by Jana Downs
Chapter Eleven
All the Ravyns were lined up at the bar when Destiny started his shift. Salvatore’s bodyguards looked downright miserable. It was a slow Tuesday night as he walked behind the bar. Only a couple dozen people occupied the whole club.
“Slow night,” Tara, the midshift bartender, greeted. She was closing out the register for his use and transferring over the bar tabs onto his personal account. She motioned to the space Salvatore’s bodyguards sat. “I just cleared away their glasses. They’ve been here since we opened, so watch out for them getting too shitfaced. Looks like they’ve just come from a funeral.”
Destin nodded. “Sure thing. You tried chatting them up to see what’s wrong?” As if he didn’t already know.
She shook her head. “I tried. They all glared at me and asked for refills.” She took out the other drawer from underneath the register and locked hers inside. She deposited Destin’s drawer in the catch and closed it up before handing him the bar keys. “All yours. Good luck.” Destin nodded and watched her gather her purse and jacket before going to tend the customers. He probably should’ve brought a jacket of his own. They’d had quite a chilly October this year. It would look odd if he didn’t have one with him.
After he made his rounds, he reluctantly walked over to the group of miserable-looking bodyguards.
“Hey, fellas. What are you drinkin’?” Destin asked, leaning over to gather the tip they’d left and depositing it in the tip jar. He’d have to remember to give Tara her share when she came in tomorrow. Four pairs of identical golden eyes lit on him. The one nearest him with the auburn hair opened his mouth to order but then stopped. He sniffed the air like a hound scenting quarry. What the hell? Destin thought.
He was completely unprepared when the man launched himself over the bar and tackled him hard to the floor. The other three immediately followed.
“Dammit, Dageus! What is your problem?” one shouted.
“What the hell are you doing?” asked another.
“What is going on, Dageus?” They then broke down into another language the Destin had never heard before. It was a quick, lyrical language that sounded almost like his ancient language with slight variations in tone.
Destin shoved at the man on top of him. His back hurt, and his head was now spinning from its impact on the floor. Ow. The other man wasn’t hurting him per se, just making it very difficult for him to move comfortably.
“Get off me!” he shouted, hoping the security would be arriving at any moment.
“Where is our Prince?” The other man growled in his face.
“Huh? Prince? I don’t know any princes. Get the fuck off me, man!”
“Where the fuck is Salvatore, you little prick?” Dageus demanded, shaking Destin like a rag doll.
“Dageus! This guy is just a bartender.” Tony tried to drag Dageus off the other man.
“The fuck he is! Smell!” The Ravyns paused and took deep whiffs of Destin, and the Fae King scowled. The other men turned as one to glare at him.
“See?” Dageus rumbled.
“It’s faint because he’s showered. He smells like Salvatore and sex.” Tony blinked. “You’ve been fucking our Prince?”
“Prince?” Destin returned the question with another question. He felt the blood leech out of his skin. That explained it. It explained the bodyguards, the vampires, the extra power. Shit. Salvatore was a royal like him. “Prince of what?”
Tony and Dageus hefted him up like he was nothing and threw him into the back bar, making the glasses rattle. “Prince Salvatore is the High Prince of Demontia, heir to the Dragon Throne. Now where is he, asshole?”
His lover was a Demon Prince. Lord and Lady, no wonder he’d been so strong. Demons and Fae were not that far apart biologically. Demontia was a hell of a place to rule because Demons were the more aggressive cousins to Summer Fae. No wonder Salvatore had admired his kingdom and its relative peace.
“Does that mean you’re the Ravyns? The Guardians of the Dragon Throne?” Destin asked as the one called Dageus started shaking him again.
“What’s the problem, boys?” The voice of the head bouncer, Nick, was a welcome interruption.
“Thank god! Nick, get these guys off of me,” Destin called from behind the mountain of men. He really, really, really didn’t want to use his powers here. He glanced at the shadows that were creeping up behind the Ravyns. “No!” he shouted at them. The last thing he needed was to injure or kill one of the Demon Prince’s—Lord and Lady, Salvatore was a Demon Prince—sacred bodyguards.
“Guys, give Sam a break, will you? I know you all are grieving, but it’s not his fault,” the vampire bouncer said reasonably. Destin almost didn’t recognize the name he used at the bar. He’d been thinking of himself as Salvatore’s “Destiny” for weeks now.
“He knows something about it, Nick,” the leader of the Ravyns addressed his would-be savior. “He smells like our Prince, and it’s recent.” The bouncer’s eyes widened comically, and he gestured toward the alley where the employees took their break.
“Take him out there. I’ll cover the bar.” Un-fucking-believable.
* * * *
Destin was shoved rather rudely into the alley. He righted himself quickly and crossed his arms across his narrow chest. His shadows were hissing and growling at the treatment, wanting to do something about the attitudes the Ravyns were exuding.
“Talk, human. Where is our Prince?” The biggest of the bunch growled at him. That was it. He’d had enough of this sort of treatment.
“First of all, I am not a human to be ordered about.” He let his human mask slip away to be replaced by his true faery self. To other fae he just seemed to exude more power. To anyone else he literally glowed. His skin took on an even more golden sheen and power came off of him in waves. The Ravyns gasped in unison. “Second of all, I did not know that he was a Prince when I took him into my bed.”
“We don’t care that you slept with him,” Tony said. He was the first to regain his composure. “What we care about is where he is and if he’s all right.”
“Salvatore is fine,” Destin offered, distancing himself from the warriors. “You have my word.”
“And whose word is that?” Another of the warriors, the one he’d seen with the vampire Damian, asked. Destin let his powers flex, forming a small circlet around his head from the elements in the air.
“I’m Salvatore’s Destiny, King of the Fae Kingdom of Underhill.” He gave a slight incline of his head to each warrior.
“We want our Prince back.” Tony growled. “King or not, you will give him over to us.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible. He was mortally wounded and had to be taken Underhill to be healed by our magicks. Unfortunately, there were some unintended side effects, and I don’t know when or if he will be able to return to Earth.”
“Then take us to him,” Dageus snapped recklessly.
“That is an impossibility. I don’t know you, and my kingdom is peaceful. We want no part in Demontia’s power struggles.” It wasn’t that they didn’t have warriors, but no King wanted to open his kingdom up to internal attack. Plus, the Ravyns would no doubt become dependent on Underhill’s energies and be trapped there as well.
“I don’t think you get it. We will fuck you up if you don’t bring us to Salvatore now,” the biggest one rumbled. No doubt he was the muscle of the bunch. “So how about it, Sam?”
“Druas, he has Salvatore. It isn’t wise to threaten him,” the smaller, quick one cautioned.
“And what do you suggest we do, Germany? Ask nicely?”
“Shut up, all of you. He isn’t strong enough to travel yet, but I assure you when he is I will find a way to allow communication between you and he can explain everything that has transpired. Until then, have a little patience,” Destin said firmly. “I will bring you letters from him if you like to assure you he is okay, but that is all I can do.”
“That’s so not fucking good enough.” Dageus lung
ed at him, and Destin disappeared outside his reach only to reappear several feet away from the Ravyns.
“Too fucking bad!” Destin snapped. With a thought, he disappeared.
* * * *
It took him nearly a week to lose the Ravyns. Their power to travel in the same bolt-holes that Destin used to travel was a bitch. He stopped back at the club and retrieved his things. The warriors had finally collapsed of exhaustion back at the vampire’s mansion, and Destin wasn’t too far from it himself. His hands shook as he grabbed up his things. He just needed a few minutes of sleep and he’d be good to go. As he came around the bar and grabbed his bag, he inhaled the emotions in the room like it was water to a thirsty man. Immediately, he felt better, but he still needed sleep.
He glanced at Naut, who glowered back at him. He’d had to extricate elaborate promises from his shadows to keep them from hurting the Ravyns in their pursuit. As far as the wraiths were concerned, the Ravyns had committed crimes punishable by death.
“It’s stupid to exhaust yourself in such a manner,” Naut complained.
“It’s also stupid to injure or kill my lover’s friends just because they care about him.”
“He’d get over it.”
“If you think that, then you don’t know Salvatore.” Destin’s expression was sour as he spoke.
“My lord,” a demure voice interrupted. Destin glanced up to see his messenger, Jonah, standing on the other side of the bar. His bright-orange hair and crystal-blue eyes contrasted nicely even under the dim beams of the club lights. His messenger shouldn’t be here. It was dangerous for any of his Court to be here without another stronger fae with them. Their energies were greatly reduced by being outside Underhill. They could starve here.
“What’s wrong?” Destin asked immediately.
The other fae shifted from foot to foot uneasily. “It is your would-be Consort, my lord. He’s been refusing to feed since your absence. He has told everyone that he will only feed on you. While the sentiment is romantic and has enchanted the Court with its telling…it has been almost three weeks, and he is…well, my lord, he is dying. The physicians fear he won’t last the night if he doesn’t take in some powerful energy.”
“Stubborn, conceited, arrogant, dirty-playing, no good, obstinate ass demon!” Destin let his curses fly. “That dragon is insane! Absolutely fucking insane!”
“My...my lord?” poor Jonah stuttered. His Court wasn’t used to seeing Destin in such a temper. He was usually quite calm in their presence.
“Go ahead of me and take Salvatore to my chambers. I’ll be right behind you. Get him prepared for me.”
“So you’ll give him your energy, my lord? Give in to his demands?” Jonah asked, wide-eyed. Destin let out another string of curses before taking a deep breath, holding it for a moment and counting backward from ten before releasing it.
“I don’t have much choice. He’s holding his own body hostage. That smart-ass demon knows that I love…” He paused. Crap. He’d all but declared himself now. He glanced at the now-beaming Jonah. Oh yeah. The entire Court would know by nightfall that their King was in love with the Demon Prince.
He shook his head. He still couldn’t believe Salvatore was a Demon Prince. It made sense now and alleviated some of his deeper fears and concerns about Salvatore’s motivation and desires for him. It also explained why Salvatore had never considered Destin his King or his superior. Most fae of his Court had to obey him if he gave them a direct command. The fact that Salvatore hadn’t had been amazing at the time but now it made perfect sense. He was a Demon Prince, heir to the throne of Demontia. In the eyes of society and hierarchy, they were equals in every way. And a perfect match in the bedroom, a sly voice that sounded suspiciously like his conscious said in the back of his mind.
Jonah bowed before his King. “I’ll go ahead. Thank you, my King.” In a blink he was gone. Destin sighed and adjusted the strap on his messenger bag before willing himself back to Underhill. It was time he faced Salvatore…and himself.
Chapter Twelve
“Oh Lord and Lady, Salvatore. What have you done to yourself?” Destin asked quietly. The beautiful, crumpled man on his comforter was unconscious and breathing shallowly. Physically, he looked the same as always, but his aura was a sickly, yellow-green color that was paling by the second. His body was already demanding he sleep to make up for the lack of fae energy flowing through him. Eventually, he’d fall into a coma that he would never wake up from. He had hours at most.
Destin closed his eyes and concentrated on his lover, sending energy coiling through the air to wrap around Salvatore’s prone form. “Wake up, love. Wake up for me. I’ve got what you need,” Destin soothed. His body stirred eagerly inside his leather breeches. He’d missed Salvatore in the time he’d been away, but he hadn’t realized quite how much until his body began to ache like he’d never had the touch of another man. Not even work had been the same without Salvatore sitting in his regular seat with his regular drink, his eyes watching Destin as he moved around the bar.
Salvatore’s eyelids flickered before opening. His pupils were dilated, and he licked his lips hungrily. “You…came.” His voice was labored as he spoke.
“Of course I came, you stupid demon. I don’t want to lose you.” Destin unbuttoned his leathers and slowly slid the zipper down. “Why did you do this? Wouldn’t have you had an easier time talking to me instead?” He kicked his shoes off and dropped his pants down to his ankles before kicking them off.
“You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t listen.” Salvatore’s breath was becoming stronger, but it was now coming out in pants as he watched Destin’s striptease. “You never listen.” Destin ran his hand down the center of his chest, across his abdomen, and wrapped it around his long-cut meat. He pumped his fist on the hardening member, paying special attention to the head and the adornment that glistened there.
“Didn’t know you pierced that.” Salvatore struggled to sit up. Destin was proud of his Prince Albert. The last time they’d been together he’d taken it out, but he’d forgotten to this time. The piercing made his prick almost too sensitive, and so he usually left it out, but with Salvatore…with Salvatore he wanted to feel everything as sharply as he could. He tugged on the ring and groaned.
“Like that, Salvatore?” The Demon Prince nodded, licking his lips as if he wanted to explore it with his tongue. “Like my pierced cock?” He panted and tugged a little harder as he watched Salvatore’s length jerk at the sight. The demon nodded again and spread his legs, giving Destin a good view of his high, firm ass. “Lord and Lady, Salvatore, I want to fuck you this time. You mind?”
“Been waiting for you to do it since day one,” Salvatore declared, reaching his hand down and rubbing his turgid length as he watched Destin. His voice sounded firmer as he drank in Destin’s lust. “I want you to have everything. We’re equals.” Destin nodded, not trusting himself to speak. His lover was so giving, and he’d been so selfish…
“Hey.” Salvatore’s voice drew him out of his mental chastisement. He looked up and met Salvatore’s loving gaze. “It’s okay.” He knew then that Salvatore had known from the beginning that they were headed into serious relationship territory. He’d been patient in his wooing. Destin had just wished that he’d acknowledged it sooner.
Destin’s knees hit the mattress, and he knelt there. He had to stop touching himself or else he would come just by looking at Salvatore’s beautiful body spread out for him. “Spread wider, baby,” he encouraged. Salvatore grabbed his legs and spread wide, exposing the tight rosette that would bring them both to ecstasy this time. Destin groaned. “Did they lube you for me like I asked?” Salvatore nodded.
“Yeah,” he panted. “I was in and out, but from the catches of conversation I heard, I’m ready.”
Destin inhaled the musky scent of Salvatore’s ass, bending over to get closer. He nuzzled the tight sac that hung above the object of his fascination and lapped at the tight globes. Salvatore’s legs trembled in ant
icipation of his ministrations. He tongue slipped down to caress the area of skin between Salvatore’s sac and perineum. He gasped softly, and Destin couldn’t help but groan at the taste. The lube his people had used was vanilla and sugar. Yum. All fae had a sweet tooth, Destin more than most. Couple that with the natural, musky flavor of Salvatore and Destin had officially decided his drug of choice.
“Oh, damn.” Salvatore’s breath left in a hiss. His hips started rocking against Destin’s mouth. “Oh fuck.” The demon’s whispered expletives made him chuckle.
“Taking a page out of my book, doll?”
“Huh?” Salvatore blinked. That only made Destin laugh harder and drive his tongue deeper into Salvatore’s stretched ass in search of more sweet treats. The Demon Prince groaned. The sound was beautiful.
“Hmmm, you taste good, Salvatore. Like me licking that tight little pucker?” Salvatore couldn’t do anything but make little noises of need in the back of his throat. “Ever had someone lick you, doll?”
“No. No one but you. Gods! Destin, more!”
Five minutes later Salvatore was rocking his hips in a perfect counterrhythm to Destin’s searching tongue. The Fae King didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. He needed to be buried inside his Demon Prince like he needed air in his lungs.
“No, Destin. I’m ready. Come inside.” Salvatore murmured the words, making the decision that Destin was denying himself. The fae’s control snapped.
He surged up Salvatore’s body, smashing his mouth against Salvatore’s in a kiss. It was brutal. Claiming. Salvatore returned it with equal fervor so that it was a battle of lips, tongues, and teeth. Perfect.
Destin’s hands spread Salvatore’s legs wide, positioning his pierced cock against the flexing entrance of the demon’s body. Without preamble, he began to forge his way into his lover’s virginal depths. No other had taken Salvatore this way, and the idea that he was taking something that no one else had claimed gave Destin an odd sense of feral satisfaction.