Silver-Steel

by Belinda McBride

  “Been practicing.” He announced triumphantly.

  Dylan eyed him suspiciously. “With whom?”

  Travis scrambled till he was positioned between Dylan’s splayed legs. “My toothbrush. Just had to figure out how to get past the gag thing.”

  “Well, you were successful. I’m impressed.” He chuckled and clapped his hands. He stopped when Travis tugged firmly at his balls. When Dylan froze, Travis tapped a finger over his hole.

  “I want this.”

  If it was possible, his cock got harder; his heart beat faster. Travis knelt before him like a supplicant, but he was taking control. He’d been tentative but was falling into his comfort zone, alternately teasing and bullying. Dylan groped under the pillow, found the lube he’d left there, and pushed it down the bed.

  Obviously Travis had done this before, even if it hadn’t been with another man. He lubed his fingers and carefully prepared Dylan. Dylan’s breath hitched as Travis pressed, then slipped in a finger.

  “Relax. How long since you’ve…?”

  “Years. I’m usually the top.”

  “I noticed.” Travis spoke lightly but was dead serious.

  As Dylan watched his face, it was clear Travis knew what this cost him, how close to the bone such intimacy cut. Dylan cupped his balls and canted his hips, chasing the serenity that would allow him to accept this invasion without pain.

  “Bear down.”

  Dylan nodded, biting his lip. Travis began to thrust his finger, and Dylan looked up at the young man’s face, the grim lust and determined concern. He wanted Dylan so badly but was afraid to hurt him, to do something wrong. And like magic, Dylan melted at his touch, relaxing and letting him into his body.

  The sensation was frightening and intimate and so sublime. He lay back, his arms crossed up over his head, and let his eyes close and simply experienced the sensation. He felt Travis add more lube and another finger, gently coaxing him to open. He then felt something softer than a finger, larger, and far more invasive. He opened his eyes, caught the shifter’s gaze, and let him see his complete trust.

  It happened quickly but took forever. Travis looked agonized, lines furrowed between his eyes, his mouth set. He pressed forward and then retreated in a long, mind-shattering slide. Another advance, and when he drew out, his cockhead dragged over the gland in Dylan’s passage.

  “Ah!” He shuddered. “Yes…more of that…”

  So it began. Long, slow strokes, masterful control from the young, brash shifter. He slammed into Dylan’s ass and then withdrew for several agonizing heartbeats. He thrust deep, then shallow. And by the gods, Dylan suddenly realized why so many people wanted to fuck Travis Feris. Dylan was helpless…putty in his hands. Raw fucking turned into lovemaking, and they were face-to-face, their breath mingling, lips brushing.

  Travis was moving close to his climax, and their rhythm staggered. Sweat broke out on their skin and merged together in a perfume that was unique to Travis and Dylan. Sounds escaped—breathless moans and loving curses.

  “Come with me,” Travis whispered in his ear. Or maybe that was Dylan speaking, pleading on so many levels. He rose fast, feeling the sweep of orgasm as it filled his body with heat and wild, uncontrollable need. Travis kissed him again and then, without moving, spoke against his lips.

  “I love you, D. Love you, love you, love you…”

  And they were there, together. Their bodies writhed. Dylan’s semen was slick between them even as Travis filled him with heat. Travis plunged deep and held, while Dylan’s body clamped down, desperately pinning him, drawing the climax out, never letting it end.

  When it did end, they were broken, ruined, and without strength to move. Travis started to roll away, but Dylan held him in place even after they’d separated. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his eyes, so he squinted, blocking out everything but the sound of their breathing.

  “Don’t cry, babe.” Travis sounded shaken.

  “Cry?” He opened his eyes and looked at the vision above him through a veil of tears. Travis ran a finger over his cheek, catching the salty trails. Even his ears were wet. “I’m crying?” He reached up to feel for himself.

  “Yeah, you are.” His eyes were suspiciously bright as well. “Guess I’m just that good in bed, eh?”

  Chapter 20

  Travis woke alone.

  Before even opening his eyes, he felt Dylan’s absence. It wasn’t simply from the bed, but from the room, the house itself. Nevertheless, he got up and checked the tiny bathroom and shower. He then carefully dressed, staring at the spot where the black suitcase had been sitting.

  After they’d made love, they’d both been shattered, almost too weary to rise and shower away the sweat and semen. They’d gently dried each other with soft towels, lingering over the experience. It had seemed ritualistic—lovers preparing themselves for the pain of separation. While Dylan hadn’t said good-bye, he’d clearly told Travis how he felt and how much the split pained him.

  Travis sat at the end of the bed, fingers linked, hands dangling between his knees. He felt empty. Void.

  On the floor next to the wardrobe was the box containing Dylan’s keepsakes. He’d deliberately left it behind, and somehow Travis knew that couldn’t be a good thing. He stood, picked up the box, and carried it upstairs. When he entered the kitchen with its big, family-sized table, he wasn’t surprised at all to find his family assembled. What did surprise him was the presence of Kell, Pim, and Jason, who paced, clearly agitated.

  Swallowing hard, he took the open chair next to his mother, sat down, and carefully set the box on the table. He adjusted it till it sat squarely before him.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  He didn’t say it with sarcasm. He didn’t even look around to see how the family took it. A cup of coffee was placed in front of him, along with a massive cinnamon roll. His mother always knew…

  His breath caught, and he pushed back a sob. He’d made his choice. He was a shifter of Arcada. When truly faced with the choice, he could not leave his home and family.

  Pim leaned across the table and pushed a small, simple package toward him. He took a deep breath and touched the gold-foil paper with the tips of his fingers.

  “He commissioned this and asked us to deliver it.” Her voice was grave. “Please open it, Travis.”

  It wasn’t wrapped or taped, so the box opened easily. He lifted the pendant from the tissue and let it dangle from his fingers by the chain.

  “He had me reproduce the original in platinum so you wouldn’t burn.”

  It was the pendant that symbolized Dylan’s family. Melody sat next to him, and she placed her hand over his arm. “Dylan is from a very old, royal family. The tree symbolizes their traditional role as forest guardians. The leaves and acorns around the border show the rank of the family. He’d have been a crown prince, directly in line for the throne.”

  He continued to stare at the pendant. It was beautiful, and all his life he’d look at it and remember.

  “Please accept his gift, Travis,” Pim said.

  He nodded and slipped the chain over his head. It slid under his shirt and settled against his heart.

  “Now…” Pim pushed a worn pouch toward him. He recognized it, yet he’d seen it only once. Inside lay the original silver pendant. Dylan’s pendant. Though the metal stung, he lifted it out and cradled it in the palm of his hand.

  “That should be burning the hell out of your skin!” Blacque took the chain between his callous fingertips and set it back on the pouch. Travis stretched his unmarked hand, showing it to his brother.

  “It tingles a little, but that’s all.” He frowned. “You’re right. It should have burned.”

  In sudden comprehension, he looked at his mother. She flushed and dropped her head.

  “Silver has never bothered me much, not like it does the others.” He continued to stare at his mother, his heart slamming in his chest.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

  �
��The traditional healer who taught you…?”

  “Was my grandfather. He was fae. My grandmother refused to leave her people to join him, so she raised my mother on her own. He visited often.”

  “Well sh—dang it, Mama!”

  “No wonder he and Dylan connected.” Lukas grinned at him. “Always knew there was something airy—”

  “Don’t go there, Lukas!” He glared daggers at his brother. “Who else knew about this?” He glowered around the table, meeting the gazes of his siblings, his father, and uncle. All appeared as surprised as he. He relaxed a little; no one was looking at him differently. No one seemed angry at his mother or contemptuous of him.

  So maybe it wasn’t that bad.

  “Well, to be fair, Oliver suspected, but we never really got into it.” Blacque was still struggling with his grin.

  “We also suspected, as did Jason,” said Pim. He looked over at Jason. The young fae still paced the kitchen, staring out the windows at the snowy yard. “But we didn’t know if it was a secret or if you were aware.”

  “I wonder if Dylan knew.” It sort of shook him that he spoke of his lover in the past tense.

  “I think he suspected,” Melody said. “I have a minor healing gift. Nothing like my grandfather, but it helps. He seemed to sense it.”

  “He never said anything.” Once again the heavy feeling of loss settled upon Travis. His shoulders slumped; his vision dimmed a bit.

  “Are you going to tell them? Tell him what that fae really is?”

  “Jason, no. We don’t know for sure.” Pim stood, and Kell pulled her back down.

  “I do! I know!” Jason stomped to the table and glared at every one of them. “He wasn’t a good man—not at all.”

  “That isn’t true.” Pim continued to defend Dylan. “We don’t know that. It’s a…a fairy tale.”

  “Know what?” Dane’s voice was a low growl. “Jason, tell us what you’re talking about. We’ll judge for ourselves.”

  The young fae crossed his arms defensively, but anger sparked from his very essence. Travis felt his heart thudding. Jason was his friend…had been for a long time. He’d known Dylan only a month.

  “Tell us, Jason,” he said softly.

  “He’s the bogeyman. He’s the story our parents tell us to make us behave.” He reached out to Travis and then let his hands fall. “They tell us if we aren’t good, the dream hunter will come get us when we sleep,” he whispered.

  “Your parents, maybe,” Pim said wryly. Kell shrugged as though he’d never heard the story.

  Pim glared at Jason and then sighed. “Like I said, he’s like a fairy tale. An urban legend. It happened so long ago, most fae don’t believe he’s real.” She reached across and pulled the pendant back. “If I hadn’t seen this, I wouldn’t consider believing.”

  “Believing what?” Travis was shocked by his own voice. It was nothing but a harsh whisper. All around the table the family sat listening, their expressions ranging from anger to amazement to sadness. For him.

  “Long ago, maybe…I don’t know…maybe it was during the Dark Ages, there was a feud among several families of the fae. They…we tend to be territorial, especially the elvish sorts. One village sent an assassin to kill their enemies. It was to prevent a large-scale war, but this killer frightened everyone. They paid him money to do their dirty work, and then they paid him money to leave them alone.”

  Melody gasped slightly, and Travis wondered if she’d heard this story.

  “In time he began to use others to do jobs. He built an industry out of doing other people’s evil. He captured other fae, mostly of the Celtic regions, because they practiced the ritual of the geas.”

  The geas. Dylan had mentioned it without really explaining what it was.

  “The geas is a binding contract. Sometimes it’s sworn over a child upon its birth.”

  “Like CuCullin,” Dane said.

  “Exactly. CuCullin was bound at birth to two separate geas. One was to never refuse a meal offered by a woman. The other was to never eat the flesh of a dog.”

  “And his end came when a woman offered him a meal of roasted dog.”

  “Catch-22.” James leaned his chin on his fist. “So I assume Dylan was bound by a geas.”

  Pim cleared her throat uncomfortably. “There was a human village near a fae village called Homewood. This…mercenary could not enter the fae village, as it was charmed much like Arcada. So he slaughtered the humans wholesale. Among them was the human wife of a fae prince. He was a Green Man, a guardian of the wood. At night when he slept, he dreamed life into the forest.”

  Travis buried his face in his hands. “He didn’t kill her with the others. He must have figured out how to get into Homewood. He took her there and killed her in front of Dylan.” He looked at the shocked faces before him. “He showed me. In a dream.”

  Pim continued. “The story is that the mercenary set the human village on fire. Many residents of Homewood sought to rescue the villagers. In the confusion, the mercenary dragged the woman into the village. After killing her, he and his men captured the dream hunter, as he was their true target. Every time he refused to join them, they killed a member of his village. In the end he swore a geas. He’d give Ulric a thousand souls in exchange for the thousand spared.”

  A thousand lives. His Dylan had taken one thousand lives.

  “The tattoos on his arms and neck?”

  “Those are the signs of the geas. When he finishes his task, they will vanish.” Pim was pale but determined to tell the story fairly.

  “And what if he stops? What if he doesn’t complete the contract…or geas?”

  “His life is Ulric’s. Forever.”

  Nausea overwhelmed him. Travis rose, went to the sink, poured a glass of water, and drank. He then waited for the liquid to come back up. As he stood there, he noticed Dylan’s black car was still in the driveway. Jason stood next to him, looking out the window. He tugged at Travis’s sleeve.

  “I tried to stop him. I wouldn’t let him start the car. But he ran. Nearly flew.” There was a level of awe in the gremlin’s voice. Travis looked at Jason. He thought of all the times they’d worked on the Mustang together, of Jason’s skills with machines and awkwardness with people.

  “Why did you try to stop him?”

  “Because he’ll just come back for me. He’ll never stop.” His voice trembled. “He was in my dreams, Travis. Even when I was awake, I felt him searching for me. I thought…I thought it would make me crazy.”

  Oh God. His gut clenched in horror at what Dylan had almost done to his friend.

  “I suppose he was in my dreams too.”

  But Dylan hadn’t been hunting him. It was as though he’d been showing Travis, sharing who he’d once been. What he’d once been able to do.

  “Come back, Travis. There’s more.” Blacque’s gravelly voice was oddly gentle. Travis returned to his chair and sat.

  This time Jason found an empty chair and sat. “He came hunting for me, Travis.”

  “That’s why you were putting steel in the walls.”

  “I was nearly finished. Just had to do the door, and I’d have had him.”

  As though that would have held Dylan. He’d worn an anklet of steel without complaint, until it nearly killed him. His drive to leave had been powerful; he’d have braved Jason’s metal prison.

  “Dream hunter. That’s why he needed the rogues asleep to communicate with them.” He looked at Blacque in alarm. “Did he hurt them?”

  “No. From what we can see, he managed to help Deacon and Brenden break free of the demon. Calum’s still down, but he’s healing. They’re incredibly grateful to him.”

  Okay, so it wasn’t all bad news. He spoke directly to Jason. “If he was hunting you, why did he leave before taking you?”

  “Because…” A look of puzzlement entered his blue eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “And he’s now left Arcada. According to him, the demon can’t influence the rogues because of th
e town’s protection. So you must be similarly protected from him.”

  Just then Travis heard the faint chirp of a phone. Blacque checked his messages, and as he did, Travis remembered.

  “Oh dear God.” He was stricken by horror.

  “Travis, what is it?” Melody rested her warm hand over his.

  “James, do you remember the message on his phone? When we checked for an ICE number?”

  James looked confused for a moment, then grim. “It was a hash mark followed by the number one thousand and a question mark.”

  Travis was stunned. The room spun. Once he could breathe again, he looked at the young gremlin. “Jason, you were his last hunt. And you’re still here. He forfeited the hunt.”

  He’d let Jason go. He’d let him go and walked away. Forever.

  Chapter 21

  Dylan knew the moment he reached the boundary of Arcada. There was a subtle vibration in the air, and it intensified as he approached. He stood just under the kitschy WELCOME TO NORMALVILLE sign and waited. He wasn’t sure why he waited. Maybe for the rogues to rush the border? Maybe…just maybe Travis would come and drag him back to the house.

  He didn’t need to dreamwalk to sense the demonic presence befouling the air, and he focused on it, turning first in one direction and then the other, doing his best to locate it. When Arcada spoke to him, she’d told him it wasn’t his concern.

  Well, he’d make it his concern. Because if he took out the demon, he’d free the enslaved rogues and maybe free himself from Ulric. Permanently. Taking a deep breath for courage, he stepped out of the town, not looking back, not testing the border. He’d never go there again, so he faced forward and set one foot in front of the other. Nothing stirred in the forest around him. No cars were out and about on Christmas day. No wolves either. No birds in the trees and no breeze stirred the branches.

  He swallowed hard. There was nothing to do but keep walking, so he headed down the highway toward the motel, listening, smelling, simply feeling, until he knew he was no longer alone. But his companion wasn’t demonic. Not at all. The man fell in step beside him, and inwardly Dylan cursed.