by TJ Nichols
“Mouth? Hand? Up to you.” He had one hand on Jordan’s shoulder and the other affixed to the erection now pressed against his fly.
“Okay.” Jordan sealed the negotiation with a kiss, but he somehow felt like a teen up to no good, not an adult. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this wasn’t quite it.
The restrooms were clean—it was still early—and the man dragged him into a stall and locked the door. Then he pressed Jordan against the cheap, scarred wood. “I’ve been wondering what was in your jeans since you walked in.”
He had Jordan’s dick out in seconds. There was no room to move in the cubicle. Jordan watched as the man stroked him, then crouched down and put his mouth around his dick. Christ that felt good—wet heat, and someone else’s hands on him. Jordan tipped his head back as he gave in, but when he glanced down and saw the dark hair, all he could think about was what it would be like to have a dragon using that long blue tongue on him as he sucked him off. That thought tipped him over the edge. “I’m gonna….”
The man didn’t pull away. He sucked harder, and Jordan couldn’t hold back. He groaned, hips moving as he thought of Edra.
The rush was gone before he’d even done up his pants, and there was no lingering pleasantness. Bliss had never left him feeling so fucked up.
“I’M NOT talking to you until my representative from Mytho Servo arrives,” the elf, Vlash, said. “I know what the police are like. You’ll probably arrest me for having dumpsters.”
Jordan bit back a sigh. No one trusted the cops here. This part of San Francisco had been claimed by the mythos. Many called it Creature Hollow instead of Cow Hollow. It wasn’t far from the vampire enclave in the Tenderloin. The area had also changed when many mytho buildings crashed into existing buildings. They’d all been bulldozed, leaving the scars of almost empty land that no developer was willing to pour money into. Every so often the police would come in and clear out the tent villages that formed around vegetable gardens everyone tended.
He’d seen humans living among the mythos in Cow Hollow, mostly without trouble, but he rarely saw the reverse. While there was no law against mythos living anywhere in the city, the humans had made it clear that they weren’t welcome in many suburbs.
He put on his best good-cop smile. “The dumpsters are legal, and I’m not going to arrest you.”
Vlash crossed his arms and tilted his chin. Tall and willowy, he still managed to look threatening, as though he could tear off Jordan’s limbs if he said the wrong thing. Jordan wasn’t willing to risk it. He’d wait for Knight Tendric to show up.
“Shall I wait outside?” He wasn’t ready to face Tendric, not after last night.
“No, you’ll scare away my customers.” Vlash pointed to a place by the dried pasta where he could wait.
Jordan didn’t want to waste the day on an attempted-arson charge. The magic that surrounded the store had put out the blaze before the fire brigade had even arrived. But this case and the satyr-den case were all he had on his desk.
The captain wanted him somehow to stop the satyrs from selling Bliss to humans. No one wanted the dens closed down, but if the dens were breaking the law, he would have to get Tendric to help convince the dens that it wasn’t in their best interest to let humans in. He glanced at his shoes. That was going to suck.
Last night had only proven that he was broken and needed Bliss. He’d gotten the man off with his hand and completed his part of the agreement, but it had felt wrong.
He dreamed of Tendric, and that was even more wrong. And he didn’t regret the dream and the extra time he’d spent in the shower thinking about it in more detail, which made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. He shouldn’t be attracted to a mytho, even one that looked mostly human.
“Sorry I’m late. Traffic accident….” Tendric’s words dried up. “I should’ve known it was you.” He didn’t seem thrilled to see Jordan.
Jordan opened his notebook. “Can we start now, Mr. Vlash?”
Tendric smothered a laugh.
Vlash scowled. “Just Vlash. Like I’d give you the honor of knowing my actual name,” the elf said with a snap.
“Right.” Jordan glanced between the two mythos. He was missing something.
“They’re allowed to give a social name and keep their true names private,” Tendric said with too much of a grin.
“What about birth certificates and driver’s licenses?” Mythos hadn’t been able to produce paperwork because, like humans, they’d been caught unprepared. Their ages and names couldn’t be verified. It had all been debated when he was in his last year of college, the year mythos had been allowed out of the internment camps—out of the US camps anyway.
“They don’t have their true name either, just a single name.”
Jordan forced out a breath between his teeth as tension started to cramp his neck. The one day of mytho training every cop received didn’t even scratch the surface. “Vlash, can you please tell me what happened last night.”
Vlash took altogether too much pride in making it as difficult for him as possible to get what he needed. That Tendric stood by with that smug almost-smile was another needle in his annoyance. They both needed to learn that the cops weren’t the enemy and Jordan was trying to help.
“And you say you know who set the fire?” Jordan kept his voice even.
Vlash gave a single nod. “Yes, the same humans who’ve been coming in and stealing. They know you’ll do nothing.”
“Shoplifting is a crime. I’ll do my best to track down the offenders.” But he knew they might not be the same people.
Vlash glared at him. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t believe you.”
Bless his heart. “I swear I’ll look into it.”
“Is that right?” The elf’s eyes flashed yellow.
Tendric put his hand on Jordan’s arm. “You might want to stop speaking now.”
Jordan was about to throw off Tendric’s touch and accuse him of assaulting an officer, but there was something urgent in his expression. The smile had faded into something much more grim, and he pressed his fingers more firmly into Jordan’s arm and drew him away from Vlash.
Before Jordan could argue, Tendric spoke. “Vlash, please thank Inspector Kells for his time.”
“He was about to promise,” Vlash snarled.
“You weren’t about to bind a human, and police officer, at that, in an unbreakable geas?” Tendric’s voice was like polished steel—cool and deadly.
“It might be the only way something gets done.” Vlash glared at the unblinking knight.
Jordan had the distinct impression that it was a good time to run or seek cover behind one of the shelves before someone started firing, but neither had guns and neither of them was moving. Jordan remained still, not sure he wanted them to remember he was standing there. He’d thought elves were pretty in a “sharp as broken glass” way—snooty and untouchable, as though everything were beneath them. He’d been flattered when the satyrs gave him that nickname, but now he saw the danger. The satyrs considered him just as deadly as an elf—razor blades wrapped in lace.
“Have some faith in me.” Tendric released Jordan’s arm.
Jordan wasn’t sure if those words were for him or Vlash. He should arrest Vlash. Jordan had never thought magical coercion was a real thing, but he’d never forget the way the elf’s eyes had changed. He stepped back, well aware that Tendric had just saved his ass.
Being indebted to a dragon, even a lesser one, couldn’t be a good thing. He’d been warned about owing mythos favors. That was one of the reasons humans didn’t want anything to do with mythos.
He needed to take back control and reinforce that he would do something and that he didn’t need to be compelled to act.
“Are they real or a deterrent?” Jordan pointed at the cameras. Many shops had only dummy cameras.
“They’ve been real for the last three months. You’re the first to ask.” Vlash went into the office and came out with several
disks. “Enjoy.”
“Thank you.” Jordan nodded at Tendric and left the store. A seven-foot man stood near the door. His skin was mottled gray, and a few wisps of hair clung to his chin. He was a teen. Adult ogres had full beards. Even though the ogre teen towered over him by a foot, it was the teen who shrank back as though Jordan were the monster.
What did they tell each other about the cops? About humans? Had humans been the evildoers in their myths and fairy tales? He moved away to wait for Tendric, who was taking his sweet time. He was sure he could still feel the heat of the dragon’s touch on his arm.
Tendric came out of the shop a few minutes later. “How’s it going, Francis?”
“Good, sir.” The ogre beamed, and his face lit up at the sight of Tendric.
“You still doing night school?” Tendric had something in a plastic bag. Lunch? The scent of roasted meat wafted toward Jordan.
“Yes, sir. I’m going to be finished in July. I won’t drop out again.”
“Well done.” Tendric beckoned Jordan closer. “This is Inspector Kells. If the humans come back to make trouble, you tell him.”
Francis’s gaze flicked between the two of them and then dropped to the sidewalk. “My dad wouldn’t want me talking to the cops.”
“It’s okay. You can tell your dad that I’ve vetted Kells and it’s okay.” Tendric shot Jordan a glare that suggested anything other than agreement would be a bad move.
Jordan gave a careful nod and an even more careful smile. He knew Tendric was the official liaison, but he was crossing into police territory, and Jordan didn’t like dancing that much or getting his toes stepped on. Tendric didn’t seem to care. He smiled as though he didn’t have a trouble in the world. The blue of his suit made his eyes darker…. Jordan snapped his gaze back to the ogre teen.
“Okay, sir.” Francis glanced at Jordan but didn’t say anything.
Jordan turned and walked toward his car. He was done dancing with Tendric for today. He needed to push the dragon out of his head, but before he reached the car door, Tendric caught up with him.
He put his hand on the roof as though he owned the vehicle. “You need to watch what you say around elves. He could have made that a magically binding promise, a geas you had to complete.”
“Thank you.” The word stuck in his throat, even though he knew he’d made a major blunder.
Tendric considered him for a moment. “It would have consumed you so you could no longer sleep or eat. People have died from an incomplete geas.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Really?” For a moment it was easy to pretend that Tendric gave a damn about him, but he only cared about the mythos and doing his job, which made him a pain in Jordan’s ass.
“Vlash insisted you be there.” Though Jordan was now grateful for Tendric’s presence.
“Because he thought you’d arrest him.”
“Why would I do that?” Vlash was the victim.
“Because Leonaris can’t even get out on bail. The hearing has been delayed for some reason. This is the wrong time of year to be pulling that kind of minotaur crap with satyrs.”
“Leonaris broke the law.” There was nothing that could be done about that.
Tendric gave him a smile, and his blue tongue danced over his lip. “So, were you there as a spy or just to have fun? Your hair was longer….”
He wanted to say that it wasn’t him there, but the words wouldn’t form. “I….” He looked away, not wanting to admit why he’d been there. “I wasn’t there as a spy. I didn’t know about the raid.” He glanced at Tendric. “I don’t agree that it should be a prohibited drug for humans, but I do think it’s dangerous.”
“Really? I need to hear how orgasms are a threat to society when you have human heroin addicts dropping dead and meth heads beating each other up.” The breeze lifted Tendric’s dark hair so it fluttered about his cheekbones. His eyes were a deep blue, and the pupils perfectly round, like a human’s. Jordan had thought dragons had slitted eyes like cats.
Jordan couldn’t hold his endless stare. It was like drowning and enjoying the burn from the lack of air. “Like porn—too much makes everything else feel like an imitation.”
“You’re clearly sleeping with the wrong people.” Tendric stepped back. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”
“Yeah.” Jordan didn’t know how to feel about that. It was bad enough Tendric had invaded his sleep. Spending more time with him was only going to make it worse. “What’s in the bag? It smells good.” It was lunchtime, and he was starving. He’d crawled out of bed too late to do much more than make coffee and drink it on the way.
Tendric opened the bag. “Barbequed pig’s head.”
The snout and open mouth gazed up at him, and Jordan’s stomach flipped.
“I’d share, but I don’t think it’s your kind of thing.”
He swallowed hard. “Probably not.”
“Your loss.” Tendric walked off, bag swinging from his hands, blue suit jacket flapping in the breeze.
And Jordan couldn’t look away. Maybe he was sleeping with the wrong people, but sleeping with a mytho would be a step too far in the wrong direction, even in San Francisco.
Chapter 7
EDRA WALKED the fifteen minutes home so he could enjoy his lunch in peace instead of returning straight to the office. He could’ve shifted in the staff room and eaten with the others, but not everyone liked the way dragons ate, and he didn’t hold that against them. If he ate the head while he was human, someone would’ve asked for a bite and he would’ve had to share out of politeness, something he couldn’t be bothered with today.
While his place was classified as an apartment, that designation might have been generous. It had no actual bedroom, just a Murphy bed, and the kitchen was more of a kitchenette. The bathroom had no actual bath—it should be called a shower-and-toilet room. But it was the only place he’d looked at that gave him enough room to spread his wings when he shifted. His minimal furniture was arranged to not get in the way.
He put the barbecued pig’s head on the table and carefully unpacked it, which was much easier to do with human hands. The scent made his mouth water even as homesickness kicked him in the gut. Ten years and he still longed for what had been destroyed. Back home this meal was a delicacy. Here it was cheap, although human butchers had soon raised the prices to sting the mythos and make more money from what they would once have sold as pet food or made into sausages—a total waste of perfectly good head.
He flicked out his tongue and tasted the meat and spices on the air. He was going to regret eating so much at once, but he didn’t care. Carefully he undressed and placed his clothing on the two-seater sofa he’d picked up for ten dollars. The cover he’d bought for it had cost more than that, but it was a stable little thing—big enough for a dragon to jump on and strong enough that it didn’t collapse.
What would Kells make of this? Would his delicate human sensibilities get all riled up? Edra smiled. He wouldn’t mind seeing that. He kinda wished he’d spent longer watching Kells on Bliss.
With a full-body shudder, he shifted. His jaw cracked, and cold sluiced through his veins. His fingers lengthened and his flesh stretched as his arms became wings. His skin gleamed silvery blue and he was very much visible. In this state he had control, and he could vanish at will.
The first few years after the collapse, he hadn’t even been able to control his shift. It happened at the most inopportune times. He’d dodged the internment camps because he passed for human, and he’d lived with the dragons and only ventured into the city when he absolutely needed to. When everyone was released, he edged back into the mytho community, knowing that he’d failed them by leaving them locked up, but not knowing what he could’ve done differently in this bizarre world. During that time, he’d bartered his services for food and a place to stay. It was another couple of years before Mytho Servo started up and he’d been given a job, in part because of w
ho he’d been in Tariko—a protector of the town and the dragons, and the one who dispensed justice when it was needed. A cop.
What would Kells make of him now?
He walked to the table, and his claws clacked on the linoleum. His tongue curled and flicked as he tasted the skin on the head—crispy and salty. Perfect. He picked the head up in his jaws, arched his neck, and crunched the skull into pieces that he swallowed in large gulps. He licked the pig fat off his muzzle and used a claw to dislodge a bit of bone stuck between his teeth. A purr rumbled in his throat.
So much better than a sandwich in the staff room.
WHEN HE went back to the office, a copy of the local newspaper had been placed on his desk. It was open to Carlin Howard’s write-up of the satyr den raid. It was exactly what Edra expected from a scum feeder like Carlin. He’d drink mermaid shit if he thought it would get him a good anti-mytho story. Edra swore and was sorely tempted to throw the paper in the trash, but it was better to keep it and file it.
While Carlin wasn’t making up anti-mytho stories anymore, his stories certainly weren’t flattering. Carlin even included the tired old line about satyrs seducing virgins—that was unicorns, and there were only about four of them in the world after three had been shot for their horn. The article claimed that satyrs promoted gayness, as though being gay was contagious.
Humans liked labels. So satyrs were bisexual. Although they did fuck humans and other mythos, as well as other satyrs, so that probably made them pansexual. But Carlin wouldn’t let a detail like that get in the way of a good smear story.
There were no direct quotes from Edra in the current story, but he had been paraphrased as saying the police were “just doing their job.” He hadn’t said that, and he also hadn’t said that he believed Bliss was harmless.
But it was the closing paragraph that really hammered home the fears of the anti-integration mob—if the satyrs had vice dens and dealt in drugs and prostitution, they could also be trafficking people.