by Marie Harte
“Because I’m only part athmae.”
“Oh.” Anson stared, and Liam could feel the wolf’s curiosity.
Malem cleared his throat. “Not that we don’t like looking at your ass, Liam, but the queen sent us to take you to the ceremony. Both of you.”
“Tell her we’ll be right there.”
“I have to escort you. We’ll wait outside. Ryder, Zain, let’s go.”
When his men left, Liam gave Anson his full attention once more.
Anson frowned. “Why does your queen demand you be escorted?”
Might as well tell him now. “Because my mother’s a very managing kind of female. If we take too long, she’ll probably come down here to get me herself.”
Chapter Three
“Mother?” Queen? Trust Anson’s luck to land in a demon’s backyard. To find a demon who liked to fuck men, and who was of royal blood. Talk about going from bad to worse. Anson had thought being stuck with a mate would be hell. Turned out he’d landed in a different kind of hell all on his own.
Still, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t enjoyed Liam’s attentions. No wonder so many humans succumbed to the devilish incubi. Liam threw Anson’s libido out of whack with just his scent. Hell, Anson had experienced more physical pleasure in two non-penetrating episodes than he had screwing the Irwin sisters—at the same time.
“Come on, wolf. I think we’d better get ready.”
With nothing better to do than play along, Anson followed Liam into a kingly bathroom. A shower built for four, an expansive jet tub that looked as if it could accommodate Liam and his men, and a double sink all done in creamy marble and gold tones made Anson feel pampered. And way out of his element.
Wolves lived in the forest. They had rudimentary houses and wore clothing when the weather wore on their frailer human flesh, but they had nothing as grand as this. This seemed like something a full-blood human would live with.
“Like the gadgets and the pampering?” Liam asked as he washed his hair and soaped his body.
Damn if the sight of those muscles slick with water didn’t turn Anson on. His dick thickened and stayed hard.
“I’d love to play too,” Liam muttered. “But if we don’t get a move on, my mother is going to storm in here. Talk about a demon you don’t want to piss off.”
Anson hurried through the shower and dried off in record time. Liam handed him a hooded gold robe, then donned a similar one.
“Gold, huh?”
Liam grinned. “I’m partial to the color, what can I say?” He stroked Anson’s hair, and like magic, Anson’s hair dried. Anson ran a hand through it, startled to find it soft and silky, as if he’d put a brush through it.
“Like silk,” Liam murmured, seemingly enthralled. He continued to stroke him, as if petting him.
Strangely enough, Anson felt far from offended. Instead, he wanted to nuzzle closer to his lover and—
Lover? A male—a demon—was his lover. The reality of his circumstances froze him in place, and he wasn’t sure what to think. Male wolves didn’t fuck other males, did they? It had never been talked about at home, never forbidden, but with so many females in the pack, fucking a male paled in comparison to shoving inside a warm, wet pussy.
Then why was he still so hard for Liam?
Liam sighed and dropped his hand from Anson’s hair. “We don’t want to keep the queen waiting.”
The minute they stepped outside the door to Liam’s suite, guards flanked them. Liam introduced his athmae—his demons, Malem, Ryder and Zain. The men stood as tall as Liam but seemed much more menacing with their red eyes and demon-dark skin. Not the soft cocoa brown of a wolf or the earthy flesh tones of a human, but the ink-black color of demonkind. Nightmares made real, yet Anson didn’t perceive a threat from any of them.
He noted the way they protected Liam. Strong, lethal and graceful as they walked down several corridors toward their eventual destination. The guards each carried a long silver sword in hand. They wore simple loincloths made of a supple red leather, no place to hide a weapon or hold one. And no way to disguise the powerful muscle underneath that black flesh.
Anson wondered why they needed swords when they looked dangerous enough with those fangs and the pointed, sharp tips of their nails. “I thought demons were small.”
“The females are,” Ryder answered. He and Zain looked just alike, but they didn’t act like brothers. Not with the subtle, sexual touches they shared.
Malem had more bulk and seemed more aggressive than the others. He acted like their leader, and Liam clearly deferred to the male’s judgment.
Liam joined the conversation. “Athmae males are large, as you can see. The few females we have are tiny in size. But their energy is five times as fierce.”
“What about wolves?” Malem asked Anson. “Are they all like you? So strong?” His clear admiration startled Anson. Another male who sexually preferred men? Perhaps breeding among demons wasn’t important. Maybe they procreated through magical means.
Anson cleared his throat. “Most of us are built well enough. We’re always running, fighting.” Fucking.
Liam’s sly wink told him he knew what had gone unsaid.
Anson took a subtle step closer to him, aware of the carnal hunger the others made no attempt to hide when they looked at him. “You said the females are few. Do you have many women in residence besides the queen?”
“Less than a handful.”
That would explain why the men looked to one another for pleasure. Wolves had a hearty appetite. Anson couldn’t imagine going without sex for days and weeks on end. These demons were bred to have sex. How much more powerful their appetites must be.
“Our females can seduce thousands of humans a day. We work on a much lesser scale,” Zain explained. “The humans call us incubi and succubi. But we’re put here to do our job.”
“Put here by who?” Anson found the discussion fascinating. Wolves simply existed, yet the demons had a reason for being.
“By Banathmae,” Zain answered. The others nodded. “Our kind are born with a strong energy needing an outlet. Copulation releases our stress, while giving life to the dreams and nightmares in certain humans Banathmae has ordered serviced.”
Liam agreed. “Mystical sex, the melding of minds and energies, is how we go about serving Banathmae, but that work results in our increased physical desires. The odd athmae male will take a female for pleasure. But truth be told, most of us prefer the rough touch of a male. The bite of large fangs, the penetrating pain of a thick cock.” He glanced at Anson’s groin. “Few can match our stamina, though the wolves certainly come close.”
“Then again, we don’t need to fuck to release energy. Bloodletting is a fun way to drain the hunger.” Malem showed his fangs.
Not impressed, Anson flashed his.
“That’s sexy,” Ryder said in a thick voice. “He’s golden and lethal. Going to share, Liam?”
Anson blinked. Share?
“My pet needs a gentle hand first. Then perhaps—”
Anson yanked him to a stop. “Whoa. Hold on. I agreed to help you so you’d get me home. I’m not your pet. I fuck who I want when I want.” His inner wolf wanted to bite Liam to prove a point. Except the need didn’t feel like a warning, but like the prelude to foreplay.
Liam drawled, “Oh?”
“I like his wildness, Liam. Perhaps a leash and a collar would help soothe your pet,” Malem offered, looking more than interested. To Anson, he warned, “Don’t even think of showing me your teeth, wolf. Or I might take that as an invitation to play.” Malem rubbed his obvious arousal, and Anson opened his mouth to retort when he saw the mirrored desire in all his escorts.
Not afraid, Anson was nevertheless cautious. These men weren’t human. And they weren’t wolf. He’d tussled with Liam and had been hard-pressed to hold down the male when not in werewolf form. How would he do when confronted with all four of them at once? The group looked more than willing to take him on. To his shock, the
thought of fighting with them made him immediately hard.
Liam pulled Anson close and through his gown gripped his cock in a firm hand. “So feral, pet.” He purred with pleasure. “You’re absolutely perfect.” Then he let him go.
Anson didn’t know what to think. Most people, when confronted with his anger, backed quickly away. These demons seemed to like it. “Where are we going?” he rasped and turned from the red lust flaring in Liam’s eyes.
Zain pointed at a large set of double doors. “There.” Black wood glowed where runes had been painted upon the ancient bark.
Anson could smell dark magic, but it didn’t feel evil. Rich, powerful and very, very old.
“We’ve been here for a long time,” Liam said softly. “Before the humans, the sorcerers, and the wolves as well.”
Malem snorted. “When you’re done with the history lesson, we have an agenda to keep. Now quit playing with your pet. The queen wanted you here ten minutes ago.”
“I’m not his fucking pet.” Anson wasn’t surprised when they ignored him. He glanced from Liam to Liam’s athmae, aware that though they guarded their prince, they didn’t give Liam the due deference an alpha wolf would be given in similar circumstances. It was all very confusing. When he met Liam’s gaze, he found the large male watching him.
Liam sighed. “I know what you’re thinking. No, my men don’t bow, they don’t grovel, and they rarely agree with their prince.”
The others nodded. “We don’t have time to coddle our royalty. Not with the threat of danger always at hand,” Zain explained.
Anson wanted to know more, but Malem nudged him toward the doors. The others stepped closer, caging him, and he didn’t like it.
“Back the fuck off,” Anson growled, his hackles up at being herded like prey.
“Fuck off? Oh, I intend to, pet.” Liam brushed a finger over Anson’s erection again then held up a hand, his fingers spread wide.
All this talk of gods, sorcerers and sharing didn’t sit well. Because it felt as if the others had begun making his decisions for him. Like living at home all over again.
The doors opened at Liam’s command, and Anson walked forward with the others into what looked like a never-ending cavern. Fiery lanterns had been mounted to the rock walls in what must have been the original underground section of the vast estate. The noise echoed inside, and the scent of primordial wind and the whisper of night feathered past him. Everywhere he looked, athmae stood waiting, many of them dressed like the guards, while others wore nothing at all. A blanket of red, blinking eyes stared at him and the small procession filtering through the thickening crowd, swallowing them up as they moved through the sea of celebrating demons. Their bodies merged with the shadows dancing in the dim room lit only by flickering candles.
Anson followed Liam, his wolf inwardly growling with unease.
Before Anson could voice his protest, they arrived at the center of the cavern where a petite woman with shining white hair, ink-black skin and the brightest eyes Anson had ever seen stood up from the throne where she’d been perched. Wisdom glowed like rubies from within her glorious face. She looked like a feminine version of Liam.
His mother—the queen.
Like Liam and Anson, the queen wore a golden robe. In her hand she held a sickle dripping with blood. A bound demon lay at her feet, shriveled, his throat gaping and exposing the white of bone beneath his flesh.
Liam stopped a few paces from her and bowed. “Mother. May the harvest be rich this year.”
Anson couldn’t look away from the dead body.
“Oh, it will be.” She pointed to the deceased demon soon dragged away by other athmae. “This incubus, this thief, has clearly given the ultimate sacrifice for Banathmae.” She chuckled, and the rest of the room laughed with her. Sibilant hisses of joy gave Anson the shivers, because his wolf could feel invisible hands petting and licking at his energy.
She turned to the room at large and warned, “Should any of you think to harm another under our charge, such shall you find is your fate. Joy to our blessed god.”
Anson wanted to step back from her energy, but he held his place, prepared to attack when the woman’s blood-red gaze landed on him. She studied him with interest. Then she took a step forward.
He snarled and shifted into his werewolf, clawing through his robe before he could help himself. The press of so much dark power made him thirst for blood, and the star on his forearm burned and blazed with a white light. The crowd uttered their collective appreciation.
The queen clasped her hands together and closed her eyes. A tear trickled down her cheek. “Blessed Banathmae and the great spirits beyond, we thank you.” She opened her eyes, and Anson was taken aback at her elation. To Liam, she said, “You’ve been rewarded, son. Now a perfect offering may be made.”
Liam turned to Anson and smiled. “You’ll thank me for this later.”
“What—”
Before Anson could blink, Liam had him by the throat. The guards and several other nearby athmae grabbed him by his arms and legs, immobilizing him. Anson fought but couldn’t break free, overwhelmed by their immense power, which was enhanced by the feminine energy of their queen. He could taste her darkness in the air, the bittersweet lust lingering on his tongue.
As he growled and snapped at his captors, they carried him to the stone altar, where they strapped him down under circlets of energy that appeared when Liam flicked his graceful fingers. Once bound, all but the queen, Liam and his guards stepped back.
“Easy, Anson. We aren’t going to hurt you,” Liam whispered and kissed his furry cheek.
But the darkness around them couldn’t be mistaken for anything but aggression, and Anson roared his displeasure, much to the delight of the excited crowd.
The queen threw back her head and yelled, “With this wolf we shall set our prince free. With his blood we shall celebrate our harvest moon, my athmae.”
The cheer of the crowd echoed around them, and low chanting increased in volume into a crescendo of intent.
“Now I leave you with your prince.” She floated over the ground to stand next to Liam, by Anson’s head. The queen raised her sickle and jabbed the end of it into Anson’s neck. The bite of pain pushed him to howl like a wolf at war, but to his surprise she didn’t push the weapon in any farther. Only the very tip of it entered his neck.
She removed the sickle, and a slight trickle of blood ran down his neck. The weapon suddenly glowed gold, and it made the room light up like the sun before it faded once more. The queen smiled at Anson with a satisfaction that alarmed him. “Welcome, my son, to a brand new world.”
Smoke billowed around her, and she vanished.
The chanting grew louder, the language foreign yet compelling. Liam shrugged off his golden robe and stood, his body in rebellious light against the black devilry of the cavern. Around them, the sounds and scents of sex filled the air. Grunting and moaning joined pleas for Banathmae to arrive.
“Let me go,” Anson ordered. The star on his forearm felt on fire. His entire body locked up tight, arousal, fear and rage vying for dominance.
“Not yet.” Liam’s thick voice and erect cock told Anson freedom wasn’t to be his, not yet. Liam’s slit was wet, his cock shiny with need. His balls were tight, his nipples hard. “Not until we finish this.” He leaned close and licked the puncture in Anson’s neck closed, replacing the slight pain with a blaze of desire so acute, Anson’s arousal throbbed like a sore wound.
Ryder, Zain and Malem stood on each side of the altar and by his head. The three of them looked as hungry as Liam, and Anson felt a sudden surge of lust aimed his way.
Suddenly the crowd’s loud chanting droned into a chorus of whispers and groans.
The candles around them flared with fire. Bursts of heat made sweat stand out over Anson’s furred body, while a whisper of wind that shouldn’t have been there wafted over the altar, stirring Anson’s sexual need even higher.
Malem bowed his head and said to
Liam, “And so it begins, Great One.”
The other guards did the same. Something wasn’t right.
When Anson glanced back into Liam’s eyes, he saw nothing but bright-red orbs and an entity there looking out at him that wasn’t Liam. His wolf retreated far inside him, alongside his werewolf, where both shivered with fear. As quickly as Anson had turned werewolf, he was human once more.
Shit. This couldn’t be good. Nothing had ever made his werewolf retreat. Ever.
“Ah, the Wolf in the Forest sent me a treat,” Liam said in a voice nothing less than godlike. Deep pitches echoed in the large chamber in a concert of command. “A gift fit for a prince. And so hungry.” The entity stared at Anson’s cock and licked his lips. Fangs appeared, larger and darker than Liam’s normal teeth.
Anson tried again to rip free of the magical bonds holding him tight, but without his werewolf, he had even less strength to work with. The damn restraints Liam had placed over his wrists and ankles held fast.
He roared his displeasure, which only made the thing inside Liam chuckle.
“Who the fuck are you?” Where’s Liam? he wanted to ask. It made little sense, but he felt an attachment, a growing fondness for the handsome half-athmae who’d looked at him so hungrily before.
“I am Banathmae, demon god over my darkling children.” Banathmae smiled at the guards surrounding the altar and at the bowing crowd around them.
“Terrific. Now how about you stop preening about how great you are and get me the fuck out of here.” So not smart, Anson. Then again, his twin had always claimed he’d gotten the share of the brains while Anson had the muscle.
“I see Liam’s pet needs to learn some respect.” The flame in Banathmae’s gaze burned brighter. “Golden gift or not, you need to earn your place here. The dark is a blessing, not a curse. And Liam is my tool to use as I see fit.” He paused and smiled with wicked intent. “Just like you.”
“Liam,” Anson shouted, alarmed and beyond nervous at being in the presence of such a dark god.
Banathmae—Liam—paused, and a ripple of energy seemed to flex inside Liam’s body. His skin rolled and changed color, from white to black and back again. “Anson—won’t…harm…you. Banath…mae… take my…sacrifice…instead.”