Beast in Me (The Divination Falls Trilogy)

by Marsden, Sommer

  Cameron let the laughter roll out of him. It felt good. When Trace pressed against him, still clad in boxers, he couldn’t not baulk. ‘Now what is that?’

  ‘What, these?’ Trace asked, rolling his hips so that his erection ground boldly against Cam’s ass.

  ‘Yes, those.’

  ‘Were these in your way?’ Trace asked, all mock surprise.

  ‘They are. They’re in the way of something I want – in me,’ he added for good measure.

  A growl burst out of Trace and it made the skin on Cam’s shoulders feel as if it were rippling. He let the feeling rush over him but also revelled in this angle of Trace he’d never seen. Playful. He’d seen him surly, randy, bold, and passionate. Never playful. It was new and exciting. Just like the man himself.

  ‘In you, you say.’ The boxers were gone just like that, and Trace was nestled there against him. Every warm inch of him pressed to Cameron. Lips came down on the back of his neck again and Cameron sighed, bending forward just a little. Just enough to press his bottom against Trace. To show him that he’d meant it.

  ‘In me,’ he said on a breath.

  ‘In you,’ Trace repeated. He bent Cameron just a bit more with a hand splayed on the small of his back. Cam went willingly.

  Trace moved against him, the lazy, languid slide of skin on skin. Impossibly hot smooth skin against Cam. He found he was holding his breath. Let it out. But then Trace’s hand slipped around under his waist to find Cam’s cock. He was holding his breath again.

  ‘You’re hot. Your skin,’ Trace said. Teeth grazed along the slope of Cameron’s shoulder and he had to suppress a shiver. ‘You’re hot all the time. Everywhere. Like an oven.’

  His laughter turned to a moan when Trace started to stroke him. His fist the perfect pressure as he moved along Cameron’s shaft. Every few strokes he’d pause to squeeze and then trace the tip of Cam’s weeping cock with his thumb, smearing the precome there. It was a sensation that brought Cameron down to a sigh.

  ‘Good?’ Trace asked.

  Cameron could hear the smile in his voice. So he just nodded and began thrusting boldly into Trace’s hand. The wolf’s free hand, still clamped against Cam’s hipbone, gripped him harder to steady him. Cameron felt glad for it, it made him feel grounded even as his heart began to pound and his head went swimmy. He was hard with morning wood, he was horny, he was being touched. As much as he’d like to appear well seasoned and in control, he would not … ‘I won’t last long,’ he grunted. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Why be sorry, Lightning Boy? It’s the very definition of a quickie. Fast, frantic, dirty. My favourite flavour.’ His sharp teeth nipped Cameron’s earlobe.

  Cam moaned, thrusting again even as Trace stroked and squeezed and handled him. The heat of his hand, coupled with friction, pushed Cameron over the edge. He came with a muffled cry as he bit his tongue and waited to taste blood. The orgasm knocked him for a loop, bringing white stars in the dark behind his closed eyelids. Making his ears ring. For a few seconds his heartbeat and his breathing were all-consuming, his pleasure a force all its own.

  ‘Good?’ Trace asked again.

  ‘Is that even a real question?’

  ‘No.’

  Cameron bent forward just a bit to allow the wolf’s ministrations. He knew what he was doing, but the knowledge didn’t detract one bit from the arousal it inspired. Trace worked a finger into him. A warm and slippery finger that slid in perfectly fine, thank you very much. And then a second joined the first. Patiently, the wolf spread him, worked him, manipulated until his body relaxed and welcomed him in. It was his own come the wolf was using as lubricant to ease his way, and that made Cam’s cock twitch despite being spent.

  ‘Still want me in you?’ Trace asked. It was a sincere question, touching Cameron’s heart so that unexpected tears stung his eyes. My God. He could not go all Liftetime movie here.

  He nodded.

  ‘Good.’

  He was slow at first. Pressing forward with just the tip, letting Cameron relax and open for him. Almost too slow, Cam thought. He found himself wanting to push back and force the issue, but when the wolf’s mouth clamped – damp and balmy – against the back of his neck and his hands gripped possessively against his skin, he gave in. He would let Trace go at the speed he needed to. It was easy to surrender when you trusted someone the way he trusted the wolf. He had no concrete reasons to trust that way, he knew, but after the last few days, everything was accelerated. All the people he’d met upon arrival were working together. All of them trusting one another. He simply trusted Trace just a bit more, trusted him in his body.

  Inch by inch, Trace entered until Cam was panting, moving and shifting just a bit even though he was trying not to. ‘Easy,’ Trace said, kissing his shoulder.

  When he was in fully, Trace put his hand over Cam’s chest and started to count. ‘One … Two … Three …’

  ‘What are you counting?’

  ‘Heartbeats,’ the wolf said.

  ‘Why?’ Cameron was aching for his lover to move. Dying for there to be friction and fucking.

  ‘Shh. Eight … Nine … Ten …’

  Then he began moving. ‘I wanted you to be calm. I wanted you to enjoy it.’

  ‘I am!’ Cameron laughed wildly.

  ‘I wanted you to enjoy it more.’

  ‘Oh.’ And it was a bit more. His whole body had waited, pausing as his heartbeats were tallied. So when Trace began to move in earnest, moving deep and hard, it was good. Better. The best.

  ‘They’re coming,’ Trace whispered. ‘They’re out in the parking lot.’ His movements accelerated, his fingers on Cam’s skin were more aggressive.

  They moved together, a moan breaking free of Cam as Trace’s movements became more intense, more chaotic.

  ‘Good morning, Cameron,’ Trace grunted, driving in deep once more. ‘A man could get used to waking this way,’ he rasped, then he was coming. His teeth scraping Cam’s skin.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘Boys,’ Sheriff Slaughter nodded as Father Finn poured him some coffee.

  The way he said it and the way he smiled said he knew. Cam looked around and realised everyone knew. The father was smiling, Eliot was smiling, Luke walked in and took one look at him and smiled. Hell, Tryg, the gruff lion he hadn’t seen since the library, even laughed.

  Trace looked at Slaughter and then to Eliot. ‘Oh, don’t you too laugh. I have a nose like no other, remember?’

  Eliot turned six shades of tomato and Cameron bit back a laugh. He nudged Trace with his knee. ‘Be nice.’

  ‘Thank you, Cameron,’ Father Finn said, handing him a mug with steam rolling off the top. ‘Save an old priest from being the only one to remind folks of their manners.’

  Trace growled low, but it was a playful sound. He took his normal seat and kicked the chair closest to him out for Cameron. For some reason, even that small, simple public gesture made his heart knock in his chest. Trace wasn’t keeping him a secret. He was acknowledging this … Whatever the hell this was.

  ‘Hungry?’ Father Finn asked.

  More than half the room was comprised of shifters, so the resounding answer was “yes”.

  ‘That’s what I thought,’ Father said, cracking a full dozen eggs into a huge, brightly striped mixing bowl. He beat the bloody hell out of them while the Sheriff pulled up a seat.

  ‘What do we think? About today?’ he asked in general.

  ‘Any change at the library?’ Trace asked. He took a big swig of his coffee. Cam couldn’t help but wince. He knew how hot the liquid was.

  ‘None. Crack’s still there. No bigger, no smaller. We can still hear things on the other side and, once in a great while, see them. The only difference, of note is they seem to be testing the crack.’ Slaughter blew on his coffee.

  Cam felt a spiral of cold fear in the pit of his stomach. The sheriff was afraid. It was clear by his mannerisms, the way he looked almost defensive.

  ‘Testing it?’ Cameron asked.
Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry.

  ‘Sometimes it gets … shaded? Covered. For lack of a better word, it’s as if they’re pressing their appendages to the fissure. At first we kept thinking the crack was about to close when we saw that happen. Then someone realised they were testing it. I can only assume to see how strong or weak it happens to be.’

  ‘Great,’ Trace grunted. He turned his surreal eyes to Eliot. ‘And none of your hoo-dooers can do anything about it?’

  She cleared her throat but gave him a small smile. ‘My hoo-dooers, as you call them, have tried every spell there is – banishing, binding, protection, sealing … Nothing is working. It doesn’t make the situation worse, but it does nothing at all to fix it either.’

  ‘I’m afraid that if they get wind of us, that they realise we might be just bigger, tastier versions of Mathilda the chicken, we are – pardon me, Father Finn – fucked.’ Slaughter ran a hand over his face. Cameron realised how tired the sheriff looked. He hadn’t noticed it at first but now it was clear.

  ‘That’s my fear too. Especially after yesterday,’ Eliot said. Her big, blue eyes settled on Trace. ‘It had you. It was probably planning on you being the luncheon special until …’ She gave a nod to Cameron. He felt himself blushing.

  ‘Right. I’m pretty sure that’s true,’ Trace said. He drank down the rest of his coffee and Slaughter passed him the carafe. ‘I am a pretty tasty morsel.’

  Across the room, the lion choked on his coffee and Luke patted him on the back. ‘Not as tasty as you, lover.’

  ‘Rabbit,’ Tryg groaned, clearly embarrassed. Which was not what Cameron expected of the tall, gruff man at all.

  Luke caught the look and smiled at Cam. ‘He calls me Rabbit.’

  Before he could stop himself, Cam answered, ‘And he calls me Lightning Boy.’

  Trace threw his hands up. ‘And she calls him Snookie!’ he said, pointing to Eliot and Slaughter.

  Eliot laughed. ‘Not quite.’

  ‘Can we get on with it?’ Father Finn asked, pouring the eggs into a heated skillet. He started to scramble while staring at them all as if he were presiding over recess. Which he sort of was.

  ‘My opinion as the new, mysterious person that so many of you thought could help …’ Cam petered off and sipped his coffee.

  ‘Yes?’ Eliot prompted.

  ‘I think we go to Batts Dunn’s house and go inside. If he’s not there and no one’s seen him, Sheriff Slaughter could declare him missing and enter, fearing harm might have come to him.’

  Sheriff nodded. ‘I can do that. But what do you think about Batts? That it ate him?’

  ‘Maybe, I don’t know. Doesn’t anyone around here ever get hunches?’

  ‘Most of us are animals on the inside,’ Trace said, patting his hand. ‘We live on instinct.’

  ‘Well,’ Cameron said, pinning him with his gaze. ‘What’s your instinct?’

  ‘That you’re right,’ Trace admitted.

  ‘Then that’s good enough for me,’ Sheriff said. He started to stand.

  ‘Oh no you don’t, Samuel Slaughter. You’re going to eat first,’ Father Finn said, plunking a pan of eggs down in the middle of the table along with toast and bacon that had been crisping in the oven.

  Slaughter stared at it all. They all did. Every one of them practically salivating. ‘Have I mentioned, Father, that I love you?’ the sheriff said.

  Eliot rolled her eyes. ‘Is that all it takes?’

  When Slaughter went to swat at her bottom with his big hand, she dodged it, dancing out of the way and laughing.

  ‘Now my spidey senses are off the charts. And not in a good way,’ Trace said, pushing Cameron behind him.

  Cam had to agree, but the move on Trace’s part – that gallant act of protection – had him smiling like an idiot. ‘It feels weird, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It does,’ Slaughter agreed, moving forward to rap sharply on the door with his nightstick. He caught Cam looking and smiled. ‘This is about all the use it gets. I’ve only used it … Well, never, actually. We tend to be good talkers.’

  ‘Probably because they could rip each other to shreds if they wanted,’ Eliot said. All eyes turned her way and she laughed nervously. ‘Sorry. But, you know, it’s sort of true.’

  Slaughter rapped again and called out, ‘Batts! Batts Dunn, it’s Sheriff Sam Slaughter! I wanted to talk to you, Batts!’

  Rap-rap-rap against the window. It was starting to grate on Cam’s nerves.

  Nothing.

  ‘How long are we going to give him?’ Tryg asked. The lion was pacing along the side of the house, pausing to sniff and occasionally listen. He pressed his face to the window and tried to look in. In his profile, Cameron could really see the lion resemblance. The man had a rough and authoritative beauty. One glance at Luke showed him how in love he was with his man. His face looked damn near ecstatic just watching his lover. Cute. Cam found himself envious. He turned to find Trace watching him and his face went hot.

  ‘Not long,’ Slaughter said.

  One more series of raps and they all waited.

  ‘OK, that does it for me,’ Slaughter said. He pulled out a lock pick set and squatted down. His knees let out twin reports, cracking when bent.

  ‘Jeezaloo, Sam,’ Eliot said. ‘You need to take that fish oil I gave you for your joints.’

  ‘I’m a bear,’ he grunted, working the pick. ‘I just eat fish.’

  ‘Not enough to get all those Omega 3s.’

  ‘I eat tons of fish.’ He sighed, his tongue moving to roam along his bottom lip as he tried to pick the lock.

  ‘You’d need to eat barrels of fish a week to match those pills. Do you eat barrels of fish, Sam?’

  He stared at her, open mouthed. ‘Are we really having this conversation now?’ he asked.

  She blinked. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘If you took your fish pills you’d have the strength to pick a lock,’ Trace joked. ‘May I?’

  ‘I was about to break the lock,’ Slaughter grunted.

  ‘Just let me try.’

  Cameron watched him as he squatted in front of the lock. Three quick movements with his wrist and it opened. They all heard the audible click of the mechanism yielding to Trace’s ministrations. Cam knew how that lock felt. He knew what Trace could do with those hands.

  ‘And here we go!’ Eliot said. She started forward, but the sheriff blocked her way.

  ‘Wait up. We don’t know what’s going on here. I’m first.’ He took one big step inside. ‘Everyone stay here until I give the all clear. Do you understand?’

  He was met with a bunch of grumbles and glares but they all agreed. Cam moved closer to the door but didn’t cross the threshold. The longer he stood here, the more uneasy he was. His skin felt as if it was crawling.

  ‘I feel it too,’ Luke suddenly said.

  Cam blinked, not understanding at first. ‘What?’

  ‘I feel it too. The unease. Yours and the general air of it around here. Something is not right. Not good. But I told you, I just kept getting images. Nothing definitive. Nothing that helps me or us in any way.’ His lips were pressed into a tight line. ‘It could mean damn near anything.’ His frustration was palpable.

  ‘Um … guys?’ Slaughter called.

  ‘Yes, Sheriff?’ Cam called back.

  ‘Y’all better come on in now. It’s all clear. Batts isn’t here.’

  Cameron’s stomach clenched and, despite being surrounded by others, he briefly took Trace’s hand and squeezed. He simply needed the contact. To his surprise, Trace squeezed back and walked through the door with him. The gruff custodian he’d met had morphed into a man who seemed to have no beef with holding his hand in front of others. Cam let a wave of gratitude wash over him as they stepped into Batts’s darkened house.

  ‘All the blinds are down. All of them,’ he whispered.

  ‘Why are you whispering?’ Trace smiled at him.

  The smile gave him a little strength. ‘It feels spooky. When
I’m spooked, I whisper.’

  ‘Oh.’ Trace gave his hand another squeeze. ‘Where are you, Sheriff?’ he called.

  ‘Back in the den. Keep coming straight. It’s at the end of the hall.’

  ‘It’s like a funeral procession,’ Luke said behind them. Tryg grunted, but said nothing.

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Eliot hissed.

  ‘You can feel it too,’ Luke mumbled. ‘You’re like me, a sensitive. You can feel it, I can feel you …’ He chuckled. ‘There’s a lot of feeling going on.’

  ‘Even I can feel it,’ Cameron whispered, ‘and all I do is randomly shoot lightning out of myself.’

  Trace laughed. ‘Speaking of which, you seem to have a little bit more control of that now, or is that just my imagination?’

  Cameron hadn’t thought about it, but Trace was right. Much less random eruptions of electricity. He’d only had Brother Lightning make an appearance yesterday when distressed over Trace. It had come through him when his emotions got high, and for a damn good reason.

  ‘Cat got your tongue?’ Trace pulled him down the hall a bit faster.

  ‘I just realised you’re right.’

  ‘Lightning Boy, I’m always right,’ he said and winked. Then they moved into the den where Slaughter stood and their eyes adjusted to the gloom. ‘Well, shit,’ Trace said.

  ‘That about covers it,’ Luke said from behind them.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  ‘So do we think Batts knew about the monster?’ Slaughter laughed.

  ‘Sam.’ Eliot sighed.

  ‘Sorry. You have to have some dark humour here, El. I mean … Jesus.’

  They all stepped forward. Almost as a group, as if that could keep them safe from what they saw. ‘Everywhere,’ Cam breathed.

  ‘I mean … everywhere,’ Trace echoed.

  Cam reached to touch one of the sinister sketches and Slaughter tsked. ‘No touching,’ the bear said.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘This is it, right?’ Eliot pointed to a sketch that depicted what was a very large octopus on first glance. A longer glance showed an elongated head – almost alien in nature – and razored tusks like an elephant on steroids. The sketch was done dark and heavy, as if Batts had been moving fast and pressing hard when he’d drawn it.