Love with Sparkles Added

by Lynn Stark

  A growl erupted from Chance as Pebin snatched the pickle off of his plate and began crunching along its length. Unbidden, an image of the small man sucking Chance’s dick down his throat came to mind.

  “Why didn’t you just go get your own pickle?” he demanded. “There’s a huge jar of them in the fridge.”

  Pebin shrugged. He’d tucked his wings away. Chance had no clue how he did that. There was no sign that he even had wings. “This one was right here. Stop complaining. Larson’s going to share his pickle with me, too.”

  It was Larson’s turn to growl. But it was for different reasons altogether. He leaned toward Pebin. “I’ll share my pickle with you anytime, cutie. Why don’t you drop your pants and I’ll show you. Or, if you prefer, I’ll drop my pants and you can nibble on the pickle I keep in them.”

  Giggling adorably, Pebin’s creamy skin turned a pretty shade of pink. Despite claiming he didn’t want any mates, or to live on the farm, he did seem to love flirting. He also seemed to spend a lot of time at a place he said he didn’t want to be. Pebin grabbed the pickle off Larson’s plate and began to do obscene things with it and his mouth.

  Watching the pair flirt was not high on Chance’s list of things to do. Hopefully Pebin would head back to the fairy realm soon and he wouldn’t have to see him anymore that night. Chance stood and walked through to the kitchen with his empty plate and finished his beer as he stood by the sink. There were times like now when he wouldn’t mind getting drunk. If he was still human, that would have been simple. As a werewolf, it was all but impossible. He was sober, whether he wanted to be or not. Chance knew it was a good thing that he was. However, old needs seemed to die a hard death and this one was no different.

  Learning to sleep in a house again had also been surprisingly difficult. The bed didn’t help, nor did the feeling of being trapped by walls on all sides and a ceiling above. Not that he wanted to go back to sleeping in a crumpled box in a filthy, rat-infested alley. Especially now that he knew about shifters, vampires, and other things that might want a taste of him or put a permanent end to him.

  Chance decided to get another beer and sit out in the backyard until he felt he was tired enough to get to sleep. Tossing and turning wasn’t a favorite activity. It gave him more time to think about things like being a werewolf, mating, and the need to relieve the loneliness he was feeling deep in his soul. It would be so easy to give in to Larson. At least he knew the bear shifter wanted him. The man seemed quite capable. Maybe he wouldn’t need Chance constantly fussing and watching over him.

  As he walked toward the back of the fenced yard, Chance looked around. There were several yards in each direction. All were fenced, but mostly to keep the many small children contained, not for privacy. He could see the extravagant treehouse that the red squirrel shifters used for an office. The small windows glowed with yellow light, giving an impression of warmth and welcome. Several more treehouses had been built since then. Some were for children and had been built centrally so all could enjoy them. Others were for adults wanting a place where they could have some me time.

  The thought of children made Chance twitchy. Although he’d asked the doctors practicing on the farm, none of them had been able to tell him if he could get pregnant if he mated with a more dominant shifter. Having no clue how to be a parent, except he knew he would never treat his own child as his parents had treated him, Chance felt that he wasn’t the right sort of person for fatherhood. What if he turned out like his mother and father? Not that he could ever hate a child of his. Yet, he had to wonder there was hatred in his blood and if it could be passed it along. Were bigots born or bred? It was a mindboggling question and one he was terrified of discovering the answer to.

  A touch on Chance’s shoulder startled him. He turned his head to see Larson standing next to him. He had been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard the large shifter approach. It was certainly a good thing that he wasn’t on duty and patrolling the forest.

  “What has you so troubled?” Larson asked. His deep voice rumbled over Chance. “You know, if you share your concerns, I might be able to help you with them.”

  “I doubt that. I don’t think most shifters worry about the things I do.”

  “Hey, we’re like anybody else. We all have problems that need to be dealt with. Now, share something. One thing. You don’t have to spill your guts all at once.”

  Chance laughed softly at that. He felt his guard slipping. “I don’t think I’m fit to be a mate.”

  “That’s why you haven’t let me mate with you?”

  “That’s part of it. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone. Not for health, happiness, or anything else. My parents hated me from the moment I was born. It sure didn’t warm them up to me, when they found out I was gay. I didn’t know they could hate me more, but they did. I left home when I was fourteen and didn’t look back. What do I know about how to be a parent? They were both sick in the head. I suspect I would also make a rotten father. I don’t know if bigotry is born or bred.”

  “Personally, I believe none of us are born hating anything. We’re all innocent in our minds. It’s what happens around us, that forms how we think and act, what our beliefs are. Some would argue that point and maybe there are a few exceptions. If you want to know how good of a father you might be, look around the farm. There are so many men and women here that have begun again. You were born human. But even shifters can be bigoted. My parents and sisters were okay with me being gay, but many in our clan threatened to kill me.” Broad shoulders shrugged. “My parents packed up the entire family and we moved from the forests in Minnesota to Michigan, where we found a more open-minded clan.”

  Chance was surprised to discover Larson had experienced such difficulties in his life. He seemed like a normal guy. But hatred was felt by many, normal or not. Unlike Chance, Larson seemed to have dealt with it very well and hadn’t let it overshadow his life. Was it because he’d had the support of a loving family? Possibly. Hell, Chance thought, it was probably why Larson was the way he was. His family had loved him unconditionally.

  “Why’d you come here?” he asked curiously, suddenly wanting to know things he’d had no interest in before.

  “I was drawn here like a lot of the others. The energy is incredible.”

  He felt it, too, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect on him as it did the residents. The energy made them want to be here. The people on the farm, the paranormals living in town, and the elven people across the river, all seemed to draw upon the energy, feeding upon it in a way that they thrived.

  “But didn’t you give up an established life? Where did you live? What kind of job did you have?”

  “Whoa, cowboy! One question at a time.” Chance felt his face heat up. Larson’s fingers, still resting on his shoulder, gave him a gentle squeeze. “No, don’t close down on me. I’m glad you’re finally interested in me. It’s a good sign. Maybe now that you are, this won’t come as too unwelcome.”

  Larson moved around until he was standing in front of Chance. His heart began to beat a little faster. He knew what was going to happen. Excitement raced through him, causing him to momentarily forget about not wanting any kind of relationship with his mates. Larson was taking charge, and the thought thrilled him.

  The press of Larson’s firm, cool lips on his caused Chance to start with surprise. Kisses were new. They hadn’t been part of his sex life, one he didn’t want to remember, let alone think about. Sex had been part of survival. He’d done what he needed to do to survive the cruelty of living on the streets. There had never been a boyfriend or lover.

  Now Chance lifted his hands to tentatively touch Larson’s muscular biceps as their lips molded together with shared moans. Their bodies were aligned. Larson was a couple of inches taller than he was. He also had the fit body almost all younger shifters had. He had noticed that once a shifter was well into their seventh or eighth century, they began to soften, their appearances changing significantly. It was still
just plain weird to him, and there were moments when he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that there were beings that lived a dozen times longer than the average human. And he was now a part of that long-lived group.

  With Larson’s hard body pressed against his, Chance was vividly aware of the man’s long, thick erection pressing against his hard dick. Shuddering, Chance opened his mouth as the tip of Larson’s stroked over his lips, seeking to enter again.

  The kiss’s heat grew exponentially. Reaching between them, Chance cupped the bulge in Larson’s pants, pressing the heel of his hand firmly against it. This caused Larson to growl and break off the fiery kiss long enough to nuzzle along Chance’s neck, nipping and scoring his skin with his fangs as he went. He tipped his head back and to the side, giving the bear shifter greater access. His mind was quickly leaving him. Chance knew that one of Larson’s instincts was to bite him. At the moment, he couldn’t think of a single reason not to let him do so. Larson was a big, bad bear. He could take care of himself. Chance wouldn’t have to be completely responsible for him.

  Chance’s world stopped spinning as he thought about what a mating could cause to happen. He might be ready to start accepting mates, but having a baby was another thing entirely. That was a huge responsibility, and he knew for a fact that he wasn’t ready for swelling up like a balloon and then popping when the time arrived.

  Pulling back, Chance reluctantly put a stop to Larson placing kisses on a sensitive spot behind his ear. “I can’t,” he told the other man as he straightened and looked down at Chance. “I’m not ready for babies.”

  Chuckling, Larson tipped his forehead against Chance’s. “Honey, there are ways of dealing with that. Truth be told, I’m not completely ready yet, either.”

  “That’s good, I think. But you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant. You’re an alpha.”

  “I believe there’s always a chance I could, but that’s a conversation for another time.”

  Chance ignored that. “Do you mean you’d bottom?”

  Larson laughed again. “It’s been known to happen. Why, do you want to top?”

  A loud thump on the wood fence startled them apart. Chance blinked when Larson put himself between Chance and the perceived threat. It was only Fred, however. There was no real threat, unless you hated to be annoyed. The troll could be more of a nuisance than Pebin.

  Chance stepped around Larson and watched as the troll clambered awkwardly over the fence between the yards, dropping down so he couldn’t be seen from the other side. He held a thick finger to his lips.

  Choking on laughter, Chance stared. He didn’t really know where to start with the questions. The troll was dressed in a gauzy mint-green, sleeveless dress over his T-shirt and jeans. There was a string of large purple beads around his neck and a hideous pink silk flower was drooping from the bodice of the dress.

  Chance decided to try to ignore all that. “Fred, is that glitter in your hair?”

  “Never mind the glitter, look at his nails.”

  It was true. Fred had hot pink polish on several of his fingernails. The rest had purple polish with glitter.

  “Save me,” Fred whispered. “Trixie and Trina are out of control,” he told them, referring to his daughters, two of the triplet siblings.

  “Where’s Misty?”

  “She’s with some of her friends. They went in town to see a movie.”

  Knowing Fred’s triplets were only about five years old, he had to wonder who was watching them now. “Are they alone over there?”

  “Heck, no! Conan is there watching the little buggers. I think he put them up to this.” He touched the pouf his bright orange hair had been gathered into with an elastic band, before it had been liberally sprinkled with glitter. “How do you get this shit out?”

  Larson and Chance were both trying hard not to laugh at the poor guy. “This is a very good reason to put off having children,” Chance told him, “so put it on the list.”

  “Will do. I don’t think I’d look good with glitter in my hair.”

  “You guys are jerks. Are you going to help me out or not?” Fred asked as Chance went in the house to get them each a beer.

  He returned as quickly as he could. He didn’t want to miss anything.

  “Exactly what do you want us to do? I think tying up a couple of little girls is out of the question.” Larson took his beer and all but ripped the cap off so he could take a drink of the icy, bitter beverage. Obviously this was a trying moment and challenging his control. Teasing Fred was too easy. “Why don’t you go back and try to reason with them?”

  Fred went to a chair and planted himself in it. Then he twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long pull. “Damn, I needed that.” He sighed and leaned back.

  “Can’t you distract them? They’re just little girls. Why don’t you let them play with your phone?”

  Shaking his head, Fred looked horrified. “The last time they did that, they bought a bunch of games, ordered new shoes, and called their grandmother, Misty’s mother, and begged her to visit. That was three months ago and she hasn’t left yet.”

  Having met the female troll, Chance could sympathize. She had no love for Fred, and it seemed it was mutual. Still, she wasn’t Chance’s mother-in-law, and that’s all he cared about. He was about to suggest Fred hide out in their yard until Misty arrived home, when young voices reached them through the fence.

  “Daddy! Daddy, are you over there? We didn’t do your lips yet, and we have to use the shadow to contour your nose.”

  “Daddy, I have the blush! Don’t you want to be pretty?”

  Fred slapped a hand to his face, shaking his head as he did so. Then he straightened his spine, finished his beer, and stood up. “Well, guys, it’s been nice. I hope I’ll have regained my dignity by the next time we meet.”

  “See ya, Fred,” Larson told him, patting him on the shoulder as he went toward the fence.

  “Yeah, Fred. Stay safe. Stay sane.”

  Once Fred was over the fence amid the cries of his happy daughters, Chance and Larson looked at each other.

  “No kids just yet,” Larson said, and Chance agreed with a vigorous nod.

  Parenthood was even harder than he’d thought. Besides, he could never pull off blue eyeshadow.

  Chapter Three

  It wasn’t difficult to find the house Ian said was his to use. It amused him to see that it was in the gothic-style and painted dark gray with black trim. Cain guessed it was someone’s idea of the perfect house for a vampire to live in. Of course he wouldn’t be living in it, but once he was inside, Cain saw that it would be a very comfortable place to stay while he was on the farm.

  The house was beautifully decorated with white, gray, and deep, rich blues. After he went through the rooms downstairs, he went upstairs to discover there were six bedrooms and four bathrooms. The master bedroom had its own bath. It was luxurious with both a shower large enough for several people to cleanse themselves in and a bath that would probably hold three bathers. A glance in the walk-in closet told him that Chester had already unpacked his luggage. Why the man thought he needed so much for the few days was anyone’s guess. Cain didn’t argue with him. It was pointless.

  There was rapping on the window, interrupting his tour. Cain stared at the small face illuminated through the glass. It was Pebin, the fairy. “Can you let me in? You locked the front door.” Pebin’s voice was muffled by the layers of glass.

  Cain hadn’t known that, but he decided to play with the adorable man. “What do you want to come in for?”

  Perfectly plucked brows dipped, and the light green eyes stared at him. “We’re mates. You can’t lock me out.”

  “It’s late. Come back tomorrow.”

  “No. I want to have sex now. I’m not waiting.”

  Sex didn’t sound like a bad idea. The fairy was his mate. It certainly wouldn’t be wrong for Cain to take him up on his offer. However, did he really want to take on the challenges of mating the imp
? He’d already seen the trouble Pebin seemed to want to get himself into. Lassoing a werewolf, meaning to take the creature back to the fairy realm so he could have the werewolf kick his brothers’ asses, was probably only a hint at the trouble the fairy was capable of.

  Liking his orderly life as it was, and knowing it was close to an end, Cain shook his head. “Come back tomorrow.”

  There was a lot of swearing and banging on the window. Cain grinned as he left the bathroom and turned off the light. A shower could wait. He wasn’t ready to go to bed yet. Learning he had three mates had a way of keeping a person awake. The knowledge was slightly overwhelming, when he’d only expected to have a pair of mates at the most.

  Pebin followed Cain around the house, knocking on the windows of whatever room Cain happened to be in at that moment. Once he was in the hallway between the foyer and stairs, and away from any windows, he disseminated, reappearing behind Pebin as he peered through the living room window. His small feet were above the ground as he hovered, his wings beating fast enough to create a breeze.

  Cain reached out. “Gotcha!”

  Pebin screamed. His wings disappeared, and he dropped right into Cain’s hands. The fairy couldn’t have weighed much more than a hundred pounds. Perhaps a few more, but not by much.

  “Oh, bloody hell! What did you do that for?” Pebin demanded breathlessly as he wiggled around enough so that they were facing each other. “I think my heart’s stopped.”

  Obviously, Cain had a little drama queen for a mate. He chuckled and shook his head. “I can hear it beating quite clearly. Now, why haven’t you gone home?”

  Folding his arms across his chest, which seemed an indicator of when things weren’t going Pebin’s way, he stared hard at Cain. “My brothers won’t let me in the house. They threw all of my stuff outside and told me to go find somewhere else to live.”

  Trying not to laugh, Cain set Pebin on his feet. The top of his head barely reached the center of Cain’s chest. Because he knew something about fairies, he knew that once the eldest reached maturity, they were encouraged to go out on their own and search for their mates. They were meant to live on their own and procreate. Breeding for fairies was a very serious matter.