“Slowly now, babe,” Devon whispered huskily. “We won’t hurt you.”
At some point, Devon had slicked up his cock, and the thick shaft nudged against Hewitt’s crease, teasing his hole. Hewitt bit his lip and clung to his mate’s shoulders as Devon helped him into position. The wolf’s big hands held onto Hewitt’s hips, guiding him. Slowly, Hewitt pushed down, impaling himself on Devon’s thick prick. Both of them moaned at the sensations exploding through them. God, it was so good, so heavenly, and they’d only just begun.
Hewitt could feel Mason’s eyes on him and Devon like a palpable caress. He lifted himself and lowered his body again, getting used to the feel of being invaded. Devon helped him by rotating his hips, and the brush of Devon’s prick against Hewitt’s special spot made stars burst in his vision. He thrust down harder, needing more of the delicious penetration, aching for everything his mates had to offer.
And then, Mason came up behind him, supporting Hewitt and stopping him from rushing. Hewitt had no idea how the two men planned to do this, but he did his best to obey Mason’s silent instructions regardless.
Devon leaned on his back, providing them with more room to maneuver. Mason gestured Hewitt to prop himself against Devon’s chest, and Hewitt therefore ended up impaled on Devon’s prick and exposing his anus to Mason. He was dizzy with anticipation, breathless with the heavy promise hanging in the air. Every nerve was awake and singing for his mates. There were no more doubts, no more fears, just passion and overwhelming sensations.
Aided by Mason’s hands, Hewitt lifted his body once again. This time, however, something different happened. Instead of allowing Hewitt to go back down, Mason thrust his prick inside him, so hard Hewitt’s teeth rattled.
Hewitt lost it. He could not hope to control in any way what was happening to him. Somehow, Mason managed to create the perfect rhythm, pulling out as Devon thrust back in. It was the most amazing thing Hewitt had ever experienced. His clenching passage was never once empty. Over and over, his mates fucked him, possessing him, branding him with their heat.
There were no words, just incomprehensible groans, moans, and growls that spoke of the true extent of their desire for each other. The little part of Hewitt’s mind that remained rational futilely struggled to take in the sensations that swamped him. It was just too much, and a person had no chance of processing the near-transcendental, carnal beauty of what was happening.
It went on and on, until Hewitt seemed to lose his very sense of self. He no longer cared about anything outside this beautiful moment. With his mates inside him, he just became a creature of pleasure, a vessel for the love they offered and the adoration he offered in return.
Hewitt wished this moment would never end, but alas, perfection could only last for so long. With the seemingly endless flow of pleasure, he was soon on the brink of orgasm again. He attempted to stem his imminent climax, but this time, his mates were relentless, giving him no quarter. Mason buried his fangs in Hewitt’s throat and Devon followed Mason’s example.
Ecstasy exploded through Hewitt, a myriad of brilliant colors replacing reality as he knew it. He felt his mates come, and their orgasms, as well as his own, nearly stopped his breath. As if it hadn’t been enough, Mason then buried his canines in Devon’s shoulder, claiming the other wolf. Hewitt could feel his mates’ emotions, the overwhelming sensations coursing through them. There was simply no way he could keep his hold on consciousness. He floated into a dream of nirvana, shocks of pleasure electrifying both his body and his soul.
He didn’t know how long he was out, but when he finally managed to recover, he found himself lying on the bed with his mates looming above him. Mason was cleaning him with a wet cloth, while Devon held him close, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
Hewitt smiled brightly and relaxed against Devon. As Mason took position next to him, too, Hewitt distantly remembered everything that had happened today. It was so hard to believe that just hours earlier, he’d almost been killed. That memory didn’t scare him anymore, and neither did the revelation that he shared blood with a creature that might very well attempt to control the world. He was no longer only Hewitt Moore. He’d become Hewitt, mate of Devon and Mason, and that was more important than any ancestry G’aladon tried to use.
“Sleep, babe,” Mason murmured in his ear. “We have you.”
Unsurprisingly, Hewitt believed him. He believed that his mates could protect him and he could protect his mates. Still smiling, Hewitt allowed his eyes to drift shut. When slumber took hold of him, no nightmarish visions haunted his dreams.
Chapter Eight
“Are you sure about this?” Mason asked, eyeing the building in front of them with a great deal of skepticism. “How can we possibly banish G’aladon back into the astral plane from a coffee shop?”
The Magistrate opened the now-unlocked door and gestured him inside. “It wasn’t always a café,” he explained.
If anyone had told Mason he would be soon admiring the tourist attractions in Kennet, Mason would have thought they were crazy. Granted, there was a lot of mystical energy in the area, mostly centered around Stonehenge. To a certain extent, Mason wouldn’t have been surprised had the Spirit Mother chosen that area for her plan to push back G’aladon. But no, the established spot was a café in a small English village frequented by numerous tourists who annoyed Mason just by existing.
Of course, at midnight, most of those people were safely sleeping in the quaint bed-and-breakfasts in the village. They had chosen this hour so as to be able to operate without interruptions from humans.
“According to the Spirit Mother, this was once G’aladon’s home,” Dietrich spoke up. “It was the place where he surrendered his soul to become what he is now.”
Mason barely managed to suppress a shudder. He wasn’t exactly sure just how this being looked, but judging by what he knew so far, he suspected G’aladon might not be one hundred percent humanoid. After all, this mysterious creature might have originally been a witch, but that was ages, perhaps millennia ago. The Spirit Mother hadn’t exactly told them when G’aladon had walked the Earth, but Mason guessed many centuries had passed since then. He distantly wondered if they could truly take G’aladon in a fight before pushing the thought away from his mind. A powerful witch G’aladon might be, but Mason would not allow anyone to separate him from his mates.
Knowing he had no choice but to obey the instructions of those wiser than him, Mason stepped into the coffee shop. Devon, Hewitt, and a couple of their spirit wolf companions followed. They’d decided to come in groups, since even at this hour, they would draw unwanted attention if they came all at once. The Spirit Mother didn’t want to intervene until it was time.
The Magistrate and his mates were with Mason, Devon, and Hewitt, something that still surprised Mason in a way. It was hard to believe the man he’d resented for so long had become his ally. But he understood now that none of his previous anger and regrets mattered. They had more important things to worry about.
Inside, the café was much like any other establishment of this type. It was dark and quiet, but the ambience from a day of business remained the same. A myriad of scents hit Mason as he silently walked behind Wolfram, the smell of ground coffee beans, vanilla, and sugary concoctions, and of course, the distinctive aroma of humans and their emotions. Underneath it all, Mason thought he detected something different, a lingering shadow of a dark power. It was so faint that he’d have surely missed it had he not been previously acquainted with its feel. His doubts faded as he realized that the Spirit Mother might have been right after all.
Of course, actually sealing G’aladon would be much more difficult, and very risky. According to the white wolf, they would have to summon G’aladon here, which implied having Hewitt in the same place as that creature. Mason and Devon were less than pleased with the idea, but their mate had told them he didn’t fear G’aladon. It was only at Hewitt’s insistence that Mason and Devon had agreed with this crazy plan in the first
place.
Gradually, their entire group gathered inside the café. No alarms sounded, and nothing of significance happened. Other than Wolfram, Dietrich, and Fritz, almost everyone who’d participated in the expedition to rescue Hewitt had come here as well. Trent Hart, Valerius D’Averam, and Doctor Blunt were among the first to arrive after Mason’s group. After that, Daniel Lawson and his two mates, Ashton and Linden, showed up. Finally, the Magistrate’s second-in-command, Klaus, had completed the assembly together with his two lovers, Clay and Ross. Doctor Blunt’s son, Paul, had stayed behind, as had his mates.
Mason watched all those present, wondering what they knew and experienced. Linden and Ross seemed particularly glum and uncomfortable, and Mason distantly remembered that the duo had some sort of strange abilities normal spirit wolves didn’t possess. But Mason didn’t have to be a psychic to know that he might be in over his head. The foe he had to face was unlike anything and anyone he’d fought before. He and Devon had been forced to go through that unpleasant and shocking transformation just to defeat G’aladon’s minions. What would they have to do now?
Once everyone was there, Mason finally got the answer to his dilemma. The Spirit Mother appeared in the center of the café. She didn’t speak and instead walked toward what Mason guessed must be the back of the shop. In a somewhat startling development, she passed straight through the wall. Mason supposed he shouldn’t be so shocked by the display, but it still heavily brought to mind what they’d come here to do.
All those present followed her, but of course, they used the door to access the room next to them. The Spirit Mother waited for them in the center, and Mason could almost imagine her tapping her foot impatiently. Even if she looked as calm and composed as ever, something inside Mason told him she didn’t like this any more than he did.
“All right,” she said. “Hewitt, Mason, and Devon, I want the three of you holding hands in the middle. Everyone else, gather around in a circle. Hurry now. The witching hour is almost upon us.”
Everyone complied, forming the circle the Spirit Mother commanded. Hewitt, Mason, and Devon took up their triangle position in the middle. Mason knew now that nothing was accidental. They hadn’t just happened to be mates. The three of them had been brought together to support each other in ways two people never could.
Hewitt probably understood more of what was happening than Mason did. Mason just went with it, taking his mates’ hands and focusing on finding his strength. He’d helped others before, mostly ferals who had needed his assistance. He would not fail his mate.
The preparations were done just in time. At one minute from midnight, the Spirit Mother seemed satisfied with the result. Her voice echoed inside the storage room as she started to chant. There were words Mason didn’t understand in an ancient language that sent shivers down Mason’s spine. Both his mates clung to his hands tighter, obviously experiencing the same distress.
“From beyond the darkness, I summon thee,
Out of hiding, face the power of three
There is no place to run, your spirit is naught
Flesh cannot defeat what we have brought.”
A chilly wind began to blow, even if there were no windows inside the storage room. Suddenly, the ominous hint of power Mason had felt before exploded into something much more intense. Screeching laughter sounded all around them, grinding on Mason’s senses like nails on a blackboard. The storm that had appeared out of nowhere lashed out at Mason, as if trying to break him apart from his mates. Mason held on stubbornly, refusing to be intimidated. Invisible claws raked over his chest, but he didn’t even blink. Nice try, bastard, but you’re not getting Hewitt.
Devon seemed just as determined, and in spite of the power attempting to force the triangle to shatter, the three men remained together. All of a sudden, a figure manifested in front of them. At first, Mason couldn’t quite distinguish him, and then, when he got a good look at the new arrival, he felt shock course through him.
G’aladon was unlike anything Mason had ever expected him to be. Mason had imagined him looking like a monster, perhaps something along the line of the orcs he had created. Instead, he was a young man of almost inhuman beauty. His dark hair and the sharp angles of his face reminded Mason of Hewitt. Mason would have thought it an illusion, except when he gazed into G’aladon’s eyes, he saw nothingness. The being in front of them might have a beautiful body, but there was no soul inside him.
As if guessing what Mason was thinking, G’aladon arched a brow at him. “Well, well,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d be willing to make the exchange so soon. But then, the Spirit Mother was always very intelligent. Isn’t that right, my dear?”
The white wolf didn’t answer, making G’aladon laugh softly. “What did you plan to do by getting me here? I escaped the astral plane once. You won’t banish me again.”
“Want to bet?” Hewitt snapped back.
“Oh, aren’t you just precious?” G’aladon snickered. “I’m going to enjoy using your body as mine.”
“Not while we’re still breathing.” Devon growled at him.
G’aladon just shrugged one elegant shoulder. “Your wish is my command.”
It was the only warning Mason had before pain exploded through him. It was unlike the spiritual magic that Hewitt had used. It seemed something different, as if the source of the agony was artificially created deep within him. Taking into account G’aladon’s affinity, it was quite possible that the damn creature had done just that. Instead of using blunt force to hurt them, he was crushing Mason’s insides with a thought.
But still, Mason hung on. Even with the pressure that threatened to choke him, he breathed through the pain, accepting it as necessary. Even if he had been healed of the feral virus, he remained an Alpha, his powers having gone unchanged after the transformation. If anything else, he was even stronger now due to the bond he shared with Hewitt and Devon. At the same time, though, he knew that this wasn’t the full extent of G’aladon’s ability. Mason and his mates were being protected.
Mason felt Hewitt’s magic swirling around him. He focused on his bond with the witch and banished all distractions from his mind. In the background, the chanting continued as the Spirit Mother aided them with her own magic and the other spirit wolves lent a hand.
Magical energies of different types clashed together. Mason’s body protested the abuse, but he didn’t allow it to deter him. He heard G’aladon howling angrily as the creature tried to circumvent Mason’s connection with his mates, attempting to invade Hewitt’s body. Over and over, the assault continued, but never once did G’aladon manage to breach their bond. They were too strong.
And then, Mason found his vision growing dimmer, as if he was being propelled into a different world. All of a sudden, the storage room vanished, as did the other spirit wolves. Mason could still feel them there, forming a sort of thread that connected him and his mates to the real world, but they were no longer visible. The only ones still palpably there were his mates.
In this new place, there didn’t seem to be any up or down, neither light nor darkness. The space where they’d ended up was like an endless void, nothingness as far as the eye could see. Mason didn’t know how he was even still standing since there was no solid surface under his feet. He imagined this must be the astral plane, and he comforted himself with the knowledge that G’aladon didn’t have as much power here as he did in the real world.
Once more, the beautiful young man appeared. This time, he seemed furious, his arrogance having vanished as if it had never been. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Taking you down,” Hewitt replied. “I’m not one of your little orcs, G’aladon. You don’t scare me, and I’ll make sure you don’t scare anyone ever again.”
* * * *
Hewitt had wondered what he would feel like upon facing his mysterious ancestor. Now that he was in front of G’aladon, he noticed in awe that he wasn’t in the slightest bit afraid. If anything, a sort of comp
assion filled him. G’aladon’s life was absolutely empty, and the man didn’t even realize it. He’d allowed his hunger for power to kill him. Because it was clear to him that G’aladon was only a shell of a person. There was truly nothing sadder than to see something like that.
Of course, that wouldn’t stop Hewitt from pursuing their plan. If anything, he felt even more determined. He couldn’t help G’aladon, but he could keep the abomination from walking the face of the planet and destroying other people. There was no matter here, so the soulless witch had ended up in a precarious position. While it seemed clear to Hewitt that G’aladon hadn’t lost all his abilities to control the spiritual, his focus was on flesh, on pure matter, and that brought him to a disadvantage.
Hewitt’s magic flowed out of him freely, strengthened by the presence of his mates. Three was a magical number, and their triad amplified Hewitt’s powers, making them glow brighter, more intense. In the real world, he’d needed the assistance of the Spirit Mother just to face G’aladon. With her help, he had managed to drag the man here. It wasn’t enough. The Spirit Mother had explained that there was a hole in the barrier between the realms, one that had allowed G’aladon to escape in the first place. Therefore, Hewitt had to incapacitate G’aladon and keep him busy long enough to give the Spirit Mother a chance to fix that split. The worst thing was that, if they weren’t careful, Hewitt and his mates could end up stuck here as well. While Hewitt didn’t fear for himself, he refused to allow his lovers to get hurt in any way.
It was perhaps that decision that gave him the final burst of magic he needed. Even as G’aladon made one last attempt to break out of the astral plane, Hewitt blocked him and struck back with everything he had. G’aladon released a cry that seemed to shake the entire astral plane. Hewitt felt the moment when G’aladon’s resistance died. A crushing sadness struck Hewitt, and for one brief instant, his mind connected to G’aladon’s. G’aladon’s thoughts and emotions filled him, nearly choking him with their intensity. The next moment, they vanished as if they had never been, and the buzzing energy that had been clinging to Hewitt’s surreal body faded away, releasing him from its hold.
Bewitched by Their Mate [Feral 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour ManLove) Page 11
