Eliana

by Evey Brett

  Eliana didn’t stir until Kon had her upstairs and settled on a bed in one of the suites the enclave reserved for guests. He’d just gotten the zipper to her jacket undone when she woke, her gaze as pointed as a hawk about to kill. “Where the hell am I?”

  “Safe. As I promised, you’re not in a hospital, but I’m going to have a doctor come take a look at you.”

  “I don’t need one.” Beneath her insistence was a note of fear.

  Any fool looking at her could tell she needed assistance. She was pale, trembling, and covered in burns from incubus ichor. Besides that, her leg had her in considerable agony, though she was trying to hide that fact. “Sweetheart… Eliana…”

  “Don’t.” She nudged the air with her fingers. “Go away. I’ll be fine by morning, and then I’ll be gone.”

  Losing patience, Kon sat beside her on the bed. He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away as if afraid he was going to cut it off.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  He grabbed her wrist. “See these burns?”

  She gave them the barest glance. “So? I’ve had worse.”

  “These aren’t ordinary burns. They’re like being doused with certain chemicals. If left untreated, the corrosive agent can enter your bloodstream and make you very, very sick.”

  “I don’t want to see a damn doctor.” She yanked, and he let her go.

  He clenched his jaw. He could take care of the burns, any Warden could, but he’d wanted a woman to look after her. “It would really be better if—”

  She pointed at the door. “If anyone even resembling a doctor walks through that door, I’m leaving.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  She levered herself into a sitting position and tried to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

  Tried.

  Color fled from her face. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her bad leg at the knee.

  Kon gripped her shoulders. “Enough. Point taken. Lie down, all right? You’re making me hurt just watching you.” And she was; even without consciously using his Sensitivity, sympathetic pain stabbed his hip. How in the world has she lived with that for so long? And why hasn’t she gotten help? He was definitely calling the doctor, whether she wanted him to or not.

  Breathing hard, she eased back down onto the pillows.

  “Can I help you out of those wet clothes, or will you fight me about that too?”

  She eyed him suspiciously.

  “I’m not like the—” He caught himself before saying incubus. No reason to add to her terror. “That man who attacked you. I’m here to help, and you’re not making it easy.”

  “Good. Because no one ever made it easy on me. Tell you what. If you’re so intent on taking my clothes off, you can give me five hundred for the privilege.”

  Kon smothered a laugh. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’ll give you a discount. Two fifty.”

  “No.” He wondered why she needed the money so badly.

  “I’ll do it, then, if that’s what you want.” She stripped off her jacket and shirt. Her bra was old and worn, hardly big enough to keep her breasts from spilling out.

  Kon sighed and took the proffered clothes. They were cheap, scratchy material. He’d have to find her something better. “I’m not going to sleep with you.”

  “Too bad. You’ve got the face of an angel. I was hoping you’d make love like one.”

  Kon smothered his annoyance. If there was one thing he hated, it was the reminder of his pretty face. The old taunts returned to haunt him. “Face of an angel. Son of a devil and a demon.” It never ended. Not even with a beautiful woman he admired.

  She tugged at the zipper on her skirt and tried to wriggle out. “Maybe this will convince you. I—oh shit.” She closed her eyes and let out a strangled moan.

  “Let me.” Gently, he pulled the skirt over her hips and legs and stifled a gasp of dismay. Thick scars crossed her hip and belly. She’d been wounded. Badly. Without meaning to, he caught images of gunfire. Grief. Pain. No wonder she’d refused a hospital.

  “If you’re going look at me without any clothes on, you should at least tell me what your name is short for? Conrad? Con Man? Genghis Khan?”

  He covered her with a blanket. Knowing shock caused her to babble didn’t ease his disappointment. He sighed. No matter how hard he’d tried to Americanize his name, it always drew commentary. “Kon with a K. Short for Konstantin. It’s German.” He’d also changed his last name from Jäger to Hunter in an attempt to further distance himself from his past.

  “So that’s what your accent is. Your Spanish sounds funny.”

  He’d tried to be rid of that too, but certain words refused to be spoken any other way. “My father was German. We lived in Barcelona for a while. That’s where I learned my Spanish.” If she remembered any of this in the morning, he’d be surprised.

  “I’ve seen you somewhere. On TV or something.”

  “Probably.” For a while, he’d been a model for a line of men’s underwear. That gig led to modeling for advertisements and romance book covers. He’d never truly enjoyed the work, but he’d earned enough money to found a clinic within the enclave for indigent, low-income, and uninsured people to have access to medical care. The clinic offered both traditional and alternative medicine such as the energy work he provided.

  One of his demonstrations had been picked up by the public television station and was a favorite during pledge drives. The show featured ways ordinary men and women could learn energy healing, though Kon was careful not to reveal the extent of his abilities. “I’m going to call the doctor right now, all right?”

  “I told you. No fucking doctors.”

  He loved the intensity with which she ordered him around, but this was one matter he wasn’t going to back down on. To his relief, Doc Jensen was on call and arrived within a few minutes. She took one look at Eliana and hurried over.

  Kon went to the far side of the room and searched the ragged cloth wallet which had been in her jacket pocket. There was no cash, no credit cards. The Arizona ID was just that—not a driver’s license. Eliana Reyes, 9/30/1973, and since it was 1992 that made her nineteen. The address was in Nogales. Behind it was a military ID and dog tags for John Tall Elk. Her father? It was possible; they had similar eyes and facial features.

  The only other item in the wallet was a bent photograph of five children. He picked Eliana out immediately, as she was the eldest, and her appearance was subtly different from the two boys and two girls. Everyone in the picture was smiling, but the haunted looks in their eyes told Kon it was a rare moment of happiness.

  Doc Jensen’s voice rose as Eliana fought, swore, and made another futile attempt to leave the bed. Exhaustion finally won out, and she submitted to the doctor’s treatment, though Kon could sense her fury from across the room and without his Sensitivity.

  When Eliana was sedated, Doc Jensen joined Kon. “The burns will heal,” she said, “but I’d like an X-ray of that hip for an idea of what we’re dealing with. It’s obvious she was shot and had surgery to repair the damage, but I’d like to see if there’s something more we can do for her. I’ll write her a prescription. She’s too young to be in so much pain.”

  “I’ll talk to her when she wakes.” Kon had doubts Eliana would agree to any further treatment. She wore her pain as a badge of honor and likely wouldn’t be rid of it until she was ready.

  Doc let herself out. Kon heard murmured voices in the hallway before Evan let himself in. “Doc just gave me the update. How are you after tonight’s excitement?” He draped a hand across Kon’s shoulder.

  “Ready for bed.”

  “Why don’t you stop by my suite? Have a drink. I’ll give you a massage and you can unwind a bit.”

  “I meant my own bed.”

  “Kon.” Evan cocked his head and gave him a disapproving look. “I just don’t think Dane would be good for you to be around tonight. You need to relax and decompress, not take a beating.”

/>   Kon grabbed Evan’s arms, leaned forward, and kissed him on the cheek. “You worry about me too much, Chief Warden.” Beneath his grip he could sense Evan’s longing welling up. After he’d lost his cambion, the Warden’s Council had forbidden him to take a permanent partner. Unless Evan was called upon to be a surrogate for someone, his nights were spent alone. “Don’t do this. Not tonight.”

  “I was frightened when I couldn’t see you.”

  “I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”

  “I’d never forgive myself if anyone hurt you.”

  Kon was too tired to deal with Evan’s trauma. He knew perfectly well why Evan asked for him when they hunted incubi, and it wasn’t because Kon was the best shot or best tracker. “Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Evan went, but not without one last kiss. “Good night, then. You were good out there tonight. Really good.”

  “Go.” Kon shoved him out the door. Setting aside his frustration, he went to check on Eliana one last time. She was asleep. Dreaming. The burns on her face were already fading, thanks to Doc’s treatment.

  “Sleep well, my brave one,” he said.

  Chapter Three

  Duty discharged, Kon headed to the suite he shared with his lover. Dane was already waiting for him, smacking the handle of a leather flogger against his palm. Shirtless and wearing only a pair of denim cut-offs, shadows curled around his muscles in the dim light. “You’re late,” Dane said.

  The prickle of anticipation traveled through Kon’s body. A release was exactly what he needed—if Dane saw fit to give him one. “I’m sorry. Evan and I killed an incubus and rescued a damsel in distress. I had to wait for the doctor.”

  “That’s a poor excuse for neglecting your cambion.” Dane used the flogger to gesture at the ground. “Undress, then kneel for your punishment.”

  Kon removed his clothes and dropped them on the floor. He knelt, knees spread, hands on his head, and gazed at his cambion. There was admiration as well as hunger in Dane’s eyes.

  “She’s a good-looking damsel, I hope.”

  “Gorgeous.”

  Dane’s voice hardened. “Were you thinking lustful thoughts about her?”

  He hadn’t been. She was too young and ill besides. Though, now that Dane mentioned it, her fierce, determined personality had pricked his interest—and his attraction. “I am now.”

  “I thought you were done with women.” His voice held a note of harshness unrelated to their play. Dane wasn’t the jealous type. If anything, he enjoyed it when Kon slept with someone else, because it gave him the opportunity to “punish” Kon for his straying. But the one time Kon had taken a relationship with a woman seriously, the trysting had gone badly, and Dane had become even more protective.

  “Eliana’s different.”

  “That’s what you said the last time. I don’t trust your judgment.”

  Thwack. The flogger struck Kon lightly on his chest, eliciting a tingling heat. Dane was merely warming up. They shared the trickiest of relationships between a Warden and his Ward. Kon never called Dane “Master.” It was a line neither of them would cross, because, as a Warden, Kon was and always would be the true master. Dane lived his life at the mercy of his incubus half and its need to feed on sexual energy, and Kon had been trained to safely and respectfully provide that sustenance. Dane wouldn’t have been able to survive elsewhere so easily, but neither did he want to. He adored Kon, and Kon loved him. Inside their suite, they played out their fantasies. Frequently.

  Dane struck harder, alternating his blows between Kon’s back and torso. Thwack. Thwack. The first waves of pain flared on Kon’s back. Dane’s breathing grew louder, faster as he increased the speed of his strokes. Kon’s body was alive, burning from the kiss of the flogger, yet there was more bliss to be found.

  The lashing stopped. Dane knelt in front of him, reeking of masculine lust. “What do you say, boy? Have you had enough?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Dane slapped his face, knocking him off balance. “I didn’t say you could talk.” He landed a second, stinging blow to Kon’s face and sent him sprawling onto the floor.

  Kon lay prostrate, naked and vulnerable to whatever Dane decided to do. Helplessness aroused him far more than any tender caress. There was nothing like the fear—or satisfaction—of giving his control to someone else.

  Dane straddled him, one foot against each of Kon’s hips. Kon shuddered, and a sudden otherness invaded Kon’s senses as Dane’s demon half merged with the human. The joining chafed Kon’s mind and sent fire racing along his nerves—yet Kon loved every moment. When the pain faded, he was left with a heightened physical awareness that meant anything Dane did would be much more exciting.

  Dane dropped to his knees astride Kon and dug his nails into Kon’s back. He raked downward, lighting scorching trails as he claimed Kon’s flesh for his own. This was what Kon lived for—the roughness and danger as Dane walked a fine line between tempering his desires and blindly letting the demon control the encounter.

  “You’re still thinking of her, aren’t you? The truth now.” Dane tickled Kon’s back with the leather tips of the flogger.

  Kon relaxed in preparation for the fire against his skin. “Yes.”

  Dane backed away. The flogger descended. Back, buttocks, thighs—no part of Kon’s body was spared. Once or twice he murmured a cry of protest, calculated to make Dane strike harder.

  Soon Kon’s entire body throbbed. Welts covered his skin, but he floated, blissful as he rode a cloud of endorphins. He cared little as Dane parted his buttocks.

  “Don’t come until I say.” Dane rubbed lube-coated fingers around Kon’s asshole. Expertly he slipped them inside to stroke the internal pleasure point. Warmth and pressure built.

  Kon whimpered softly as Dane’s fingers stretched him wide.

  “No sound.”

  Kon gritted his teeth as Dane continued to probe him within.

  “You don’t need a girl. They can’t do this.” Dane replaced his fingers with his cock and thrust hard.

  Kon let out a sigh of pleasure as Dane’s shaft penetrated him to the hilt, filling him with a comfortable thickness. Dane pumped within him. Kon refrained from telling him a girl could indeed do the same thing if given the proper equipment. For a brief moment, he had a vision of Eliana wearing a strap-on around her slim hips, riding him, her long hair tickling his back.

  Dane bent low to whisper in Kon’s ear. “Forget about her. Please.”

  But he couldn’t. Even when Dane’s fingers dug into his back with bruising force or when Dane brought him to climax and kept going, he couldn’t get his fantasy of Eliana joining them out of his mind.

  Chapter Four

  In bed, Dane wrapped his arm around Kon’s chest, pleased when Kon threaded their fingers together. His love for his Warden ran deep and was far greater than mere physicality, and Dane was certain he would never grow tired of exploring the limits of Kon’s body.

  He considered himself lucky—usually—that Kon was such an understanding Warden. While most of his fellow cambions either got along with or loved their Wardens, their chief complaint was a lack of trust. With some, it was warranted—not every cambion could control their demon as well as Dane could. Many were damaged and had mental scars to go with the physical, and Wardens became caretakers and counselors as well as sexual partners.

  No, Dane was a very lucky boy, and he knew it. His birth mother had abandoned him as an infant. Dane had been adopted by a couple unable to have children and had experienced a wonderful childhood in San Diego until he reached his late teens and felt the first stirrings of his demon. Thankfully, his parents hadn’t punished or shamed him for his emerging sexuality when it became clear he preferred men. They’d been patient and explained safe sex and respect for his partners, though remained puzzled when none of their advice regarding abstinence seemed to stick.

  * * * *

  Dane had wanted to obey his parents—he just couldn’t. A terrible, gaping hung
er grew within him if he went too long without sex. He went to the library and read everything he could on sexual addiction, but none of it quite fit the feelings he experienced. He needed sex; otherwise he grew physically ill.

  The answer came one night shortly after his twenty-first birthday, and he finally had access to the seedier nightclubs downtown. The leather clubs drew him. He loved taking charge and having the responsibility for his partner’s health and well-being and was hungry for more.

  The latest place was called Whiplash and evidenced only a buzzing neon sign above a single door. The bouncer, wearing a leather vest and pants, waited outside to check IDs and collect admission. He gave Dane an appraising look, then thumbed him inside. Anxious and excited, Dane descended the stairs and ended up in heaven.

  The music was jazz, kinky, and low instead of deafening. People of all types were everywhere; men, women, Doms, Dommes, and their subs in all combinations and states of dress. There were other couples, seemingly more interested in each other than role-playing. Laughter and conversation filled the room.

  He was home. The energetic, sexual vibe fit him as nothing else had. Somehow he knew these people shared the same hunger he did, yet the club seemed welcoming rather than dangerous.

  He gazed around the room, wondering where to start since he was unpartnered—and there, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, was Kon, languidly taking stock of the club’s denizens.

  Dane didn’t know his name then, of course, but the attraction was instantaneous. Kon was the prettiest man Dane had ever laid eyes on, with long black hair and a face that could have easily belonged to either sex. His bare chest and too-tight leather pants made his gender clear, but Dane liked the ambiguity.

  The flush of heat overcame Dane so quickly he couldn’t control himself. The sexual craving blotted out all other thoughts. His vision focused so it pinpointed on Kon—only Kon—and homed in on him as if Dane were a heat-seeking missile and Kon the target.

  “I want you. Right now,” Dane said before he could stop himself. Deep down, the part of him his parents had raised to be polite and show good manners cringed, but Kon didn’t seem to mind. He cocked his head, studying his visitor with what seemed like amusement.