Demon's Wish

by Xenia Melzer

  Dre’s arm tightened around him. “It was sad, I guess. Though you have to keep in mind that the early Christians were fierce in their belief. Perhaps they even felt some joy for the person who would, according to their lore, go to paradise.”

  Sammy leaned his head on Dre’s muscular chest. “What’s it like—being immortal, I mean?”

  They started walking again, toward the exit of the Catacombs. “Boring, mostly. I’m only eight hundred years old, so I don’t know that much about eternity yet, but from what my father has told me, it’s hard not to get buried under the weight of the centuries.”

  “How old is your father?”

  “Almost four thousand years. Back when he was born, things were more interesting, though. There were less humans, vast spaces where a demon could have fun—although fun in the olden days usually meant bloody war. Father is not unhappy that those days are over. Plus, he likes all the modern gadgets humanity has come up with. He’s especially fond of his iPad and Netflix.”

  Sammy frowned. “I thought demons had their own realm. Why are you even here on Earth?”

  Dre thought about this question for a moment, as if he were afraid to say something wrong. When he finally spoke, it was in a low tone, almost a whisper.

  “Because we get lonely, just like everybody else. Too many demons in one place means war, usually sooner than later. We do get along with our family and some chosen friends, but all in all, we don’t like each other too much. Father says this is a security mechanism to keep our kind from invading and conquering other realms. A demon army is pretty much unstoppable, and if we were united…” Dre shuddered. “Not a nice thought, believe me. Luckily, we can’t keep the peace among ourselves long enough to even think about invasions. And the more sophisticated the human race becomes, the more fascinated we are. Humans are a great source of entertainment for us, and Father encourages demons actually living on Earth. It makes us less restless and easier to rule.”

  They reached the gate to the Catacombs. Dre took the lock that kept the chains around the bars together, shook it and, after it made a clacking sound, opened the gate. After they had passed, he closed it again. Hand in hand, they wandered along the Appian Way, enjoying the livelier silence of the night outside. In the Catacombs, even the air had been stifling, weighed down by the gravity of time, but out here, the sounds of nocturnal animals and the distant hum of Rome made for another, lighter mood. Sammy lifted Dre’s hand to graze the knuckles with his lips.

  “Are you restless?”

  Dre stopped, turned sideways to face Sammy and kissed him softly.

  “I was. As I said, I had a rough break-up about a hundred years ago. But tonight, with you, I feel more content than I can ever remember. This may sound terribly cheesy, I know, yet being here in Rome with you is like magic. The good kind.”

  Sammy tilted his head back to get another kiss. It was just a soft brushing of lips, nothing like the wild tango their tongues had danced before. Still, it was equally deep, not with passion, but with emotion.

  “Yes, the very good kind. Do you have any other surprises for me?”

  “Insatiable, are we?”

  Sammy slapped Dre’s chest. “Somehow, you bring it out in me. The greedy, bad side.”

  “And I like it just as much. It’s already getting late, so I’ll let you choose. We can go to the Fontana di Trevi, where Anita Eckberg took her bath, or to Ostia Antica. Your choice.”

  Sammy bit his lips. “You’re not making this easy. Hm-m. Fontana di Trevi means going back into the city, where all the people are. I think I’m going to be extra greedy. I want you to myself.”

  “Ostia Antica it is.” Dre smiled broadly. “I like the way you think. Besides, we can always come back for more of Rome.” He slung his arms around Sammy’s waist. “Let’s go and I’ll show you where the Ancient Romans took their shits.”

  When they appeared in the ruins of Ostia Antica, Dre could feel Sammy’s body vibrating with excitement. Even though it was still early in the year and the typical Roman heat hadn’t had time to permeate the old stone walls like it did every summer, the air was already heavy with the scents of sage and lavender. Crickets and other insects played an even nicer concert than on the Appian Way and the stars seemed to be closer here, where the city lights were far off. When Dre had first come to Ostia Antica, he’d fallen in love with the place, even though it had been a real dump four hundred years ago. Something about the old, derelict buildings with herbs and weeds growing between the stones, salamanders scurrying across the former floors of great buildings and butterflies dancing between the columns of temples dedicated to gods long gone spoke to him, drew him in. Sammy was reaching for his hand, and taking it came so naturally to Dre that it almost frightened him. Deep down, he’d already started to hope Sammy might the one, his destined mate. They just fit so perfectly together. He liked Sammy’s nerdy nature, his social awkwardness that was gone the moment he felt in his element with a topic, his openness toward new people, the way he’d reacted to Dre, even though this was their first date. He looked down on the top of Sammy’s head and marveled at how perfectly they fit together before he pressed their joined hands to his chest.

  “Let’s stroll around a bit. Can you see well enough, or should I get us a fireball?”

  Sammy chuckled. “I’m tempted to say I need a fireball just to see it popping out of nowhere.” He leaned against Dre. “I’m good. You can always conjure one when we get to the mosaics of Neptune’s Bath.”

  “Oh, someone is back in challenge mode. Let’s see, Ostia Antica most likely started out as a military base founded after the Romans beat the neighboring city Veji. There are some hints that it may have been built by Ancus Marcius, the fourth king of Rome in the seventh century BC, but historians aren’t sure Ancus Marcius even lived, and the first mentions of Ostia Antica are from the fourth century BC.”

  “Good one, Dre. The name ‘ostia’ comes from the Latin word ostium, which means river mouth and refers to the Tiber where it was built. It served as a harbor for trade, the only rival to Alexandria and Cartago, and to ship military. When the water of the Ostian Sea receded, two artificial harbor pools were built under the rulers Claudius, Nero and Trajan.”

  “I see you did your homework and I’m suitably impressed. But”—Dre lifted his index finger—“I bet no amount of reading prepared you for this.” He tugged Sammy off the uneven road they’d just walked on toward one of the roofless houses where a kind of stone bank with holes the size of soup plates ran along the walls. “Tadah! A public latrinae. What do you say now?”

  For a moment, Sammy seemed to be stunned. Then he started laughing. Between a cross of snorting and hiccups, he finally managed to say, “How utterly romantic. I don’t know of any date in the history of dating where the couple went to see a public bathroom. This is hilarious!”

  Dre did his best to look offended. “At least you can’t accuse me of being boring or unimaginative. I put a lot of thought into this date.”

  Still chuckling, Sammy placed a hand on Dre’s chest. His eyes burned with an emotion Dre hoped he didn’t misinterpret. “You did. It’s the best date I’ve ever had.”

  Dre raised a brow. “It’s your first date.”

  “The best first date I ever had. The best date I could imagine, and believe me, I can imagine quite a lot. Tonight was everything I could have asked for and some more. Thank you, Dre.”

  Sammy went on tiptoe to press a kiss on Dre’s lips. He still had to lower his head a bit for them to meet, though. When Sammy started to lean back, Dre slung his right hand around his nape to keep him in place. He loved how Sammy tasted, loved how soft his skin felt against his own, loved Sammy’s scent that was now an intriguing mix of arousal and something more innocent. He wanted to plunder Sammy’s mouth, wanted to drown in him, wanted to become one with him. Suddenly, Sammy moaned deeply against their locked lips and a wave of pure longing washed over Dre, followed by the coppery taste of blood. Dazedly, Dre realized it wa
s Sammy’s blood flooding his mouth. He reared back.

  “Damn, Sammy! Are you hurt?”

  Dre felt his fangs grow out fully and couldn’t do anything against it. He stared at the thin red smear on Sammy’s lips in horror.

  “I’m sorry, Sammy, so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

  Sammy lifted his right hand to his lips, dipped a drop with his index finger and stared at it in wonder. “So that’s what it feels like.” He sounded surprised.

  “Baby, I—” Dre started patting his pockets for a tissue, only to come up empty. He felt sick to his stomach for hurting Sammy and guilty because he loved how Sammy tasted. Sammy reached for Dre’s hand.

  “It’s okay, Dre. I wanted to know what it was like when you kissed me with your fangs.” A broad smile appeared on his lips. “It’s great.”

  “But, but you’re bleeding!”

  Sammy shrugged. “It’s just a nick, nothing bad.” He licked the blood from his lips. “Kiss me again.”

  Dre hesitated. He so wanted to comply, wanted to taste Sammy, feel him melt in his arms, but he didn’t want to hurt him. Sammy closed the short distance between them, put his hands on Dre’s chest and walked him backward until the back of his knees hit the edge of the latrinae. Dre sat down. He slung his hands around Sammy’s waist when his date straddled his thighs. Their faces were so close that Dre could smell the hint of vanilla on Sammy’s breath. His fangs were digging into his lips, making it difficult to speak.

  “Shammy.”

  Sammy smiled. “The way I see it, kissing with your fangs out requires some getting used to. We need to train until we’re proficient.”

  “Ownwy you can make kishing shound like a shore.” Dre made a face. He sounded like a drunk. Sammy giggled.

  “I’m sorry, Dre.” He pressed light kisses on both of Dre’s fangs. “It’s just I can’t remember when I last was so happy. Thank you for that. Now let’s see if we can’t work this out.”

  Sammy put his lips on the gap between Dre’s, slowly dipping his tongue in. Dre moaned and opened. This feels so good. When Sammy started swirling his tongue around his left fang, Dre felt his cock pulsing in the same rhythm. He had never kissed with his fangs out before, but he found he liked it. Sammy did some more exploring, nibbled on Dre’s lips and teeth, then swiped his tongue around in his mouth as if he were looking for something. When he felt confident enough that he wouldn’t accidentally hurt Sammy again, Dre did some exploring of his own. He didn’t know how long they kept on kissing. He just allowed himself to get lost in the wonderful sensations of having Sammy in his arms, tasting and feeling him, pulling him so close that it felt as if they were one. Only when Sammy started squirming in his arms did Dre loosen his hold.

  “What’s up?”

  An adorable blush appeared on Sammy’s cheeks. “I’m afraid I need to use the bathroom. Can you…you know, do your thing and transport me somewhere with a porcelain bowl?”

  Dre was about to get his claws out to open time and space when he suddenly had an idea. “Number one or number two?”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you need to piss or take a shit?”

  The blush deepened. “Number one.”

  Dre grinned. “Then we don’t have to go anywhere.” He made a sweeping gesture. “We’re in a bathroom.”

  For a moment, Sammy seemed stunned. Then he started shaking his head vigorously. “Oh no. I’m not going to piss in an ancient monument. No chance.”

  “Why not? Granted, there’s no water running below to transport it away, but it’s just piss. The next rain will wash away whatever hasn’t soaked into the ground. Don’t you want to know what it feels like?”

  Sammy hesitated. “I guess it would be like a living history experiment…sort of. Still, it feels wrong.”

  Dre smiled at Sammy encouragingly. “I can take you somewhere else if you really don’t want…”

  Sammy stared at the holes in the bench. “You need to wait outside.”

  Dre’s face fell. “But I wanted to know what it’s like,” he whined.

  “And I will tell you, but you won’t stay here while I…I obey my biological needs. Whatever this thing between us is going to be, we’re not yet at the stage where I don’t care about matters of the bathroom. So out with you!”

  Dre chuckled but obeyed. He stepped through the gap in the walls where the entrance had once been, and kept his back to Sammy. “Satisfied?”

  “Promise you won’t turn around.”

  Dre held up his pinkie finger. “Pinkie swear.”

  He got an almost hysterical laugh as an answer. “You’re insane.” Then Dre heard the rustling of clothes, the zing of a zipper being pulled down, a shriek when Sammy’s naked ass connected with the cold stone—there would be no way he could hit the small hole accurately—then the trickling of fluid. Another rustling told Dre that Sammy was getting up and back into his pants.

  “Can I come in?”

  “Yes.”

  Dre turned around to go back into the latrinae. He found Sammy standing there with his eyes wide open. His hands were shaking at his sides.

  “I can’t believe I did that. I took a leak in an ancient building with my date listening. Oh my God, what have I done?”

  Dre hurried to take Sammy in his arms. He sounded as if he needed it.

  “You did a historical experiment, and if it’s any consolation, I think the sound of you taking your clothes off is highly erotic.”

  Sammy looked up at him. Slowly, he opened and closed his eyes, reminding Dre of an owl. “I’m not sure if it’s a good thing that you bring out my daring side. I’ve never done something like this before. Never. I’m the good boy, the silent nerd who reads books and doesn’t get into any trouble. I do not piss into ancient toilets.”

  Dre raised a brow. “How was it?”

  Sammy shuddered. “Exciting. Cool. Terrifying. And you listened!”

  “So mostly it was good, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah…mostly. I’m just not sure if I want to do it again.”

  “You don’t have to. Let’s stroll around a bit more until the adrenaline in your system wears off. Then I’ll take you home.”

  Sammy didn’t protest when Dre led him out of the latrinae and back onto the cobbled, weed-covered streets of Ostia Antica. They walked around for thirty more minutes, visiting the theater and the temples before Dre took them back into Sammy’s kitchen.

  “Thank you, Dre. It was a fantastic evening.”

  Sammy looked up into Dre’s eyes, so sincere and beautiful. Dre simply had to lean down and kiss him again. And again.

  “It was my pleasure. How about we do this again, tomorrow?”

  “You want to go back to Rome?” Sammy sounded breathless and not at all taken aback by the idea of seeing Dre again in such a short time. One glance at the clock on Sammy’s oven told Dre it was even the same day.

  “We can do that, but I was thinking we could go skiing in Canada.”

  “I don’t know how to ski.” Sammy seemed a little dejected.

  “Do you want to learn?”

  “I’d love to!”

  “Then Canada it is. Try to get some sleep. I’ll be back here at nine, which gives you seven hours of sleep.” Dre grinned broadly. Sammy groaned.

  “I didn’t even realize it was that late. Being with you makes time fly.”

  Dre bowed. “My pleasure.”

  He leaned in for one last kiss. After their lips disconnected, he opened time and space again. “Dress in something warm. We can get you snow gear in Canada once we’re there.”

  Chapter Six

  Sammy was humming softly while he arranged the assortment of cookies and muffins that he got every day from the small bakery around the corner in glass jars and under the antique cheese domes made from Murano glass he had found at a flea market in Helena. He had them in various forms, sizes and colors and they looked nice on the battered wood of the counter he had secured when an old bar at the other end of town had been taken
down. It was Monday and he was in a splendid mood, even though the muscles in his thighs and calves still protested every time he tried to move too fast. As it had turned out, skiing was a strenuous sport, and the human body had muscle tissue everywhere, even on the shins. The tinkling of the chimes announced some early customers. Sammy groaned inwardly when he saw Declan and Troy sauntering into the shop, immaculately dressed in tailored suits with their Thermos cups at the ready.

  “Why can’t you guys make your own coffee?”

  “Good morning to you, too, Sammy. And you know why. It needs your magic touch to make it perfect.” Declan grinned, showing all his pearly white, a little-too-sharp teeth.

  “Good morning, Declan, Troy. You’re just too lazy to learn.” Sammy grumbled without real conviction while he took their cups. “Are you going out of town?”

  Declan made a face. “Yeah. Business trip. Hopefully we’ll be back for the book club meeting on Wednesday.”

  “Mmm-hmm-m.” Sammy started making Troy’s café latte, using the button that would produce an extra-strong espresso. He reached for the bottle with fresh milk—he had a case delivered to the shop three times a week from one of the local organic farmers—when Troy’s voice cut through his happy thoughts.

  “So, a little bird told us you were abducted to serve as a sacrifice during a demon summoning last week.”

  Sammy groaned. “Wasn’t it an old bird, rather than a little one?”

  Declan and Troy both held up their hands in a defensive gesture. “Your words, buddy, not ours.”

  “Cowards.” Sammy grinned.

  “Yeah, whatever. Now, who do we have to kill?” Troy sounded way too enthusiastic about the prospect of eviscerating somebody. Sammy blamed it on the early hour and the fact they had to go on a trip. Werewolves were by definition territorial creatures, and the small town of Beaconville was Troy and Declan’s home. Leaving it, if only temporary, didn’t sit well with their wolves.

  Sammy poured the espresso into the Thermos before he started foaming the milk. The loud hissing of the steam pipe gave him some time to think about his answer. While he mixed the espresso with the milk, carefully creating a thick layer of foam, just like Troy liked it, he started to speak.