The demon Selvator was a tracker, similar to himself, but often times, due to the gray cast to his skin, which the coalition deemed as lower breeding, he got the shitty tasks of killing other paranormals instead of bringing in demons for trial. The demon grimaced. "Sorry, old friend, but I've got to follow orders. They want you brought in, dead or alive." He shook his head as he eyed Santos's wings. "And now I see why. You've become a threat to them."
"A threat?" he snarled.
Selvator smiled, showing off a fang. Santos saw his body relax slightly, though he kept his hands in a defensive posture, ready to raise a shield if Santos decided to strike at him magically. "You mated without permission to…" he glanced around and took in the frowning gargoyles behind Santos. "A gargoyle. Powerful creatures, gargoyles. A demon can draw on the power of their mate in battle. Combine that with the wings you now sport, you've become a danger to them."
Growling low in his throat, Santos thought quickly. If he went with Selvator, the coalition would kill him. If he didn't go, he'd have to kill Selvator, and then the coalition would just send someone else after him. Neither option appealed to him. Another thought struck. If they couldn't kill him, they may decide to kill Tyron.
Santos groaned in frustration as he turned to Selvator. He appreciated the demon giving him the choice, realizing Selvator could have shot that bolt of energy while still concealed by the powers of the lei line. The memory of absorbing his shot with his wing came to mind and ideas filled him.
"I'll go with you, Selvator, but I'll not go in chains."
A smirk grew over the other demon's features. "I thank you for your choice, Santos." Santos felt his brows lift at Selvator's words, and the tracker chuckled softly. "I wouldn't have been able to take you."
"Then why did you appear? You know you could have struck first."
Selvator shrugged. "You didn't deserve that, old friend. I don't give a damn what the coalition says."
Santos bowed his head in thanks before turning to Maximus. "Allow me to make certain no other creature can just pop in," he said, lifting his fingers in air quotes. After a nod from the Huzza, Santos flexed his fingers and mentally reached out for the lei line that Selvator used to enter the gargoyle's stronghold. He traveled the line in his mind, fusing the thread with several other entrances into Rostrorod. Seconds later, he'd blocked every entrance from use by any paranormal but himself and those he'd invited.
He turned to Max. "One way or another, Tyron will be returned shortly."
"He won't want you sacrificing yourself for him," Max warned him. "Surely there's something we can do to help?" he said, shifting his gaze briefly to Graden, who nodded his agreement.
Santos smiled, feeling gratitude for the first time in nearly a century. "I'm honored that'd you'd wish to assist, but this is demon politics. There is nothing you can do."
He watched Max's jaw tighten before he nodded curtly. "Once I leave, no one will be able to enter except me."
"You're welcome anytime," Max murmured.
Santos nodded, crossed to Selvator and settled a hand on his shoulder. He reached out to the lei lines around him and took the pair to the demon realm of Overworld.
Chapter Six
Tyron bared his fangs at the demon that opened the door. They may be holding him in a comfortable studio style room, complete with a stocked refrigerator and king size bed, but to him, it was still a prison.
The demon, the one who'd brought him his last meal a couple hours ago, hissed back, showing off a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. "Come on," he ordered, motioning him forward.
"Where?" Tyron asked coldly, not moving an inch toward the demon.
"The coalition has convened. They've called for you."
He could tell by the contempt dripping from the demon's voice, he didn't like the duty of fetching Tyron. Glancing out the tiny window at the red landscape outside, Tyron quickly weighed his options. He could refuse to go before the coalition, but then he'd never know why they'd kidnapped him and locked him in this room. He figured it had something to do with his contact with Santos, but for the life of him, he didn't know what was going on. Best to get an explanation, he decided.
Tyron nodded curtly and moved warily toward the demon. When the demon held up a pair of wrist restraints and motioned for Tyron to turn, he growled, "Not happening." There was no way in hell, or in this case, in Overworld, he was turning his back on this creature.
"Fine," the red beast snapped.
He led the way out of the room and down the hall. The gray stone of the hallway had grooves chiseled into ornate patterns. The gouges were filled with gold and red metals creating one long intricate decoration. Tyron had to admit that it was stunning. Even the stone beneath his claws had designs carved into them. It was a sharp contrast to the barren, non-descript room he'd been held in.
A short walk through twisting corridors and passed several cross-hallways had Tyron being led through large wooden doors. He hardly had to tuck his ten foot wings to get through the opening. Stepping inside, the cavernous room was easily as large as four football fields with a sixty foot ceiling. Dozens of demons sat along the far side nearly two hundred yards away. More demons stood lining the walls. Santos stood in the empty center next to another demon, this one with a gray cast to his red skin.
His heart skipped a beat as Santos turned toward him. The demon's glittering red eyes swept over him quickly, as if assessing for damage. Tyron offered a tight smile, trying to reassure his mate. He nearly stumbled when he heard Santos's voice in his head.
Can you hear me, little one?
He lifted one black brow and gave a tight nod, veering toward his mate.
Good. Are you well? Have they mistreated you?
At that, he couldn't stop the small smile, knowing that Santos at least cared a little. When the demon he'd followed to the room grabbed his arm to lead him away from Santos, Tyron swung to face him and growled. At the same time, he heard a roar. Looking toward his mate, he watched what he thought was a cloak lift and spread to show off twelve foot, red membranous wings that, except for the color, looked a lot like a bat's.
"Come between me and my bindling again and it will be the last thing you do," Santos snarled, his cold, angry words carrying easily through the room, silencing all other conversation.
Tyron sucked in a surprised breath at Santos's words, and by the reaction of most of the demons in the room, he wasn't the only one shocked. Santos crooked a finger at him. The demon holding him released his arm and Tyron wasted no time going to Santos. Even more amazement flooded him when Santos wrapped Tyron in his arms and kissed him deeply, almost as if staking a claim.
When Santos finally released him, Tyron's breath came in panting gasps and his cock pressed painfully against his fly. "What the hell is going on?" he murmured when he could finally speak.
"The coalition monitors bindings, Tyron," Santos replied. "They're not too happy that we started the process without permission."
Tyron felt the color drain from his face. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry, Santos. I didn't know. Will you be in much trouble because I bit you?"
Santos scraped his clawed forefinger across Tyron's cheek, causing a shiver to travel down his spine and settle in his balls. His cock twitched in his pants, and Santos smiled, as if knowing the affect his touch had on him. "I could have stopped you, love, but it felt far too good. And if you remember, I marked you as well. I drew just enough blood from you to start the binding. The process isn't complete, and they want it stopped. They fear the power I've gained by mating you. Gargoyles are powerful creatures, Tyron," he murmured, flexing his wings, drawing Tyron's gaze to them.
"How will they stop the process?" he asked, trying to control his need to explore his mate's new appendages. When Santos didn't answer right away, his attention snapped to his lover's face. "No," he growled in realization. "I won't allow it."
Santos's grin turned feral, but before he could say anything, a deep voice bellowed through the chamber. "Enough!
" All talk ceased. Santos and Tyron turned toward the large gargoyle, but much to Tyron's pleasure, Santos kept a possessive arm around his waist. "Santos Ry Conica, you've been brought here because you've begun the binding process without the coalition's permission. As punishment, your binding must be severed. Either sacrifice yourself or your bindling. Choose your fate, demon."
"No, Coalition Member Braken," Santos replied, his voice cold and clear. "The Demon Coalition's control over who mates who is an antiquated and demeaning tradition. The hold you have over our lives ends now. I challenge the coalition's right to choose. I demand a free-vote."
Silence even more profound than when the coalition member spoke followed Santos's demand. After several long seconds, Braken snarled, "You know the law. You'd put your life on the line for this gargoyle?"
"Yes," Santos responded firmly.
"So be it," came the disdainful reply.
"What's going on?" Tyron whispered as he watched the demons at the far end file out of their chairs and form two lines across the massive hall.
"If a demon feels his belief is stronger than the strength of the coalition, he can demand a free-vote. He walks a gauntlet. If he survives, his belief is the new law."
"If he survives," Tyron murmured, watching the coalition members get into position. "A gauntlet? You mean each member will have the opportunity to strike you any way they want and you can't defend yourself?"
Santos wrapped his arms around Tyron, pulling him close. "You are my defense, Tyron. You gave me wings. They allow me to absorb blows more easily. Plus a demon draws on the strength of his mate," he whispered. "Even though we haven't completed the mating, we are still linked. My only concern is that you may feel some of the pain. If it gets to be too much for you, please close the link in your mind. I don't wish any harm to come to you."
Growling softly, Tyron shook his head. "Not going to happen. Finish the bond, so I can help you fully," he demanded. When Santos just stared at him, he lifted his wrist and used his fangs to tear it open. He held the bleeding limb up to Santos's face. "Take it."
Santos grimaced, and for several heartbeats, Tyron thought he'd refuse. A soft smile curved the demon's hard features. "It's not the way I would have wanted to complete our coupling, but we'll do it right later," he promised before latching onto Tyron's wrist, sucking several large swallows of blood into his mouth.
Santos's moan and the feel of his lips on his wrist sent a fresh wave of lust though Tyron's body. He had to concentrate hard not to come in his jeans. He felt the faint mental link Santos had used to talk to him earlier snap into place. Delicious, Santos whispered in his mind. His mate swiped his tongue over the gash, licking up a few last drops before removing his shirt and wrapping it around Tyron's wrist. He smiled. "I can't wear it anyway."
Tyron grabbed Santos neck and pulled his head down for a quick kiss. "I'll be here to patch you up when they're done, but don't think I'll ever stand by for this behavior again. Do you hear me?"
His mate's eyes glowed with amusement and affection. "Yes, my bindling." His whispered words sent another wave of warmth through Tyron, this time of happiness. Now if he could just get Santos home safe, everything would be perfect.
Tyron watched Santos stalk toward the gauntlet of demons. How many demons are in the coalition? Have you ever seen anyone complete this? Tyron spoke to his mate through their mental link, trying to hide the worry he felt.
There are thirty demons in the coalition. The free-vote right hasn't been invoked in nearly a century. I wasn't in court at the time.
Did he complete it?
No, little one. He didn't. And then the first two demons attacked, the one on the right slamming his fist into Santos's sternum right before the one on the left shot a bolt of energy at his demon's face. The pain swamped Tyron through the mental link, taking his breath away. Seconds later, more pain hit him, and he realized Santos had stepped forward and took on the next pair of strikes.
The fourth pair both shot bolts of electricity at Santos, making the demon wrap his arms and wings around himself in agony. By the eighth pair, that's what each demon was doing, and from the residual pain Santos allowed to filter through to Tyron, the demons were getting more powerful near the end.
He wracked his mind for a way to help his mate, and a slim idea formed. Tyron lowered himself to the floor and knelt on the carved flagstones. Pulling into himself, he searched for that place of peace he retreated to when he meditated. Tyron finally found it when he felt Santos stagger at the tenth pair. Taking a deep breath, he opened himself fully to Santos, pushing past the block the demon put up to protect him. He felt the next hits to his mate's body fully, and mental pain swept over him. Through it, he forced his breathing to remain slow and even as he sucked the pain out of Santos's body into his own, flooding his mate with relief.
"Tyron, are you still with me?"
Yes, Santos, he replied as the pain began to slowly ebb. Suddenly, Tyron felt hands under his arms, and he realized Santos helped him to his feet. He tilted his head back and grinned at Santos. "Oh. You said that out loud."
"Yes, little one. I did." He chuckled and kissed Tyron quickly before whispering, "I couldn't have done it without you." Santos turned to look at the shocked and disgruntled demons making up the coalition. "Demons choose their own bindlings," he stated flatly. "No permission needed."
Member Braken nodded, his eyes blazing with anger and something else. Respect. "As you say, Santos Ry Conica. Permission is no longer needed by the Demon Coalition for a demon to choose their bindling."
Santos nodded once before turning Tyron toward the door and heading that way. "Hey, Santos." Tyron heard the demon that'd stood by Santos when he'd entered call after them.
Santos turned and lifted a brow. "Selvator?"
The other demon grinned. "Since you'll probably want to work less so you can spend more time with your bindling, think you could use a hand at your detective agency?"
"A well-trained tracker is always welcome, Selvator. How about you meet me at the office Monday morning at ten?"
Selvator nodded. "Thank you, old friend."
Santos nodded before resuming his walk toward the exit, drawing Tyron with him. "Let's get out of here. We have some things to discuss, I think."
Chapter Seven
His wings wrapped around his bindling, Santos took them to the clearing near Rostrorod. Tyron looked around with interest, taking in the warm sun beating down on them. Santos furled his wings, grabbed Tyron's hand, and led the way through the trees. "Once I figure out the lei line closest to our quarters or the infirmary, I'll use that one instead. Until then, this one will have to do. It's only a short walk to Rostrorod."
"Our quarters…" Tyron murmured questioningly, his eyes searching Santos's grin.
It occurred to Santos that he may be jumping the gun. He paused, pulling his bindling into his arms. His bindling. Damn, he loved how that sounded. "I guess I just assumed I'd move in with you. Now that we're bound, I don't want to live away from you." He cocked his head, trying to read Tyron's expression. "If you'd prefer, we could live at my condo, but since you're the clan doctor, I figured you'd want to remain close to your infirmary."
He waited for the gargoyle to say something, but Tyron just continued to stare. Santos slowly loosened his arms. "Or if you need more time, we'll keep our separate places," he murmured, feeling foolish for making assumptions.
Tyron smiled slightly. He wrapped his arms around Santos's neck and pulled his head down. When Tyron pressed his lips against his own, Santos groaned softly before tightening his arms again, pulling the smaller man's body flush to his own. His cock filled as he plundered Tyron's mouth, tasting his bindling's essence, so sweet, so rich.
When he released Tyron's lips, they both gasped for breath. He smiled down at Tyron. "What was that for?"
"For your willingness to give up that awesome condo to live with my clan," Tyron gasped out.
"I'm not doing it for your clan, little one," he
said. "I'm doing it for you. I figure if we're at your place, you can't ditch me in the morning." His tone was teasing, but he knew he couldn't hide the hurt through the connection they now shared.
"I'm sorry," Tyron whispered. "I didn't think you were interested in more than a one night stand, and I couldn't face you asking me to leave," he admitted, dropping his head.
Santos cupped Tyron's cheek in one hand and tilted his face up, forcing him to meet his gaze. "When I woke without you there, I just about came after you then and there. I was half dressed before I realized I was about to treat you like a wayward mate. I knew I needed to do some serious thinking before approaching you again. Stringing you along in any way wouldn't have been fair, and I knew it." He brushed several light kisses over Tyron's lips, taking in his surprised expression. "It didn't take me long to realize I wouldn't be able to let you go once I had you again." He smiled. "And not having you again wasn't an option. I'll never get enough of you, Tyron of Cuchulian. You are my bindling. The other half of my soul."
When he saw Tyron's smile, he couldn't stop himself from dipping his head and claiming Tyron's lips. He lifted the smaller man into his arms, pleased when Tyron wrapped his legs around his waist, bringing their bodies flush together. Stepping forward, Santos pinned his mate against a tree, grinding his erection into Tyron's equally hard shaft.
"Santos!" Tyron hissed, his head falling back against the trunk. He moaned, rolling his hips forward.
"I'm going to strip you down, my sexy bindling. I'm going to pin you to this tree and take you right here in the woods where anyone can see. You are mine now, Tyron," Santos growled.
"As you are mine, Santos. If anyone else lays a hand on you, I will kill them," he promised, growling low in his throat.
The man's possessive words burned through Santos, making him even hotter. "Yesss," he hissed before claiming Tyron's mouth in a heated kiss. He brought his claws to Tyron's waist, intending to shred the man's jeans, but Tyron stayed his hands.
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