Jacob Michaels Is... The Omnibus Edition: A Point Worth LGBTQ Paranormal Romance Books 1 - 6

by Chase Connor

  As I ran my fingers over every inch of Lucas in the dark, he crawled up my body and reached over to the bedside table. Working like he had night vision, Lucas found the condoms and lube quickly. The tearing of a wrapper sounded, and I immediately felt him sliding a tube of latex over the length of me, his hands moving swiftly, desperately. Then a sound of thick liquid squirting and his hand moving over me again. Lucas chucked the lube to the side, aiming wildly in the dark and I felt his slick, lube slathered hand slap against my chest as he raised himself up to position himself over me.

  Doing this thing, Lucas letting me enter his body in such a way, wasn’t new to either of us, but it still took work. My mind drifted to thoughts of how people think that slipping a penis into someone else is an easy, painless task—something movies would like you to believe. I’d done enough sex scenes—with men and women—to know that Hollywood wanted everyone to believe that sex is never messy, uncomfortable, gross, or clumsy. But it is never that simple. The work it takes is frustratingly pleasurable, but it is never effortless. Lucas shimmied and wiggled and pushed, his hand holding me still and against the target as he eased down on me bit by bit, moans escaping his throat as he took me inside of him. My hands found his hips and my nails nearly dug into his flesh as I bit my lip, trying to keep myself from screaming out at the feeling he was providing.

  Once I was fully inside of him, Lucas put his other hand on my chest as well, now slick with the residual lube his other hand had smeared on me, and he began moving. Lucas was slapping against my belly each time he bounced on me, so I hungrily reached out and took him in my fist. Groaning loudly, Lucas’ movements became more frantic as I pumped him with my fist, and he moved up and down the length of me. Even though Lucas’ intention at moving from one activity to another was to stop things from ending too quickly, it became clear very quickly that things were going to end soon for both of us.

  “Oh, God!” Lucas groaned. “Not yet, not yet.”

  I didn’t know if he was talking about himself or me.

  Regardless, I pumped him harder, making him moan even louder.

  “Fuck, Rob!” He groaned suddenly, and I felt him release on my stomach and chest as his movements on top of me got faster and more harried.

  Lucas’ bucking on top of me, his release, the tightening of him around me, his groans and moans—all of it sent me over the edge. I found myself gripping his hips and holding on tightly as my own hips started to rise and fall, meeting his movements as I released as well. Lucas’ hands were like claws on my shoulders, his nails digging into my flesh—I didn’t care—as we both finished our climb up to the top of ecstasy and plummeted down to satisfaction. I looked up at Lucas as wave after wave of pleasure flowed through my body.

  His eyes seemed to glow green in the dark.

  Then that glowing was gone. Had he shut his eyes? Had I imagined it? I didn’t care. I just rode those waves of pleasure as our orgasms seemed to go on forever. When they finally started to subside, Lucas’ hands slid away from my shoulders, and he collapsed on top of me, his chest falling into mine. He didn’t pull himself off of me, but instead, let me stay inside of him as he gasped for breath on top of me. I wrapped my arms around him and held him to me tightly as I attempted to catch my breath as well. Several minutes passed with Lucas’ face nuzzled against my neck, his gasps of breath hot against my skin, though I didn’t care. Finally, we both caught our breath, and Lucas shifted just enough to remove my body from his with a content sigh.

  “I love you, Rob.” He moved to whisper against my mouth.

  “I love you, too, Lucas,” I whispered back.

  Our feeding at each other’s mouths was languid and lazy. But we fed.

  Chapter 7

  The electricity was still out, and the bedsheets were still damp from our wet, naked bodies when I woke up hours later. We’d probably both have a rash in the morning. It was the middle of the night and the absolute silence, other than Lucas’ breathing, let me know that the rain had abated. Moonlight was pouring through the bedroom window as I laid there in the bed, Lucas turned on his side, facing away from me. I frowned to myself over this. Lucas always slept with his head on my chest, and his arm draped over my torso. Or I held him and put my head on his chest. We both liked to cuddle. However, he was curled up in the blankets like they were a makeshift womb, as far away as the bed would allow.

  Sniffing the air, I noticed the scent immediately.

  Sulfur.

  It wasn’t coming from inside of Lucas’ room, and if I had to guess, it wasn’t coming from anywhere inside of the house. Like walking past a bakery, it was a fleeting aroma that beckoned to me, sought me out, begging me to come see what was being offered. The thought frightened me. Regardless, I found myself sitting up in bed, my hips swiveling as I rose, my legs sliding over the side of the bed. My feet hit the cold floorboards—Spring was still trying to get its legs in upper Ohio—and I began to grope for something to yank onto my naked body. Underwear, jeans, anything really, just so that I wouldn’t venture far with everything exposed to the cold and elements.

  Finally, my fingers found my jeans and I fumbled in the dark to pull them on, wondering if the noise would awaken Lucas. When I glanced over in the dark, I could see his sleeping form in the bed, still wrapped up in his cocoon of slumber, not stirring a bit. I zipped up and buttoned my jeans and decided that I had no idea where my shoes were, so I would just have to go barefoot. Tiptoeing from the bedroom, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Lucas didn’t stir, I made my way into the main part of the house.

  The smell of sulfur was stronger in the living room, but it was still faint enough, like the ghost of a scent, that I knew it was not coming from inside of the house. The thought occurred to me that most people would wake their sleeping partner if the smell of sulfur started to permeate the house. However, I knew just enough to know that the smell of sulfur was a calling card, not any type of real danger. Experience and my restored memories let me know that Lucas would be fine if he just stayed in bed and dreamed…whatever it was that he was probably dreaming about.

  Making my way to the front door, somehow not tripping over anything in the process, I quietly exited the house. If the floorboards in the house had been cold on my bare feet, the porch was like ice. Deftly, I shut the front door behind me, being as quiet as possible still, then made my way to the edge of the porch. I wrapped my arms around my bare chest, as though this would protect me from the cold, and gazed out towards the lake. The moon, no longer hindered by the storms from earlier in the evening, shone large and bright, making the water look gleaming white where it wasn’t cast in black.

  Just as I expected, the figure stood at the lake’s shore, mere feet from the water’s edge. The lakeshore was several yards away from the house, but close enough that I could see the black hooded cloak easily. Sighing to myself, no longer afraid—well, not entirely—and supremely annoyed, I started down the steps towards the yard. The ground was like a bog under my feet, water and mud squishing up between my toes as I walked along. The hem on the legs of my jeans felt wet against my ankles, letting me know how much the storms from earlier had let loose.

  As I walked, the figure by the lake just stood there, turned away from me, staring out at the gleaming white and black waters of Lake Erie. As I approached, the figure didn’t move at all, even though I could sense he knew that I was there. With another sigh, I stopped beside him. I glanced over at him for the briefest of moments, then looked out at the lake as well.

  “This isn’t real,” I said.

  Or…didn’t really say.

  Do we actually say things aloud when we talk in our dreams?

  “It is not.” He replied.

  “Why have you come for me in a dream instead of marching down Main Street in town setting things on fire?” I asked what I felt was a logical question, all things considered. “I mean…we can just get this all over with. See where the pieces fall.”

  “All of your wishes came true. Or s
o it seems.”

  “Wishes don’t last forever. Apparently.” I sighed.

  I just knew he was grinning inside of that dark hood.

  “Perhaps.” Came the voice once more. “Sooner or later, things fall apart, don’t they? Of course, you could always make things easier on me. Help move things along.”

  My eyes darted over to the hooded figure nervously before I glanced out at the lake once more.

  “I really don’t think I want to do that.”

  The figure chuckled, entirely amused.

  “I had assumed as much.” He replied. “That is why I have come to you, such as I have.”

  I nodded, and though the figure wasn’t looking at me, this was a dream, so I knew that he would see the gesture. Together, the figure and I stood on the shore of Lake Erie, just a few yards away from the front porch of Lucas’ house, and stared out at nothing. It occurred to me that there was no sound to anything. Unless one of us spoke, I heard nothing. I could feel the cold, but I didn’t hear the water lapping at the shore, early Spring birds in their roosts, furry little creatures searching out the night for food. Nothing.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I said.

  “There is nothing to say.” He replied. “Eventually, I will find a way to you. Finding you is easy, releasing myself so that I can is a bit of a conundrum. You made serviceable wishes.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Though you could have done much better.” He chuckled. “I’m quite disappointed that you did not do a better job of things.”

  I shrugged. “I was young. If I made wishes now, they would be much different. Of course, it was all kind of forced upon me. Give me a break.”

  Smiling, I glanced over at the figure.

  He chuckled.

  “It will be delightful to face you in battle once more.”

  “That’s a little dramatic,” I said evenly. “But okay.”

  “You won’t be as lucky the next time.”

  I stared at the figure a moment longer, then sighed and turned my attention to the lake once more.

  “That has always been my assumption,” I mumbled. “How many times can a guy get lucky?”

  “You are not scared?”

  “Terrified.”

  “But you know this is inevitable?”

  I nodded.

  “You can release me and be done with it, then.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Of course, you can. It is what you do. It is what you were born to do.”

  “No. It’s not.” I stated firmly. “It is what my father was born to do. I just got shafted, didn’t I?”

  He was chuckling again. “I suppose that is accurate.”

  “I won’t release you. Ever. You will have to find your way to me. In the meantime, I will be preparing for you. My memories aren’t so foggy anymore.”

  The figure stood there, staring out at the lake.

  “So…when you find your way to me, you’ll have to work up a sweat to claim your prize. I’m stubborn like that.”

  “That is why I am so eager for us to meet once more.” The figure said, finally turning to me. Icy blue eyes glowed out at me. I wanted to shiver, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I think you will be the most satisfying opponent I have seen in…a very long time. Breaking you will be thrilling.”

  I laughed lowly.

  “I’d like to see you break me,” I replied firmly, staring back into those icy eyes. “You might win, but you will never break me.”

  Those eyes stared back at me for what felt like an eternity.

  “You could have run away. Like your father. Saved your wishes for another day.”

  “That would have meant I was broken, wouldn’t it?”

  “You are a stubborn creature.” He chuckled.

  “You have no idea.”

  The hooded figure turned slowly away, glancing out to the lake once more and I mimicked his movements.

  “Dawn will be arriving soon.” He said simply. “I cannot be here for that.”

  “Then leave.”

  “I will soon. But you must know, if you won’t release me, I will do my best to convince you otherwise. I may not be able to reverse what you’ve done, but my wolves do not need their memories to take orders. They are always eager to please.” His voice dripped with sadistic humor as he spoke.

  “I hope you like dead wolves.”

  The figure cackled loudly, his head falling backward. He continued falling back until he was falling in on himself, bending over backward until he was nearly a circle, then he blipped out of existence. Looking into the space he had just occupied, I sighed to myself and looked out at the lake once more. Dawn would be arriving soon. The sun would peek over the horizon and make the water warm and golden instead of cold black and white. Lucas’ lawn would start to dry and not be so swampy. And life would go on. For the time being.

  There had barely been enough time to stare at the lake and think about the arriving morning when I startled awake in bed once more. My eyes shot open, but I did not sit up or jerk—I just simply woke up suddenly. Lucas had his head on my chest, and his arms wrapped tightly around me. He was breathing deeply, contentedly. And the only thing I smelled in the air was Lucas’ soap. But I could swear I heard a cackle on the wind outside.

  Chapter 8

  Oskar was finishing up sweeping the kitchen floor when I walked in the backdoor later in the morning. Oma was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee and eating her breakfast while playing on her phone. No other Kobolds were in sight. Oma looked up from her phone, rolled her eyes at me, and then went back to whatever it was she was doing. Oskar gave me a warm smile before disappearing into the broom closet, shutting the door behind himself. He could put the broom away and make use of the shadows. No point in coming back out again.

  I made my way over to the coffee maker and grabbed a mug from the cupboard so that I could pour some of the delicious dark brain juice for myself. It was going to be needed. Looking into the pans on the stove, I saw sausages, eggs, hash browns, and fried tomatoes. So, I made a plate for myself as well. When I slid into the chair across from Oma, she set her phone down and picked up her fork, her eyes settling on me. Instead of immediately launching in on her, I picked up my fork and cut off a chunk of sausage, bringing it to my mouth quickly. No matter what Lucas said, I could eat meat sometimes as my first choice.

  When I had left Lucas’ house, he was leaving as well, on his way to do sub duties at the high school. He had warned me that he was going to help Mr. Barkley out at the hardware store after, so he wouldn’t be able to come by the house until much later in the evening. That was fine by me—in fact, I was hoping that he might not be able to stop by the house after work at all, that he would be too tired. There were other things I really wanted to attend to first.

  “I saw him last night,” I said to Oma. “In a dream.”

  Oma’s eyes grew wide, but it didn’t stop her from shoving another forkful of hash browns into her mouth. I popped another piece of sausage into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully, taking my time, figuring out what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it.

  “He’s not coming anytime soon.” I continued. “He can’t. I mean, for now. Eventually…anyway, we’re good for now. Talking or thinking about him is not going to be that big of a problem. It won’t make any difference.”

  “You sure about that?” She snorted. “Your track record ain’t great.”

  “Seeing as I am only oh-and-one, I wouldn’t call that much of a record, right?” I quipped, scraping up hash browns onto my fork. “So…why don’t you stuff it, old woman?”

  “Sassy,” Oma said. “It’s a wonder it took me so long to figure out you was gay.”

  “You didn’t figure it out,” I said nonchalantly. “I told you.”

  “I guess you wasn’t lyin’ about your memories bein’ back.” She grumbled. “Why the hell are we talkin’ about this anyway? What difference does it make? What’s gonna ha
ppen is gonna happen, so—"

  “He threatened me with the pack,” I interjected, still shoveling food into my face. “If I don’t do something to help him come back from…wherever…he’s going to use the pack. He can’t give them their memories back—about why things are the way they are—but they’re always willing to be violent if commanded.”

  “Christ in a goddamn gravy boat, Robbie!” Oma dropped her fork alongside her plate and threw her hands up. “Ya’ buried the damn lead.”

  “Well, I figured you’d ask how I knew that, so I lead with that. You’re always asking questions.”

  “You don’t ask enough!”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “So, that’s it, is it?” Oma grumbled, picking up her fork once more. “We gotta worry about the goddamn wolves before we can even take a damn breath? Is that it?”

  “Essentially.” I shrugged. “It shouldn’t be a problem, though.”

  “How the hell do you figure that?”

  “I’m going after Jason tonight if I can,” I explained. “Lucas works late and probably won’t feel up to coming over—”

  “Hm.”

  “—keep your comments to yourself.” I snapped, though I was somewhat amused. “So, I figure it’s a good night to go cut the head off a Hydra.”

  “You and all your damn uppity references.”

  “It’s Greek mythology, Oma.” I sighed, shoving eggs into my mouth. “It’s not uppity.”

  “Whatever you say.” She replied snootily. “You want to slow down on them eggs before you choke yourself?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  “I see that.” Oma snorted. “Probably lost a lot of calories last night, I’d imagine.”

  “Ew.”

  Even being disgusted by my grandmother wasn’t enough to keep me from continuing to shove food into my gob. Within a few more scoops of my fork, my plate was empty. I felt ravenous.

  “Guess your appetite’s improvin’.” Oma reached out and snatched up my plate while I was still chewing and swallowing the huge wad of food in my mouth. “I’ll get you another plate.”