Silver-Steel

by Belinda McBride

  Dylan found the small bump inside and pressed, watching Travis for guidance. The shifter’s knees buckled, and a warm spurt of fluid released from the tip of his cockhead.

  “Oh…oh…jeez…” His head fell back, and his jaw dropped.

  Dylan grinned, enjoying the privilege of introducing him to ass play. He wrapped both their cocks in his hand and nearly lost it himself when Travis lurched into him, hands on the wall on either side of Dylan’s head. He came near for a kiss but stopped just shy of Dylan’s mouth, sharing his breath, his rapture.

  “It’s like…I’m coming and not stopping. It’s… Oh God, Dylan!” He let his body fall against Dylan, riding his finger, humping his hand.

  “Don’t come yet.” Dylan lightly bit his ear and then sucked at his throat, resisting the overwhelming urge to bear down and taste blood—an insane, possessive sensation. He wanted to mark Travis with blood, with seed, branding him forever.

  The sensations were sublime, and his legs grew weak. He pushed Travis and backed him against the other wall of the shower. He then dropped to his knees and nuzzled the wet black curls of Travis’s groin. Slipping his finger back into the shifter’s tight ass, he licked and laved the shaft from root to tip. He gripped the base of Travis’s cock and sucked it into his mouth, then used his tongue to tease at the foreskin.

  Travis didn’t quite whimper, but it was close. He thrust, and he writhed.

  Dylan felt fingers in his hair, digging and pulling, rushing him along, so he deliberately slowed his pace, pulling back till only the very tip of Travis’s cockhead pressed against his bared teeth. He glared up at his shifter. “Slow down. Do not come.”

  Travis halted, panted for breath, and nodded. He trembled, his legs wobbled, his hands shook. Dylan was arrested by the image the young man made. His cheeks were flushed, and water trickled down his face, dripped from his lips. It felt appropriate that Dylan knelt before him. Travis trusted implicitly, loved unconditionally. His courage was stunning. Drusilla had sat with Dylan briefly the night before and told him about the fight between the pack’s pregnant beta and Travis, who bravely defended his mother.

  Once, long ago, Dylan had stood in the way of others who would hurt his family and loved ones. Over the years he learned to look away. He’d mastered the ability to crush his conscience. Travis wasn’t like him. He’d never stop caring, never stop protecting, even if it cost his life.

  He bent and kissed the tip of Travis’s cockhead before swallowing the whole thing. Travis gasped and went weak. Dylan worked him, pumping, sliding his finger into the shifter’s ass, and cupping his balls with the same hand.

  “Please?” Heat radiated from Travis; he shivered with the effort to hold back.

  Without pausing, without pulling back to speak, Dylan moved faster, focusing more on the exquisitely sensitive cockhead. He reached around, dug his fingers into Travis’s muscular buttocks, and urged him faster, harder. They lost all control, all finesse—Travis fucked his mouth, and Dylan let him, struggling for breath, his eyes watering. Travis cried out, his ass clenching on Dylan’s finger. A heartbeat later, his semen burst and filled Dylan’s mouth with the taste that was so unique to the man he was with.

  Travis shuddered and froze. As he came down from the orgasm, Dylan backed off, and the shifter slid to the floor of the shower on nerveless legs. He wrapped his arms around Dylan’s shoulders, his face turned away. His panting settled, and after a few moments, he was breathing steadily. Dylan stroked his back, pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulder.

  “God, D. I thought I was the one seducing you.”

  “You did. You took me by surprise.”

  Travis cupped Dylan’s erection, and in a flash Dylan was there, aroused, wild, and completely at the young man’s mercy. Travis gripped tight, pumped fast, and hell, Dylan wasn’t just there; he was going over! He arched his back and bucked against Travis’s grip, then came in a sudden, blinding rush. Crying out, he buried his fingers into Travis’s curls, dragged his head down, and kissed him brutally, tasting blood and not letting him go until he’d weathered the final wracking shudders of his climax.

  Travis pulled back from the kiss, catching a drop of blood on his tongue. “Well, damn.” He moved his hand from Dylan’s cock to his balls and cupped them. “I want to do to you what you did to me.” He pressed gently on Dylan’s anus. “Not now, but later. You teach me, okay?”

  “Of course.” Dylan couldn’t fight the smile. “I’ll teach you other things too.” He kissed Travis again, softly this time.

  “I BET YOU will.” Travis reached up behind Dylan and turned off the cooling water. He didn’t try to stand, though. He stroked Dylan’s side, fingering the pink scar. From there he rubbed the fae’s injured arm. When this magical, exquisite creature knelt in front of him, all thought of his injuries had fled. He’d completely fallen to Dylan’s skilled hands and mouth. Even now his cock throbbed, his ass ached, and he craved that touch deep inside. He continued to stroke Dylan’s thigh, moving down his leg to where the gleaming steel circled his graceful ankle.

  “Oh… Dylan, I’m so sorry.” His throat felt tight, and guilt mingled with horror. Dylan looked down at his ankle and then glanced away. Red streaks ran up his calf; the skin around the shackle was graying. Dying. Give it a week, and the flesh would begin to putrefy. He could lose his foot to the poisoning. Travis felt sick.

  “It’s got to come off, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it does.” Dylan examined the metal, frowning over the simple yet elegant design. “Travis, who made this?”

  “Jason did. He’s my friend from Blacque’s garage. He’s fae but works with metal. Blacque wanted it made so it wouldn’t rub or hurt your skin.” He stroked the fiery marks on Dylan’s calf. “I doubt anyone will feel good about you staying here without this on.”

  “I doubt they’ll feel too good if I lose my foot. The effects of cold iron are permanent, Travis.”

  “Jesus, D!” Travis went cold. Had Jason known what the cuff would do? Why hadn’t he warned them?

  The fae pushed wet hair from his face. Without the effect of his glamour, there was no hiding Dylan’s true nature. His otherworldly beauty gleamed. His skin was as luminescent as the skin of a pearl. His snowy hair glistened, falling to the center of his back. Dylan’s hands were slender and graceful, his eyes the color of the finest emerald. Travis looked at him, and that inner sensation surged forth. Not lust, but his other passion. He’d squashed it many times, but it kept coming back, even in his dreams. He wanted to capture Dylan, put his image on canvas. He wanted to mix paint, to duplicate the delicate colors that composed the fae’s essence.

  Hell, he’d donated most of his supplies to the high school ages ago. Now when he was unable to stand the urge, he used a number 2 pencil or an ink pen. He looked at the shimmering bands around Dylan’s wrists and neck. They were beautiful but unsettling. He’d memorized them, drawn them, and taken them to Pim and Kell, hoping they could tell him what the markings meant. They’d looked puzzled, as though reading script that was foreign yet familiar.

  “I bet Jason can fix this so the metal doesn’t touch you.” Travis began to shiver as the water dried on his skin. Yet neither of them moved. Water dripped from the showerhead, just inches from where they sat.

  “Jason. Is he the young blond man who visited?”

  “You met him?”

  Dylan glanced away, reaching out of the stall for a towel. He began blotting water from his hair. “I believe so. A young fae visited when I was first waking. He said you were upstairs with your family.”

  Travis was puzzled. Why hadn’t Jason mentioned he’d talked to Dylan? He’d come down only to fit the cuff. He hadn’t come by since that visit. Even Pim and Kell had been reluctant to visit Dylan. It was odd; he’d have imagined their curiosity would have brought them to the house. In fact, the three fae were his best friends, and since Dylan had arrived in Arcada, he’d seen them rarely. Were they avoiding him?

  T
he only difference in his life was Dylan.

  Travis stood and reached down to assist Dylan to his feet. He didn’t appear to suffer, but he moved slowly. They dressed, Dylan in his sweats, Travis in jeans. The fae combed his wet hair, then deftly braided it back, revealing the beautiful arches of his ears. The tilt of his green eyes echoed their upward sweep.

  Travis had been totally occupied with Dylan and the rogues since the fight. His friends weren’t avoiding him; he’d simply not been available.

  Travis opened the door back into the bedroom and followed the steam out into the cooler air. He stopped in his tracks, and Dylan rested a hand on his shoulder, trying to avoid running into him.

  “Dad.”

  Dane Blacque stood before them, leaning against the frame of the door. He wasn’t as tall as Lukas or as broad, but there was no doubt that the alpha filled the space more than any wolf in the pack. Travis swallowed hard, aware that tears were starting in his eyes.

  “We were worried.” He stood uncertainly, noting Dane’s gaze settling on the fae. Immediately the alpha glanced down at Dylan’s steel-clad ankle, though the metal wasn’t visible.

  “I was detained. Unavoidably.” He smiled slightly, and Travis stepped forward, surprised when he found himself in Dane’s embrace. Dane held on to him tightly—so tightly he hurt all the way to his heart. Travis buried his face in the alpha’s shoulder just for the briefest moment.

  “Damn it, Dad. I was scared. We were all scared.”

  “I was too. But I’ll tell you later.”

  “Why didn’t you call us?” He broke loose and looked up at Dane. His black hair was always a bit long, but it had grown out farther. He was wearing clean clothes, but old dirt streaked his face, and he could have used a shower.

  Speaking of showers… Travis flushed in embarrassment.

  “Dad, this is Dylan Ryve.”

  Dane reached out and offered his hand to Dylan. Again his glance dropped to Dylan’s ankle. “I’ve heard what you did for Travis here. You kept my boy alive and safe. Thank you.” He shook the fae’s hand. “Now sit down. I need to see how botched up your leg is.”

  Dylan lifted a brow coolly but didn’t argue. He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his ankle on Travis’s cot. Dane sat and propped the fae’s ankle on his knee. He slipped a key from his pocket and unlatched the anklet. Immediately the scent of rot filled the air, and Dylan gasped, then pressed his lips tight to remain silent. Travis swallowed against nausea. He’d had no idea it was so bad.

  “Well, shit. I’m sorry.” Dane leaned down and examined the damage. “You’ll be scarred. I can’t apologize enough. I can only say that Blacque was doing what he thought was safe. He didn’t know how toxic this would be to you.”

  “But the young gremlin who made the anklet did.”

  “As you point out, Jason is young. He’s very inexperienced and probably afraid. I’m sure he overreacted. He’s immune to iron alloys and probably had no idea how badly this would damage you.”

  Travis wanted to come to the defense of his friend, but the damage to Dylan was too severe. Poisoning ran up his leg in fiery streaks, and the circle around his ankle ate into the flesh. He couldn’t believe Jason had that sort of cruelty in his heart.

  “Travis, your mother’s upstairs. Would you bring her down, see if she’s got any ideas on how to treat this?”

  “Back in a flash.” Travis ran for the stairs, fleeing from guilt and embarrassment and gut-deep relief at the alpha coming home.

  “SO YOU SAVED my son. Then you screwed him.”

  Dane didn’t move, keeping his gaze on Dylan’s face.

  “You saved him a second time, then ended up here, even after the town rejected you. Why is it I get the impression you’re a hell of a lot more dangerous than any of those rogues?”

  “Because I am.”

  Dylan wanted to move, to get away from the touch of this alpha wolf. He’d felt and been impressed by the power emanating from Lukas Blacque, but this older wolf’s energy was off the charts. And all of that amazing focus was centered on Dylan.

  “How’d you know how bad it was?” He gestured to his ankle.

  “Logic. Blacque told me you were old and powerful. He had Jason cuff you with steel. That kid’s cautious and edgy. If he agreed to using iron on you, then he perceives you as a threat. And old fae like you don’t take well to iron or steel.”

  Dylan nodded in acknowledgment of his words. He liked Dane Blacque. In another place and time, they might have been friends. But in the here and now, Dylan had to convince the wolves to free him, to let him heal, and more important, to give him the freedom to finish his hunt.

  “My son is brilliant.”

  Dylan looked steadily at the alpha wolf. Most people would assume the alpha spoke of his elder son, but he knew better.

  “He is. And his mind is restless. That’s why he tends to…run amok.” He couldn’t hold back the smile. Dane smiled back.

  “You understand him, then. He’s more dominant than he gives himself credit for, but he doesn’t want to lead. Blacque didn’t either, but he can’t escape his own nature to be an alpha. Travis, though… His contributions will be different. Great, if he finds himself.”

  “He doesn’t want to be at the bottom of the pack structure. He’s afraid of fighting, so he seeks confrontation to defy that fear. He craves structure yet is a free spirit.”

  “Do you love him?” Dane leaned forward. Dylan sat up straight, fighting the urge to retreat.

  “I barely know him, Dane. And he barely knows me.”

  “That’s not what I asked. I know damn well the fae don’t mate like shifters do. They claim their partner. They draw blood and mark their lover. Gender isn’t an issue. Reproduction isn’t an issue. Fae like you fall hard and fast, and while you don’t have the whole ‘mate for life’ thing going on, you guys are pretty permanent. For you, love isn’t just a gift; it’s a weakness that can be exploited.”

  Dylan literally felt the blood drain from his face. Dane Blacque spoke the truth, but it couldn’t be the case. He tried to recall the last time he’d been in love. It had been in another life, another world completely.

  “No. I am far too old.”

  He paused when Dane laughed.

  “I’ve been accused of being a cradle robber, but my target was only decades younger than me. You must be older than Travis by a century, maybe more.”

  “Much more,” he whispered through stiff lips. “I don’t know that I am capable of love.”

  “Of course you are. That and the bite on Travis’s lip are all that’s keeping me from slapping a steel collar around your neck and dragging your ass out of town.” He let loose of Dylan’s leg. “That metal had to hurt. Badly.”

  Dylan nodded.

  “And I’ll bet you didn’t complain once. Not to Travis, anyway. See, you don’t want him upset. You don’t want him feeling bad for something he has no control over.”

  Dylan looked away, every word lodging in his heart like iron-tainted arrows. He cursed the alpha, and he cursed Travis. He cursed himself for being so vulnerable, for falling so easily.

  “You’re dominant. It oozes from your pores. Yet he commands you. Because of that, you won’t do anything to hurt my son, will you.” It wasn’t a question.

  Dylan raised his chin slightly. He met Dane’s dark, sharp gaze. A brief shake of the head was all the alpha needed—and all he had to give. Because the geas was far more powerful than any love or compassion he might feel for anyone. He’d already hurt Travis; the kid just didn’t know it yet. Thanks to the wolves, he knew exactly who his prey was, knew what he looked like and where he lived.

  For a moment he considered not following through, not fulfilling the hunt.

  The geas screamed at the thought—the brands burned his skin. He winced, grateful the wolf would blame the iron poisoning for his pain.

  “It is unlikely your son is as bonded to me as I am to him. When I am healed, I will leave.” His heart twisted at
the words. It wasn’t the artificial pain of the enchantment, but true grief of his heart. He’d loved unwisely and would suffer the cost.

  “Quite the sacrifice, Dylan. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that, then.” Dane turned his head. “Here they come.”

  The door swung open, and Travis entered. He held the door for Melody and Lukas. Blacque and his father locked gazes, a wealth of information passing between them. Travis noticed, and his expression went carefully blank.

  Dylan was pretty damn sure Dane hadn’t hugged Lukas when he came home. Nor would he have chased off Blacque’s vampire. His intervention might make Travis feel weak, but in reality, it should make him feel cherished. Dane loved his children fiercely, and if this behavior was indicative of his parenting, he knew them all individually. Dylan remembered following Travis through a dream, watching how his boy kept to the fringes of his world. They’d allow him in if he found the courage to enter.

  “Mel, you think there’s anything you can do for iron poisoning?” Dane pushed the cot away from the bed, giving her room to sit next to him and examine the injury. Dylan looked up and saw that Lukas Blacque was staring at the wounds. He’d gone pale. He was tough, but he wasn’t cruel. He hadn’t realized what that shackle would do to a fae. Dylan had stifled a simmering anger toward the big shifter, but seeing the remorse lurking on Blacque’s face took him a long way toward forgiveness.

  Melody sniffed the air and probed the raw circle, then traced the red lines of the poison. Her fingers were gentle, and he felt a distinct thread of healing in her touch. Dylan looked at her, and she flushed slightly.

  There was more to this entire family than met the eye, because Melody was the only shifter who actually scented the wound. An instinctive survival mechanism in his body masked the smell of the infection. That was why Travis hadn’t known how bad it was.

  “I can make a salve. Most of the ingredients are at my house. Dylan, I’ll put several herbs in a base of emu oil. There are components in the oil that heal burns and reduce scarring. The herbs will soothe and also draw out the poison.”