Jaded [The Moonlight Breed 9] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove)

by Gabrielle Evans

  Their mouths rubbed together in an intimate caress, and Spiro’s tongue tickled the seam of his lips, seeking permission for something deeper. Opening on a contented sigh, Zuriel relaxed into the hard wood of the desk, giving his lover complete control. Kissing Spiro was a drug unto itself, and he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been craving it until now.

  His cock swelled, aching uncomfortably within the confines of his denim shorts. With Spiro pushing his knees wide and back to his chest, every movement, no matter how subtle, jostled the silicone plug nestled between his cheeks. The sensations caused him to squirm and clench around the toy, and on and on it went in a perpetual loop that was driving him out of his mind.

  Bowing his back, he arched up from the desk, humping against Spiro’s midsection in his quest for relief. The slight friction was nice, but it would be better without the barriers of clothing between them. Breaking the kiss, he gripped the hem of his shirt and jerked it off over his head, hoping his lover would get the hint.

  Luck was on his side, or maybe Spiro was just really horny. Either way, in the next heartbeat, his shorts were ripped from his body, and the remaining scraps were tossed to the floor without ceremony. Zuriel’s pulse raced, each breath became shallower than the last, and he moaned like a wanton slut when his lover’s clothes were stripped away as well, leaving them skin to warm, wonderful skin.

  “Very nice,” Spiro whispered into his ear while he manipulated the butt plug, gripping the base and twisting it.

  A low, husky growl vibrated his lover’s chest, and Zuriel shivered with excitement, feeling the tingle of desire race from the nape of his neck clear to the ends of his toes. “Need you,” he murmured back, rubbing against Spiro’s chest like a cat in heat.

  His skin crawled, as though too tight for his frame, and his temperature climbed, causing perspiration to bead from his forehead. They weren’t just empty words or passionate ramblings. There was a deep, throbbing ache, a clawing need to be as close as possible to his partner that had nothing to do with his pulsing dick.

  The sound of a sliding drawer caught his attention. Without being told, he knew exactly what Spiro was reaching for inside that drawer. “You keep lube in your office?”

  “Jacobi brought it to me earlier. I just thought he was being funny.”

  He definitely owed the shifter for that one. “Please, Spiro. I can’t wait anymore.” The urgency that boiled inside him was surging toward painful. Never had he wanted anyone as much as he wanted his mate. Hell, he didn’t even think the level of desire was possible.

  Even when he’d been in the throes of his mating heat, however, Spiro was never one to be rushed. So, when the toy was wrenched from his hole and he was flipped onto his stomach, Zuriel nearly came right there on the shiny wood.

  The rough handling was primal and raw, but there was still a tenderness that made him feel protected and cherished in a way that only Spiro could accomplish. Ivory skin stretched across sinewy muscles, contrasting beautifully against his own creamy complexion when strong arms twined around his midsection, lifting him up on his knees.

  Spiro’s nose skimmed up his spine, and his lips followed the trail back down. “Your skin is always so soft.”

  Zuriel preened at the compliment. Since the first time his mate had mentioned how much he loved the soft, suppleness of his skin, Zuriel had been religious in his use of moisturizer. It was a small thing, unimportant in the grand scheme of their relationship, but though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, he thirsted for the acceptance.

  One slippery finger skimmed his crease, teasing his needy hole with light caresses. Just the tip of Spiro’s digit slipped past the muscles, dipping into his hungry channel before disappearing. Over and over, he continued to torment, giving just a little and then taking it back until Zuriel was gritting his teeth to hold back his orgasm.

  Just as he was gearing up to beg, plead, and scream for relief, two long fingers penetrated his entrance, plunging into his depths and bumping against his prostate. A current of electricity sizzled along his spine and radiated outward to his extremities. Flames erupted in his stomach, his inner walls clamped around the invading digits, and a long, strangled groan burst through his panting lips.

  “That’s right,” Spiro encouraged. “There’s that moan I wanted.”

  If it would finally get him what he craved, Zuriel would give him a thousand more sounds just like it. Falling forward onto the desk, he grunted when his lover’s fingers slipped from their sheath but quickly rolled to his back and pulled his knees to his chest again. “Damn it, stop teasing and fuck me.”

  A wild, untamed light flashed in Spiro’s eyes. An instant later, Zuriel found himself in his lover’s arms with his back pressed against the cold glass of the floor to ceiling window behind the desk. He’d learned just the week before that the particular glass had been designed especially for the palace, measuring four inches thick and able to withstand any manner of attack imaginable.

  He was secure in the knowledge that he wouldn’t break the glass, be cut to ribbons, and fall to his death. That didn’t make it any less cold against his overheated skin, though, nor did it dampen his desire. Lifting both arms to loop them around his mate’s neck, Zuriel moaned and rocked his hips when Spiro caught both wrists in one pale hand and pinned them against the window over his head.

  The thick, engorged crown of Spiro’s cock prodded his opening, slick with lube and throbbing with his pulse. “You have a lot of demands, lirimaer.”

  Zuriel didn’t think that was strictly true. In fact, he considered himself a fairly low-maintenance kind of guy.

  “You interrupt my meeting.” Spiro surged forward, driving into Zuriel until he was seated to the base. The groan that rumbled in his chest was sexy as hell, but the fire in his gaze was nearly Zuriel’s undoing. “You seduce me in front of my brothers.” He swiveled his hips, grinding his groin against Zuriel’s ass. “Then you deny my leisurely exploration of this gorgeous body.”

  Okay, yes, he’d done all of those things. When the blood returned to his brain, maybe he could present a strong defense for his actions. As it was, he was having a hard enough time just remembering his own name. “Yes.” There had been a question in there somewhere. He was pretty sure of it.

  The quiet chuckle that fanned his lover’s warm breath against the side of his neck said otherwise. His other hand held a firm grip on Zuriel’s right knee, lifting it upward to tilt his hips and spread him open as he began a hard but steady tempo. Dipping his head, he rested their foreheads together so that their gasping breaths mingled as one and pressed Zuriel’s wrists more securely against the glass.

  Showing off his flexibility, but really just trying to get better leverage, Zuriel contorted his other leg until he had it draped over his mate’s shoulder, providing maximum penetration. Each hard thrust took advantage of the new angle, tapping repeatedly against his prostate and making his head spin.

  Spiro growled and grunted, increasing his rhythm as he drove into Zuriel with growing intensity. All traces of the uptight and proper king had vanished, and some animalistic instinct had taken over. Zuriel could see it in his lover’s expression and feel it in the trembling of his muscles. It was the first time he’d ever witnessed a lapse in Spiro’s control, but if he had his way, it wouldn’t be the last.

  Harder and faster they rocked together while an erotic symphony of sound echoed around the room. As he neared the pinnacle and raced toward his release, a single thought repeated like a skipping record in his mind.

  “Mine, mine, mine…”

  At first, he figured it was him, just an errant thought of a lust-hazed brain. Then the cadence and tone changed, and he assumed he was hearing Spiro’s thoughts. The constant changing of volume, pitch, and character eventually merged to create a chorus, and Zuriel finally understood that it wasn’t just him or Spiro, but their combined thoughts.

  Lifting Zuriel’s other leg over his shoulder, Spiro made use of the free hand by fisting Zuriel’s
weeping cock. “Don’t think about it,” he whispered throatily. He stroked the length in quick pumps, squeezing a bit harder around the tip on each upward glide. “Don’t make me wait.” His mouth crashed down on Zuriel’s, plundering the depths before jerking away with a growl. “Come now.”

  As instructed, and because he really had no choice after that arousing display of dominance, Zuriel dropped his head back against the window and called Spiro’s name while he tensed and shuddered through a mind-bending, earth-shattering orgasm.

  “Beautiful.” Lifting his hand to his lips, Spiro looked him right in the eye before popping one finger into his mouth to suck off the creamy drops of seed. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he plunged deep, burying himself to the hilt, hissing through his own climax.

  When the world stopped spinning and he could finally breathe without panting, Zuriel extracted his hands from Spiro’s grip and wrapped them tightly around his mate’s neck. Something profound had happened, and while he didn’t quite understand it, he wasn’t afraid.

  “Thank you for not kicking me out.”

  Tapping his chin to get his attention, Spiro waited for Zuriel to meet his gaze before offering him a tender smile and a chaste kiss. “I’m still waiting for you to see it.”

  Maybe he’d be able to see it if the guy would stop being so damn cryptic and tell him what he was supposed to be looking for. “That’s because I don’t understand half the things you say.”

  “Yes, you do, but that’s okay. I can wait until you’re ready.”

  There was that vague, cryptic shit again, and frustration began to taint his otherwise perfect mood. “Can you just say something normal for a change?”

  One corner of his lips curled up, and Spiro bent to rub the tips of their noses together. “You can seduce me whenever you want. I won’t kick you out, and I won’t complain.”

  Now that, Zuriel understood. Arching his neck, he nipped at his mate’s bottom lip and purred happily. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re pretty powerful, right?”

  They held hands as they walked along the narrow dirt path through the woods, taking a shortcut into town. “I suppose.”

  Spiro wasn’t sure if Zuriel meant his strength or his magic, but either would be an accurate statement. As a lion shifter, he was naturally powerful in his animal form. White-pelted shifters were surrounded by ridiculously potent magic, though it was more of an energy, not spells and enchantments. Elves, however, were only outmatched by gifted witches, but in modern times, many of them—like him—no longer practiced the ancient magics.

  “Then why didn’t you challenge Xander to be alpha of the pack in Wyoming?”

  “Xander is a good man and an honorable alpha. Why would I challenge him?”

  Zuriel huffed and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant. I think Xander is kickass, but if you’re stronger than he is, why did you want to follow him?”

  “Lirimaer, I may have been born to lead, but I’ve never wanted the job. It’s a lot of responsibility and stress to be accountable for so many people.” If he hadn’t been forced to accept his new title by the threat of death, he would have gladly handed the crown to the next in line.

  “I can see that.” Zuriel nodded in confirmation. “How are you ruler of the whole race, though? I mean, what about the people who live on the other side of the world? Or the ones that aren’t part of a pack?”

  “Circle,” Spiro correctly gently. “We are a circle of elves.” It wasn’t as complicated as Zuriel was trying to make it out to be, though. “It’s much like a president. He or she rules a country, but they can’t regulate everyone at every moment. Each circle has a leader. On this island, for this circle, I am their leader.”

  “Then why do you need a king at all, especially since The Council oversees a lot of the disputes?”

  It was a legitimate question, and Spiro squeezed his mate’s hand a little tighter, impressed with his insightfulness. “You make a good point. It’s a tradition left over from a simpler time when we weren’t so divided. I am the only person who can declare war on another race as a whole, but other than that, you’re right. The Council deals with most of the major disputes now.”

  The Council was good in theory, but Spiro wasn’t sure how effective they were in practice. Most of the rules they set forth were generalized, regulating or aiding only a small percentage of the people they governed. Their ideals were as outdated as some elven traditions, and while they were undergoing changes, they really needed to tear down and rebuild, starting with a new foundation.

  Wrinkling his small nose, Zuriel looked up at him from the corner of his eye. “Then why are you still here? You did the rite so you won’t die. Can’t you just renounce the throne or whatever?”

  Swallowing back his sigh, Spiro undid the buttons on his shirt down to his sternum and parted the fabric to reveal the elven symbols branded into the skin on his chest. “These aren’t just pretty markings. This is the crest of my family and sealed by magic. It won’t fade, and it cannot be removed until I die.”

  To his annoyance, Zuriel rolled his eyes and twisted his mouth around as though he found Spiro completely absurd. “That’s stupid. Rissian can be king without some stupid tattoo on his chest. It’s not like that dumb thing gives you superpowers or anything. You’re not Iron Man.”

  “I’m pretty sure Iron Man didn’t have any superpowers, either.”

  Zuriel stopped suddenly, spun around, and stomped right on top of Spiro’s foot. “You are purposely missing the point!” He breathed heavily as he fisted his hands on his hips and squared his shoulders. “If you want to be king, just say so. If you don’t, stop making excuses and walk away. Rissian doesn’t need some damn ritual, and he certainly doesn’t need you to die to get the job done.”

  He’d never seen his mate this upset, and Spiro actually took a step back, hoping to prevent any further damage to his already throbbing foot. “Why is it so important to you?” Maybe Zuriel was feeling homesick. “Do you want to leave? Is that what this is about?”

  Throwing his hands toward the sky, Zuriel growled and grumbled under his breath as he took off stomping through the trees in the direction of the village. “I give up.”

  “Wait just a damn minute.” He was trying, but Zuriel was going to have to give him something more to go on. Lengthening his strides, he caught up to his lover quickly and pulled him to a stop. “I can’t read your mind, Zuri. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong, and I won’t know what’s bothering you until you tell me.”

  “I want you to care!” Zuriel yelled up at him. “I want you to care about something—anything! Your dad dies, and you act like it’s a burden. Your brother dies, and you barely blink.”

  “Everyone deals differently with grief. Besides, my father—”

  “I wasn’t finished,” Zuriel snapped, cutting him off. “Your mother is a raging bitch who tried to slip three women into your bed, and you shrugged it off. You keep saying you don’t want to lead, but you won’t step aside either.” His chest heaved, and his bottom lip trembled as he continued. “Scream. Cry. Get angry. Throw a chair through a window. I don’t care, but do something! Stop acting like a fucking robot and let me in!”

  Spiro stood there with his lips pressed together in a thin line, unsure of how to respond. Everything Zuriel had accused him of was true, and he had no rebuttal that wouldn’t sound trite or come out as an outright lie.

  In his defense, this wasn’t a recent development. He’d never been one to wear his feelings on his sleeve, and he considered it inconsiderate to burden someone else with his problems. While he doted on Zuriel, made sure the man knew how beautiful and special he was, Spiro admitted that might not be enough. He hadn’t intentionally left his mate out in the cold, but he understood how it could be interpreted that way.

  Yes, he comprehended these things on an intellectual level, but emotionally, he didn’t know how to fix them. Opening up to Zurie
l, pouring his heart out and releasing all the bitterness, resentment, and rage he’d harbored throughout the years would be a good place to start, but it was so much easier to push everything away and pretend like it didn’t exist.

  When he didn’t answer, Zuriel shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head sadly. “What happened to you, Spiro?”

  Apparently, this was a rhetorical question, because Zuriel didn’t give him an opportunity to answer before turning his back and marching down the dirt path. Spiro could see the cobblestone streets through the clearing just ahead, and he knew his mate would be safe once he reached them. So, instead of chasing after him again, he waited, giving them both a chance to cool down.

  He’d canceled all of his meetings for the day, and he’d intended to spend the whole afternoon with his mate. Ten minutes into it, however, he’d fucked everything up without clearly understanding where he’d gone wrong.

  Spiro wasn’t sure how long he stood just inside the tree line, arguing with himself about what move to make next when Zuriel’s scream pierced through the forest. When his mate called his name, their argument no longer mattered. Their disagreements weren’t important.

  His pulse galloped as he sprinted toward the sound of Zuriel’s voice, hoping he wouldn’t be too late.

  * * * *

  “Spiro! Spiro, help!”

  Kneeling over the prone body of a young woman, Zuriel fought to keep his breakfast down. It was the most grotesque thing he’d ever seen, and he was pretty sure the female was already dead. However, if there was even a chance that she could be helped, he needed to act quickly.

  He’d stumbled out of the woods behind the general market where people brought their craft items to be sold and had nearly tripped over the petite blonde when he’d rounded the corner. Steeling his courage, he pressed two shaking fingers to her engorged throat, feeling the bile rise in his esophagus again at the cold, stiff texture of her skin.