“No,” Mari said at last, with a small, half-smile. “Not that it wouldn’t look amazing but I want to feel your hands on me. I want to feel your body touching mine. I don’t know if I’m ready to go further, but tonight, I want to sleep with you like this—naked—touching. Can we do that?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea—the sleeping part, I mean.” Mari frowned and Jake explained, “I can hold you until you fall asleep, then I’ll move over, how about that?”
“Why?”
“Mari…the last thing I want is for you to wake up in the middle of the night with me poking you in the back and feeling uncomfortable in your own bed. I don’t want to be the cause of your nightmares.”
“Oh.” Mari was quiet again for a time. Jake could see that he hadn’t thought that far ahead. He wanted to hug him and was afraid to. “Oh… I see. Yes. Still, I’ve woken up a few times when we had clothes on and you were—” He broke off and cleared his throat. “But it’s your bed, too, and you shouldn’t feel…unwelcome. Okay, we’ll try that then. You can hold me and I’ll hold you for a while and we can see what happens.”
He walked his hands across Jake’s chest then leaned forward almost too quickly, like he was afraid he might change his mind. He coiled his arms around Jake’s neck and he settled down in slow, cautious increments, letting their bodies come together inch by inch until he was lying on top of Jake with his head on Jake’s chest and his arms around his neck. Jake felt the rapid huff of Mari’s breath whisper through the dark curls on his torso. Mari’s belly was soft and warm against his crotch and upper thighs.
Jake brought his arms up around him, one hand coming to rest between his shoulders, the other on the back of his thigh. That was all they did. Still, it was more intimacy than they’d shared in months and Jake was gratified with the way every muscle in Mari’s body slowly relaxed as he stroked a small circle on his back. Despite his worries and his best intentions, Jake closed his eyes. Maybe it was the beer he’d drunk earlier or the warm spot in his heart at being able to hold Mari like this again, but it wasn’t long before he drifted into sleep.
Ironic that his fear had been giving Mari nightmares. He seldom remembered his dreams and even more rarely was bothered enough by them to be woken out of a sound sleep. Sometime in the early-morning hours before dawn, Jake startled awake from a nightmare of smoke and flame. He had investigated enough building fires that it took him a few moments to realize that the smell of char and melted plastics in his nostrils was only memory.
Mari lay asleep beside him, peaceful and beautiful. He was about to close his eyes again but a faint blue flash caught his attention from the floor where he had left his jeans. Jake slid out of bed and retrieved his phone. He had just missed a call, from Michigan, which was alarming because it was about midnight there. Absolutely nothing good could be on the other end of that call, but he pulled on his jeans and silently stepped out of the room.
Downstairs in the kitchen, he called the unfamiliar number back. A weary voice on the other end answered, “Jake? Is that you?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Nikan Niizh-Ziibi. I know it’s late there—or early, actually. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t call if it weren’t an emergency. There have been four fires around town the last few months. Sheds and barns. Tonight a house burnt to the foundations before the fire department arrived. The ookomisan think it is one of our own. Jake, we need you to come home.”
Available from Pride Publishing:
Wanted: Demon Familiar
Bellora Quinn and Sadie Rose Bermingham
Released 19th June 2018
Excerpt
Chapter One
Neil set the bushel of summer squash into the panel van with the rest of the produce ready to go to market tomorrow morning and jumped down. Mr. Yaetz patted him on the back. “That’s the last one. Good job, Neil. You best head home now. Don’t want to get caught outside the wards after nightfall, ’specially not in that fancy car.”
Neil stifled a wince and forced himself not to look around to see who might have overheard the mention of his ‘fancy car’. Mr. Yaetz didn’t mean anything by it, but the car was a sore point with his co-workers at the small greenhouse and urban farm lot. None of them had their own vehicle, much less a sleek convertible sports car. Explaining that it was his mother’s, not his, hadn’t stopped the digs about his ‘slumming with the common folk’ or brought him any closer to the camaraderie the rest of them shared.
“Thanks, Mr. Yaetz. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Neil told him and turned toward the front lot. He glanced at the horizon automatically, judging how much time he had. About forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. More than enough for the short drive home. He wasn’t likely to come across any shadow beasts here on the outskirts of the city but a pack hunting farther afield was always a possibility. Of course, if he did run across shadow beasts, they would have to catch him first and the Maserati was both fast and agile.
Neil slid behind the wheel and the powerful engine purred to life. With the sun slowly sinking behind him, he swung the car out onto the road and headed for home.
As expected, Neil pulled into the driveway with plenty of daylight left and no encounters with any creatures that came out after dark. Climbing the front steps, his thoughts preoccupied with a shower and dinner, he almost missed the broken seal on his front door. He stopped cold. The warding glyph, usually a subtle shimmering gold, was inert, dull gray and cracked with lines of black. A sick knot cramped in his belly and Neil pressed his thumb down on the latch and pushed the door open but hesitated on the threshold.
“Mom?”
He listened. No answer.
Neil stepped into the foyer and slowly moved into the hall. A picture had been knocked off the wall and the broken glass from the frame glittered in the fading sunlight streaming in behind him.
“Mom?” he called again, louder.
Something crashed in the kitchen, the metallic clatter of pans hitting the tile floor. Neil ran in that direction.
His mother screamed, “Neil, get out! Get out!”
Heart hammering, he skidded into the kitchen. A black-clad, hooded man held on to his struggling mother. Another man stood next to them with a curved knife in his hand—his eyes were flat black and icy cold as they slid over him. Neil rushed them, yelling, “Get away from her!” The man with the knife lifted his free arm and flung the outstretched fingers of his empty hand at him. Neil hit the stop spell so hard it jarred him from teeth to toes, knocking him on his ass.
“Neil!” his mother shrieked.
He lifted his head in time to see the man who had floored him lift the knife and draw it down the side of her throat and across her shoulder in two professional, vicious slashes. The other man let her go as her eyes went wide and her hands flew up to clutch at the wounds. The blood didn’t spray everywhere like it did in the movies. It welled up in a gush of red that soaked the front of her shirt as she choked and gasped then fell down on her knees.
“Mom! No!” Neil scrambled to his feet. The two men moved toward him in unison as his mother crumpled, face down on the floor. Her body sounded like a wet rag hitting the tiles and a shocking pool of red spread under her.
“Take him,” the one holding the bloody knife said. His voice was low, emotionless and without accent, like an automaton in one of the old films they occasionally streamed when the comms satellite was functioning.
On autopilot, Neil grabbed the pendant that hung on the chain around his neck and ripped it off, throwing it on the floor. The man reached to stop him, but it was too late. The glass pendant shattered and a wall of noxious smoke rose between him and the killers. It wouldn’t hold them long, a minute if he was lucky. Probably less. He turned and ran back down the hall, fleeing the house.
He stumbled down the steps and fumbled the keys from his pocket, hitting the lock button. He yanked the door open and was shaking so badly he dropped the keys on the floor.
“Fuck! Fuck!” He rea
ched down and his fingers just touched the ring as the killers came running out of the front door. Neil grabbed the keyring and jammed the right key in the ignition. For one horrible second, he was sure it wouldn’t start even though he’d just driven the car home. The engine turned over as smooth as a kitten’s purr and he slammed the shifter in reverse just as the man with the blade grabbed the driver’s door handle. Neil put his foot down on the pedal. The tires squealed and the car shot backward down the driveway and into the street.
Blood pounded in his ears, almost drowning out the engine sounds as he threw the car into drive and floored the gas, clutching the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He looked in the rear-view mirror as he sped away. They would come after him. He turned at the next intersection. Then turned again. And again. He tried to focus on what to do next but all he could see was the shock and anguish on his mother’s face before she fell, and that bright pool of red spreading out under her. He looked in the mirror again but saw no sign of the men that had killed her. That didn’t mean anything. They could come, he knew it. He was heading out of the city following pure instinct, but now he slowed the car for just a moment. At the next turn, he doubled back the way he’d come.
Out of the city might seem safer, but it wasn’t. He had little money and the car would take him only so far. He needed resources.
He forced his fingers to relax on the steering wheel but his hands still shook. When he took a breath, it was shaky too. The red had been so stark against her blonde hair. Her eyes…had they been blank before she fell or after she hit the floor? No. No he couldn’t think of that now. He raised and hand and swiped at his wet cheeks.
Bone Men. Their name whispered across Neil’s mind in his father’s voice, from one of his many lessons. Assassins. Twisted by the sorcery that enhanced them, marked by the lives they took. Had she been their target? Was her death retribution for something his father had done? Or…or were they there for him?
His mind raced as fast as his pulse and the car he was driving. He took another deep breath and eased his foot back off the pedal a few degrees. He needed a clear head. He needed a plan. But first he needed somewhere to hide. Instinct told him to find someone he trusted, but his training overrode that idea. He could hear his father’s voice in his ear again. Trust no one, Nielob. If they come for you, go to ground. Speak to no one you know. Hide and wait. I will find you.
Not if he could help it. If he had his way, he’d lose both the Bone Men and his father, for good. The car would get him a good distance but he couldn’t keep it. It was traceable. He’d drive into the city, find someone he could sell the car to for scrap and use the money to get a ticket to as far away as it would take him.
He couldn’t take the car directly to a salvage yard without a title, too risky. He needed a fence. Months ago, while he’d been watering seedlings at work, he’d overheard Carl bragging about how his uncle was going to get a real car, one with a combustion engine. No one had believed him and Carl had gotten mad. Insisted his uncle knew a guy that dealt in contraband autos in the city. Hammersfell Road, next to the old Ackard Motors factory. There was a warehouse where they had raves. The fence organized them. Neil had no way of knowing if the bragging was just lies, but he had filed the information away anyway. His chin gave an odd quiver and the tightness in his throat squeezed hard enough to choke him. No. He couldn’t give in to tears now. He couldn’t afford to let out the sobs that threatened him. A safe place first. The grief tasted of bitter acid and wanted to strangle him, but he swallowed it down and kept going.
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About the Authors
Bellora Quinn
Originally hailing from Detroit Michigan, Bellora now resides on the sunny Gulf Coast of Florida where a herd of Dachshunds keeps her entertained. She got her start in writing at the dawn of the internet when she discovered PbEMs (Play by email) and found a passion for collaborative writing and steamy hot erotica. Soap Opera like blogs soon followed and eventually full novels.
The majority of her stories are in the M/M genre with urban fantasy or paranormal settings and many with a strong BDSM flavour.
Email: [email protected]
Sadie Rose Bermingham
A storyteller since before she started school, Sadie also enjoys reading, photography, live music and long walks on the beach.
Sadie has worked as a bookseller, a pedigree editor for the racing industry and a local and family history researcher. Originally from the north of England, she has been working her way across the UK ever since. She currently resides on the south east coast with her long term partner, where she hopes to buy a mobile home and establish a whippet farm.
Email: [email protected]
Bellora and Sadie love to hear from readers. You can find their contact information, website and author biographies at http://www.pride-publishing.com.
Also by Bellora Quinn and Sadie Rose Bermingham
Elemental Evidence: Breathing Betrayal
Elemental Evidence: Burning Boundaries
Elemental Evidence: Surfacing Secrets
Wanted: Demon Familiar
Also by Bellora Quinn and Angel Martinez
AURA: Quinn’s Gambit
AURA: Flax’s Pursuit
AURA: Kellen’s Awakening
Digging Deeper Page 25