Monsters

by Rob Knight editor

  "I've marked you with my bite."

  "So I felt."

  "If I should die tonight-" Saxton didn't want to hear it, but Kyran made him listen. "You have to listen to this. If Elias should win, he'll spare me no mercy, but as the new Alpha, he'll have no choice but to honor clan law and leave all that's mine in peace. The council will make him adhere to the rules. By wearing my mark, you'll be safe."

  "I can protect myself."

  Kyran kissed the bite, licking away the tiny ring of blood. "No doubt, but this way you won't have to. Consider it a gift for all you've given me."

  "And if you win the challenge, what does the mark mean, then?"

  Kyran leaned over him with a predatory gleam. "Guess you'll have to stick around and find out."

  *** The arena was packed on each side, as Kyran had known it would be. Every member of Clan Thorn, from the nursing babes at their mother's breasts to the feeblest of elders, filled the stands and spilled from the entryways. They'd come to see a fight and Kyran had no doubt they were going to get it. He stood in the door of the northern hold, ready to shed his ceremonial robes as soon as the orator called him forth. Saxton wanted to stand with him, but Kyran wouldn't allow it. He asked Saxton to wait in the Alpha's private box instead. People would talk, of course, but Kyran didn't care. If he survived, he wanted no doubts among his subjects as to the position Saxton held in his life.

  "Lord Durand, to the ready." The orator's voice traveled over the hushed crowd with the force of steel. Kyran dropped his covering and willed his body to change. The crowd went wild as the white wolf stepped through the arched opening of the hold and stepped to the center of the arena where the orator stood.

  The man gave Kyran a tight nod and fixed his eyes on the door of the southern hold. "Elias Luzerne, to the ready."

  Kyran tensed, expecting to see a dark wolf come barreling from the hold. Instead, a small boy of no more than ten came forward. He was the black-haired, younger image of Elias, and he was carrying a white bough that Kyran could smell from across the distance. Night blooming jasmine. The symbol of surrender.

  The boy nodded to the orator and approached Kyran on shaking legs, holding the flowers in front of him like a shield. Kyran kept still, afraid of frightening the child any more than he already was. When Elias’ son was just inches away from him, Kyran opened his mouth and took the jasmine from his hand. The orator waited until the transaction was completed before addressing the dumbstruck crowd.

  "Let it be known that on this, the first night of the crimson moon, Elias Luzerne has, through his oldest male heir, publicly declined the blood challenge set forth by our own Lord Kyran Durand, Alpha of Clan Thorn." He then bowed to Kyran as the child returned to the hold. "Long may you reign."

  The crowd once again exploded, applauding a victory that just didn't feel right to Kyran. Elias wanted the Alpha position enough to kill for it. Even if he believed himself incapable of winning the fight, he wasn't the type to decline a challenge and accept a lifetime of disgrace. Maybe Saxton could help him make sense of it all. Kyran looked to the box where Saxton was seated. What he saw made his heart stop.

  Elias was standing fifty feet above Saxton. Even in the red glow of the moon, Kyran could see the flash of metal as Elias raised the gun in his right hand and aimed it at Saxton's head. Kyran spat the jasmine from his mouth and howled out a warning, but the sounds of the crowd drowned him out and those who did hear thought he was simply relishing his victory. He darted forward, but even as he moved, he knew he wouldn't make it in time. He watched in helpless terror as Elias fired his weapon and Saxton slumped in his seat. A rage unlike anything he'd ever known flowed from Kyran's every pore as he charged through the stands, eyes narrowed on his target.

  The crowd parted as Elias raised his weapon again, this time at Kyran. He was just about to squeeze the trigger when a fleeing bystander bumped his arm. The shot went wild and the weapon flew from his hand, clattering to the ground several rows away. Realizing he had no defense, Elias fled like the coward he was. Kyran gave him no quarter, advancing with calculated speed. He chased Elias to the top row of the stands and slowed to a crawl, each deliberate step a reminder that Elias had nowhere to go.

  For his part, Elias was hysterical. He fell to his knees and began to beg for mercy.

  "You can't kill me. I surrendered." Kyran took another forward step.

  "This is about your precious lover, isn't it?" Elias half spoke, half sobbed the question. "Damn you, you gave me no choice. I had to kill him -- kill both of you -- for this to work. Please, don't-" Kyran wasn't listening. All he could hear was the shot. Visions of Saxton, slumped and dying, seared his brain. His grief was so concentrated, Kyran didn't notice Elias’ right hand as it slipped behind his back to the waistband of his black pants. Just as Kyran was upon him, Elias brought forth a hunting knife and lifted it over his head. He was about to bring it down in a sweeping blow to Kyran's spine when his face froze and the knife fell from his fingers.

  Elias surged to his feet, causing Kyran to fall back a couple of paces. He brought both hands to his head and released an inhuman howl that shook the whole of the arena. "No! Ah, God, no!" He twisted in a violent arc against the railing at the top of the stands, trying in vain to make the phantom pain stop. Kyran had only seen such a reaction once before, but...

  He whirled to see Saxton walking toward them, clutching a bloody shoulder. An all-encompassing relief made Kyran's knees go weak. He was about to go to Saxton when a metallic crack drew his attention back to Elias. Kyran turned in time to see the railing give way. Elias’ eyes rolled back in his head as he plummeted from the top of the twelve-story structure, but Kyran spared him only a passing glance as he raced to Saxton, shifting as he went. Kyran was dimly aware of being stark naked in front of his entire clan, but he didn't care. He enfolded Saxton in his arms, careful not to jar his wound. His voice was harsh in Saxton's ear. "I thought I'd lost you."

  Saxton melted into him. "Either he's a lousy shot, or I moved out of his sights at the last moment. Whatever happened, he only winged me." Kyran kissed Saxton's temple as Nuncio rushed forward and covered him with the robes he was holding. Nuncio was shaking so badly it took him a full minute to accomplish the task. "The both of you nearly did me in. I thought you were both dead men."

  "Saxton saved me." Kyran slipped his arm around Saxton's waist and led him down the steps. "Your rushing to my rescue is becoming a habit, one I could get used to. It's like having my own knight in shining armor."

  "I didn't mean to kill him, but I'm not sorry he's dead."

  Kyran led him down the last of the risers toward one of the waiting doctors. "You didn't kill him, Saxton. He killed himself with his treason."

  "Kyran, there's something-"

  "Shh. You can tell me later. Let the doctors take care of you while I deal with the mess Elias left behind."

  "But-" Kyran cut him off with a soft kiss on the lips. "Later." He stepped back, his eyes shinning. "I'll come to you, soon. I swear it."

  Saxton visibly relaxed and allowed the doctors to whisk him away.

  *** Cleaning up Elias’ mess turned out to be harder than Kyran thought. Elias’ wife and children were terrified, afraid his deeds would earn them expulsion from the clan, while the rest of the Luzerne family had to be questioned as to their part in his treachery. In the end, Kyran drafted a writ of protection for Elias’ widow so that she and the children would not be persecuted for her husband's actions and then he made each remaining Luzerne swear public fealty to him. The last of his tasks was presiding over a small ceremony in front of the clan council whereby each head of every family in the clan came forward and pledged their loyalty to him as Alpha. It was nothing more than a formality, his place having been secured the minute he faced down Elias, but it was time consuming and Kyran was impatient to get to Saxton. Finally, as the sun was beginning to rise, Kyran opened the door to his bedroom.

  Saxton was lying against the pillows, his arm and shoulder swathed i
n heavy bandages. The doctor, an old friend of Kyran's father named Paxton, bowed as Kyran came in. "I've bandaged Lord Talcott's wounds, Excellency. The bullet pierced the muscle but avoided all the major arteries and vessels. Given our natural healing abilities, I'd say he'll be good as new in three or four days."

  "Thank you, Paxton. I'm in your debt." Paxton's dark eyes twinkled. "Actually, I owe you for the most exciting show I've seen in all my sixty-five years." He clapped Kyran on the back. "Your father would have been proud." He turned to go, but then stopped and said, "Before I forget, I left some pain medicine on the bedside table, just in case. Good luck getting him to take it. Lord Talcott is proving to be quite a challenge. Let's hope you're up for it." Kyran laughed. "I think I can handle him." The doctor smiled and left, leaving Kyran and Saxton alone for the first time since before the challenge.

  "Lord Talcott? That's the second time he's called me that."

  "You'd better get used to it. The whole clan will be calling you that soon. It's their way of showing they accept you as my mate." When Saxton didn't respond, Kyran began to sweat. The white shirt and tan pants he'd donned to address the council suddenly felt confining and hot. Why wasn't Saxton saying anything? Was he going to leave, to walk out, to...

  "I love you. I tried to tell you back there, but you wouldn't let me. Anyway, I just thought you ought to know." Those words, spoken so matter-of-factly, released Kyran from his torment as he strode to the bed and gathered Saxton up so that there was no space at all between them. "Why the hell didn't you say something, sooner? I've been dying inside, wondering when you were going to walk away from this, from us."

  Saxton pulled back, confused. "I told you I was through running right before we made love for the first time."

  "I know, but I thought... never mind." Kyran rubbed Saxton's nose against his own. "I believe this is the part where I tell you that I love you too."

  "You'd better. I sure wouldn't give up everything I've worked for to come and live in another godforsaken clan with someone who only held a mild affection for me."

  Kyran's expression turned serious. "Can you really live here with me? Because if not, I meant what I said. I'll turn all this over to Nuncio and never look back if it's what you need." Saxton shook his head. "When I saw Elias holding that knife over your back, it all became clear to me. I don't care where we live, or what I have to face. You strengthen me, Kyran. As long as I have you, I have everything I need."

  Kyran started to speak, but thought better of it. No use ruining the moment when Saxton had just said the only words Kyran ever needed to hear. Besides, there would be plenty of opportunities to talk, later. A lifetime's worth.

  Smoke

  By Sean Michael

  It was supposed to be a joke. A lark.

  A dare. They'd gone to the forest in the national park just after dusk and hiked a hundred yards or so in. It was far enough they couldn't see any sign of the parking lot or the little visitor's hut that had maps and washrooms, far enough that civilization felt a long way away.

  Mark drew the circle and lit the candles and it seemed suddenly darker outside of the circle. Bren read the incantation as the wind died down. Jill and Vanessa threw the ingredients in one by one, but it was Jeff himself who stepped into the circle and called for the pleasure demon, the winged one, the incu…incu… incubus. Yeah, that was it.

  They all laughed when the wind picked up enough to send leaves into the circle, but as it kept blowing and snuffed out the candles, one after the other... It didn't seem quite so funny. The air seemed suddenly chilled and then hot, pulling at Jeff's clothes. It was like a bad movie, only... well it wasn't, it was real. Smoke started to curl around him, coming up from the ground beneath his feet, wrapping around his legs, almost silver in the moonlight. Jeff turned to step out of the circle, spooked, but he couldn't move, legs hobbled by the smoke.

  "Guys..." His friends didn't answer him and he turned his head, looking for them. He couldn’t see anything but smoke dancing on the wind.

  The mist traveled higher, circling his thighs, seeming to squeeze, the trees suddenly dark, looming. He tried to move again, to pull his legs free of the... smoke -- how could smoke be like ropes?

  "Mark, help me!" Damn it, they'd left him as soon as things got scary. He was going to kill them when he got out of this.

  "Shh..." He smelled something earthy, dense, heard a low, sibilant chuckle.

  "Oh, fuck." Oh, shit, it was supposed to be a joke. They were just fooling around, like everyone did for Halloween. They weren't really trying to call anything up.

  "Mark!" He didn't care if he sounded like a little girl screaming, he wanted help.

  His voice seemed to echo and echo, the smoke heavier, seeping into his clothes. "Not Mark..."

  "Okay... I take it back. I uninvoke thee." He waved his arms, trying to dissipate the smoke, but it just grew thicker, swirled around his arms, holding them in place as tightly as it held his legs.

  "You offered me a price, pretty human..." The voice, low and deep, bass, rumbling, came from all around him.

  "A price? What price?" He didn't remember a price. There was no price.

  "Pleasure, pretty. You promised me pleasure..." "Oh." It was more squeak than word and he jerked as he automatically tried to back up, to back away. Well that didn't sound too terrible. Of course, this was a demon and one demon's pleasure was another man's pain. He squeaked again. The mist cupped his balls, weighed them, the smoke becoming fingers, rolling, squeezing.

  He gasped. "What are you doing?"

  "Are you an innocent?" A pressure slid along the cleft of his ass.

  "Not that innocent! Stop that!" It was as if he had no clothes on at all, the smoke just melting through his jeans.

  "Stop what?" There was that damned laugh again, low and wicked. It made a shiver go down his back. This... demon was going to play with him. To taunt him, he could feel it in the insistent weight of the smoke and that laugh. Something hot and wet like a tongue, but rough as a cat's, brushed his neck, slid around his throat. Oh. Fuck. He whimpered, body going stiff. All of it. From his toes to his hair and all points in between. Including his cock. Oh, God, how could he be liking this?

  "Mmm... see? Your body knows how to pay its debts." "I..." He what? Didn't want it? That was patently untrue and more than just his cock knew it. He was scared was what he was. This... thing was holding him down, up, whatever, with smoke. One wrong step and he could be hamburger meat. Hell, that might be the ultimate plan anyway. Oh, and hell might not have been the best word to use either. And fuck was out and, okay, another squeak would do. He licked his lips, moaning at the sensation of his own tongue on his lips.

  "You." The pressure against his hole increased, something tugging and pulling at his cock. He tried not to think about it, just to feel, because that something wasn't a hand and the tongue that licked at his skin was long and rough and most definitely not human. Tingling and sharp, rough, that tongue left his skin raw and throbbing, aching, nerves on fire. He would have pulled away from the touch if he could have. He would have run as far and as fast as his legs would take him, only they were still trapped in the web of smoke. For that was all there was, still, despite the very solid and very real feeling sensations. "What if this is a dream, pretty? What if you're just stoned? Hard. Needing. Your friends watching?"

  Oh, fuck. He shook his head. No, no, they would have taken him back to the car, or. Or. Something... That chuckle came again, something like teeth on his throat.

  He didn't understand, he thought he was supposed to be enjoying this -- wasn't that what the... demon wanted? He swallowed, a shiver working its way from the bottom of his spine up into his head. His cock though, was still hard, blood throbbing through the swollen flesh. His jeans were opened, the zipper seeming to slide down on its own, his cock pushing out, dark and heavy. This was fucked. Maybe he was high. It couldn't be real. Nope. Couldn't be. "Mark? Jill? Help me out here, okay?"

  "You have to try harder than that
..." The smoke circled his cock, pressing against the slit, trying to get inside him.

  "You're not real." He shook his head, wishing it to be true with all his might. That smoke wasn't real -- it couldn't get inside him, couldn't.

  "I'm not?" The pressure grew stronger, a stretch in cock and ass. He shuddered, pleasure and pain and fear twisting together inside him.

  "I don't feel real?" Oh, fuck. Inside him. The smoke, the heat was inside him.

  "No. I mean. Yes." He whimpered. He had no clue what he meant, but damn the smoke felt real. Really real. "Yes." The pressure inside him began to move, to swell, his entire focus on the sensations, the tingling throughout him. He'd never felt anything like it, never been stretched so wide -- and in his cock! He cried out, shuddering with fear and pleasure both. That caused a low purr to sound, an electricity sparking in his nipples, a sting to the length of his throat. He whimpered, wanting to deny the pleasure, to scream out his horror and fear, but any scream he might make would be colored by that pleasure as well, by the fact that he was no longer fighting the smoke, no longer praying to take it back.

  He could smell his own need and the wind and the earth and smoke and ash of the being in the circle with him. He was supported and filled by the smoke -- it was all around him and in him and he couldn't see beyond it anymore, couldn't see the trees or the ground. Just smoke that he knew was more than just smoke.

  "Pretty. So pretty." The voice swirled about him, the motions against him, inside him, inexorable. He couldn't catch his breath to answer, or even to breathe. The motions sped, lights sparking behind his eyes, almost flames. He felt like he was going to explode, held together by only the demon's smoke. "Give me my due, human. Give me what I am owed."

  He shook his head, terrified that once he came, once his pleasure was offered to the demon, he would be destroyed.

  The pleasure intensified, became almost painful. "You will." He cried out, the pleasure rolling through him, too much to bear. With a scream he came. The smoke grew corporeal, the hands and fingers and arms touching him a deep, dark black. He swallowed hard, the danger suddenly so much more real with the demon truly, really there. One ebony hand raised, a forked tongue lapping his seed from the long digits.