tall man standing at attention in the doorway. “Please take Mr. White’s coat,” Chetlér wiped his face with a cloth Hans had presented, “then you may present the meal. Wine too and make sure it’s matured. Thank you, Hans.”
Bla’Gar turned as Raven looked away from him. He stood shaken on the spot. How long has it been since a human had the ability to enthrall him with their appearance, to make him stop and gape in awe? Centuries, eons maybe, he couldn’t remember, but he knew the attraction when it came earlier that morning in the coffee shop. His former self might have panicked, screamed, and been terrified of the desire, but not now. The bonding desire had manifested so strong that eventually, after tasting the finger of the human, he had to turn and run for Raven’s own dignity and safety. The gesture they shared went unnoticed, but if they had bonded there in public like his desires begged him, the sight would surely have turned an eye or caused a scream.
Raven was exquisite, sharp glacier-blue eyes, short clipped hair, and a little bit of scruff on his muscular jaw. Bla’Gar knew from the way the human moved like a flowing gymnast, his body would be lean and toned. Long, hard, sleek muscles that had been sculpted over time were showcased in tight pants that sat perfectly snug.
He walked over and drew out a chair for himself, making sure not to sit too close to the human, but not too far away that he couldn’t reach out and touch him. He bit bac
k a grumble. He wanted to do more than touch him, but it would take time, much time. What would be the point in this if he scared the man away?
“What brought you to my home, Detective?” Bla’Gar questioned, resting his elbow on the table scratching his human skin on the chin. The flesh itched. No, the devil in him itched to be freed from this form, to be seen for who he truly was but not now...later.
“Mr. Chetlér,” Raven dug in his pocket retrieving a photograph. “I know it’s imprudent of me, I know the rules, but the mother wants me to find her son.” Bla’Gar took the photograph from the man. The slight touch of the human’s fingers against his had his inner devil protesting.
He gave a simple glance at the photograph. “Niko?” Bla’Gar questioned. Raven nodded in response.
“He’s a pleasant boy. I can assure you, Detective, Bruce will bring him no harm.” He handed back the photograph.
“Of course, like I tried to explain to the mother, but maybe I can speak with him?” The human gave a smile and Bla’Gar’s hands, now under the table, dug his fingernails into his thighs. He wasn’t only fighting his desire to be in his true form, but fighting against his arousal, which he knew would force out his demon forth. He could feel the blood flow from where his nails pierced his flesh. Thankfully, Hans presented their meal, placing it down in front of them. Bla’Gar watched with interest as the human looked at the venison.
“You like wild meat, Detective?” he asked.
“N-no,” the man stuttered. Hans presented a bottle of wine, waiting for his master’s approval before he poured. Bla’Gar dipped his head and turned to Raven.
“No? I can ask Hans to prepare something else.”
“Sorry, it’s not what I meant,” Raven clasped his mouth, then smiled, “I love it, I haven’t had it in some time. It looks delicious.”
Bla’Gar smiled, wiped his blood on his robe, and picked up the carving knife. “Unfortunately, Bruce and Niko aren’t here this evening, but you will be more than welcome to return tomorrow afternoon. I sent the two away to have some much-needed private discussion. I assume you can imagine the things Bruce needs to explain to Niko before he is claimed.”
“I do, Mr. Chetlér. Why do you own the pack if I might ask? Shouldn’t they have an alpha if I’m not mistaken?”
“They do have an alpha.” Bla’Gar placed a cut of meat on Raven’s plate. Hans had brought in vegetables and roast potatoes to accompany the meal.
“The alpha is under my protection.” He sat and passed the vegetables to Raven.
“Protection?” Raven took the bowl and dished himself a healthy helping. He ignored the potatoes when Bla’Gar offered them.
“Rumors have been spreading of a group capturing supernaturals and experimenting on them. The alpha of this pack is only twenty-one. Still too young to lead. So are the other pack members, ranging from twenty to twenty-seven. I offered them protection.”
Bla’Gar saw the confused expression on the man’s face. “I knew the alpha’s mother. I promised to take care of her son, and help build his own pack after she had passed.” Still, the expression remained on Raven’s face.
“It’s generous of you, Mr. Chetlér,” said the human. He took a bite of the meat.
“Not what you expected from me, Detective?” Bla’Gar stopped his actions, eagerness raising in him, awaiting the human’s response. He wanted to know what Raven thought of demon kind, or was it more what Raven thought of him?
“Raven would be fine, Mr. Chetlér, and no, it was not.” Raven’s regard reached his. “You are an old one. Others of your kind don’t talk lightly of you. I’m sorry, I should not have assumed.” Raven looked down at his food.
“What is your own conclusion about me?” Bla’Gar asked, looking over the man with alluring eyes.
The man didn’t look at him, but his body stiffened and his actions stopped. Gently, Raven’s eyes glanced at Bla’Gar, then at his food again.
“You’re charming.”
Bla’Gar caught Raven’s chin and forced him to look in his eyes. “Am I now, pet?” he whispered the question. He rubbed a thumb over the man’s bottom lip to stop its quiver, observing the beautiful blush blossoming darker in Raven’s cheeks. Raven licked at the tip and opened his mouth for the digit.
Bla’Gar allowed the human to take his thumb into his mouth and suck on it. His thumb was enclosed by velvet-soft heat and gently sucked between Raven’s lips. So different from his own. He could read this human so easily; a gentle, kind, and caring soul. He snatched his hand away, brought his thumb to his own lips and sucked on it, tasting a small bit more of the man.
Raven’s eyes danced, his cheeks glowed in their red hue. Bla’Gar’s grin pulled at his lips. The human wanted him. He could smell his arousal, smell the lust. Still, now would be too soon.
He had to sweep the mortal off his feet before he went any further. He knew he had strong control over his shift, or so he hoped.
“Eat, Raven, before it gets cold.” Bla’Gar leaned back, taking his wine glass and sipping the smooth liquor. Hans had provided them with a splendid meal and a delicately aged wine.
He watched Raven eat, his eyes caught each movement of Raven’s mouth as he took a morsel in, savored it, and then swallowed. Bla’Gar was aware of his own mouth moving, licking his lips while Raven’s neck muscles moved and worked the bites of food down his throat.
When the human was done, he reached for the stem of his own untouched wine glass and brought it to his nose. Delicately he swirled it around, took a sniff, and brought it to his lips, taking a sip and twirling it in his mouth. Bla’Gar chuckled and Raven stared at him. “Enlightening, I must say and…somewhat intriguing. How did you learn the proper way to drink wine?”
The man’s eyes dropped with a sullen expression on his face.
“I…” Bla’Gar reached for Raven’s hand and covered it with his own.
“Its fine, you don’t have to explain.” He leaned over. The human’s eyes gazed at him. The moment was right, all he needed to do was lean forward and capture those lips in his and—Raven pulled his hand away.
“It’s okay. I was in the same situation Niko finds himself in.”
Bla’Gar flinched. His pet has a mate! He locked his jaws and bit back the snarl about to escape him. The human fidgeted with his white cotton sleeve. He didn’t bring his eyes up to meet Bla’Gar’s. Raven’s voice, on the other hand, cut the jealous urges from Bla’Gar’s body.
“My own parents wanted to force me into a life I didn’t want. When the opportunity arose, I left with a man. The relationship turned sour and I ended up going back home.” Raven looked up, a haunted look in his eyes, personal demons loomed in his past. “My mother and father passed away two days prior to my return home. I loved my parents and I will always regret not setting things right.” He swallowed, reached for his wine, and took a deep drink. Bla’Gar suspected the issue went deeper, but now was not the time to open old wounds.
Gentle, yet broken.
He was right on the decision not to reveal his true form to the human. Demons could, in their true form, read a human’s soul. See the scars the past had in the present. Bla’Gar knew he would love this man seated across from him, but to make Raven love him in return, he needed him to reveal those cicatrices in his own time. Bla’Gar had no right to intrude on them and rip them open. Humans were so much more delicate than his kind. So fragile, it gave a beauty to them no other krypto could match.
“You are welcome at my home anytime, Raven. I would like to get to know you better, if...” Bla'Gar sat straight and cleared his throat, “…if you wish to know me in return.”
The man’s exterior changed. He had a dreaminess to his eyes, a huskiness in his voice when he spoke. “I would, Mr. Chetlér,” he answered and grinned.
If it wasn’t an invitation for something more, Bla'Gar would deem himself a fool.
He reached forward and at the same time, leaned out of his chair, cupped Raven’s left cheek and brought their lips t
ogether. He grazed his mouth over Raven’s, urging him to take the first taste. A warm tongue slid against his own lips and Bla’Gar shook. He pressed against the man’s lips, capturing his mouth in his, and thrust forth his tongue. The taste of venison, rosemary, and wine combined with Raven’s own brought a hunger forth in Bla’Gar like he had never known. He growled, hoping the man would pull away, for he knew now he had deemed himself powerless to do it. Yet Raven reveled in the growl and thrust his tongue into Bla’Gar’s mouth. A moan echoed in the room. Unsure if it was his own or Raven’s, he reached over with his left hand and tugged the man’s shirt, dragging him out of his chair and around the corner of the table. He stood in front of him, their lips never parting. Raven didn’t even hesitate. Whether Raven’s desire was hunger for the intimacy of a kiss or for the taste of Bla’Gar, he wasn’t sure, but with time he hoped he would know.
The demon’s taste overpowered him. The lips that took Raven sent fire through his blood and made his brain feel as if it was placed in a blender and turned into mushy pulp. The warm hand on his shirt held a firm grip, the one on his face a tender caress— power and passion in one. The demon wasn’t what he expected, but nonetheless, he couldn’t deny that the desire in the demon’s kiss was equal to his own. He brought his hand up, touching Chetlér’s left arm. He could feel the contraction of the muscles under the material. No doubt those muscles were present elsewhere. He placed his hand on the demon’s chest, tracing his fingertips over the exposed surface, feeling the heat radiate off the demon’s smooth skin. Raven wanted to pull the damn robe off and lick every inch of Chetlér, but between the tongue exploring his mouth and the hand on his cheek, he wasn’t sure if sacrificing the first for the other would be best. He settled for his hands cupping either side of Chetlér’s face, rubbing in a circular motion, and feeling Chetlér’s veins pulse with hot blood. The demon purred into the kiss and Raven had to pull away, chuckling against Chetlér’s lips. Their eyes met when Chetlér opened his.
Neon White Season One: A Tooth, Claw and Horns Chronicle Page 2
