by Willa Okati
Quentin’s fingers clenched. He felt the candy, warm from Liam’s body, squish between his fingers. His gorge rose. “Liam, I can’t. Truly. I’m all right.” He thrust the chocolate back into Liam’s hand. When Liam wouldn’t take it, Quentin let his treat drop to the floor. It landed in a pile of construction dust with a small puff. Like ashes.
Struggling not to vomit, Quentin turned aside, looking away from Liam. “Go,” he said, his voice choked. “Just -- go, Liam. I don’t want you here. Please.”
“You must listen to reason.”
Quentin laughed for the first time in -- months, perhaps. He didn’t remember. It didn’t sound like his laughter used to. When he’d been with Zach, he’d chuckled, rumbled, whooped and even giggled once or twice. This sounded like the husk of dead bark, two strips of the stuff rubbing together. “Go away, Liam.”
Liam started to speak, then let out his breath in a great big sigh. He stared at Quentin for a long moment. Quentin could feel that amber gaze on him, raking him up and down. He resisted the urge to shiver. Liam saw too much; he always had. He could look through a man’s armor to his soul.
Quentin was willing to bet he could see through pockets to what was hidden inside.
Would he say anything? Quentin held his breath. Don’t, he begged silently. Please, don’t. I have to do this. I don’t have anything left. Let me be. Let me rest up here, in peace. Let me go out the way I need. Deserve. Should.
“Quentin ...” Liam said. There was another vast pause. “Eat the chocolate. For me.”
Quentin stared stonily forward. “Go away, Liam.”
“Will you not --”
“Go away!” Quentin roared, surging up out of his seat. He would have hit Liam if the other man hadn’t jumped out of the way, backing up much too gracefully. “I want to be alone,” Quentin said, his voice dropping back to normal. He could hear the sorrow lacing his tones, and knew Liam could, too. He could see it reflected on Liam’s face. “Just ... go.”
Liam shook his head. “I tried,” he murmured, to no one in particular that Quentin could see. So far as he knew they were alone together.
The phrase struck him as funny, and he laughed again. Rasp, rasp, rasp. No -- like a rattlesnake shaking its tail. Warning Liam to stay away. Everyone, away. He had to be alone for what he had come up there to do. No one could see. No further than Liam had seen.
That way, no one would have themselves to blame.
“I tried,” Liam said again. He shook himself, as if he were covered in dust and wanted to be rid of the particles and motes. “Be careful, Quentin. No matter what else happens, be careful. Will you do this much for me?”
Quentin, staring down at the dancers, through the spot where Zach had stood, made no reply. After a moment, he heard the soft scuffling sounds of Liam walking away. Gone? He waited, listening. Willing himself to hear the sounds of life above the screaming thresh of life and joy from the dance floor below.
Nothing. He was by himself again.
Quentin reached into the pocket of his coat. The club was cold, he told himself. That was all that made his fingers shake as he closed his fist around a capped syringe and a small glass bottle.
A syringe. Empty, or so it seemed, yet it was actually full of air. Send a large enough bubble into someone’s bloodstream, and it could cause an embolism -- a person would be dead within minutes. Funny that so much destruction could come from such a small thing.
He’d stolen the injector from an empty supply cabinet at work, in the clinic where he saw too many people come in every day, all so full of pain. He’d been a good doctor once. Now, even a secretary could have told him he was in danger. His blood sugar had fallen below acceptable levels, and he needed to bring it back up.
He removed his hand from his pocket and looked at the needle and vial. “Way up,” he said softly.
Quickly, before he lost his nerve, Quentin uncapped the syringe and plunged it into the bottle. It had already been loaded with an acceptable maximum dose for a crashing diabetic. He filled it four times past the plunger capacity, watching the liquid rise milliliter by milliliter into the syringe.
Looking up, he tried to imagine he saw Zach standing in front of him. Zach. The man he’d loved with all his heart. Still loved with all his heart. His forever love, who had left him all alone. Gone where he could never return.
Quentin’s hand shook around the needle he held. “I’ll see you soon, love,” he whispered, lowering the needle to a spot just above his heart. “Very soon.”
“Maybe so,” a stranger’s voice said. Quentin jumped violently, whirling around. He only just managed not to drop his needle.
A man appeared around the edge of a support beam. He looked dangerous. Wild, somehow. Untamed. Perhaps it was the way his hair fell forward on his forehead, loose and black. Or his smile, a flash of teeth, an expression made for dark rooms and wicked deeds. It might even have been the unbelievable arrogance in his stance. He was a god among men -- and he obviously knew it.
Quentin’s heart rate rose, hammering in his throat, at the sight of that smile, which was totally without humor. A jungle cat baring its teeth at its prey.
“Maybe you’ll see me, instead. What do you think?” the stranger asked. “I’m right here waiting for you.” His fingers curled around the edge of the beam. “I’ve been here all along.”
Chapter Two
I am an animal.
Feel the beast inside of me. I run. I fight. I play. I fuck. I am a man, and I am a monster. I am the jaguar, and the jaguar is me, every moment. He’s closer to the surface than anyone is comfortable with.
But I ride him, not the other way around. I have the power over myself. That’s why I’m alpha over all of them.
I shouldn’t exist but I do. I am. I take what I want, and I know what I’m looking for.
Him.
Tezcatli’s game begins tonight.
“I’ve been watching you,” Tezcatli said again as he stepped out from behind the balcony’s support beam. The words tasted good in his mouth, like musk and blood and honey and sex. He ran his tongue over his lips, enjoying every drop. “You,” he repeated, watching the man he’d hunted down turn pale.
Beautiful.
Leaning forward, Tezcatli kept one hand on the pole, resting lightly on its solid surface. It felt good to him. Cool, round, sturdy. He’d had a vampire once on a dare, had felt the man’s cock rest in his palm. The sensation had been like ivory, hard and silky. The vampire had wanted to fuck him, but he’d had the creature on its hands and knees before they’d finished wrestling.
Tezcatli always won his games. Always. The gods favored him; after all, they’d given him the Great Cat Spirit, taught him how to be its master. But they demanded things back from time to time. Lately, he’d been putting off a scent, had had the urge to find a mate.
The women in his clan had told him he smelled of pure lust. They’d pouted at him, wanted a place in his bed, to be positioned as beta. He’d laughed at them. They should have known better. Tezcatli liked women just fine, with their soft curves and tangling legs. But what he wanted in bed was a man. Hard. Rough. Fast. Often.
And he definitely wanted the man he saw in front of him. “Quentin,” he said, so he could see what flavor the name had. It tasted like salty tears and ... come. He felt his inner Cat purr with satisfaction. A good taste. He liked it. “Quentin ...” He trailed off, teasing. Batting with his voice like the Cat would with a paw. “Why don’t you say hello? You’re not scared of me, are you?”
The man sat in front of him, frozen. He looked like a robot who needed oil. Handsome as fuck, but frozen at odd angles. Looked damn silly. And the syringe in his hand ... Tezcatli narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air. Sickness. The man’s blood wasn’t good. And the drug he was about to inject ...
“Put that down,” Tezcatli ordered. He thrust himself forward, leaning toward Quentin. “Did you hear me, boy? I said put it down. Now.”
Quentin’s jaw hardened. His hand tr
embled around the syringe, but he shook his head. “No. Go away. You didn’t see any of this. You didn’t know I was here. It’ll be safer for you if no one knows.”
“Too late.” Tezcatli slipped back behind the pole.
Then, he leaned out the other side. Quentin still held his weapon of self-destruction poised over his heart. “I told you, no,” he warned. “Give it up, boy.”
That got a reaction, the kind that made his Cat sit up and smile. Deep inside him needle-sharp teeth gleamed brightly, he knew. Quentin raised himself in his chair and almost hissed.
“I’m not a boy.”
“Do you think you’re a man?”
Quentin blinked.
“I’m just asking.” Tezcatli flickered back behind the pole. He looked out from the opposite side. “I see you,” he said, sing-song, testing how the man would react to a Cat’s teasing.
He wasn’t disappointed. Quentin’s hand began to shake again. “Who are you? Did Liam send you? What do you want?”
Tezcatli grinned, coming back around to display himself again. He let one hand glide down his chest and his stomach. Trailed it down to his cock. Slid a finger up and down. Already half-hard. He saw the other man swallow and imagined those bite-worthy lips closing around his length. Gods, yes. Good. Quentin would be the lay of a lifetime.
“What do I want?” he asked, baring his teeth. The sharp edges of them stung his mouth. He savored the pain. “I want you, Quentin. I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time. And now?” He held it for a beat. “You’re mine.”
Quentin almost dropped his syringe.
Several hours earlier
“Tonight is the night, isn’t it?” Oma ran her hands up the expensive cotton of Tezcatli’s undershirt. His blood needed to be good and hot for the hunt, so he’d been sparring with one of the other Cats in their cellar. Still, the fight had left him messy. If he’d been after another Cat he would have stayed rough. Let the other beast know exactly what he was up against. But no, he was going to Amour Magique. He was enough of a man to know he had to play by their rules ... play around their rules.
He bared his teeth at Oma. She met him eye for eye. Oma was the most powerful among the female Cats. He would have taken her if he liked women in bed. And she knew it.
Sometimes they battled, sometimes they ate together, sometimes they hunted. They shared a bond, both wanting mates, but they couldn’t take anyone who wasn’t a match for them. They needed someone powerful.
Too bad they couldn’t be what the other wanted, Tezcatli thought. Then he reconsidered. No, it wasn’t. He feinted at Oma, who snarled at him and swiped at his face. He dodged easily.
She backed up, her shoulders hunching. If she’d had a tail in her human form, it would have been switching back and forth. “Tonight is the night,” she said, her cadence lilting, wailing up and down the scale. A Cat’s warning cry. “You’re going to meet with him. Whoever he is. The interloper you would bring among us.” She slashed at Tezcatli. “You’re going to bring a cuckoo home into the nest.”
Tezcatli leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, daring her to try again. He taunted her. “And? You have a problem with that? Something you want to share?” He paused. “You don’t have a place in my bed. The gods told me I’d find the man I’m looking for with the incubus.”
Oma spat. “It’s dangerous to trust the demons and angels. They’re fallen or they’re too damned high to trust. You’re putting us all at risk by bringing in a stranger. What if he won’t come?”
“Oma ...” Tezcatli uncoiled himself and reached out almost too quickly to see, first gripping and then caressing her cheek. “Mind your manners. I’ll be home later with our new beta. Or I’ll be home with blood on my claws, alone.”
She showed him her fangs. He bared his own. They glared at each other, face to face, for a long moment, before she backed down. “Have it your way, Tezcatli,” she said. “Dress up like a prince, and go parade yourself. Keep your tail high and show off everything you’ve got. But when you come home, I’ll bet anything you will be alone.” She crooned the syllables. “Al-o-ne.”
Tezcatli exploded. “Out! Devil woman -- get out!”
She’d gone, but she’d snickered at him all the while as she went. Tezcatli had sent a vase into the wall, smashing it after her. Insolent Cat! Meddling bitch! She knew better than to challenge him, he who had the power. He was their king. Their alpha. The favored one.
He glanced down at the outfit he’d chosen to wear. The dark shirt and pants had an Aztec flavor. “Sun God, Moon Goddess, grant me favor,” he recited, stroking the fabric with one finger. It rustled beneath his touch. Bewitching. “Take me to my mate.”
Then, he’d tilted his head back and laughed. It was all too damn funny not to. He might come home with red paws, but he’d dip his dick into the honey before he got his fingers dirty.
He savored the thought of taking a long, lean, strong body down to hard-packed earth or wooden floor. Pinning his prey’s hands and teaching him who was master.
Oh, yeah.
Whatever else happened, Tezcatli planned on his night being one to remember for a long, long time. He stroked himself with a lazy grin. Very long.
Present moment
“I watched you come in,” Tezcatli said. He let go of the pole and let his hands swing at his sides in controlled arcs. Switch, switch. Just like a tail if you knew how to read the body language. He almost chuckled. Quentin didn’t, of course, though he soon would. In fact, he’d know a Cat body damned well. “Watched you and your friends, and that ...” He sniffed the air, grimacing at the light smell of the incubus. “... Liam,” he spat.
Then he turned all his attention back to Quentin, not blinking for a second. Leaning forward and invading his space -- deliberately. Every move planned. Sneaking into place. “Did you feel my eyes on you? You had to have. You should have known someone was looking. You, with your pretty hair.”
He reached out and caught a long, shining brown lock, twining it around his fingers. One sharp tug for fun, then he let go with a mocking grin as Quentin made a protesting sound. A protest with a little bit of snarl.
Tezcatli liked that.
He dared a little more, enjoying his game, laying hands on that slim body. There were muscles underneath the coat. Oh, yes. No pretty boy who didn’t know what it felt like to run for Tezcatli. This man worked hard for his looks. Another point for him.
Tezcatli pressed tighter still, his lips parted. Tasting Quentin. He’d lost the sorrow. Good! More anger, now. And fear? Fear he could work with. He’d turn it into respect.
“Now, I’ve told you twice already,” he said, wrapping his hand around Quentin’s, around the syringe. “Put that damn thing down.”
Quentin’s hand relaxed around the needle’s barrel. Tezcatli yanked it out of his hand. He would have thrown it against the wall, but -- plastic -- it would just bounce. He satisfied himself by squirting all the air out. The small puff sounded loud as a gunshot, and it reeked of hospitals, sickness -- death.
“What the hell are you doing? Stop, stop!” Quentin protested as the poison splattered. Tezcatli didn’t give an inch, not stopping until the syringe was empty and he’d dropped it to the floor.
Bending, he picked up the squashed chocolate that reeked of Liam. His lips curled, but he shoved it into Quentin’s hand. “Eat!”
Quentin stared at him. Slowly, he shook his head. “No,” the man said aloud, but Tezcatli knew that tone of voice. It said one thing, but it meant he wasn’t really sure. He had to be convinced.
“Eat,” Tezcatli said, taking the chocolate back. He unwrapped the morsel slowly. Crinkle by crinkle. The sweet cocoa goo stuck to his fingers. On an impulse, he thrust one out and painted a stripe across Quentin’s lower lip. “Eat.”
Slowly, as if hypnotized, Quentin’s tongue flickered out where Tezcatli’s finger had been. He shuddered as he tasted the chocolate stain. Tezcatli painted his upper lip, pulling back from the touch of that pin
k tongue. He wanted it wrapped around his own. He’d admire it for the moment, though. It would be enough. For now. They’d have more fun soon.
“Eat,” Tezcatli chanted. He lifted the melting chocolate to his mouth and placed it between his teeth. The sugar and cocoa sat heavy on his tongue. He swallowed as it made his mouth water. Bending down, dark chocolate clasped between sparkling teeth, he presented it to Quentin. He didn’t need to say it again. Eat.
Quentin ran his tongue around his own lips again. He was shivering. Tezcatli pushed in, close enough for the chocolate to touch Quentin’s mouth. He let all the heat of the moment burn in his eyes, the way he knew he could. They stared into Quentin’s. Heat for cold. Scorching for cold and rainy.
Eat. Eat. Eat.
Quentin’s mouth closed around the sweetness. For just a moment, their lips brushed. Quentin’s eyes fell halfway shut as the chocolate melted between his teeth. Tezcatli stole a quick taste of him, before what he expected would happen happened.
He wasn’t disappointed. Quentin jerked away from him, leaping out of his chair, his moves almost feline. Tezcatli followed, admiring the man. Even when someone was fucking with his head, he kept it cool. From the fall of his hair to the light balance on his toes, he was one of them -- or he should be.
Maybe he would be, soon.
At least Quentin had swallowed the sweet morsel. Tezcatli took that as a good omen. “Now, that’s better,” he said, his voice low and silky. “Good boy.”
Quentin’s cheeks flared bright red. “Stop calling me that!” He backed up a few more steps.
“I’ll call you what I want to call you,” Tezcatli purred as he matched Quentin’s movements. “You may call me Tezcatli.” His Cat body had begun to sing to him. The way Quentin moved set a fire burning deep in his belly. His cock rose and filled a little more. He reached down to stroke himself again. Even Quentin would be able to smell it. Didn’t mean a thing that he was just a human. A horny man recognized another horny man, no matter what.