Prince of Tricks

by Jane Kindred

  “Fuck me,” Vasily gasped in wonder as he let them fully unfurl. Belphagor smirked, thinking that was just what he wanted to do at the moment. Across the snowy yard, the cupolas glittered with Vasily’s light.

  “Perhaps I ought to have chosen something a little more out of the way,” he conceded, glancing about. “But no matter. Done is done.” Vasily’s chest was rising and falling as he stood in a state of temporary shock. Belphagor stepped up carefully to run his hands over Vasily’s shoulders toward the new limbs, and shook his head. “My lovely boy. You’re simply stunning.” He stroked Vasily’s cheek. “Are you going to try them out?”

  “Try them out? I can fly?”

  Belphagor laughed softly. “What did you think they were for, dear boy? Just relax and let yourself rise. Your wings will do the rest.”

  Vasily stretched his wings and took a deep breath, and then gasped as his feet came off the ground. In an instant, he was off and surging into the glow of dawn, soaring over Vladimir. If anyone saw, Belphagor supposed they’d mistake him for sunrise. Their radiance was similar. The firespirit spun and dipped and rushed upward again, heading off into the distance to where Belphagor lost sight of him for a moment, nervously waiting, and then, like a flash of sun over the horizon, he glided down, landed gently and shrugged his shoulders back, instinctively putting his wings away to where mere Men wouldn’t see them. His face was alight with pure wonder, no radiance needed.

  Belphagor gave him back his clothes and helped him into them, and neither spoke while he buttoned him up with care. He kissed him once more as Vasily stood silent, not caring if anyone saw, and Vasily engulfed him in his warm arms, lifting him off the ground a bit and making Belphagor laugh.

  “That’ll cost you,” he said as Vasily set him down, though he couldn’t do it with a stern face. “And your refusal at what you thought I was ordering you to do—that’ll cost you dear.”

  Vasily grinned. “I don’t care, Beli. Do what you like to me. It was worth it.”

  About the Author

  Jane Kindred is the author of The House of Arkhangel’sk trilogy and The Devil’s Garden. Born in Billings, Montana, she spent her formative years ruining her eyes reading romance novels in the Tucson sun and watching Star Trek marathons in the dark. She now writes to the sound of San Francisco foghorns while two cats slowly but surely edge her off the side of the bed.

  You can find Jane on her Twitter account and Facebook page—both of which are aptly named “janekindred”—and her website, www.janekindred.com.

  Look for these titles by Jane Kindred

  Coming Soon:

  Demons of Elysium

  King of Thieves

  Master of the Game

  When you grab a tiger by the tail, sometimes he bites back.

  Tiger Tiger

  © 2013 A. Catherine Noon and Rachel Wilder

  Chicagoland Shifters, Book 2

  Veterinary trauma surgeon and animal empath Sasha Soskoff has found everything he ever wanted with his new partners Neal, Steve and Carlos. Life feels as safe and secure as it can be among a group of ex-Marine tiger shifters. Until a homeless man is found, gruesomely mauled and murdered, near Neal’s BDSM club.

  When it’s determined a rogue tiger did the deed, the jaguars’ accusing eyes turn toward Sasha’s lovers. The precarious balance of peace tips dangerously toward war.

  Neal knows damned well none of his tigers committed the crime. Someone must be in Chicago without his knowledge or permission, and they’d better find him fast before uncertainty and conflict rip the tight-knit band apart from the inside.

  As Sasha struggles to heal the stress fractures forming among his tiger family, he begins to wonder if his dreams of a home, and love, were too good to be true. And it’s precisely that moment the killer strikes at the heart of the tiger clan—Sasha himself.

  Warning: This continuing story contains more hot man-on-man and men-on-more-men ménage action than you can shake a cat at.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Tiger Tiger:

  Sasha swayed and danced to the pounding rhythm of the club’s music. It vibrated through his body like a huge heartbeat. He needed it tonight, if only to get rid of the excess adrenalin from earlier. It felt good to sway to the beat and let it move his body, chasing away the last of the stress.

  He preferred Wednesday nights. He had room to move, at least early in the evening, since the crowds came later. The patrons tended to be more of the regular locals and, already understanding he belonged to Neal, they left him alone. Getting rid of eager tops got old, rather than flattering, after the first few times.

  Wednesday meant Steve got the night off too. The last few weeks they’d spent Wednesdays together upstairs cooking or watching what Neal and Carlos called chick flicks. Tonight, he and Steve had agreed to spend it downstairs in the Basement. If trouble started, they wanted to be near enough to help.

  And Sasha wanted to help.

  He also wanted to get Steve out more on the dance floor. The man could move.

  Sasha had dressed up for Steve. Gray leather pants clung to his thighs and matched darker smoke-colored ankle boots. He had worn a silk cobalt T-shirt and wrapped strands of hematite around his wrist. Some gel in his hair kept it out of his face as he danced. This evening, Sasha stuck to water, the dancing enough to give him a buzz.

  Steve matched him move for move and his large muscled frame kept unwanted attention away. Sasha loved how Steve watched him dance, brown eyes intense and focused on him. Often he would come close and rest his large, warm hands on Sasha’s waist or hips. Despite the size difference, the two of them swayed in synch to the music.

  Seeing his lover out of uniform sped his heartbeat. Instead of the gray T-shirt, black cargos and black combat boots, Steve wore a burgundy shirt open at the throat and left unbuttoned half way down his chest. A light sheen of sweat made his dark skin glow.

  Sasha leaned into the bigger man and licked a slow trail up his sternum. Steve grinned, teeth flashing white in the black light. His arms encircled Sasha and Sasha writhed up against all those muscles.

  Life was good.

  Well, except for the damn rogue tiger.

  The only tigers Sasha wanted around where the ones in his bed, and the ones in Neal’s unit.

  Speaking of, TJ stood nearby, leaning back against the wall. It surprised Sasha so much that he missed a step. Steve’s hands moved to cup his elbows and steady him.

  Steve looked down at him, a questioning expression on his face.

  Sasha tilted his head in the lean Texan’s direction, trying to be subtle. Steve glanced over and nodded before gazing around the room. Taking a sliding dance step to one side, Steve moved Sasha to see the rear door leading to the quiet rooms.

  Dillon and Craig stood waiting. The top leaned close to the shorter man, his hair even darker next to the platinum of the werefox.

  At the end of the song the lights moved to focus on them and the music changed. The dancers stilled and parted like the Red Sea for Moses. But Moses wore robes, unlike these two. He preferred this view.

  Steve leaned close. “Mitch can move the spotlights now, so they can make a grand entrance.”

  Sasha only nodded.

  He loved his guys, he really did, but this pair caught his breath and made his cock twitch. They seemed like a perfect set.

  Craig wore a short red vest and his silky black pants, slashed to show more scarlet in the lining. His long hair gave him a gypsy air.

  Dillon wore a white leather collar and wrist restraints. A scarlet cape flowed from his shoulders making his skin appear even paler. Craig removed the cape, revealing a matching white codpiece that covered Dillon’s groin but left the perfect globes of his ass bare.

  Sasha smiled. The music they’d chosen, some heavy back-beat industrial piece, thumped and thrummed along Sasha’s collarbone. When they reached the stage, Dillon knelt and waited. Chains hung from the ceiling and Craig tested them, checking the hooks at the end. More dangled than
needed, adding to the atmosphere.

  Craig returned to stand in front of Dillon and touched his pale hair. The submissive tilted his head up at him and, even from a distance, the expression made Sasha’s throat tighten.

  Steve squeezed Sasha from where he stood behind with arms encircled around Sasha’s body.

  He leaned back as Steve bent down to speak in his ear. “You look like that at us. So damn fucking hot and special.”

  Sasha smiled back, hoping his face showed the caring he felt. Steve’s arms tightened again and kissed him on his neck. Sasha leaned back, letting Steve take his weight as he waited for the pair on the stage to start.

  As Sasha nuzzled his cheek into Steve’s chest, he spied TJ again. The Texan’s face tightened, jaw jumping, and he clamped his arms over his chest. His gaze never left the couple performing.

  Sasha’s shields slipped as he stared at TJ. Despair and sadness almost overwhelmed him. TJ’s pain called to him like a siren and made him want to help, to give solace.

  Ashamed, Sasha glanced away and centered himself. Practicing his empathy with Steve and Neal was one thing; reading TJ without permission violated everything he’d been taught by his coven.

  He made a mental note to try and talk with TJ in the few days. Perhaps they shared common ground, as Sasha’s mom lived in an Alzheimer’s treatment facility. He knew the loneliness of not having a mother, since his own no longer recognized him.

  Sasha wished TJ would accept the closeness Craig and Dillon offered him. The pair tried to include TJ in their relationship, but TJ seemed oblivious. It didn’t look like it would change any time soon, either, since the Texan wouldn’t even admit to being gay.

  The audience’s excitement distracted Sasha. He turned to see Dillon restrained by the chains with his arms stretched high above his head. The cape pooled in a bright puddle at his feet. Craig worked a black suede flogger up and down Dillon’s front. The cup protected the blond’s groin as the strands caused pink to bloom in stripes on his pale skin.

  Craig made his strikes with the beat of the music and Dillon seemed to sway, suspended by the chains, in a sensual dance. Often, Craig paused to run his palm over the marked skin. Dillon would arch into his touch.

  Craig switched to a paddle, clear plastic with red neon glowing around the edges. The music died away and Sasha could hear the sound of struck flesh from even where he stood.

  The pair on stage stood so the audience got the best view possible. Craig’s face shone with intense focus and Dillon threw his head back, his shoulder-length hair swaying with his body as it reacted to the force of the blows.

  Craig discarded the paddle and ran his hands over Dillon, causing the slender man to shiver. Scooping up the red cape from the stage’s floor, Craig draped it over his shoulder. He moved to stand with his back to the watching men, his body blocking part of the view. A soft thud announced the falling of Dillon’s codpiece. Dillon’s face was still visible and Sasha’s cock twitched in reaction to watching the sub’s release as Dillon shuddered and shook. When Craig stepped away to unfasten the chains, Dillon hung limp from his wrist restraints. Craig supported Dillon and draped the long cape around him, hiding his pale skin.

  The couple descended from the stage and made their way through the crowd back to the quiet room. TJ materialized to walk on Dillon’s other side, protecting the dazed man.

  Sasha watched, knowing what it felt like to linger in sub space as everyone clapped. He turned to follow their progress. Several men tried to stop them but a stern stare from either Craig or TJ made them reconsider.

  At the keypad door to the back hallway, Craig and Dillon paused to talk to TJ. Sasha saw the Marine shake his head and leave them.

  “Damn,” Steve muttered in Sasha’s ear.

  “What?”

  “Sometimes he joins them in the quiet room as they decompress. It would’ve been good for him tonight.” Steve blew out his breath, his face sad.

  “Yeah, I’m going to try and talk to him tomorrow.”

  “Good luck. TJ’s taken the stoic Texan stereotype to a new level. I know Neal’s going to try, too, after his fuck up.”

  Sasha stroked his arm. “You know he was worried about you. It’s why he overreacted.”

  Steve flushed under his dark skin. “Yeah.”

  Sasha grinned. “Perhaps we should give you another follow-up physical to make sure you’re fully recovered.”

  Disappointment shown on Steve’s face. “Will have to ask for a rain check. I’m going to take the second half of Neal’s shift to let him turn in early. This rogue tiger thing is stressing him out.”

  Letting his hand fall, Sasha tried to keep his tone from showing the bitterness he felt. “You’re all working too hard doing patrols on top of doing club security.”

  “Faster we find him, the faster things will get back to normal. Neal’s hiring extra men to work for the club, since we can afford it now.”

  “Good. I like my men safe and stress free.”

  Steve bent his head. “Me too.”

  Sasha tilted back his head and met Steve’s mouth in a long kiss.

  Damn skippy.

  Love’s compass is never wrong—even when it points in two different directions.

  The Given & the Taken

  © 2012 L.A. Witt

  Tooth & Claw, Book 1

  After pleading his case to his wolf clan’s Elders, Levi is granted the right to bond with Ian, his male human lover, on one condition: they must spend one year apart. Then Levi must use only their spiritual connection to find Ian, or the deal is off.

  Tracking down his lover is easy for Ian, but Levi isn’t prepared for the changed man he finds.

  The agony of separation was too much for Ian. In a moment of weakness, he reached out—to a vampire. Now he’s a vampire himself, and Levi’s devastation—and rejection—is like a stake to his heart. But it’s nothing compared to the fury of the clan that wants Ian brought to justice for desecrating their most sacred ritual.

  Afraid for Ian’s safety, Levi puts the pain aside and races to get to Ian first, but he faces unexpected competition: Darius, Ian’s maker. When they come together, all hell breaks loose, Ian is on the run…and the only way Levi and Darius can save the man they love is work together.

  If they don’t kill each other first.

  Warning: Contains two vampires and a werewolf who really, really, really want to hate each other. Except when they want each other. And have violent, sweaty, angry sex with each other. But they still hate each other. Mostly.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for The Given & the Taken:

  Wherever a vampire was at sunrise, there he remained until sundown. Sometimes I wondered why someone didn’t just declare martial law against vampires and institute a curfew.

  At least winter meant shorter days, which would buy us an extra couple of hours to drive. For now, all we could do was hole up in my apartment and hope we could get on the road before anyone came after Ian.

  We stopped to top off both gas tanks, and Ian bought a five-gallon can to keep in the trunk as some added insurance. Then we pulled up to an ATM, and both withdrew as much as our bank accounts would allow. It wasn’t a lot, but it would have to do until we could make another withdrawal tomorrow. Fucking banks and their daily limits.

  With enough gas and cash to gain us some headway, we drove back to my place. I pulled into a parking space behind my decrepit building. Ian pulled in beside me. We locked our cars and walked in silence, the rattle of keys echoing in the stillness between us. The barred security door clanged open, then closed, and we climbed the stairs to my place.

  Once we were inside, I closed and dead-bolted the door, then leaned against it. From halfway across the cavernous living room of my tiny apartment, we locked eyes. Then he looked away, brushing a few strands of hair out of his eyes with a not-very-steady hand.

  We both quietly unzipped our jackets. I stepped away from the door and draped my coat over the back of a chair, then extended my h
and for his jacket. When he gave it to me, our fingers didn’t brush, but our eyes met, and I wondered if he wished we had touched. On some hungry, visceral level, I did.

  Breaking eye contact, I put his jacket over mine and tried to figure out what to say. What to do. My only thought tonight had been getting to him before that damned wolf did. When I’d failed at that, my concern had been getting him back here until we could make our next move.

  Now, here we were. Alone in my apartment with a hell of a lot of time to kill before we could go anywhere. My mind had time to catch up with everything, and as we faced each other across a narrow expanse of space, anger simmered beneath my skin. It wasn’t directed at him, though. Oh, I was pissed at him. He’d quite possibly just ignited a turf war between two races, and I had my own reasons for the contempt that soured the back of my throat whenever I even looked at him. And I wanted to rip that fucking wolf’s heart out for, well, everything.

  But here, now, as I faced Ian down just inches from the couch where we’d once gone from friends to lovers, the fury that crackled against my nerve endings was reserved for myself.

  Because God damn it, I still wanted him.

  Becoming a vampire had a way of intensifying features. Not changing them per se, just…intensifying them. His eyes were a more vivid blue. His angular jaw was sharper, his skin smoother and lighter. People in Seattle often joked about being pale from lack of exposure the sun, but they were positively bronze compared to those of us whose lives depended on avoiding any direct sunlight. Still, it wasn’t an unhealthy pallor or death warmed over, just very, very fair. And, on someone like Ian, fucking beautiful.