by L. C. Davis
Touching him was making me want things that terrified me, but I wanted them all the more for it.
“You don’t need to prepare me,” he whispered, breathless. His bottom lip trembled as my teeth scraped against it. “I’m --”
That was all I needed. He gasped as I dove into him, gripping his shoulders to pull him closer as I sheathed myself in him. He was cool and warm and smooth and tight and everything I’d ever imagined he would be. The green smoke turned to flame and all I could see in it was him, his lips parted and his head thrown back as he moaned in pain and ecstasy. “Oh, God,” he cried, his claws digging even deeper into my back. I relished the pain. I welcomed it, and so did he. His legs wound around my waist, his heel pushing into my ass to pull me in deeper.
“Fuck,” I breathed, drawing him in through my nostrils, my mouth, my skin.
So this was what everyone was always going on about. This was fucking.
No, it was more than that. This was everything. The moment I was buried inside of Locke, the outside world ceased to matter. Memories churned in my mind, fleeting images and sensations, the whispers of a dream that might as easily have been his as mine, but the ownership didn’t matter, either. As long as he was in my arms, as long as I was inside of him, the demon was mine and so was everything he possessed. His energy, his memories, even if I couldn’t quite consciously access them. The essence was enough, and as I fucked him desperately, savagely, as he whimpered and writhed and begged for more, it ceased to matter that he wasn’t calling my name.
Or maybe he was. I lost sight of myself in him, but I found something more. As the chaotic ecstasy of that first conquest evened out, as I began to thrust into him steadily, learning what made him shudder with need and what pushed him to the brink of his endurance, I realized I wasn’t just getting off on the physical sensation. I was feeding on his energy, on his lust. Every touch drew it in deeper. I lost count of how many times he came. One orgasm seemed to bleed into the next. His body responded so perfectly and mine responded to his in kind. If there had been any doubt that he was telling the truth about our being lovers in a past life, it faded when I realized how perfectly we fit together, this monster and I.
We were two of a kind. Maybe that was why I’d fought him so hard. Looking into those eyes was like looking into a past I still wasn’t ready to accept, and as I fucked him to the point of breathless sobbing and senseless pleas of, “More, yes, Holden, God --” I wasn’t sure if I hated him or loved him. Neither, or maybe both. I decided that didn’t matter, either. Whatever he was, whoever I was, however deep this thing ran between us, Locke was mine. My demon, my master, my lover, my first…
When I realized more of his emerald smoke was inside of me than clinging to him, I froze. I looked into his eyes and he looked back at me, his gaze dark with knowing. With the understanding that passed between us without a word. “If I take all of it,” I said, my fingers laced with his as I pinned them to the mattress, his body still pinned with mine. “You’ll die, won’t you?”
He nodded shakily. There was fear in his gaze, but it was nothing compared to the lust. “Yes,” he whispered.
“And you’d let me.” It was a statement, not a question. That look in his eyes made the answer clear.
His lips parted but all that escaped them at first was a trembling breath as he writhed beneath me, beckoning me into him fully. “God, yes.”
Those words did something to me, or maybe they simply undid me. Whatever part of me that was still good, still human, still innocent died with those words, and my desire for him was the cremation flame, burning away any evidence that I had ever been pure. I’d always been destined to become this thing, this creature of lust and rage and destruction, but in that moment, I embraced it and I knew I was damned.
The problem was, I liked it. I kissed him fiercely, aggressively. “Why?” I demanded, my voice rough and profane and inhuman. But it was my own. I couldn’t deny that. I no longer wanted to. I knew the answer, too, but I wanted to hear it from his lips. “Say it.”
“Because,” he gasped, tears of pleasure and pain streaming down his face as he buried his hands in my hair, running them down my face, my neck, my arms, as if he was as desperate for me to take him--all of him, even if there would be nothing left--as I was to do the taking. “Because I’m yours.”
That was all I needed to hear. I kissed him again, ramming into his tight passage one last time as I came. He writhed and clutched me, desperate to take everything I had to offer as our energies entwined fully with our bodies. I shuddered out the last of my orgasm and collapsed, buried inside of him, holding him to my chest. I could still feel the pulse inside of him, still feel his heat as he let out a strangled sob from his own release. We laid together like that, panting and bathed in the afterglow of our shared damnation until I felt enough like myself to realize what I’d done and be horrified by how much I’d taken from him.
“Locke?” I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. There was a small, satisfied smile on his lips, but I couldn’t be sure if his listlessness came from the same heady bliss that my pleasure had worn into or from losing his energy.
“I’m fine,” he said in a purr, nuzzling my neck as he snuggled closer. “I’ve just never been on the receiving end of that before.”
“I’m not an incubus…”
“No, you’re something else entirely,” he said wistfully, laying his head on my chest. “You still feed on kundalini. It’s how you form a bond with each seal. We’re power sources for you. You need to feed to become fully what you’re supposed to be. To stop Lucifer.”
“I took too much.”
“It’ll come back. I just need to sleep, and feed from a human when we get home.” He yawned and I could tell it took more energy than he had to speak.
“I should pull out.”
“Not yet.” He was purring again. The sound built in his chest and he vibrated in my arms.
“Okay,” I said quietly, stroking his hair. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Hmm.”
I looked down at him and the sleepy delight on his face made me decide to trust him. His breathing grew shallow, but the steady rhythm of his pulse reassured me that he was just sleeping. I decided to let him for as long as he needed, but even as the minutes turned to hours, sleep eluded me. I’d always felt guilty after jerking off, the last vestiges of my Puritanical upbringing that I’d never quite been able to shake, but this was different. It wasn’t guilt so much as confusion, both because I scarcely recognized the person I’d become while losing my virginity and because I felt more like myself than I ever had.
Twenty-Five
DANIEL
It had been a few days since my not-so-disastrous encounter with Lucas Whitaker that had spiraled into a humiliating one with Nick. I still hadn’t worked up the courage to apologize, and when I’d gone over to his place to try the night before, he wasn’t home. My phone had died while I was working and I realized I’d missed a few calls from him, but he knew where to find me.
When my clinic door opened, I was still trying to cajole Mrs. Smith’s cat out of her carrier. “There we go,” I cooed, jostling a handful of cat treats in my palm in an attempt to lure the Persian out. Dignity necessarily took a backseat to the desire not to end up filleted or in the hospital with cat scratch fever.
One of the worst parts of being dead had been the difference in how animals responded to me. From horses to gerbils, I’d always taken consolation in the fact that animals liked me even if I was an acquired taste to most people, but I had been bitten, scratched and clawed open more times in the months after my death than throughout my entire career. I had hoped that would change now that I was back in the land of the living, but my patients were as wary around me as ever and I couldn’t help but wonder if they sensed whatever it was Dennis had commented on before Nick threw him out. Something about kronus energy.
I was almost tempted to find him and ask him to explain what he’d meant, but ju
st the idea of being in the same room with him made my skin crawl.
“I don’t know why she’s being like this,” Eva Smith mused, watching as the cat shrank back in her carrier and hissed at me. “She usually adores you.”
“She probably just knows she’s in for a shot,” I said with a nervous laugh, pulling my hand out of the crate when I realized the treats weren’t going to be enough to endear me to Mittens.
“Animals are perceptive,” Eva mused. “Let me try.” She reached into the crate and Mittens gave an irritated yowl, but she didn’t eviscerate Eva like the look in her eyes promised she would do to me if I’d dragged her out. The cat hunkered down on my table, her tail lashing as she gulped and eyed me like I was about to turn into a Rottweiler if she blinked.
“It’s okay,” I said, offering my hand. The cat leaned in and sniffed my hand, but the low growl she’d been making ever since Eva put her crate down didn’t cease.
“I can hold her down,” Eva said, stroking the cat’s plush fur.
I didn’t like the idea of restraining an animal that had never given me any problems in the past, but the cat needed her rabies shot and whatever it was she sensed about me wasn’t going to change anytime soon, so I nodded and donned a second pair of gloves just in case. Mittens didn’t even seem to notice the shot, but she sure as hell didn’t appreciate my gentle scruffing. She took a swat at me as I put her back into the carrier and I sighed.
“I’m so sorry, Daniel,” Eva said, giving my arm a pat. “Don’t take it too personally.”
“I never do,” I lied, waving as she left the office. At least when she came back for her yearly tooth cleaning, she’d be sedated.
Maybe I should have gone into human medicine, after all.
The door chimed again. “Be right out,” I called as I washed my hands and changed into fresh gloves. I tossed the empty syringe in the biowaste container and headed out into the lobby, only to freeze when I saw who it was standing there. I hadn’t seen much of Lilian Mills outside of the odd town event we both happened to be attending. She had people to run her errands for her, and her husband, Colton, split most of his time between New York and Burlington. But Mrs. Marrin had mentioned she had been out and about more since Asher’s appointment to the Council.
Lilian was in her late fifties, but despite everything her original son had put her through, she still had a youthful air about her. I’d spent years crushing on her as a teenager, but unlike my feelings for Dennis, that infatuation had proven harmless. She was dressed in a crisp linen dress with her hair flawlessly coiffed as usual. A small beige poof poked out from her designer handbag. I knew for a fact the Mills took their Pomeranian to a vet in Burlington, because even the family dog was too good to slum it with the likes of me, so I doubted that was why she was there.
“Lilian. Hi. Long time no see.”
“Hello, Daniel,” she said in a stiff tone. Lilian had avoided me ever since I’d questioned her about her son’s strange behavior, and now I knew why. She knew exactly what and who Asher was, and she didn’t want anyone else putting it together. I had resented her for it for years, but now, all I could do was feel sorry for her.
I wondered if she really knew what had happened to Dennis, or if Asher had simply given her the sanitized version. Maybe she thought he was simply off in another dimension.
I waited for her to say something more, but soon realized she wasn’t going to. “Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.
“Oh. Right,” she said, looking down at the dog panting in her bag. “I know you’re probably about to close and I don’t have an appointment, but I was hoping you might be able to have a look at Coco,” she said, smoothing out a lock of hair that hadn’t even fallen out of place.
“Don’t you have a vet in Burlington?”
“Yes, but they’re booked up and Colton and Asher are both out of town. I just want someone to see her. If you have time…”
“Sure,” I said, motioning for her to come into the exam room.
“Thank you,” she said with a stiff smile, carefully lifting the dog out of her purse. I resisted the urge to laugh when I saw the studded pink collar peeking out through the well-groomed fluff. At least Coco was just watching me with bug eyes rather than yapping viciously like most dogs did those days.
“What seems to be the problem?” I asked, stroking the creature’s plush fur. Coco’s curly tail wiggled and he tried to lick my hand. Maybe he was just used to being around monsters.
“Oh, he’s just not acting like himself.”
I stared down at the ball of fur and as far as toy dogs went, he seemed perfectly content. “I’ll give him an exam, but it’d be easier if I knew what I was looking for,” I said, checking him over. The dog was obviously taken care of. His eyes were bright and I could tell Lilian brushed his teeth. At least, I assumed it was Lilian. The idea of Asher trying to brush a Pomeranian’s teeth was more amusing than I wanted it to be.
“Right. He’s um, anxious, I suppose. He’s not eating as much as usual.”
“Have you changed his diet at all? Started giving him a different kind of treat?”
“Colton is always giving him scraps from the table,” she muttered. Evidently, they didn’t agree on pet parenting anymore than they had agreed on childrearing.
“Maybe he’s holding out,” I said with a laugh. “Honestly, he’s healthy as a horse, as far as I could tell. A tiny horse.”
“Oh, that’s a relief,” Lilian said with a clearly forced laugh of her own.
I watched her for a moment, frowning. “You...didn’t come here because of Coco, did you?”
Her eyes widened. “What makes you say that?”
I sighed, slipping off my gloves. “Lilian, I’ve known your family my whole life. Most of them, at least,” I muttered. “I can tell when a Mills is lying to me.”
She looked away guiltily. “You know, don’t you? About... Asherath.”
I blinked, surprised she was willing to use that name in front of me. “I know more than I want to,” I said carefully.
“I thought so. Things changed, ever since that boy came to town.”
“You mean Holden?”
She folded her arms and paced the length of the room. Coco moved to the edge of the table like he was going to follow her, so I held him back. “Is that what he’s calling himself now?”
I frowned. “Lilian, how much do you know about Holden?”
“I know his real name is Jedidiah Hurlow,” she muttered. “I know his father is the Reverend Bertrand Hurlow, and I know about all the people who died in Arkansas.”
“How…?”
“Bertrand showed up here last night,” she said stiffly.
“What? Why? He’s supposed to be in prison.”
“He was released on parole. Holden never showed up at his hearing,” she said, leaning against my counter. “His parole officer says he disappeared. Like father, like son, I suppose.”
“How do you know any of this?”
“Dennis tells me things.” She hesitated. “Not Dennis, I mean...you know what I mean.”
I did. That didn’t mean it sat any easier with me. Part of me had always been convinced that whatever had happened to the real Dennis, Lilian was far more content with his replacement. Now I knew. Not that I could blame her entirely. Just because I was fucked up enough to love a psychopath didn’t mean everyone else was. “Holden is gone.”
“That’s what I told Bertrand Hurlow, but I very much doubt that’ll keep him from coming back.”
“Why would he come to you? Dennis--I mean, Asherath and Holden dated for all of ten seconds.”
She swallowed audibly and I could tell she was on the verge of saying something more, but she changed track at the last moment. “I just came because I thought you might have heard something. You’re close to Nick Whitaker, and with him and Holden being as close as they were…”
“No. I haven’t heard anything from Holden, and neither has Nick,” I muttered. “I
wouldn’t count on him coming back here.”
Lilian’s shoulders seemed to sag in relief.
“That’s not all, is it?” I pressed.
“I should really go,” she murmured, lifting Coco into her arms. “We’ve troubled you enough.”
“Lilian,” I pleaded. “Just answer one question for me. Please.”
She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “What is it?”
“Did you know?”
“Did I know what?” she asked stubbornly.
“Did you know a monster had replaced your son, or did you just not care enough to ask?”
Anger flared in her expression but she stifled it, a credit to her charm school upbringing. “If there is a monster in any of this, it was Dennis. I know you were too close to him to see that, but you didn’t live with him. You didn’t have to live with knowing what he’d done to that...that poor girl.” Her voice broke. “You can’t possibly understand what it’s like to be a parent, to fall asleep terrified that you’ll find your own child standing over your bed with a knife. To know you inflicted him on the world, and there’s nothing you can do.”
“But you did do something, didn’t you?” I demanded. “You had a role in it, whatever it was.”
“I don’t owe you anything,” she hissed.
“What did you owe your son?”
“We’re done here. Send me a bill for the exam,” she replied, blowing through the door.
I locked up as soon as she left, but her words were still going in the back of my mind. Bertrand was back and he’d tracked Holden to Stillwater? Maybe he really was better off with Remiel. Shit.