by Anthology
“So many questions.” Carduus smirked. “I’m old, but not so old as to be a fallen one.” He gestured with his glass. “It’s rumored the fallen are the ones from whom the incubi and succubi are descended, however. All that sleeping with humans and making Nephilim was forbidden. Some say we incubi actually are Nephilim, a manifestation of all that unnatural lust. I would have no idea if my kind could be redeemed. I’d think not.”
Carduus wondered about that statement. Yes, it was probably true, but did a secret part of him want to be redeemed? He realized, yes, he did. That probably made him a bad incubus, though he suspected many of his kind longed for redemption in secret. There was a joy in ruling hell, but in the end, it was still hell. There had to be something better that was forever locked away from him.
Lamia sat back, fingering her eyebrow piercing. “Would it make a problem for you if you did want it?”
“I can’t answer that.” Carduus wasn’t sure if anyone in hell honestly cared what any of the demons did. Hell was like a company where everyone knew they were going to be laid off in two weeks and just didn’t give a damn about work anymore.
“How do you keep from eating your lover?”
“Do you eat every piece of food in your house every day?” he countered, hoping Lamia couldn’t tell how very difficult it was for him to restrain himself.
“Point taken.” She leaned back in her chair. “So you’re in love in the worst way, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have thought your kind could feel like that.”
“Oh, we can love, and usually unwisely.” Carduus chuckled. “Like humans. My turn to ask a question. Why are you interested in demons? Why write this book?”
Lamia tapped her darkly painted lips. “I guess I’ve always had an interest in the supernatural and the darkness that exists in the world. I don’t want to touch it, per se, but I want to understand it.”
“Some things are beyond understanding.”
“Like a demon who is doing good deeds, sort of, by killing sex offenders?” She grinned. “I feel oddly safer, by the way.”
Carduus laughed. “Yes, just like that.” He made someone feel safer? He never would have guessed.
BEFORE HE had gone to bed, Carduus had made both a breakfast and a packed lunch. Part of him was still amazed at how domesticated he could be. It was shocking that it mattered to him Mark would get home late, sleep only a few hours at best, and then go back to work. He had learned that homicide detectives had insane hours. Carduus hated seeing Mark struggle, or be so exhausted he could barely think. Carduus thought it would be a nice gesture to take one task off Mark’s shoulders.
Somewhere around three in the morning, Carduus felt Mark join him in the bed, snoring only a few minutes after his head hit the pillow. He was gone again before seven. When Carduus went downstairs, he found a note scrawled on the pad in the kitchen. Mark promised to make it up to him. He didn’t even know what Mark thought he had to make up for. Carduus assumed that Mark’s last lover had a huge problem with the demands of Mark’s job.
Carduus wasn’t sure why he didn’t. Of course, the whole idea of a relationship was bemusing to him. Incubi didn’t have them. They fucked, they fed, they moved on. He couldn’t figure out his own motivations when it came to being a good person for Mark. He was in all-new territory where he was concerned about someone else. At least he was no longer bored, something easy to fall prey to when one was essentially immortal.
He looked forward to seeing what Mark had in mind. Until then, he needed to figure out what to do with Boyd. He couldn’t ask Mark, of course. Lamia might have some suggestions. He’d call on her. Carduus wondered if there were clues inside Boyd’s home. Somehow he doubted it. He knew Mark and the other detectives had gone through the house. If there’d been evidence to be found, they would have had Boyd in jail long ago. No, it would probably be a matter of finding out exactly what the man liked and offering him something he couldn’t say no to. It might not be evidence Carduus found, but if Boyd died committing a crime, well, that would have to do. It was something Carduus could make happen.
MARK FELT Melissa’s eyes on him as they drove out to a witness’ house, and he wanted her to say something. He figured he could deduce what she wanted. Mark had been uncharacteristically silent, and Melissa was sensitive to silence.
“Is everything okay at home?”
And there it was. He figured it would be that, or about the Boyd case. “Yes.”
“That was quick and curt.”
He braked for the light. “It’s fine. David made me breakfast and lunch before he went to bed.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Yes, it is, but that’s sort of the problem,” Mark said, and she reached over to slap his knee. “David’s an artist, Melissa. I’m not sure he understands the demands of what we do. How long before he gets frustrated by my hours? I’m not there half the time.”
“You’re hardly the first man whose significant other isn’t another cop, Mark.”
“And there’s a reason we have such a high divorce rate,” he snapped.
“Do you want to break up with David?”
“No.”
“Then stop manufacturing pessimistic monkeys and letting them fly around in your head.” Melissa slapped him again.
Mark made a face. “I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
“You’re making mountains out of mole hills. That cliché help? Look, Mark, if you’re worried, talk to him. Yeah, I know guys don’t talk. You’re pains in the ass that way. It’s hard enough with just one dude in the relationship. Don’t know how you deal with two.”
He snorted. “So sexist. Do I have to sign you up for sexual harassment training?”
Melissa’s eyes gleamed. “I know how to hide your corpse, partner.”
As the light changed, Mark started down the highway, thinking on her point. David had never said he was unhappy. It certainly wouldn’t hurt to ask, but Mark feared the answer.
“Besides, don’t artists keep weird hours, too?”
“Yes, but David does try to be there when I’m home.”
Melissa scoffed. “And you don’t try.”
“Of course I do.”
“We’ve circled back to my initial point. Trashcan your flying negativity monkeys.”
Picturing the monkeys from The Wizard of Oz, Mark tried not to laugh. “I’ll try. It’s not easy with the whole Boyd thing running around in my head, dancing with those monkeys.”
“Yeah.” Melissa drummed her fingers on the door. “We’re still no closer. The only good news there is no tweens have disappeared recently.”
“Here. He knows we’re watching. It’s a short drive to equally good hunting grounds. Or a train ride.”
“Or I get the picture. This isn’t right. We should be able to find a way to get to this bastard.”
Mark ground his teeth. “It’s killing me that we can’t.”
“We will. But until then, we have a fresh case to work on and you have to get your boxers unknotted over David.”
He chuckled. “You have a good point. All right, person of interest first. I’ll deal with David tonight.”
“YOU’RE TENSE,” Carduus said.
It hardly took a detective to realize Mark was only physically in the room. His mind was very much elsewhere.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mark said, “Sorry, maybe I should have suggested you go work on your art instead of trying to deal with me.”
“I could do that.” Carduus laid a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “But you really look like you need a distraction.”
Mark leaned into Carduus’ touch. “No, you’re right, I do. You said you worked on some new projects. I’d like to see them.”
Carduus fetched his sketchbook. He wasn’t sure he had much talent, but as far as he was concerned, you could say the same thing about most of the stuff in modern-art museums. “I’ve been in an Hieronymus Bosch frame of mind lately,” he said in explanation.
Mark studied the f
irst bizarre and complex sketch. “It’s very interesting.” He tapped a finger on the upper corner. “I like the looks of this devil.”
It was someone Carduus knew personally, just another thing he couldn’t tell his lover. “Thanks.” He leaned in, kissing Mark’s neck. “Want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
“It shouldn’t be bothering me. Yesterday’s homicide wrapped up in a day.” Mark sighed. “A good reminder that not all criminals are smart.”
“But you’re thinking of the one who is.”
Mark nodded, flipping to a new sketch. “The Evie Stanton case. It kills me that we pretty much know who did it. I’ve sat across the table from him. Boyd’s practically taunted us, knowing we have no evidence. We can’t pin it on him, and he’s out there free to hurt more kids.” He slammed a hand down on top of the sketch.
Jeff Boyd had been a thorn in Mark’s side for two years. He was a very careful predator. Even Carduus had failed to capture him on his first try. There would be other times, though Carduus wasn’t entirely sure Mark would be any happier if Boyd just died. It might leave an empty spot in Mark’s soul, and for that reason, Carduus hesitated. He didn’t want Mark to have to deal with never knowing if Boyd was guilty or not.
Deciding a change of subject might be safer, Carduus eased the sketchbook out of Mark’s hands. “You need something more stimulating than my poor attempts at art.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your art.” Mark ran his finger along the line of Carduus’ cheek. “But I think you might be onto something, David.”
“I should hope so.” Carduus buried his fingers in Mark’s pale hair, canting his head back so he could kiss the man.
Mark drew Carduus down half onto his lap, running his strong hand down Carduus’ back, waking his senses. Carduus, like all his kind, hungered for skin. He slipped his fingers under Mark’s shirt to toy with the line of hair leading down to the zone of promise. The warmth of Mark’s flesh excited him. When he’d described it to Lamia, he’d made it sound so easy to not eat Mark’s life force, but truthfully, he found he had to fight his very nature to stop himself. Sometimes it seemed impossible to stop.
Mark caught hold of Carduus’ braid, tilting his head back a little as he traced the bow of Carduus’ lip with his tongue. Carduus hardened swiftly: that was also his nature. More direct than usual, Mark rubbed Carduus’ tented pants, making Carduus’ soft, cotton underwear caress his erection. Carduus could almost taste the man’s need for a distraction in his kiss.
Carduus stood and backed up, letting Mark out of the chair. Mark pulled him down to the floor, forcing Carduus’ shirt up. He mouthed one of Carduus’ nipples, circling his tongue over it until it hardened. Mark sucked at it, making Carduus moan. An incubus’ intentions for sex weren’t the same as a human’s, but there was nothing fake about the pleasure they felt. Splaying his legs to give Mark easier access, Carduus ran his hand through his lover’s hair. Mark’s lips traveled down Carduus’ belly; then Mark undid Carduus’ zipper so he could turn his attention to his lover’s cock. Slow and teasing, Mark circled the head of Carduus’ shaft with his tongue before taking Carduus deep into his mouth.
Carduus groaned. When they first got together, Mark would shush him a little, as if afraid the neighbors would hear. It used to make Carduus angry. Now, having spent more time with the man, understanding better the less-than-tolerant nature of the man’s job, Carduus tried to keep himself quieter. He didn’t always succeed, especially when Mark had him deep in his mouth.
Mark let Carduus pop free, sitting back to start unbuttoning his shirt. Carduus ripped off his own tee, and then helped Mark with his. A few acrobatic turns later, Carduus had lost all his clothing and worked Mark’s pants down and off his legs. Mark eased Carduus back down against the carpet; then he reached up to his desk to snare his glass of water. Wetting his hand, Mark stretched out over Carduus. Their lips met in a series of soft kisses. They explored each other’s mouths as Mark closed a damp, slick hand over both of their cocks, stroking them together.
He changed up the pressure as he coursed his fingers over their shafts. Carduus nipped Mark’s shoulder, arching into his lover’s touch. He wanted to suck on Mark more deeply, drain him, take him in completely. Carduus forced his mouth away from Mark’s sweet and salty flesh before his nature became undeniable. Mark made a soft, disappointed sound.
Running his hands down Mark’s back, Carduus dared to kiss him, sucking Mark’s tongue into his mouth. Mark sped up his hand’s circuitous route over their cocks, grinding his hips against Carduus’. Carduus moaned, his climax building. The hungry mood he was in tonight made holding on dangerous, so Carduus let go, his semen spattering his chest and Mark’s fingers.
Mark didn’t stop, his hand all but flying over their flesh. His own finish didn’t take much longer, and then Mark rested against Carduus, sighing as Carduus put his arms around him. Mark touched Carduus’ cheek. “You make me forget the bad things,” Mark whispered, making Carduus’ heart clench.
He was a bad thing, a selfish thing. Carduus held on tighter, physically, figuratively. He should let Mark go, let him find a human lover, someone as wonderful as Mark deserved. The only thing he accomplished here was prolonging the lie, but Carduus couldn’t let go just yet. Didn’t he deserve a glimpse of happiness, too?
“There is beauty in this world, Mark. You just have to be open to it,” he said, feeling foolish. What did demons know of beauty?
Mark smiled. “That is why I do what I do, to keep it beautiful.”
Carduus cupped Mark’s face. “Forget about work tonight. We need to go do something fun, and then come back here and repeat this as many times as necessary.”
Mark chuckled. “All right, for tonight, I’m yours.”
That was all Carduus needed to hear.
“WHERE ARE we going?” David looked at Mark as they left the city behind.
“You said you wanted to get away, do something for a while.”
David rested a hand on Mark’s knee. “I know you have a lot to do. It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not, but thank you for understanding. I have the day off unless something bad happens, so I’m all yours.” Mark smiled as he turned the car into the park. “I thought, why not find a pretty place for you. I don’t know how your artistic process works and that sort of embarrasses me.”
“Why?”
“It implies I haven’t taken much interest in things that matter to you. I should at least know that much.”
“I can show you, at least a little. Now I know why you told me to bring my sketch pad. See, you knew that much.”
“I guess it’s a start.”
Mark parked the car and fetched the blanket and the thermal bag out of the back seat. David took his art supplies and walked alongside him. Mark guessed David probably wanted to take his arm, but David respected Mark’s reluctance to indulge in public displays of affection. It was still tough being a gay cop, but for the most part, so long as he wasn’t “acting gay”—whatever the hell that meant—Mark usually didn’t catch too much crap. There were several mothers or nannies with kids around and three couples along the tree line, but that semi-solitude wasn’t where David headed.
He took the lead and staked out a spot closer to the pond that the park ambitiously labeled a lake. David pointed, and Mark spread out the blanket. The grass was thick under it. Wild flowers, white, yellow, and a few purple, dotted the green, spreading out like jewels down to the water. Ducks lazily paddled about. Mark wondered if there would be any feathered raiders when he unpacked the lunch.
“It’s pretty here.” David sat on the blanket, and then patted it, putting Mark between him and the lake. He opened his sketch pad. “You picked a lovely spot.”
“So you’re going to draw? Good. That’s what I was hoping for. It is fun for you, right?” Mark hated sounding so needy and uncertain.
David leaned forward, kissing him soft and quick. “Mark, what are you worried about? Any time I get
to spend with you, I have fun. You don’t have to worry.”
“I appreciate that. Sometimes I feel like I’m not in this relationship enough. This job of mine, it’s all-encompassing. It eats up all my time.” Mark frowned. He hoped this wouldn’t be his last conversation with David. What if David agreed? It had taken him a long time to get back into a relationship after the last time he’d been dumped. His job had cost him that relationship, too, something he hadn’t confessed to Melissa.
“And you wouldn’t be happy doing anything else. You love your job.” David smiled.
“I do, very much. But it’s a hard job, depressing, and I love being able to come home and see you there, David.”
David’s smile shone like the sun above. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever said that about me before.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
David kissed him again. “You’d be surprised. All right. If you want to make me happy, and I have no doubts you do, I need you to change how you’re sitting.”
Mark raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Here.”
David manipulated Mark until he had him where he wanted him, half lounging on the blanket, propped up on one arm. He got one of the wine glasses out of the bag and poured Mark a glass. Mark wondered if he looked good or ridiculous posed like this. Weren’t picnic scenes a bit cliché? Why didn’t he think of that before? He could have taken David caving or something more unique. What would he do if David put this up in the coffee house? Artists did that. He hadn’t really thought that through, mostly because he’d thought David would be more interested in the landscape than in him. He’d just have to ask David to keep this private.
“I’m going to ruin your sketch.” Mark sipped the wine, trying to look nonchalant.
“You are far too handsome for that.”
Mark beamed. If David could look past the mental exhaustion and angst of Mark’s job and still see him as handsome, he deserved every moment of happiness Mark could give him. David sketched him before doing a quick one of a passel of kids playing with an enormous cat on a leash. Mark assumed they were taking advantage of the no dog rule. Mark speculated on what the cat was, part bobcat? He wondered if he could buy one. The cat was kind of awesome.