“Cadaver.”
“Ah! That was a low blow.” It was hard not to groan on the last word.
“No, but this is.” Matt slid down Harley’s body and took the head of his cock into his mouth. He sucked until his cheeks hollowed out, flicking the slit at the tip with his stiffened tongue.
“Fuck!” Harley thrust his hips upward, but Matt’s large hands found his hips and anchored him back down to the bed. Another fierce suck and tongue probe, then Matt released him, sliding back up to lick and bite each of his swollen nipples. He dragged his teeth over their peaks until Harley hissed and grabbed the back of his head, crushing his face to the vampire’s chest. “Mother fuck!”
Pulling away, Matt blew a stream of warm air over one wet, chilled tit, fingering it as it crinkled and hardened. “Hey, leave my mom out of our bed.”
“Christ, you didn’t have any problem thinking about her before when we fucked.” Harley tried to draw Matt’s face back down and Matt obliged long enough to suckle the other tit for a brief second before repeating the tweak and blow game.
“That was different. She marked you for me to find. Her scent will be gone soon. Replaced with mine.” Matt began kissing his way down Harley’s chest to his belly, mapping each rib and curve of the vampire’s torso with his lips and tongue.
Harley snorted and gasped, threading his fingers in Matt’s hair, body too focused on the sensations he was experiencing and the return of his blood lust to care about the implied ownership. Besides, he was beginning to like the idea of belonging to Matt, with Matt.
His protest came out much weaker than he had planned. “Peed on me like a tree stump?”
“No.” Matt surged up and nuzzled at Harley’s sensitive neck then blew in his ear as he whispered, “I filled you full of my load and didn’t pull out until it invaded your body and found your undead soul. Then I invaded that, too.”
He bit down on the carotid artery in Harley’s neck and the vampire bucked up, writhing and swearing. “Why you sweet-talker, you. Charmed me through my ass, did you?”
“Right up your ass, sweetheart.” Matt raked his teeth across Harley’s skin, leaving a red trail that led from his neck to his groin.
Pulling Matt up by his hair until they were face to face again, Harley locked stares with the man. He let his well-practiced bravado fall away for the first time in three decades, allowing his true feelings to shine through his eyes and unguarded expression.
“Hey.” He felt his lips quiver and his chest constrict, but Harley managed to get the words out. “Why don’t you come and sweet-talk me some more.” He swallowed hard but was encouraged by the gentle smile on Matt’s lips. “Show me what this mating stuff is all about.”
About the Author
LAURA BAUMBACH is the award-winning author of numerous short stories, novellas, novels and screenplays. Her favorite genre to work in is manlove or m/m erotic romance. Manlove is not traditional gay fiction, but erotic romances written specifically for the romantic-minded reader, male or female. Married to the same man for over 35 years, she currently lives with her husband and two sons in the blustery Northeast of the United States. Laura is the owner of ManLoveRomance Press, founded in January of 2007.
You can find Laura on the internet at:
http://www.laurabaumbach.com/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/laurabaumbachfiction
http://www.mlrpress.com/
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mlrpress/
Angel Vindicated
Abby Angel Series
Viola Estrella
Deporting unruly demons back to Hell is what I do best. Demon Control Agent isn’t just my job—it’s my life. Too bad my personal matters aren’t as straightforward. The virtuous gene seems to be missing from my DNA, getting me into more trouble than I’d like to admit. To date, my biggest vice has been Simeon Keller, a half-breed demon, who managed to seduce me five years ago. I’ve avoided him ever since, but I can’t knock the bad reputation the blunder has branded on me.
Now, the threat of a demon rebellion has Angels, Inc. overwhelmed, and I’m forced to trust Simeon to help me find the fiends threatening to end Angels’ existence. Staying out of the enemy’s bed is the least of my worries as I fight to keep the earth from falling under demon rule.
Chapter One
Some of my fellow Angels find it hilarious that my middle name is Virtue. Abigail Virtue Angel. It was printed right on my Creation Certificate. My mother was always an optimist. She said when I came out red-faced and bawling with my wings spread out to the heavens, she knew I’d need an extra boost of encouragement.
Angels don’t misbehave, she’d always say. Angels were virtuous.
Sadly for my mother, I haven’t been able to live up to that goddamn middle name. No matter how hard I’ve tried. I’ve made mistakes. I’ve sinned just like a human. I once even gave in to a demon’s seduction, if you can believe that. He was only a half-demon, but that didn’t matter. He was one hundred percent pure evil.
And I was put on this earth to stop evil.
My first target tonight was sitting at the bar with a mug of draft beer in front of him, munching on an unlit cigar while scratching his ass. I recognized his nicely shaped posterior from the picture in his file. Demon #3761. His file also said he lived in a studio apartment in this same building, and he didn’t own a vehicle. Seeing how most demons love to drink and were too lazy to travel far on foot, I figured he’d be here. I was right. Imagine that.
This particular demon already had one strike against him for using his power of persuasion to convince a convenience store clerk to stage a robbery, steal money from the safe, and give half to him. I was to issue him a second strike for conning a human into starting a pyramid scam. Pathetic. These overgrown hellions had too much time on their hands. And it was my job to remind them to knock it off.
I walked across the dimly lit, nearly empty room and stood behind him. My shoulder blades—where my wings sprouted when in use—twitched, as they loved to do when in the presence of a demon. The older the demon, the more my wings begged to be released.
“Peter Piper?” I asked, trying not to laugh. Some of the names these guys came up with for themselves were comical.
He swiveled around on his barstool and sniffed the air around my mouth. He had a perfect nose, high cheekbones, full lips, and sensual brown eyes. One thing the demons had going for them was their attractive features and muscular bodies. Deceptively gorgeous. Otherwise, the guy in front of me looked like a used car salesman with his thrift store polyester suit tailored for a man half a foot shorter. Not to mention the cheesy Christmas tree tie he wore in the middle of October.
Piper sniffed again and then sneered. “Angel?”
“Yep. Abigail Angel, but you can call me Abby.” I glanced around to see if anyone was watching us. There was one man slumped over the counter at the other side of the bar, daydreaming over his Jack and Coke. A couple of guys sat at a table in the far corner of the room. One was passing an envelope to the other. Probably a demon behind that transaction as well, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it now. It wasn’t my job to police the humans, only the demons.
The bartender, who looked like a lumberjack on steroids, looked my way. “Get you a drink?”
“Sure. I’ll have a Shirley Temple with extra cherries and a wedge of lime.” Both Piper and the bartender chuckled.
“What?” I said, giving them my best PMS glare.
“Nothing.” The bartender went in search of some cherries.
I turned back to Piper. “You’re in violation of Code Three, manipulating a human into acting on greed. You know the drill.”
There were seven codes for each of the seven deadly sins—lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride. Each time a demon was involved in corrupting a human to commit a sin, the demon was in violation of a code.
That was where I came into the picture.
Most humans weren’t aware of my existence, so an explanat
ion may be due. Three types of Angels occupied the earth. Guardian Angels, Angels of Death, and Law Enforcement Angels, otherwise known as Demon Control agents, all under an organization called Angels, Inc. I was in the line of law enforcement. Yep, little ole me, Abigail V. Angel. I kept the demons in line. At least I was here to try.
It wasn’t as if I had a choice. I hadn’t woken up one day and decided I wanted to save the human population from avoidable sin. I hadn’t raised my hand and said “pick me” when they were passing out reasons why you’ll never have any type of normalcy. Nope. I was born an Angel, raised an Angel, and I’ll die an Angel. Eventually. There were some advantages, including having an extended life. I’d live a healthy existence for eternity as long as I didn’t get myself murdered or run over by a bus. I’d never be sick, and I was immune to diseases. And—this was the best part—I’d always look like I was twenty-four years old.
So all I needed to do was avoid moving vehicles, falling pianos, sharp knives, and guns.
Yeah, right. Did I mention I was in Demon Control?
“Fuck off, bitch,” Piper said and threw his lukewarm beer in my face.
I hated this part about my job―when they put up a fight. Which usually didn’t happen unless I was there to give them their third strike. Because you know what three strikes meant, right? You’re outta here. Or for demons it meant they get deported back to Hell. Right where they belong if you ask me.
I used his tie to wipe off my face. “I wish you hadn’t done that, Peter.”
“Oh yeah?” He stood and towered a foot taller than me. “What are you going to do about it? Pray for me?” He smiled, showing teeth that hadn’t been brushed in months. Yellowed, thick with tartar, plaque, and last night’s dinner. Nasty. So much for the gorgeousness.
I held my breath and continued. “If you want to do this the hard way, I’ll probably kick you in the balls and pin your ass to the ground.” Like I mentioned earlier, I wasn’t the most virtuous Angel. But when dealing with a demon, an Angel had to do what an Angel had to do.
Unfortunately, I needed to touch him to give him his warning. One thumbprint to the heart. It would imprint into his skin and would only be visible to Angels. Don’t ask me who made up these stupid rules. I vaguely remembered learning at Angel Academy about a pact between the powers that be, appropriately called the “Powers That Be Pact.” Essentially it said Demons were allowed to roam the earth as long as Angels were in control. When a demon got out of hand, Demon Control Angels stepped in.
“Feisty little sprite, aren’t you?” Piper said.
“I try my best. Now, why don’t we get this over with so we can both get on with it?” I reached under his suit jacket.
He backed up. “Not so fast. I’ve had enough of you elfin bitches trying to run my life.”
Elfin? Okay, that was a little insensitive. No, Angels weren’t overgrown mongrels, but we weren’t elves either. On average, we were five and a half feet tall. And we were all of the female persuasion. It became evident several years ago that men didn’t make the best DC Angels. Too much testosterone and not enough patience had led to multiple reports of demon mistreatment.
There were still male Angels of Death. It didn’t require a lot of control to take a life when a human’s time came. But for the most part, men had been removed from active duty at the Denver area Angels, Inc. This meant we females had to work twice as hard to save our image.
I lunged forward at the demon, and he turned, jerking back wildly to get away from me. Then he ran for the door, knocking over chairs in the process.
“Oh, come on,” I yelled.
This was getting a little screwy. Hardly ever did I have to chase a demon for a second offense. They simply didn’t care enough to run unless there was the threat of deportation.
“You need some help, lady?” the bartender asked, with Shirley Temple in hand. “Did he take your purse or something?”
I was half tempted to lie so the big burly guy would do the footwork for me. But rule number one in Demon Control was don’t let the humans get involved.
Freaking humans. They didn’t know how good they had it.
“No. I’m fine.” I hurried after Piper. “Go ahead and put that drink on my tab.”
“You don’t have a tab,” he yelled, as the door closed behind me.
Downtown Denver was where my division of Demon Control was situated. Denver and its surrounding areas was where we usually found our offenders. It had it all the perfect locations for potential sinning—bars, strip clubs, banks, sleazy hotels, ritzy hotels, and the State Capital.
I pursued Peter Piper as he cut across Blake Street and ran a few blocks to Lawrence. The roads were mostly deserted since it was past midnight on a weekday. He wasn’t running very fast, and I was gaining on him without much effort. Which led me to believe he wasn’t as athletic as the other demons I’d encountered...or he was luring me somewhere.
Hmm. I slowed to a stop and watched as he turned into an alley between two buildings. A dark alley. I backed up against the brick wall and listened closely.
Steam rose from a manhole in the middle of the street, and the roads glistened from a recent rain. I could hear a woman laughing a couple of blocks away. A car drove past, splashing water onto the other side of the street.
I peeked around the corner down the alley. The shadow of his body was a quarter of the way up the eight stories. No noise but the sound of Piper climbing up the side of the building, his feet scraping against the brick.
“What are you doing, Peter?” I asked. There wasn’t any point in trying to sneak up on him. Not only could demons scale the sides of buildings, they also had exceptional hearing.
Me? I could hover. Not fly. Hover. My translucent wings had a span of seven feet when fully engaged but sadly, they only allowed me to levitate. Twelve feet up, if I concentrated hard enough. And I could probably match his strength if I could just get my hands on him. Unfortunately, the powers that be didn’t think we Angels required much to keep the bad guys in line.
No answer from Piper other than a snort, a hack, and the sound of phlegm splattering on concrete.
So I guess I’d meet him at the top. Say hello, give him his strike, and be on my way. Although, after the crap he was putting me through tonight, I ought to give him his third strike.
I opened the door to the apartment building, didn’t see any type of security, so I took the eight flights of stairs up to the very top. The door to the roof needed a little shove, but other than that, there were no problems. Too easy, the little voice in my head was saying.
I hated that little voice. It never shut up.
Piper was pulling himself up over the wall with grunts and groans. I helped him out by grabbing his coat and dragging him to the rooftop. Then I straddled him, ripped open his shirt, and lifted up my hand to press my thumb to his chest.
He laughed. “Stupid bitch.”
I heard the sound of footsteps scrambling behind me, and the next thing I knew I was staring up at the stars, the moon, and four nice-looking men. Demons. Damn it. This couldn’t be good.
“Hi there,” one of them said. He had shoulder-length golden-blond hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes.
His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his muscular chest and one tiny thumbprint.
“Must have gotten the wind knocked out of you.” His voice was smooth and deceivingly relaxing.
I tried to sit up, but the second demon pressed his foot down on my chest.
“No need to get up,” Blondie said. Apparently, he was the leader of the pack here, and the other guys were his goons. Including Peter, who was looking increasingly nervous with each passing second.
“What do you want?” I had nothing to give them. Unless what they wanted from me was physical. But any demon knew that if he messed with an Angel there would be hell to pay. Literally.
More often than not, after a demon was deported, it only took a few months before he was permitted back onto Earth. You know, overpopulation
and all that crap. The severity of their crimes determined how long they had to serve time in Hell.
Killing, raping, or maiming an Angel meant they were trapped for eternity.
“I’m glad you asked.” The leader narrowed his twinkling blue eyes at me. “We have a message we want you to take back to the rest of the Angels.”
“Okay. What is it?” Let’s get this over with then. There was a piece of cheesecake in my refrigerator calling my name. Not to mention I had Monday night football recorded on my DVR. And it was Wednesday.
He chuckled and kneeled next to me. Two of the goons, one of them Piper, grabbed my wrists and pressed them to the gravelly rooftop. I didn’t resist. There was no way I could take all four of them.
“This is quite a treat.” He tugged on a lock of my hair. “I’ve never seen an Angel with red hair before. Not in Colorado, at least.”
I tried not to show my disgust that the fiend was touching me. My unusual looks had caused me more trouble than I’d like to admit. Red hair, brown eyes, and pale skin for an Angel was rare. It made me stand out when all I wanted to do was blend in.
“You seem pretty calm, Abigail Angel. Aren’t you afraid of us?” His warm breath swept across my face. At least this guy brushed his teeth.
I shrugged. “You all appear to be smart guys. You probably know the rules, so what would I fear?”
He smiled, all gleaming teeth and straight lines. “Sweetheart, there is much to fear.” He nodded to the goon on my left, and I felt his foot kick into my side with enough strength to make me ball my legs up in pain.
I took deep breaths to gain back some control, ignoring the deep bruising the steel-toe boot had left below my rib cage. I centered my stare on Blondie. “What do you want?” I asked again.
Satisfaction covered his face. “You see, the rules are about to change. What I want, Abigail, is for you to spread the word. Demons will no longer be policed by Angels. We refuse to be controlled. And if you attempt to do so, we’ll take action.” He slid his finger down my T-shirt, through the space between my breasts. “Do you understand?”
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