by Kresley Cole
How could Cas enjoy fucking anyone when it could result in some other male fucking Mirceo?
Jealousy scored him. He shot to his feet and rammed his aching horns into the wall, adding new holes to go with the other ones peppering the room. "Should kill him for this!" That vampire had him so twisted up inside.
Sensual, laughing Mirceo. With his mocking gray eyes and devil-may-care attitude.
Cas rubbed the heel of his palm down his hard shaft. His skin felt tight all over, his limbs heavy. Realization hit him: Mirceo's two feedings had set off changes in Cas's body, prompting it to produce more blood--to adapt to a vampire's hungers. Cas's veins were brimming. Such an excess meant his cock remained stiff as a titanium rod.
I'm a fucking host. Another outcome he'd had no control over! With a yell, he punched the wall, adding yet another hole.
Claustrophobia surged, his throat tightening. Need a job. Anything to distract me. Cas snatched on a coat and his sword belt, then traced to the Red Flag, a tavern in New Orleans that catered to bounty hunters. He recognized several of those inside.
A group of lion shifters and a berserker played dice in the back. A few smoke demons relaxed in front of the fire.
On the way to the bar, Cas passed an extended wall covered with bounty postings. Whenever someone offered a reward anywhere in the Lore, a copy would mystically appear here and at other similar establishments. If a hunter took down a poster, it disappeared from all locations, and he was bound to complete the task, upon penalty of death.
Varying in terms of payout and difficulty, the jobs ranged from something as simple as finding an inanimate object to the most extreme--apprehending a sorcerer from his impenetrable fortress on Poly.
Before Cas left here tonight, he would select a challenging hunt--but not too challenging, not until he got his mind in order.
Taking a seat at the bar, he recalled his start in this business, the fateful MISSING poster he'd come across when he was twelve. He hadn't been able to make out the words, but he'd overheard some other kids reading it aloud. A nobledemon had lost his miniature hellhound, a stray Cas had noticed sniffing around the slums.
Easy enough. Cas had delivered the hellhound to its owner, collecting more money than he'd ever seen. He'd discovered he had a talent for finding lost mementos and pets. In two years, he'd grown such a reputation--his name of Beggar replaced by Tracker--that other hunters had traced him to this tavern, to the "big leagues." Bounty hunting. . . .
Now the tavern's grizzled demon barkeep shuffled over. "Been wondering when you'd show." Leyak, a retired hunter and Cas's de facto mentor, was as much a fixture in this place as the wall of postings. "Brew, son?" Unlike most immortals, the gray-haired Leyak continued to slowly age past his prime, his face weathered and horns scuffed. He must have a human ancestor somewhere in his line.
"Always." When Leyak poured an expensive vintage, Cas said, "Are we celebrating something?"
The demon rolled his eyes. "I figure you got gold aplenty now."
"How's that?"
"Almost every bounty posting connected to Poly disappeared from that wall in seconds. I suspected you were raking it in."
True. Lorean dregs often hid out in that dimension. A squalid hunter's bar there had provided Cas with new notices. Like a spider on a web, he'd collected them one by one.
"Nothing gets past you." All those years ago, the eagle-eyed hunter had realized Cas couldn't read the posters. Instead of ridiculing him, Leyak had read several aloud, as if commenting on them, never letting the other hunters know.
Leyak had been the only one who'd believed a fourteen-year-old like Cas could collect on the first live bounty he'd chosen. Afterward, the old demon had said, "You stalked that trail like a Caspion tiger, son!"
Cas had liked the name, and so he'd claimed it. . . .
"Surely you're not looking for a job," Leyak said now. "See, son, when folks make a heap of money, they do this thing called retiring."
"Trying to keep busy." Cas sampled his drink, his thoughts returning to Mirceo. What if additional Forbearers stalked the vampire? Mirceo traveled outside Dacia more than any others in that family--aside from Trehan, who was far too powerful for turned humans to challenge.
The Forbearers had known where to look for Mirceo. Their order would send out another force. And another one. Mirceo would never be safe. What if he'd already been captured?
Could I ever find him? Cas's instinct to hunt burned--
"A fellow mentioned you by name last night," Leyak said. "A vampire."
Cas cursed the surge of excitement that the demon's words roused. "Oh?"
"A clear-eyed one. Quite charming for a leech."
Did Mirceo plan to infiltrate all parts of his life? When Cas's claws shot even longer, he sank them into his palms. The bite of pain made him ache for the vampire to feed, to empty him of all this excess blood. "Can't say this is a surprise. He's been searching for me."
Leyak blinked. "He didn't ask after your whereabouts. Just used your name to get in the door here."
A chill swept over Cas. "Are you saying he took a job?"
Leyak's gaze shifted to the poster wall, where one ancient notice was conspicuously absent. "I'm saying he took the job."
FIFTEEN
"What the hell, vampire?" The demon shoved Mirceo outside of the Red Flag a nanosecond after he'd arrived.
"Is there a problem, sweetheart?" Mirceo had made sure enough of these hunters knew he was returning tonight.
Caspion released him. "You have no idea what you've done!"
Mirceo adjusted his trench coat. "You look tense." An understatement.
The demon's muscles were knotted, his teeth gritted. His member was semihard and growing. "Tense? Tense???"
"Indeed." But Caspion's face was weary. These four days apart haven't been difficult for me alone. Mirceo had been choking down cups of non-Caspion blood just to maintain his weight. At his young age, a missed feeding hit hard. "If you'd like to take a moment to compose yourself, I have business to attend to inside."
Caspion cast him a mystified look. "You're not going anywhere."
"Am I not?"
"Did you know you are obligated to complete any bounty you take from that wall? If you fail, the other hunters will all come after you. To kill you."
"Someone might've alluded to that." After Mirceo had yanked down the parchment. Funny, gentlemen, realllll funny.
Caspion scrubbed his hand over his face. "How did you even know to come to this tavern?"
"You mentioned it once." He'd described it as a meeting place and exchange for hunters. Since Mirceo had possessed zero alternatives for finding Caspion, he'd laid a trap of his own.
"Let's see the job." The demon snapped his fingers. "Now."
"No need to be a churlish lout." Mirceo pulled the poster from his trench, unfolding it. "Allow me to read it for--"
Caspion snatched the parchment. "I can read now."
"My brilliant mate." Caspion did a double-take at Mirceo's sudden smile. "You fill me with pride. I told you all those books would be read by you. Only I had thought to teach you."
Pulling at his collar, he said in a gruff tone, "Taught myself."
Mirceo sighed. "Haven't I always complimented you on your considerable intellect?"
The demon scowled. "Can we get back to this?" Then he read:
WANTED!
Dead or alive
Adham "Silt" Harea, the Sorceri King of Sand Murderer, cannibal, oath breaker, invoker of dark rites, and fugitive from the law Last seen: The Plane of Lost Years
Reward: Forty dragon-gold coins Offered by the Gaolers
Caspion's lips parted. "How could you have . . . why did you pick this one?"
It had looked like an ideal job with lots of money, which the demon had always been concerned about. At least in the past. "Because I'm keen to visit the Poly." To see where his mate had lived--away from me--for so long.
"Just Poly," Caspion corrected. "You don't know
the first thing about tracking down a bounty."
"That's true. If only I had a scry crystal." He tapped his chin. "Oh, wait . . ."
"You deserved that and more."
Shrug. "Since you robbed me of the crystal's use, you should show me the ropes. We could split the huge payout on this one. Do you know how valuable dragon gold is?"
"I don't need money, leechling! I made plenty on Poly."
"Exactly--you know the terrain there."
"There's a reason this job still posted," Caspion said, sounding exasperated. "It is impossible."
"If we work together, I'm sure we can find a random sorcerer." Besides, Mirceo was chafing for the chance to prove himself to his mate.
"I can already find him. You think I spent centuries in that place unaware of the most coveted bounty in the realm?"
"Then why haven't you claimed it?"
"Did you even read the poster before you took it down?"
"Sure." He'd noted the reward and the location.
"That sorcerer's lair is protected both physically and mystically. No one can fight their way past the monsters guarding it, and sorcery prevents anyone from tracing past them."
Mirceo retrieved his flask of blood mead from his trench coat. "Explain."
"Harea's pyramid fortress lies in the center of an enormous valley that he's bespelled to prevent teleporting. Anyone who tries it will fail, then get swallowed by sand. That valley also happens to be where Wendigos congregate. Starving ones. There are hundreds of them."
Wendigos were like zombies, but lightning fast. Mirceo had heard stories of just one decimating whole settlements of immortals. "We can handle them. I'm a master swordsman, remember?"
"Just to get in striking range, you'd have to evade the Wendigos, then cross the wasteland of sand that surrounds the pyramid. That stretch is filled with gulgs--living quicksand traps."
"They sound dire. But we can scout the area, map out their locations, then avoid them."
"You could. Except gulgs move within their territory. They can scent their prey and attack it. Say you got past those alive--without teleporting a single time--you'd still have to face a mystical boundary around the fortress and the sand scyllas."
"Do I even want to know?"
"They're gigantic tentacle creatures that burrow under the pyramid. If a trespasser gets too close, their tentacles shoot to the surface, dragging the unwary down to be eaten. The hope is that you suffocate in the sand before the digestion starts."
Mirceo had heard of pleasanter scenarios. "I have a hard time believing this fortress is impenetrable. I come from an impenetrable realm." At least until Lothaire made good on his promise to open the doors wide. "With a target in sight, there are sorcerers and witches who could circumvent these security measures."
Cas shook his head. "Most of the ones who could get past the barriers won't."
"Why?"
"Out of respect for their brethren's spells. Plus, those hex-hacks are likely to run into bounties on their own heads as well. None of them want to face the Gaolers."
"What's so scary about them?" Mirceo asked. "They sound like your typical Lorean gang."
"They're demigod wraiths who act as a type of Lore patrol. They quarantine contagious Loreans, capture any humans about to broadcast proof of our world, and dispatch evil immortals to lifelong torments."
"Contagious Loreans?"
Caspion nodded. "Plague-stricken vampires, ghouls, zombies. There's a reason why Wendigos haven't overrun the mortal plane."
"Where are these bounties taken?" Mirceo asked.
"No one knows for sure, but some whisper of an immortal prison."
Mirceo stiffened. "Mortals put my uncle in such a place." Even an ancient immortal like Lothaire had barely gotten out alive.
"This is supposed to be an entire dimension, but no one can confirm or deny its existence. Bottom line: The Gaolers are not the type of beings you want to come in contact with."
"I have no fear of facing them. I've done no evil. Well, not an excessive amount of evil." Mirceo shrugged. "You've outlined some considerable challenges to my bounty. More and more, this operation--or op, as we bounty hunters like to say--is beginning to sound like a heist. Fortunately for us, I am a vampire of many talents. Even nonsexual ones."
"You're not listening. . . ." Caspion pinched the bridge of his nose.
"How do you know so much about this?"
"Over the last five centuries, whenever I heard a hunter was going after Harea, I traced to edge of that valley to study the attempt. The Wendigos took out most. The gulgs got the rest. Only one--a winged volar demon--neared the pyramid's mystical barrier. The scyllas snatched him down. These were all talented hunters, often men I knew. I watched them try, and I watched them die. And now you must participate in this hunt or you'll be killed!" He stabbed his fingers through his tousled hair. "Mirceo, I can't simply fix this for you."
"So either way I'm damned?"
Caspion rasped, "Yes."
"There, there." He patted the demon's shoulder. "If I'm on borrowed time, we should get going. One last adventure!"
Caspion's eyes widened. "You impulsive, rash child, are you eager to die?"
"I did put some thought into this." At the demon's disbelieving look, he said, "I plan to float right past all the security protocols. The only danger would be in dying from boredom."
"Arrogant leechling. What are you talking about?"
"Would a sorcerer have the foresight to protect against the abilities of a 'mythical' species? Dacians can turn themselves into mist. Now that you've blooded me, I can turn you as well."
Caspion's lips parted on a breath.
Mirceo grinned at his reaction. "Not such an impulsive leechling after all, am I?"
Recovering from his surprise, he said, "If you lost your focus like you did in that Forbearer skirmish, you'd be dead. I won't always be able to protect you."
Mirceo squared his shoulders. "I'll hold my own, demon. You forget, I'm not asking you for permission. I am inviting you--on my op. Perhaps I should invite another hunter?" He turned toward the entrance of the tavern.
Making a sound of frustration, the demon traced in front of him. "Even if we somehow breached the fortress, we'd still have to subdue the sorcerer, and Harea is not just some random Poly warlord. I have mystical restraints that will dampen his magic, but until we shackle him, we're at risk."
"What powers does he possess?"
"He's the Sorceri King of Sand, which means he controls every grain of it. Trust me when I say he's got a lot of ammunition on Poly. And he's ancient--some say his sorcery created the great pyramids."
"He sounds like a heavy-hitter. Luckily, we are as well. You're a five-century-old death demon who's racked up a legion of kills, and I'm a Dacian, which is enough said. We are going to be unstoppable."
"You're truly serious about this." Exhaling a long breath, Caspion said, "Fine. I'll help you, saving your ass yet again."
Part of him was shocked that Caspion had agreed. "Excellent."
Pointing his forefinger at Mirceo's face, the demon said, "You do not speak to anyone there. Do not look at anyone. Do not touch anything."
"Yes, sir!" Mirceo said, fighting a smile. "Any other commands?"
"Yeah. Put on a fucking shirt."
SIXTEEN
The winds in Poly could scour skin down to the bone. Mirceo's bared chest wasn't going to cut it.
Once the vampire had returned from donning a form-fitting black shirt, he flashed Cas his rakish grin. "Do I pass muster?" he asked, all too aware of his sex appeal.
Cas had seen him wield it like a weapon. "You'll do," he said dismissively, though his cock had stirred from just that grin. "It's impossible to predict Poly's day and night from this realm. We could be heading into noonday sun, so I'll trace you to a shelter first." The few bars there were filled with deadly beings--who could prove just as lethal to Mirceo as the sun--so Cas would have to take him to his former home. "We might have to wai
t it out."
More waiting on Poly? Just when Cas had thought he was free of that hellhole, he got sucked back in.
Were they actually going to do this? Wasn't like they had a choice. For a male who revered options, Cas had none--because Mirceo had behaved with such recklessness. Expected, considering his age.
Did Cas want that bounty? Of course. But he also recalled how he'd felt watching Mirceo fight. So much risk. Exhaling with resignation, he gripped the vampire's arm, then teleported him to an isolated cave in the northern mountains of Poly.
Cas released him and crossed the dark toward a lantern. As light chased away the gloom, he tried to see the place through Mirceo's eyes.
The area was spartan and organized with military precision. Trunks of weapons and gear lined one wall. Peat logs lined another. The bed consisted of furs piled atop a raised shelf of rock. Beside the nearby fire pit, smoke stains stretched up to the cavern ceiling.
Outside, the winds howled, whipping the flap of canvas that served as a door. Caspion traced to the flap, peering out. "It's night, but not late enough." He returned to sit on a trunk. "We'll head out in an hour."
The vampire meandered through the cave. "Was this one of your camps?"
What insights into Cas's private life could a clever male like Mirceo gain from this visit? "You're looking at home sweet home."
"You lived in this dismal little cave for centuries?" The spoiled princeling's tone was aghast.
"Unlike you, I don't need much." Cas was used to little.
"Why did you leave gear here?" The vampire traced to one of the trunks, opening the lid.
"Always good to have a bolt hole."
Mirceo's eyes widened at the trunk's contents. "So many books." He flipped through a couple.
The vampire had promised Cas that he would read one day. Cas had believed him, studying his ass off to learn. He could even read Demonish.
Would Mirceo notice that Cas had all the titles the prince had once read to him?
If so, Mirceo didn't remark on it, just closed the trunk. But his mood seemed lighter. "What did you eat?"
"Whatever I could hunt." Reptilian creatures, mostly.
"And females?" Mirceo dropped down on the sleeping pallet.
How many times had Cas imagined the vampire on those furs, there for his use? For me to dominate and control. To distract himself, he snagged some tinder and a couple of peat logs to build a fire. "Females were scarce." Cas's appetite for sex had grown in lockstep with his burgeoning strength, but he'd had few outlets for it. "I was in that outpost tavern for a reason."