Demon Dreams

by Nikki Sex

  “Remember this vampire. I want everyone to know him on sight. The Jugulo and I united forces to battle the demon and angel looking demon summoner. Together, we rescued my mate and the other survivor. Sparagis saved my life, I also saved his. I name him friend of the Spukani Pack.”

  More gasps. Is this a rare honor? Must be.

  “Leonidas Sparagis is to be granted unquestioned aid, if needed or requested. When injured and likely to die without my help, I opened a vein for him.”

  The crowd mutters, numerous under the breath discussions ensue. Sharing blood with a vamp is a deep-rooted taboo. Like pursuing another’s mate, or infecting a non-psychic with lycanthrope magic—donating blood to a leech is offensive as hell.

  It simply isn’t done.

  Stafford patiently waits for the indignant protests to subside. My pulse kicks up, he’s so damn compelling. Totally built, standing tall with casual male grace, every inch looks what he is: Predator. Leader. Alpha warrior.

  “I know this has shaken many of you,” Stafford growls. He looks out over the multitude before him, his commanding gaze meeting many of his pack members—staring them down. Demanding respect.

  “I, the Beast Lord, Alpha of the North American Magic Lands, freely provided blood, my own magical essence to a vampire. I don’t regret my actions. In the future, if my friend’s life is at risk, I’d do it again. I’d offer my aid without restriction, doubt or reservation.” He pauses, then adds, “I expect each and every one of you to do the same.”

  The crowd’s shocked, disapproving silence is as loud as a roar.

  Never has the saying “You could hear a pin drop” seemed so fitting. The quiet in the arena is profound.

  He nods his approval as acceptance flows through the pack bond. “I know this order goes against tradition. Vampires and werewolves have been fighting for centuries, but they are not the enemy! We are at war with the fae, they are the danger. Creatures in our world have always united against demon kind. Now, we must also unite against those from Faery. We cannot fight this battle alone.”

  “Vamps kill werewolves!” someone shouts in protest.

  “You can’t trust bloodsucking leeches!” another yells.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you mentioned this. Three weeks ago, Paradox, the Master of Vancouver’s Vortex, captured Kalev. Paradox caged my second in his stronghold.”

  Everyone literally explodes upon hearing this bombshell.

  You know how if you throw a pebble in a still pond, ripples spread outward in growing concentric circles? What happens next reminds me of that, only in a weird kind of reverse.

  A sharp thrust of strong, violent emotion flows through the arena in similar pebble pond waves—except instead of moving outward, this frightened, angry energy rolls toward Stafford and myself.

  I close my eyes as my demon wallows in the spike of overwhelming passion. Such strong emotions from powerful paranormals. It’s a feast!

  Yum!

  Chapter 24.

  Kalev’s capture, a shocking revelation, had been withheld from the pack. Unsurprisingly, the werewolves want to get even. They erupt with a discordant red and black aura of dark violence.

  Stafford holds up a determined hand. “For Paradox, Kalev’s kidnapping was warranted payback, as two members of his Kiss were killed by werewolves. For those that don’t know, the term “Kiss,” is a Master Vamp’s name for his pack—”

  The crowd instantly disagrees, shouting, “No!” or “Never!”

  “Lies!” Another calls out.

  “That’s right, it was a lie. Paradox fell victim to that same lie. My express standing order is to capture, not to kill any attacking bloodsucker. The Jugulo rescued Kalev, stole him from the Master vampire’s stronghold. Isn’t that right, Kalev?”

  “True, Sire,” he shouts from below the podium.

  “Return to the stage where all can see you.”

  Kalev climbs the stairs, stands beside his Alpha. “The Jugulo treated you well?” asks Stafford.

  “Very well,” he replies in a confident voice. “I can sense a lie, in intent or speech. The Beast Lord’s vampire was sympathetic, he absolutely disapproved of the treatment I’d received. He helped me. In fact, he was—if you can believe it,” Kalev pauses, rakes a hand through his long blonde hair. “Well, the damned leech was genuinely kind.”

  This creates much back and forth conversation between Kalev and various other shifters in the crowd. Eventually, the crowd has no further questions.

  “There’s something else.” The Beast Lord raises his eyebrows—a look of devilry crosses his face. “You will be delighted to know, my vampire friend, Leonidas Sparagis is able to travel through the void.”

  There’s much excitement over this pronouncement. Everyone’s heard of the void, yet only those of us recently transported from the cavern have had personal experience of it. Many doubt its existence. Most would love the chance to move through this legendary mode of travel.

  After drinking his potent blood, temporarily, I had Leonidas’s ability to travel through the void. Too bad it disappeared.

  “That’s how Sparagis rescued me from Paradox’s stronghold,” Kalev adds. “I was transported through the void by the Beast Lord’s Jugulo. The void is incredible. It’s an empty place—nothing to see or feel, nothing for my beast to hear, or smell. The Jugulo saved me.”

  The crowd converses between themselves.

  When Stafford clears his throat, everyone immediately stops to listen. “The Jugulo is arranging a meeting between myself and Paradox to discuss the fae’s intentions. Sparagis believes the war between the vamps and the werewolves was created as a diversion—divide and conquer.”

  Many nods, more talking amongst themselves.

  Stafford waits until all discussion has ceased. “We still have no understanding why the Magic Lands barrier became closed to us for those few days. The shamans of every pack are working to solve this. That, too, may somehow be the work of the fae. Leaving our territory remains a personal choice. For safety, I’ve ruled all werewolves stay within the Magic Lands three days prior to the full moon.

  “I’ll speak individually to each pack alpha in more detail. They will, in turn, brief their pack. My message? While vampires cannot be trusted, we are not at war with them. Furthermore, one vampire, Leonidas Sparagis, is most assuredly our friend.”

  “We have two dangerous enemies, the fae and demons. It is my honor and my duty to ensure every shifter in the Magic Lands is well informed, battle ready, and prepared for attack. Thankfully, we are safe in our territory. Those who travel to the human world for work will be given extra preparation and education. Are you with me?”

  The crowd collectively yells, “Yes!”

  “Our children are being born in the Magic Lands!” This announcement, naturally, causes spontaneous applause. Stafford raises a hand, lessens the noise. “Tonight, we celebrate the new moon and a new era! Enjoy the food. The moon is coming!”

  Pack! Pack! Pack! Pack!

  A euphoric roar finishes the day. The moon is due to rise early tonight, before eight P.M. The light is fading, taking on a magical, mystical aura. I narrow my eyes, fascinated by the sight. Very few ghosts are around, but my, oh my. Everyone wears incredible blue-black wings.

  Preternatural, invisible raven wings.

  I can’t believe I haven’t discussed this with Stafford. It’s not that I’ve been trying to hide it. The truth is, I’ve been in denial, not wanting to think, much less speak about my battalions of troops. Magically bonded, everything’s changed. Can I keep this from my mate? Somehow, I doubt it. Stafford’s gonna be pissed as hell, but he needs to know about my army.

  Our army, now we’re mated.

  What’s his is mine, what’s mine is his.

  The Beast Lord must feel a disturbance “in the force.” Through our connection, he senses my guilty concern. He looks down at me with his strong jaw, his warrior face with a hint of a cleft in his chin.

  I read questions in h
is wild, wolf eyes. Christ, he’s so damned handsome. One look and I lose my train of thought.

  I could do him right here and now on this podium.

  “What is it?” he sends, quirking an enquiring brow. His knowing smile shows how conscious he is of my spike of lustful energy. His nostrils flare, scenting my arousal.

  Stafford knows I want him.

  I always want him.

  Remembering the unpleasant task ahead, I send, “Long story, I’ll tell you later. Tomorrow, after we celebrate.”

  His chocolate yellow wolf eyes glitter, his warm smile melts my heart. “Yes, later. Tonight, we run, we hunt, and we feast. Our voices will join as we sing with the pack under the light of the full moon.” His gaze turns hot and carnal. “Then, we mate.”

  Chapter 25.

  Christ, I feel it! Any moment the moon will rise…

  I sway weakly, dazed by the moon’s imminent approach. There’s no escape. Constant as the North star, and predictable as gravity, her magic draws our gaze.

  Every werewolf turns toward the horizon, becomes temporarily motionless.

  Thick as mountain fog, Lycanthrope energy suddenly engulfs me. As though bewitched by a spell, it makes my pulse race and my body tingle with enchantment. My wolf and demon respond, crazed with arousal, hunger, and bloodlust.

  Holy shit!

  Not long ago, being near this many werewolves, desire would have sucked me under like a tidal wave. I’d have fallen into a mindless sexual stupor, vulnerable to demonic possession.

  Caught by intense sensation, I’d have been swept away. There would’ve been no going back, no saying no.

  Mating the Beast Lord has alleviated this problem. Bound to Stafford and his werewolves, my well-fed demon has less hunger. Less need to take me over to seek out darker, forbidden energy.

  I’m altered, yet remain in control.

  A fresh zing of energy makes me suddenly gasp with pleasure. Growls, snarls, lengthening teeth and claws—their earthy magic rolls over my senses.

  No one has shifted to wolf yet, but it doesn’t matter.

  Christ, I feel as though I’m in an episode of “Animal Kingdom.”

  I kiss Stafford au revoir, then race full speed to the lodge, my inner wolf driving me on. Once in our bedroom, I open the sliding glass door to the balcony. I see why Stafford has this apartment. When the moon is full, it will shine directly onto his bed.

  I can lay my human body down in perfect safety, while I run with my mate and my pack.

  I stare out the door at the black velvet sky, brilliant with sparkling stars. My inner beast craves the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the scent of prey—its frantic fear.

  My demon craves its desperation, along with fresh blood and flesh.

  Me? I’m up for anything.

  Powerful enchantment tingles along my skin. Earth energy, a gentle hum, is always palpable in this place—yet with the coming of the moon, my gripping fascination for the Magic Lands is stronger than ever.

  Ears pricked, senses alert, my inner wolf abruptly stills. I’m captivated.

  The moon. The moon comes!

  Enchanted light shimmers above the horizon. The moon slips in over the balcony, through the window, creeps up across my body. The moment I’m drenched in its brilliance, a spike of metaphysical energy shoots through me.

  Burn, burn, burn!

  So much power! So much energy! Oh, such a delicious, searing sensation.

  The Magic Lands are suddenly alive in a way no human could possibly understand. The world holds a thousand scents—the sap of pine trees, the softer tone of birch, the wholesome fragrance of nature.

  The very air around me is charged with energy, the earth a thick blanket of nutrients and life.

  Glorious!

  The moon’s shimmering light falls over our world. The pull of her magic bewitches me. There’s nothing comparable in human terms. It’s like running a deliciously high fever, consumed by burning heat, need, and magical vision.

  I’m intoxicated.

  My wolf howls. An eerie song of triumph, she sings to the moon with delight.

  The animal within takes over.

  With one thought, psychically, spiritually, and on a primal level—my demon, my inner wolf, and I, merge with my mate.

  The Beast Lord’s human body shifts, flowing seamlessly into his wolf form, fast and fluid as running water. His animal is the strongest of all! I’m lightheaded with arousal, filled with sweeping, primitive pride.

  He is ours!

  Stafford’s wolf stands tall, his ears up and forward. He’s a huge, light-gray beast with pale, off-white colored legs, underbody, and neck. The tip of his bushy tail looks dipped in paint, black as a cloudy night. It attractively matches his black nose.

  My mate exudes a glorious aura of earthy, animal magic. He’s graceful, beautiful, and utterly dangerous.

  I’m blown away by his magnificence.

  Pack! Pack! Pack! Pack!

  So many werewolves! All of them rapidly shift, exultant in the power and freedom of being a wolf. Some have pure black fur, some are reddish, white or light gray. All of them magical—beautiful, perfect, unique.

  With my otherworldly sight, I watch ethereal jet-black wings furl while shifting from human, then unfurl, opening upon each bestial form. My beast and I are at peace with Stafford.

  All is right in this enchanted world.

  No problems.

  No logic. No thought. No fear.

  No idiotic human overthinking.

  Instinct rules. All is joyous excitement, and unpretentious animal pleasure.

  The smell of fresh, clean water, pine trees, and earth fills my senses. Heart racing, blood pumping—power and life pulse through me.

  Exuberant, strong, and free, within the Beast Lord, we run and run. So much life, all around us! We’re part of this land, this fascinating earth.

  Deep in the forest, we slow to a trot, our senses alert. We hear the skittering of small animals in the undergrowth, the soft buzz of insects, the rush of a nearby stream. Grasses and trees brush together in a light breeze. The nearly silent whoosh of an owl as it swoops down onto a mouse.

  Our mouth waters, our nose twitches. The scent of elk, a delicious, warm-blooded trace is brushed against a large oak. It’s near.

  Electrified, the Beast Lord sits, lifts his muzzle into the air. His nose pointed toward the moon, he howls a stirring song of the hunt.

  Pack! Pack! Pack!

  The elk knows of its danger.

  We run, we track, we pursue. The scent of the animal’s fear is enticing. Our prey attempts to hide, to divert us, to race away—but it cannot escape.

  Stafford and I are magically bound, yet also one with our pack. These ties are more familiar than family, stronger than steel.

  The hunt is under our skin, in our blood. Beneath the gripping magic of moonlight, we joyfully run down the full-grown elk. Its brown pelt is dark with sweat from its desperate flight. Its fight to survive excites us.

  Snarling, growling, crunching. Leg bones break, fur and flesh tear from fangs and claws. The Beast Lord pulls the exhausted, wounded animal to the ground.

  Rip! Crunch!

  With razor sharp jaws, he tears its throat open. Blood pulses outward—gushes into his mouth and over his muzzle. In the cool night air, its blood feels scalding hot.

  We all exult in the kill.

  The creature’s death scream cuts off abruptly. Its heart pumps fresh, sweet essence over our tongue. My demon hums as a rush of death magic fills us—the last flickers of the elk’s life, the final beat of its pulse. It’s glorious!

  Blood. Flesh. Death.

  The Beast Lord pushes his muzzle deep into the animal’s open wound. The elk’s essence is pure—sweet, clean, and fresh. Under the enchanted light of the new moon, it tastes incredible!

  What a feast!

  We are pack! We are pack! We are pack!

  Beneath our feet, earthy magic pulses with approval and power. It’s all so
simple, this circle of energy.

  Death is the purpose of life.

  Satisfied all is right in our world, we feed.

  Many pack members stay to feed. Some—the need to hunt upon them—pursue different prey. Others pair off. Many mated couples are already gone. Raw, animal rutting is another part of the full moon celebration.

  Our humanity temporarily on hold, we operate at a different level.

  No shame, no blame, no guilt, no regret.

  Each new moon is a celebration of new life. Our urge to mate intensifies.

  I must return home.

  Mystical energy fills us as the Beast Lord runs toward the Spukani Lodge. He circumvents the stream, not to avoid the water, but because his fur is soaked in fresh blood.

  He’s proud of his hunting skills, the elk’s sacrifice, the coppery scent of its divine essence.

  Blood magic, death magic. The Beast Lord will come to me in musky animal heat, sweat, and blood.

  I return to my body, trembling with lust, apprehension, and anticipation. Stafford won’t shift to human form until he arrives. Then we’ll lie together under the magic of the moonlight.

  The Beast Lord’s inner wolf is strongest during the full moon. His beast is off the leash—I don’t think Stafford will make any attempt to restrain it.

  Yes!

  God, I want him.

  Need is a throbbing pulse between my thighs. My breasts tingle, my mouth is dry, my heart pounds. Already, I’m imagining what he’ll feel like inside me. A song from “Nine Inch Nails” is running through my head.

  Rough, raw, and deliciously primal, the Beast Lord’s gonna fuck me like an animal.

  Chapter 26.

  Throughout the long night, Stafford lets his inner beast free. Despite being in human form, his wolf rejoices in the relentless magic of the moon.

  Damn, I love the beast, and the man!

  Electricity sizzles between us. Civilized seduction or “making love” simply won’t cut it after an evening spent tracking, hunting, and killing. Nothing soft now. Our coupling is primitive, and mind-blowingly feral.