by Mathew Ortiz
“Easy, my son. Easy. You’re still detoxing. You almost died.” She sniffed. The air reeked of unwashed male and urine. “Let’s get you into the shower.”
He drew back, embarrassed. She smiled and tugged at his hand. He sat up, nearly toppling over. She was stronger than she looked as she helped him to his feet. His eyes adjusted, and he gazed around the large room. Around them, similarly dressed women tended to the others. The people lying behind the curtain. He heard crying and more vomiting. Low moans were punctuated with a scream.
“Who--who are you?” He scanned the room, finding nothing familiar. “Where am I?”
“I’m Sister Marie Gregoria. You are in Saint Katherine’s Hospital in Quebec. You were brought here from a halfway house. You overdosed.” Her tone was grim but kindly.
“Overdosed? I don’t understand.”
“You were shooting up with heroin. I gather one of your…friends…tried to wake you, and you wouldn’t move. They called for an ambulance. When the EMTs arrived your body was just beginning to shut down. In fact, you died for a second. Luckily the EMTs were able to bring you back.”
“Why--why do I hurt?” he cried, hot tears splashing onto the cold tile of the shower room she had led him to at the end of the ward.
“It’s your body purging itself of the drugs. I’m sorry, but I can’t take away the pain.” She patted his arm and they passed a mirror. He stopped and shook her off. Stumbling over, he grabbed the mirror. He expected to see his face. Only a stranger stared back at him.
“That’s not me!”
“Yes, it is.”
“No…no it’s not!
Panicked but exhausted he didn’t fight her as she pulled him to the shower and undressed him. He ceased his efforts when he saw his hands and arms. They’re not supposed to be brown! The nails were cracked and filthy. The skin was ashy and cracked. He saw multiple scabs along the arms. His arms. No…not my arms!
She sat him down and turned on the water. Satisfied, she pointed some handheld device at him. Warm water sprayed out, and he shouted in fear when it struck him. A shiver of cold shook him until his body absorbed the heat from the water.
“It’s okay, my son. It’s only water.” She set about cleaning him up. All the while he mumbled to himself.
“Not me.” Over and over he muttered the baleful mantra.
***
The day was gloriously warm, that magical time when the air was warm and sweet with the scent of blooms. The staff of Oswald House took advantage of it and opened every window they could find. Airing out the house was a daunting task. Over two hundred windows graced the house. Karina finished opening the windows on the upper mezzanine. The breeze raced into the open windows and swirled around. Her red hair was undone by the wind and she stopped to tuck it back into a ponytail.
Karina had come to love working at Oswald House. She and Ming were becoming close friends, despite a bumpy start. Mrs. Carmichael was lovable and had been so welcoming. Mr. Singh was strict but fair. So many heads of staff had been rude and condescending to her, treating her like a lackey. Not Mr. Singh. He ran a tight ship and was always keeping all of them in the loop regarding the family and their needs, which weren’t much. In her first job, she was at the beck and call of the family, and they worked her into the concrete. It was one of the reasons she left the German branch of the Oswalds when an opening came up in the States. Margaret Oswald was a hard taskmaster, but she was much kinder than her cousins.
She had lent Karina to the Blackthornes, and when it was obvious how happy she was there, Margaret Oswald had let her transfer to Oswald House. Overall, it had been the best thing to happen to her. All the staff was wonderful…save one. Bennett Mimieux was an arrogant, pushy man who didn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. She wasn’t interested in him, and telling him so hadn’t dissuaded his desire for her. Karina did her best to avoid him. Ming knew he was pursuing her and had told her to tell Mrs. Carmichael. She refused, not wanting to cause dissention in the house. How long she could keep him at bay, Karina didn’t know.
Saul, however, was a different story. The shy charming sous chef was always smiling at her. He had dark chocolate skin, a winning smile, and kind eyes. He made her giddy and silly all at once. Karina was sure he was interested in her. She wondered if Bennett, the chef, had said something to him because Saul refused to ask her out.
Sighing, she latched the last window open and headed downstairs to the servants’ quarters. Morning teatime was in ten minutes, and she was looking forward to sitting for a bit. While Ming was opening all the windows in the guest quarters, Mr. Singh was taking care of the first floor, and Mrs. Carmichael was handling the servants’ quarters. Lightly skipping down the grand staircase, she hung a fast right and headed down the long hall past the library to their side of the house. She wasn’t paying attention and slammed into a solid body. Dismay hit her when she saw that it was Bennett.
“Hello, cherie.” He stepped back and looked her over, making her feel naked and vulnerable. No one was around.
“Hello, Chef Mimieux. I’m heading in for tea. Excuse me.” She tried to walk around him, but his arm came up, blocking her. Tamping down anxiety, she moved back.
“Why in such a rush? Don’t you want to talk to me?” He chuckled darkly, and she shivered, afraid.
“We have nothing to talk about. Please let me pass.” She waited and he didn’t move. His face grew dark.
“Oh, I think we do. Stop fighting me, sweets. I know I can make you happy.” He murmured and ran a finger along her jaw. Jerking back, she slapped his hand away.
“Don’t touch me! I’m not interested, Chef.”
He scowled at her and his voice grew cold. “Don’t think you can tell me what to do. I will have you.”
Acutely aware of how alone she was, panic raced in her blood. She could scream. Hopefully someone would hear her. He stalked toward her, and she was about to bolt when a voice came from behind her.
“Is there a problem?” Mrs. Carmichael’s icy tone brought Bennett to a halt. Swinging around, he gave her an innocent smile.
“None at all, Elizabeth.”
Mrs. Carmichael frowned. “Then you should be in the kitchen, shouldn’t you?”
The smile faded, replaced by a frown. He gave her a hard, measured look before leaving. He shoved Karina aside as he stomped down the hall. Karina exhaled and sank against the wall, shaken.
“My dear, why didn’t you tell me?” Concern in her voice almost broke Karina. Sucking it up, she shook her head in the negative.
“I can handle him, Mrs. Carmichael.”
“But—“
“No, please. I’m fine,” Karina implored, and Elizabeth faltered.
“If you’re sure?”
“I am. Can we please just go have tea?”
Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Of course. Come along.” The subject was closed for Karina. However, she was sure Mrs. Carmichael was not done with it.
***
Gregory shifted as he impaled himself further on the thick cock under him. The burn seared his senses. Sweat poured from his body as it stretched to accommodate the thick intruder. His guardian muscle railed against it as he forced more of it into him. Fuck, he loved its girth. The cock wasn’t long, but its thickness was what his body craved. Moaning, he heaved a lungful of air and pushed the rest of the way down, stretching to the breaking point. His ass nestled against his partner’s thighs. His balls contracted from the tickling the belly hair they sat upon gave them. Tucking his legs under, Gregory gave himself a moment before he moved. Tossing his head back, he groaned.
“Fuck! You’re splitting me in two.”
He heard a wicked grin in the voice that caressed his ears. “Take your time, Precious. It’s all for you. I’m in no hurry. Your ass needs my cock.” The smugness of the voice irritated Gregory.
“Don’t call me Precious.”
“You are my Precious. Mine.”
Gregory hated that nickname. However, coming fr
om his current bedmate, he didn’t mind. Rough fingers roamed his pale chest. They found his nipples. A nail scraped his left one, and Gregory bit his lip as electricity shot from his nipple straight to his ass. In sync, his ass clamped down on the fat prick he was riding. A guttural moan rattled the tightly muscled chest of the man under him.
Snapping forward, Gregory bent sharply down and met the lips rising to his. A soft goatee and mustache prickled his face, and a warm tongue demanded entrance. He happily obliged, and the kiss deepened. Sucking noises filled the air as they ravaged each other’s mouths. Gregory’s chin tingled from beard burn. Whimpering into his lover’s mouth, he felt those hands on his hips. The cock slid in and out of him rapidly, building speed. Gregory’s ass cheeks slapped noisily as he was fucked within an inch of his life. Holding himself up on his hands, he surrendered his body to the man below him. The thick cock pegged his prostate again and again.
Precum spurted from his cock, making wet trails on the hair of the guy’s belly. The aroma of sweat and male permeated the air. He could almost taste it. It was like this every time they met. The sex was animalistic, almost violent, and oh so satisfying. Fingers dug into his ass and he knew he was going to have bruises on the pale flesh. Gregory didn’t care. What he craved now was sweet release and an ass full of hot cum.
“My Precious…take my seed.”
“Do it. Fill me. Breed me!”
Warmth spread inside him, and Gregory came, his climax racing over him. Mindless, his lover drove his cock up into him. Gregory screamed as another wave of contractions deep inside his channel and from his cock overloaded his brain. Sweat dripped from his body. Biting his lip, he tasted the tang of copper and collapsed onto his bedmate.
Opening his mouth, he accepted the slow, languid kisses. Messy and wet, Gregory sighed into the grinning mouth under his. He smile back. So perfect. So right.
“I told you I’d have you under one day. But I’ll take this position, too.”
Gregory squeaked.
Smacking away the hand at his ass, he complained. “You goosed me again.”
“Ahhh… I love it when you say my name, Precious.”
Pouting, Gregory got a quick kiss from his spent lover who tugged him off the softening cock and pulled Gregory to his chest. The warmth of their bodies lulled Gregory to sleep along with the soft singing next to him.
***
William led Margaret and Dathan into his office, clicking the door closed behind them. He had had Singh arrange three chairs in the room to face each other, a tactical move on his part. He was not about to sit at his desk and have the Keeper of the Earth Clans and the Alpha of Cold Creek Pack sitting in front of him. It would be construed as an act of disrespect. Instead, three plush armchairs sat facing each other with a matching side table. William suppressed a grin when his Aunt Margaret spent a few seconds trying to find the best and most advantageous seat. None faced the door or had its back to it. Singh, bless him, followed William’s instructions to the letter. She must have given up, because Margaret took a seat, and Alpha Dathan did the same.
A knock sounded at the door, and Elizabeth Carmichael came in with a tray of finger foods and iced tea. She also had a Vodka tonic for Margaret. William had abstained.
“Would you like a drink, Alpha Temple?” Elizabeth asked as she set down the tray of food. Handing Margaret her drink, she waited for an answer.
“No, thank you.”
“If you change your mind, just ring.” Elizabeth backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. Mags took a long swig of her drink and waited.
William spoke first. “I want to offer my condolences on the loss of your father and so many of your pack during the attack last year. I understand why you postponed your visit.”
Dathan nodded. “I had finally gotten my pack straightened out when Mountain Home Pack came asking to merge. The creatures had murdered their Alpha and Alpha heir, along with all their senior members. I met with the survivors and agreed to merge. We took the new name of Cold Creek as that was all that separated the two packs, a large stream and cold creek. It’s taken my family and me a year to get things in order. That’s why I’m here. I’m confident in my enforcers but realistic. Luck, in the shape of Lady Mikio, was all that saved our asses. It was my Aunt Mikio who drove the creature away.”
“How did she accomplish that?” Mags asked.
“Mikio is a halfling, part witch, and part human. I know it’s a derogatory term, and for that I apologize. Anyway, she married into our pack over twenty years ago from a coven near Osaka, Japan. Her mother was a witch or kitsune-tsukai. The kitsune-tsukai gains her fox familiar by bribing it with its favorite foods. The kitsune-tsukai then strikes up a deal with the fox, typically promising food and daily care in return for the fox's magical services. Mikio’s mother manipulated her fox spirit to create a powerful weapon.” Pausing, Dathan picked up a glass of tea, taking a long drink. “When her mother came to the states, she brought a blade with her. A gleaming katana clad in an ebony case. She was a master swordswoman, and she passed that knowledge to Mikio. We all thought it was an ordinary blade until that day. When Mikio charged the creature, runes appeared on the blade when she bore down on the creature.”
“Similar to an Anathema.” At Dathan’s questioning look, Mags elaborated. “A magical blade that can kill any supernatural creature.”
“Right. Anyway, Mikio came out swinging. In less than two minutes she had sliced or stabbed the creature multiple times. It fought back, flinging some kind of green energy at Mikio. She held the blade close to her chest, and the energy was sucked up by the katana. After that, the monster retreated, and we were left licking our wounds.”
“You came seeking out our protection.” Bald and unflinching, his aunt’s ball-busting attitude was well deserved.
Dathan grimaced. “I’m not my father, Madam Keeper. While I have no love of solids or witches, I do love my pack with all that I am. Unlike my father, I’m not so stupid as to put all their lives in danger over my pride. I come arms open, neck bent. Don’t let my pack be wiped out over an old man’s foolishness.” Dathan Temple bared his neck to William’s aunt, and William balked.
To have a powerful Alpha like this submit was unheard of. The wolf’s love and concern for his pack meant more than his pride. William gained new respect for Dathan Temple, and from the look his aunt was giving the young Alpha, so did she.
“Sit up, Alpha Dathan. No need to show me your neck. The fight between my sister and your father was theirs. And for the record, I strongly disagreed with Mia on her treatment of your father. She was too high-handed and demanded too much with no concessions. Your father, however, was no peach either and let his pride get in the way. He didn’t think a woman should have any right to order him around.” Mags stood and walked over to William’s desk by the window. A wave of her hand and the window opened. William’s freakish need to close windows to protect his beloved computers made the room’s air stale. She rummaged inside a desk drawer and smirked as she pulled out his hidden pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out, she lit it and took a long drag. Exhaling a long gray stream of smoke, she turned back to the two men.
“Like I didn’t know you had a stash of smokes.” Chiding William, his aunt had busted him. He didn’t smoke…often. The pack was his stress-out pack. He might have a cigarette once a month, usually when Rush went out of town on business.
“Let me be blunt, Alpha Dathan. I was all ready to tell you no and to get your mangy hide off Oswald land, but the memories of that day with Mia and your father brought me up short.” She stilled him with look. “Mia demanded that Shifters supply each witching family with an enforcer. Your father was fine with rotating out his enforces, but Mia wasn’t having it. She wanted a full time wolf at each of the main houses. Daniel told her that wolves did not do well being separated from the pack and declined. Mia--forgive me William--being the super bitch that she could be, withdrew any magical assistance to the Water Clans. Many did not agree with
her ruling, but she was Keeper. In the end, the Water Clan and Earth Clan had their first division since the Black Plague.”
Mags stopped by Dathan, regarding him intently. “I was one of them. It was one of the few fights my sister and I ever had. When…” His aunt swallowed hard. “…when Mia died and I was made Keeper, I tried to talk to your father and the shifter families. Your father was leader of all the clans, and the Alpha Prime held his counsel as gospel. He refused to see me. What could I do? I couldn’t make him see me. I tried four times to get an audience with him. Each time I was turned away. I have my own pride, Alpha Dathan. I stopped trying.”
Dathan had grown paler by the minute, his latte brown skin sallow. His fingers gripped the chair and his claws lengthened. Pure anger filled his face. William snapped a bit of electricity, and he saw the wolf smell the ozone. Instantly, Dathan calmed.
“That lying old bastard!” Dathan stood abruptly and began pacing. “He lied. All those years he lied to the Shifter Conclave and to his pack and family.” He stopped, panting hard.
“I know you are not Alpha Prime and that Jeb Switchmore is. But I ask you this, will you and he accept my apology for my sister’s actions and put this behind us?” Mags took another sip of her drink.
“Yes. Yes, he will. I’m here on his behest. He would have come, but he appointed me to meet with you for several reasons.”
Mags smirked at that. “Do tell.”
Dathan frowned. “First, Jeb is in Northern California, and you are in Massachusetts. Second, and he’d kill me for telling you this, is that Alpha Prime Switchmore is afraid of flying, which is not uncommon among wolves. Most of us hate flying. Third, and these are his words, ‘Dathan, your father fucked this up for all of us. I want you holding the olive branch. Put this conflict to rest.’ He also told me in no uncertain terms I better not screw this up.” He shrugged, but a small smile tugged at his mouth.