by Lynn Hagen
Too bad there was a houseful at the moment or Taren would’ve gone inside and wreaked havoc. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared about killing shifters and humans, but Taren wasn’t a fool. He smelled Panahasi. The demon leader was lurking around here somewhere, no doubt keeping an eye on the place.
That was okay. Taren had patience. He’d waited this long for his revenge. He could wait another day or two, or even a month or two now that he knew where Maximus was.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go inside?” Valtrin asked. “It would be so easy to kill them.”
Taren moved deeper into the shadows. “It’s all about timing.”
He believed the rumor that Panahasi possessed the orb. Taren was pissed that the only means for him to get back into the demon realm had been stolen from him, but since the demon leader was playing watchdog, that would make Taren’s need for revenge that much easier with Panahasi topside.
“I was hoping for some bloodshed,” Valtrin said. “I haven’t had a good fight in a while.”
Taren was starting to regret bringing the idiot along with him. In truth, he’d planned on using the lackey as cannon fodder if things had gotten dicey. There was a horde of demons willing to follow Taren, pissed that they, too, had been banned from the demon realm and forced to live in this godforsaken human realm.
Too bad Taren couldn’t get back to Remtin, the worst city the demon realm had to offer. He’d ruled there until the demon warriors captured him and cast him out on Panahasi’s orders.
He trekked back through the woods that bordered the sheriff’s house and came out a mile away where he had a car waiting. Not only had the demon leader banished him but he’d stripped Taren of his powers. Now he had to rely on potions and spells to survive.
It was downright cruel that he had to drive wherever he needed to go instead of using his powers to simply travel through the shadows. When he reached the driver’s door, he looked over the roof at Valtrin. “You can meet me back at the house.”
Valtrin looked relieved he didn’t have to get into the car. With a nod, he vanished.
The blond cop had looked mighty cozy with Maximus. It never hurt to have leverage in case he needed it. He would follow the deputy and see if he could get more intel on the guy.
Taren got in and tried to start the car, but it simply sputtered. He tried again, but this time, the engine didn’t make a sound.
That was what he got for stealing a piece-of-shit car. With a frustrated growl, Taren got out and slammed the door. Since he couldn’t follow the deputy, he walked the rest of the way home.
Chapter Two
Dillon and Vince pulled to the curb in front of a white house with green trim and got out. The light in the living room was on, but the curtains were closed. The call had been about a disturbance, but so far, all was quiet.
Dillon strode up the walkway through a manicured lawn to the front door, flanked by flowerbeds. He rapped the door with his knuckles, announcing they were the police.
The front door flew open, and a woman in a flowery summer dress wore a deep scowl while glaring at them. “We were just having a disagreement,” she said loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “The police didn’t have to be called!”
She had blonde hair, which was all over the place, and had deep blue eyes. She was slightly heavy, but also beautiful.
“Can we take this inside, ma’am?” Dillon hooked his thumbs into his utility belt.
With a huff, she stormed away, leaving Dillon and Vince to walk in behind her. Right away Dillon spotted the broken glass on the floor, a hole in the wall the size of a fist, and the husband—Dillon assumed it was the husband, but he could’ve been wrong—stood on the other side of the room, breathing heavily as he glared at them.
The guy was around five feet nine, slim, had unruly brown hair, dark eyes, and wore jeans and a button-down red shirt. In Dillon’s opinion, he was kind of handsome, in a rugged sort of way.
Dillon walked to the guy and asked him to join him in the kitchen as Vince spoke with the woman.
He took down the man’s information, writing his name, birthdate, and his social security number on his pad. He also asked for the woman’s name.
“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Dillon asked. The living room had looked as if the “disagreement” had taken place there, because the kitchen was immaculate. He didn’t see a speck of dirt anywhere or a single dish in the sink. The stovetop was squeaky clean, and the appliances on the counter were lined up perfectly. There wasn’t even a smudge of dirt on the cupboards.
“All I said was her sister was hot,” Hal Grossman said in a loud tone. “If she didn’t want the truth, she shouldn’t have asked.”
Dillon winced. Even he knew that had been a boneheaded move. “Is that your wife in there?”
Hal scowled. “Hell no. She’s my girlfriend. Or was. I’m done with this craziness. I was just trying to gather my thing to leave when she lost her damn mind and started throwing things at me and shouting some very vulgar names at me.”
Dillon smelled blood. He looked more carefully at Hal’s scalp and noticed a tiny trace. “Do you need an ambulance, sir?”
“What?” Hal frowned. “Why would I need one?”
Dillon nodded toward the guy’s head. “You’re bleeding.”
Hal touched his scalp and gasped when he pulled his hand away to see blood on his fingers. “That bitch clipped me in the head with one of her ugly figurines, but I didn’t think she drew blood.”
“Do you want medical assistance, Mr. Grossman?” Dillon repeated.
“No, no. I’m fine. I just want to get my shit and leave.” He shook his head. “She’s started out great, you know? She seemed like the perfect woman, until I’d gotten to know her better.” He waved a hand to encompass the kitchen. “I can deal with her neurotic need to keep such a clean house, but what I can’t deal with are her insecurities, her jealousy over shit I haven’t even done, and her downright craziness.”
“Do you want to press charges against her for assault?”
Hal’s eyes widened. “I don’t want her arrested.”
“Wait right here.” Dillon walked into the living room where Vince was still trying to calm Desiree Cook down.
“He doesn’t even have a job,” she complained as her mouth tightened. “He doesn’t contribute to anything around here, yet he wants me to wait on him hand and foot and deal with his cheating on top of all that.”
“Did you assault him with a figurine?” Dillon asked.
Her eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “After he punched a hole into my wall.”
These two clearly didn’t need to be together. Dillon wasn’t sure who was telling the truth and who was lying, but they needed to be permanently separated. The sad part was, most of the time, the couples who experienced this got back together. It was a never-ending cycle.
“He just wants to gather his things. Would you mind getting anything that belongs to him?” Dillon asked.
For the next thirty minutes Dillon and Vince dealt with the two screaming at each other from separate rooms, Desiree crying as she packed his things, and more screaming.
By the time Hal drove away, Dillon had a solid headache.
“Thank god no kids were involved,” Vince said as he pulled away from the curb.
“You got that right.”
They took two more calls. One was about a stolen car from an elderly man’s driveway, and one was about a noise Mrs. O’Reilly had heard in her backyard—which turned out to be her wind chimes.
By the time Dillon had returned to the station and filled out his reports, he was exhausted. He checked the time on his phone and grimaced. It was well after two in the morning. Sheriff Werth would kill him if he dropped by to see Max at that hour. Dillon’s shift wasn’t over yet, but everything in Brac Village was quiet.
Two deputies were out on patrol, and aside from him and Vince, the only person in the squad room was the dispatcher, Pat. Dillon wasn’t even sure Pat had a h
ome because the fox shifter was always at the station.
“I’m gonna go take a ride,” Dillon said to Vince as he got up from his desk. “Holler if you need me.”
Vince nodded, looking only half awake. Pat smiled at Dillon as he walked out the front door.
Werth wasn’t going to be pleased with him, but Dillon wanted to see his mate. Not only did he want to check up on Max to make sure everything was okay but he wanted to touch and talk with him, to see those gorgeous greenish-yellow eyes, and to hear his voice.
Outside in the parking lot, Dillon felt eyes on him. He scanned his surroundings but saw no one on the street or sitting in a parked car. Even so, the feeling wouldn’t go away.
He slipped into his truck and pulled from the lot, heading toward Max’s house, constantly checking his mirrors. When he didn’t see any headlights in his rearview, Dillon drove to his mate’s house as the feeling of being watched disappeared.
* * * *
After dinner, Newt’s parents drove home. Max had loved them and hated to see them leave, but he was elated when Orlando offered him the guest bedroom. Unfortunately, as soft as the bed was, all Max had done all night was toss and turn.
Thoughts of Dillon plagued him. His dark blond hair, those dreamy blue eyes, and his rocking body, which Max would love to explore with his tongue. “Stop thinking about having sex with him,” Max groaned. “You’ll never get any sleep.”
He glanced at the bedside clock and groaned again. It was two thirty in the morning, and Max wasn’t the least bit sleepy. Too bad he’d forgotten to get Dillon’s phone number or he would’ve called his mate to see what he was doing. Dillon had promised to return, but living with Orlando for so many years, Max knew a cop’s life. No doubt his mate had gone on several calls, and there was no telling when he would show up.
Of course, Max could go to Orlando and Newt’s room and grab Orlando’s cell phone so he could get Dillon’s phone number, but he didn’t relish having his balls ripped out through his mouth if Orlando woke and found him in there.
The wolf shifter could get really testy at times.
Max lifted his head when his preternatural hearing picked up the slow rotation of tires creeping up the driveway. No headlights flooded his windows. That was never a good sign. He thought about going to get Orlando but decided to look out the window first. His room was bathed in darkness, and whoever it was wouldn’t see him looking.
Parting the curtains slightly, Max peeked out and saw a cop car sitting there. His heart jumped with excitement when he spotted Dillon behind the wheel.
And he was alone.
Max shoved his feet into his slippers—compliments of Newt since Max hadn’t owned a stitch of clothing—and hurried from his room. He made sure he was quiet so he wouldn’t wake anyone as he rushed to the door and swung it open.
Dillon was still sitting in the car, but when he saw Max coming out of the house, he got out and headed over to the bench. Max wanted to squeal with delight but pressed his lips together as he sprinted over to his mate and threw himself into Dillon’s arms.
Dillon chuckled. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
Max felt his face flush as he grinned like an idiot. “That would be me.”
Max didn’t wait for an invitation. He consumed Dillon’s lips in a scorching kiss, tasting his mate for the first time. And the kiss was well worth the wait. Dillon tasted like coffee and mints, and Max ate those flavors up as he groaned, pressing his body into Dillon’s.
When a purr rumbled in Dillon’s chest, Max nearly fainted from the sound. He wanted to hear it again as Dillon claimed him. When they pulled apart, Max felt lightheaded and giddy.
“Come inside.” He tugged on Dillon’s hand, but his mate didn’t move.
“I consider myself a lot of things, but suicidal isn’t one of them,” Dillon said. “Boss’ll shoot my nuts off if he wakes and finds me across the hall having sex.”
Max’s heart plummeted. He’d been hoping to mate with Dillon but understood his hesitation. “We can’t have you losing your nuts. So what do you want to do?”
“Until my shift ends, we can hang out.”
“And when your shift is over?” Max asked as hope blossomed inside him.
Dillon slid his arms around Max and pulled him close, ghosting his lips over Max’s. “Then we go back to my place.”
The thought of going to Dillon’s house had Max zipping with excitement. “When do you get off?”
“In about four hours.”
Max wasn’t sure he would survive that long. He was hard and ready, and all they could do was pet and kiss on the bench. Maybe Dillon would give him a hand job if Max begged. He wasn’t above begging.
“But I’m sure we can find ways to occupy our time,” Dillon whispered, his voice ragged, deeper than usual.
He guided Max to the bench, sat, and then patted his muscled thighs. Max straddled Dillon’s waist, his knees tucked tightly against his mate’s body as he slid his arms around Dillon’s shoulders.
“You fit perfectly against me.” Dillon smiled, his voice remaining deep as he talked in a light whisper. He slid his arms up Max’s back, his fingers tracing Max’s spine.
“Now what?” Max bit his lower lip.
Dillon slid his hand over Max’s nape and then pulled him close for another slow-burning kiss that ignited a fire inside him. Max would be happy to die of suffocation because he didn’t want the kiss to ever end.
Although Dillon pulled back for air, his lips hovered close to Max’s. So close to his mate’s face that Max saw tiny flecks of green right around the pupils. Dillon had the most amazing dark blue eyes Max had ever seen.
Dillon winked. “Keep staring at me like that and I’m gonna start to think I have something wrong with my face.”
Max trailed his hand from Dillon’s shoulder to his face, around his strong jaw, and over his neck. “Your features are a work of art.” Max let out a small chuckle. “God, I sound lame.”
“You sound perfect.”
Max hissed when Dillon reached into his pajama pants and fisted his cock. His mate gave him an open-mouthed, ravenous kiss as he stroked his hand slowly, pumping Max’s cock, and Max was starting to believe Dillon wasn’t in a rush to get him off. His hand moved too slowly, which was driving Max insane. He hadn’t had sex since discovering Dillon was his mate, and Max was desperate for release.
“You’re torturing me,” he whined as he arched his back, hissing at the pleasure Dillon was giving him. “You have to move your hand faster.”
Maybe he was trying to pay Max back for the lie, and his punishment was blue balls. Well, the joke was on Dillon because Max already had them.
“Not gonna rush this.” Dillon nipped Max’s lower lip, which made Max groan. “I want to take my time and enjoy you. I want this to last for as long as it can.”
Every stroke of his hand sent heat waves straight to Max’s cock. Pleasure flared right to his nerve endings as Max bowed his back, quick and shallow breaths bursting from his chest as he dug his nails into Dillon’s shoulders.
So much for making this last. Dillon’s exquisite strokes had Max crying out as he bucked, ropes of cum erupting from his cock. With a snarl, Dillon stood, keeping Max trapped against him as he moved toward the cluster of trees at the side of the house.
Max felt kind of silly for being carried, but he also enjoyed feeling Dillon’s hard muscles under his body.
“I won’t be able to hold out for four hours.” Cleary Dillon was just as needy as Max was. His skin felt hot to the touch, and Max felt his mate’s hard cock pressing against his uniform pants.
When they reached the side of the house, he laid Max on the soft grass before his mate yanked Max’s pajama pants off and tossed them aside. Max made quick work of Dillon’s khakis, unbuckling the belt, unfastening the button, and unzipping the zipper until he was able to shove his mate’s pants down his…wow, his thighs were muscular. He dropped to his knees and took a moment to appreciate them, running
his fingers over the rigid flesh.
Dillon simply stood there, watching, his eyelids drawn down, his hands fisted at his sides. His body jerked when Max slid his hand upward and grazed Dillon’s balls. Max sank his teeth into his bottom lip, their gazes locked, as he did it again.
Two could play the torture game. Unfortunately Max was also torturing himself, but he liked the seductive look in Dillon’s blue eyes, and the heat of need that pierced them. His mate looked as though he was barely containing the wild beast inside him.
And Max loved that he was the one who made Dillon look that way.
“Either suck my dick or get on your hands and knees.” Dillon’s voice had come out deep, penetrating, and it slid right over Max.
As much as Max would’ve loved to taste Dillon, he needed, craved, no, he was desperate to feel Dillon’s cock pounding into his ass.
Even so, Max licked the tip of Dillon’s cock, drawing in some of the pre-cum before he pulled away and dropped to all fours.
“Fucking tease.” Dillon lowered himself behind Max.
Max peered over his shoulder. His heart galloped at seeing his mate behind him, his hard dick jutting in front of him. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
A wicked smile curved the side of Dillon’s mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you until you scream my name,” he whispered.
Oh hell. Max’s arms wobbled, and he felt dizzy as Dillon pulled out a travel-sized packet of lube. Talk about being prepared. He started to accuse his mate of planning this, but Max didn’t want to break the magic that seemed to be in the air between them.
He clawed at the grass as Dillon prepped his hole, adding one finger at a time until Max felt stretched to the limit. He parted his lips, his breathing coming out in choppy pants, anxious for Dillon to fuck him already.
“If you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna—”
Dillon removed his fingers and thrust his cock deep inside Max before Max could finish his threat. He cried out as he dropped his shoulders to the grass, which raised his hips higher. His mate gripped his shoulders, punching his hips forward and back, driving Max so insane that he didn’t think he would survive this.