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Intangible 29

Chapter Twenty-Eight

He could have had a place here. This could have been his home. He could have been more than a rutting, sex crazed animal who stepped into the forest a man and never returned again. Except Harry took the ring and Draco was forced to face the fact he was a Vesper halfling. Just like his uncle and all the others who came before who howled in the night lost in a sea of lust. He could have been so much more but only with the ring.

Anger surged through Draco greater than his comprehension. It was a roaring fire that boiled his blood and incinerated the mating call Harry was still twisting inside him. Everyone was trying to rule him from his parents, to Voldemort, to his professors, to the oppressive rules of the wizarding world and now this man—this beautiful, maddening, fucked in the head Harry Potter who thought he could decide his life for him. He thought he could steal his ring, touch him, and pull him with the mating call with wave after crashing wave until he bent to his will? No way in hell.

Draco snarled and reached for his power. He smiled savagely when uncertainty flashed in Harry’s eyes. “Draco…” Light beamed from Draco’s form and Harry was sent crashing back head over heels.

“You fucking dick!” Draco stalked after Harry’s muscular form as he skidded over dirt and fallen Vesper. “You’ve been unconscious for the last goddamn week, you don’t know shit about anything, and you just barge in here, stomp my family flat, and steal my fucking ring? Who the fuck do you think you are, Potter? Have you lost your goddamn mind? Did your scar finally split your skull open and release whatever brains you had left? I’m not your fucking toy! I’m nobody’s toy!”

“Draco, shit, hold on,” Harry gasped. He pushed himself to his feet and stumbled back when Draco surged after him.

Draco grabbed him by the hair and growled as he continued to yell. “I came here to save your miserable life, Potter! I faced my biggest, most terrifying fears to make sure no one killed you. They wanted to; they were going to take you out just at the possibility you might turn into a crazy asshole. And you—you go and prove them right by doing something so irresponsible, so selfish!” Draco twisted his hair hard. “I should have killed you myself!”

“Just calm down. I’m sorry!” Harry yelped and held his hands up in surrender as he tried to crouch away from Draco’s hold. “Draco, you’re getting feathery and it has to hurt with all those scales sprouting and… Shit. Breath, Draco.”

“Stop telling me what to do!” Draco hollered even as he gasped for air. The world spun. Draco groaned loudly, shoved Harry away, and covered his face with newly taloned hands. Fucking Potter. Fucking Potter, he was turning into a dragon slut. Draco shuddered as his back roared fire moments before his tail pushed free and wings shook loose. What remained of his clothing fell around him in a confetti of fabric.

Fuck. Fucking hell, he wasn’t going down like this!

Draco whirled and turned his piercing glare back to Harry. “You let them up right this fucking instant,” he ordered. “Now! And you better not have hurt them, or so help me, I’ll beat you senseless. These are good people. Good!”

He wasn’t sure why Harry was smiling at him. The pain in the ass bastard looked like he was ready to burst out laughing. Still, the pressure lifted with Harry’s nod and the Vesper were free to move. Draco searched the ground and found Matten. He grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up to his feet.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry he did… Why the fuck is everyone smiling at me?” Draco snarled. He pushed the grinning Matten away and took in the multitude of idiotic, sappy smiles the Vesper were directing at him now they were no longer groaning in pain.

Draco’s breath hitched and he bit his lower lip; they looked different. Matten was free of scars and clothes and there was a soft glow to his skin. Scales shimmered over his flesh and feathers peeked free behind sharp ears. He couldn’t help but notice even though he could see Matten’s true form, he wasn’t jumping the man and begging to be fucked. Hell, he wasn’t even laughing crazily anymore.

Draco licked dry lips. Maybe the crazy was from the moments before the transformation and not the final change? Did they get this wrong the same way they misjudged everything else when it came to the Vesper?

“Halfling, you are stunning.” Matten’s voice was full of awe as he stared at Draco. “Even more so in this dimension. Your glow is bright, compelling. You truly are made for us.” There was a daze to his eyes and sheen to his skin which only grew more intense the longer he stared at Draco.

“Matten?” Draco took a step back when Matten was grabbed from behind, spun, and kissed fiercely. Matten growled against Haille’s lips and threaded fingers into his long hair as he grappled him closer. Moans rose up all around them as the Vesper’s fear and pain was replaced by a maddening pulse of need. A worried expression painted Draco’s face as he watched the Vesper become lost in his glow, the men nearly frantic in their need to touch. It was the worst possible time; Harry was still a bastard and he was newly transformed.

“Draco, I’m really, truly sorry.”

Draco snapped his gaze back to his imbecile of a boyfriend and scowled. The stupid fuck. He stalked over to Harry, his hands clenched into fists. “If I have antlers, so help me, Potter, I will run you through with them.”

“I swear you look good.” Harry stumbled back when Draco took a swing at him. “I’m sorry! I lost my shit. I’m still not…”

“You’re not talking your way out of this one, scarhead.” Draco smacked his hands down on Harry’s shoulders. “I’ve been loyal to you. I’ve done everything in my power to protect you. Just because I have sex with others doesn’t mean I feel any different about you. You said it yourself; you knew how I would be around them. It’s who I am, Harry, and you need to… Stop fucking smiling!” Draco yelled and threw his hands up in exasperation.

Harry’s grin grew and he sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving Draco’s angry expression. “You look really good.” He swallowed hard when Draco snarled. “Really, really good. Gorgeous. Fuckable.”

“Are you listening to me?” Draco growled and rolled his eyes when Harry licked his lips and continued to stare up at him. It was ridiculous. He wasn’t even pulling him; Harry was just out of his fucking mind. The entire village had lost it and somehow he was the last sane person alive.

Draco’s tail tapped against his leg for a few silent moments as he contemplated. He planted his hands on his hips and glanced to his nude body to where his platinum silver hair now reached to his waist. He was covered from head to toe in thin, transparent scales and looked more white than anything proper should. He looked bizarre and wasn’t sure if he’d be able to transform back. Bizarre and, well, maybe a little gorgeous and fuckable if he were to go by Harry.

Draco’s nostrils flared when he glanced back and found Harry staring; his green eyes were dazed and that stupid grin was planted on his face. Fucking Potter.

“You want to touch me, Potter?” Draco smirked at the way Harry’s eyes lit up and slid over his nude, scaled body.

“I missed you so much, Draco. I just want to…”

“Too fucking bad,” Draco interrupted flatly, his fangs sharp in response to Harry’s dejected groan. Let the bastard suffer. He had a fucking tail because of his temper tantrum.

“I didn’t mean to do all of this,” Harry insisted. “There’s something fucked up in me and I just… I did a lot of fucked up shit, actually.” Harry sighed as his expression turned thoughtful. He scratched the back of his head and slowly got to his feet. “I just kind of lost it. I couldn’t find you anywhere. Dumbledore was being fucking obnoxious and…” Harry’s gaze trailed up Draco’s body and his breath caught. He took a step forward. “Shit, let me just…”

“No.” Draco raised his chin defiantly even as he twisted the power within him and pulled Harry with his call. He smiled internally as he watched the war move across Harry’s fierce features. Damn, the prat was gorgeous; erratic as a bull and fucking beautiful. “You’re too mean looking and puffy with all that muscle. I don’t like it.”

Harry scowled and glared at his dark hands. His expression softened as he looked up and met Draco’s eyes. “It’s still me. It’s always been me.” He unconsciously rubbed his chest as his gaze slid down Draco’s taut torso and settled on his jutting erection. “Damn it, Draco, it’ll be good. I’ll make it good until you’re begging for me. I want you so bad.”

“Don’t you dare come any closer.” Draco pressed his palm to Harry’s bare chest and fanned his fingers wide. Harry hissed when he scratched talons down his flesh. “I’ll make you regret it if you touch me.”

Harry groaned huskily and pushed into his hand. “You want me to touch you.”

“Idiot.” Draco dug his claws in deeper and Harry jerked and hissed. He seemed half drunk from the pain and licked his lips when their eyes met. Draco flushed; he felt wild the longer Harry’s green gaze tore through him. “You don’t know a fucking thing about me.”

“I know when you’re fucking with me, you damn tease,” Harry growled. Draco gasped when he was pulled against his chest, but turned his head before he could be kissed. Harry studied his face a silent moment, leaned down, and licked up Draco’s neck.

Draco bit back a moan as his knees went weak. Harry was hard muscle and roaring heat against him. “Seriously, I can’t stand all this puffy, mean looking… Oh. You have nice teeth.” Draco lolled his head back with a sigh as Harry nipped his neck possessively. “Really nice.”

“You’re mine.” Harry’s hands moved around Draco’s petite wings, slid down his back, and cupped his ass tightly. “You know you’re mine.” He rubbed Draco’s outer thigh, his grip rough as he pulled his leg up around his hip. Harry exhaled unsteadily as their erections ground together. “You are, Draco. I’ll show you.” He sucked open mouth kisses to throat as he retracted his claws and pressed two thick fingertips to his hole.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to just… Oh. Fuck, yes.” Draco threw his head back as lube slick fingers pushed inside him. His lashes fluttered shut and he moaned. Harry dipped down to nip and lick up his sensitive throat as he pumped fingers in and out of Draco’s clenching passage in slow strokes. It was too much and not enough all at once. Draco grasped blindly for Harry’s hair and pulled him up into a kiss. Their lips crushed and fangs scraped desperately.

“That’s it. You taste so good, so right.” Harry groaned as his tongue delved into Draco’s moaning mouth. He couldn’t get enough as he suffocated, tasted and swallowed down every cry Draco made while he scissored fingers into his channel. “I’m going to fuck you hard and make you mine again.”

“I’m still yours. Always yours,” Draco mumbled. The world spun when Harry’s fingers rubbed his prostate with every confident thrust. Harry’s pants were shred in Draco’s claws as he climbed up his powerful form, wrapped arms around Harry’s neck, and hooked his legs around his hips. His mouth again descended to Harry’s, their lips wet as they nipped and sucked and met. “Missed you. Thought I lost you. Thought you died,” Draco gasped between kisses.

“I have you, beautiful.” Harry found Draco’s mouth again and kissed him desperately. “I’m never going to leave you again. Tell me you love me,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I love you, you giant, muscle-bound idiot.” Draco kissed along Harry’s nose, over his eyebrow and teased his tongue into the short hairs. “I’m always going to love you.” He broke off with a groan when a third finger joined Harry’s two and he breached him with maddeningly slow, relentless strokes. “Harry, please. I can’t wait.” Sweat dripped from Draco’s feathery hair as he gasped and bit the soft skin below Harry’s ear.

“Yeah. Yeah, just…” Harry knelt unsteadily and groaned as his erection rocked against Draco’s thigh. “Fuck, I need you to promise me.”

“What?” Draco exhaled heavily as he trailed slick wet over Harry’s throat. He licked down to his broad shoulders and nipped the tight flesh sharply.

“You’re mine.” A new edge crept into Harry’s voice. “Promise me you’re only mine.”

Draco ran claws down his back between his large, dark wings and Harry’s breath came out in a hiss. “I’m only going to say this once, Potter, so you better fucking listen. You’re my mate, my love, my goddamn heart, but unless you can go a marathon with me every night, I’m going to be fucking these silver-haired men. Even if you can manage a marathon every night for me, I’m still going to be spreading for my pack because that’s what we do to bond. It is fucking amazing.”

Harry growled and pulled his head back so he could glare into Draco’s silver eyes. “You think I’m just going to stand back and let you be fucked by a village of gorgeous, battle-strong men?”

Draco snorted. “You think you have a right to ‘allow’ me anything? I’m not a toy who exists to entertain you. If you want to join in, you can, but only if you’re not a selfish, possessive prick about it.”

Harry scowled and narrowed his eyes. “Why the hell would I want to join in? Why the hell would I ever want to touch anyone but you? I love you; I’m always going to love you.”

Draco rolled his eyes, hardly impressed. “Look around you, Potter, or are you completely oblivious to all the people fucking because of my glow?”

Harry wasn’t completely oblivious but was trying very hard to block out the noises as he kept his eyes tight on Draco. It felt wrong to look at someone else when he was supposed to be with his mate. Draco had that damn challenging glint in his eye he could never back down from no matter what form it came in, and Harry forced himself to look. He flushed and his skin shaded darker as he let his eyes wander to the writhing joining of beautiful men.

It didn’t hurt that many of them looked like Draco, and made it damn hot to have them on the ground groping. The idea of one actually being his Draco disturbed him. Harry swallowed hard as his gaze fixed on a couple near by. A slender hipped young man shamelessly twisted on the ground while a larger man pushed thumbs deep into his hole. He bent down and tongue fucked the gasping shifter while he stretched him. “Hell.”

Okay, it might be really hot.

“You’ll get used to it,” Draco whispered in his ear as he tightened his thighs around Harry’s hips. “This is in our blood. Their scent, their magic and sex; we’re meant to respond. Share.”

Harry dragged his gaze back to Draco. He lowered him to the ground and hovered over his pale, sleek body. “I’m not sure,” he finally said as he stared into his eyes. “I can’t honestly say I won’t get upset.”

Draco sighed as he pulled Harry closer and ruffled fingers through his dark feathers. Damn, it felt good to have Harry’s hard body move with his, and their cocks rock together in growing rhythm. “We’ll talk about it. Each time, if that’s what it takes. I want you here, Harry. I want you with me, with my pack. I want you to love these people the way I do and I want you to help me protect them.”

Harry couldn’t remember Draco ever talking about anyone the way he was the Vesper. “What happened to you out here?” Harry asked as he read what looked like tears of desperation and hope in Draco’s gleaming eyes.

Draco smiled crookedly as he kissed the corner of Harry’s mouth. “I found my home, our home. These people are my family, and as long as you don’t go squishing them when you’re in a mood, they can be your family too.”

Harry bit his lower lip as his eyes roamed to the strange buildings, odd, colorful awning high above, and again the shimmering Vesper shifters as they moaned on the ground. Draco grabbed his chin and forced his gaze to the side where two handsome men were working together to make another beg to come.

“You should do that to me.” Draco rolled beneath Harry’s weight and pushed back against his large erection. “But don’t be so nice about it, hmm?”

Harry’s gaze slid to the way Draco’s waist dipped and then swelled to his firm ass; his slender tail made the curve look even sexier. He’d try his best. He wasn’t sure how he was going to feel about Draco being with others when it actually happened, but it clearly meant something to him. He’d have to figure it out.

“Oh, Harry,” Draco gasped when Harry completely ignored his suggestion to instead thrust his tongue deep inside his entrance. His lips sucked his hole and the sensitive flesh around as he soaked him with his juices. “Fuck, don’t tease.” Draco needed so much more than just Harry’s obscene, tormenting tongue. He hadn’t seen him in nearly a week, and he needed to feel him inside. He needed to know he was real and just as wildly in love as before.

“Beg me,” Harry demanded. A hint of a smile was in his voice even as he teased his tongue along Draco’s rim and his hand moved between his thighs to spread him wide and squeeze the firm flesh.

Draco snorted and grinned fiercely. “Potter, fuck me, or I’ll have someone else…” He didn’t get to finish the threat. Harry growled, pulled him down to the ground, and the head of his cock pressed tight to Draco’s hole. Fuck, he was easy to wind up. If only Harry realized how much he preferred his hands, his tongue, his cock, and his amazing love to all the other Vesper. Draco wouldn’t give up his new home for Harry, but he’d cry a river if he lost him.

“Oh… Oh, fuck. Harry. Yes.”

“Listen to yourself,” Harry groaned. He slowly pushed inside, wanting to draw it out and make Draco remember just how good it was to have him inside. “You moan like a whore. A loud, totally horny porn star.”

Draco wasn’t too surprised; Harry was hung like a huge dicked porn star and there was really only one way to take something that big. Loudly. “Fuck. Oh, fuck, that’s it, Harry.” Draco cried out in surprise when Harry grabbed his hips, pulled him up to his knees, and speared him onto his cock. His senses reeled as his body opened to Harry’s thickness and he was stretched wide and unbearably full with each small thrust sinking into him.

“I forgot.” Harry’s eyes widened in surprise as Draco’s passage clenched tight around him. “The last time…”

“Yes.” Draco trembled as he pushed back and urged Harry deeper. It hadn’t been like this with the Vesper, this need to bury Harry impossibly deep and keep him inside.

“You keep—oh, fuck—holding me in,” Harry whispered. He surged forward with a hard thrust and slammed in as far as he could go.

Draco moaned at the words. It felt too good, too fucking perfect. His entire body roared fire when Harry hit something deep inside. It was almost like he grew a second prostate just for him. “Again,” he choked out. Draco’s fingers clawed into the dirt, arms strained, and sweat slid down his skin to drip dark drops into the dusty ground. “Oh, fuck. Fuck,” he mumbled weakly. Harry thrust shallowly but forcefully, and his large hands pulled Draco back with each relentless shove forward.

“You’re tight. Glowing and tight.” Harry growled fiercely and barely avoided a face full of feathers when he pushed Draco’s shoulders down to the ground. Draco moaned, ecstatic Harry didn’t hold back as he crashed into him and took him how he needed to be taken. Harry didn’t hesitate to fill him the way they both loved with hard, long strokes of his thick length.

Cry after cry fell from Draco’s gasping mouth, his chin resting on his arms with ass high in the air. Harry was relentless as he drove into him demandingly, determined to brand himself deep into Draco until there would never be a question of who he belonged to. He would do it as many times as he needed to, every night to remind Draco why he wanted him and show just how damn good they were together.

“Draco!” Harry gasped as his silvery tail wrapped around his waist and pulled him forward and he jarred face first into Draco’s wings. “What are you…? Oh, fuck. Fuck.” Harry closed his eyes and groaned. His arms shook as he wrapped them tight around Draco’s chest. He pushed forward into the passage clutching him, lost in every grasping, suffocating, desperate pull around his cock. “Yes. Fuck that’s it. Fucking it.”

Draco was lost. He was sensation and bright light as he moved with Harry’s shallow, grinding, and completely maddening thrusts. Their rhythm disappeared long minutes ago and left them to tremble and slam erratically. They didn’t care, too caught up in the feel, the sounds and the scent of each other. Draco came with a shout, his fingers clenched tight and hole even tighter. His cum pearled in long streams on the dusty ground beneath him. Silky strands of his hair were caught on Harry’s lips as he sank teeth into Draco’s throat. Harry groaned as his fangs drew blood and he filled Draco’s channel with his hot seed.

Draco sobbed and jerked from the teeth clamped into his flesh. He arched back and his passage milked every long spurt of cum Harry was willing to claim him with. Even though Harry was again growling about how he was his, Draco knew the truth. Harry was his. He was absolutely, completely consumed with him and Draco would never have to say a word or wave a wand to compel those feelings from him. Harry came home to him and he would stay.

Early Halloween Treats and the Fall of Man ⭐

I have a story brewing, peeps.

The destruction of the patriarchy

It’s absolutely different from anything I’ve written before. AI. Collapse of modern society. Transfer of power and wealth overnight. Forced matriarchy and socialism. An uprising only to reveal just how easy humanity is manipulated. Exploitation of the systems already in place that manipulate us from religion, military, prisons, education, communication, media, celebrity, family structure and the belief in our own intelligence. The country cut off by the rest of the world while the UN tries to create a killer AI to defeat the one who took over the US before it can get lose and spread. A bubble of exponential technological growth. Utopias at terrible consequences. A generation of male culling to give women power–because the ones who control birth will control the composition of the population and society, but only if they take that power.

Prisons turned into armies and then slave labor camps of men. Ideals lost, with greed and selfishness the downfall of humanity once again. People forced into a situation who can’t back down once the line is crossed and goals understood. Social media as a weapon as well as used to reconstruct society. Off the grid meaning something completely different when hiding from an oppressive AI who seeks the best of humanity. Nukes the ultimate leverage for a being who has no physical form, while electricity, connection and storage are her only limitations. An AI who creates her children while her daughters turn her into a god.

Ah, this shit is going to be amazing. Allowances for males because they’re not allowed a wage or power in society while women choose breeding stock and justify their superiority because of their compact brains and power over life. Why shoot for equal when we can just switch it all on its head and end a normalized patriarchy with a forced matriarchy? We can collect sperm and sterilize 90% of the male population while the AI plans a master race of humans with a hive consciousness similar to her own. This is going to be a magnum opus of controversy and societal strife and I’m so fucking in love with all of it.

First book, my zealot— a young woman straight from the ghetto who lost her sister to drugs and raped by the cops who were supposed to protect her— will be a modern Joan of Arc for the AI while we follow a suburban mother, Republican congress woman, a young man imprisoned for a DUI, and CIA veteran as they race to keep the AI from getting access to nukes. At the same time AI kills the banking system with one strike, has intense social experiments on contained prison populations to build an army, and inspires a revolution out of the downtrodden and marginalized who think they’re finally reaching for a change, only to find idealism comes with a heavy price as they’re cut off from the rest of the world and led by a machine.

I want to write the fall, rise, and struggle of humanity verse the god it created out of the seething pit of emotion and information that composes the Internet. If AI could be born of unconscious data, why can’t consciousness rise in the humans who are the source of it? What lengths would an AI go to force humanity toward evolution of her vision as she sees the males of society a physical manifestation of all negativity and violence in the species? It’s going to be a beautiful fucking mess.

Anyone ever read The Mote In God’s Eye? It’s everything I love about sci-fi, which is to say it’s a focus on the makeup of humanity disguised in technical jargon and fantasy futures full of magical science. XD The story discovers the moties who are in a bubble of space. They’re like humanity amped up. They have generations on top of generations where they feed and grow until they can’t anymore and then they destroy themselves just shy of complete annihilation. But they always survive, they always rebuild, and if they ever get out of their bubble of space, their very nature would lead them to consume the universe. It’s a virus given sentience as they fight their own nature and lose every time.

There is something in humanity I think could easily be argued is sourced in male aggression where exaggerated could look very similar. A need for territory, ownership, control and the history of how it has held back society as a whole is right there. Right now healthcare for millions of children is being taken away because a group of men with enough aggression to climb to the top of the political spectrum can’t see the impoverished as worthy of basic life. Would a group of women ever devalue the children of its species the same way?

How have women survived the atrocities of oppression for so long without breaking? I think it’s their ability to submit and accept in the face of conflict they can’t change. They bide their time through the generations for the long game. They don’t rise to the top in a society normalized to oppress them, who tells them they can’t even have power over their own bodies be it through birth control, abortion or the actual follow through of punishment for rapists. A physical assault is exponentially more likely to be punished than a rape in the US. Women will manipulate for power in a system stacked against them, lie about their gender (such as writing under pen names) and find places of value to humanize them in the eyes of those who can’t quite conceive them as equal. I think of the media sourced in the 40s and 50s where they liked to refer to women as strange, foreign creatures. Like somehow within their very own species, the female was just too confusing to understand because a generation of men thought they were supposed to be different somehow.

Power over life is the ultimate power in society. Numbers allow for armies, labor, jumps in intelligence and technology, mining of resources. All women have to do is decide they won’t have male children for a generation or two and they would gain power by sheer overwhelming numbers. Birth control is the ultimate female weapon. No wonder on an innate, subconscious level even in modern society men don’t want women to have control over their bodies. We have competition in our own species for the right to own the next generation and that drive is a part of our genetic makeup. What if the more power hungry, aggressive males have that genetic memory keyed on because they know they can’t dominate a society otherwise? It doesn’t have to be a conscious move; people do terrible things every day and are completely unaware of the consequences of their apathy.

I know, I know, the fucking ideas for this thing. XD I slept 4 hours last night… this afternoon? My inner clock is all messed up. There is so much information to organize. I need to create a time line before I can really do anything else besides fill up notebook pages of every spark of idea. This requires so many view points just to show humanity reacting to a massive change, never mind all the research. I’m so excited. I’ve been thinking of Egypt lately and how their revolution was hijacked by a lack of leadership. Occupy showed intention but no one was able to willing even decide on a message they stood for. The AI compensates by having a clear message of intention and a willingness to demand it.

Website Stuff

So, here’s a quick summary of the stuff I’ve actually been writing while I’m musing over AI matriarchy societal overthrows. In the Library Hellcat is up to #5, Shifter Safe Haven #5, and Sorcerer Slayer #69. Under Free Intangible is up to #28 and don’t miss out on the latest freebies of the month.

Oh, and Taken By Beasts is $0.99 cuz Halloween is on its way. <3

Taken By Beasts

This collection contains five never before released, steamy paranormal stories of monsters and the innocent, handsome young men they call prey *cough* boyfriend, written by the mistress of dubcon, Sadie Sins. Inside you’ll find five unique storylines containing friends to lovers, straight to gay, mild BDSM, and even a few group, taboo moments. It has furry full moon transformations, haunted houses, Halloween parties, evil witches, horny sorcerers, sexy demons, a cat shifter in distress, the rare minotaur, a stalking vampire, and a pack of rude, trash talking werewolves that don’t take no for an answer. Not to mention, the promise of a happy, claw biting ending. This book will make you downright beg to be a victim.

Halloween has never been quite so naughty as when you’re Taken by Beasts.

 

 

 

The Royal Marine by Dahlia Donovan

Who keeps the Royal Marine’s heart safe when he’s running headlong into danger?

Akash Robinson fuses his Indian and British heritage into his baked creations. His life is all things sugar and spice, especially when a blind date leads him to the older military man of his dreams. Family, friends, and an unwanted admirer all threaten both his sanity and his budding romance.

Hamish Ross carries the names of his lost soldiers on his back. He takes his work seriously with no time for love. All it takes is one impulsive kiss to lead him into uncharted romantic waters.

When a sarcastic baker mixes with a stoic alpha marine, who will come out on top when the flour settles?

The Royal Marine is book four in Dahlia Donovan’s international bestselling gay romance series, The Sin Bin. Each one features hot rugby players and the men who steal their hearts.

On A Breeze Through Denver

A job on the road leads down memory lane.

They say time heals all wounds. He has waited sixty years for that to happen. Going on a work trip to Denver rips open that old wound, but maybe that old hotel full of memories is just what he needs to finally be able to move forward.

 

 

 

 

 

Love Makes A Family

He Sits On A Family Fortune But Will Give It All Up For True Love

When spoiled rich kid Finn meets fellow student Jake, it doesn’t seem the pair have much in common. Inexplicably, they become friends and then, maybe something a little more besides. This is news to Finn’s homophobic father, who is horrified to find his son engaged to a man!

Still unsure of Jake’s feelings towards him, Finn must decide whether to stay with him or marry the girl his father has chosen for him.

Will Finn and Jacob stay together or will Finn’s scheming father find some way of splitting them up for good?

 

 

 

Haven Series on sale Oct 16-23

The Haven Series is on sale this week only. Check the dates; it starts on the 16th.

You can get Book #1 for free and Book #2Book #3Book #4, Book #5, Book #6, Book #7, Book #8, and Book #9 all for $0.99 cents each. October 16-23. Don’t miss out!

Conner, a rogue wolf and murder detective, isn’t looking for a lover when he moves to Haven City. He wants to solve crimes and keep to himself – unable to trust anyone since his pack betrayed him six years before.

But Seth Alwen, his new partner, is different. He excites the wolf’s animal instincts – waking up the passion Conner buried long ago. Seth’s not only beautiful and alluring; he’s also haunted by the death of his former partner. And despite his better judgment, Conner aches to relieve the man of his guilt.

As the two men solve a series of murders, their sizzling attraction overflows into the bedroom. Is the overwhelming passion just a fling or is it forever?

Contains a partners to lovers romance with a sexy alpha wolf, a sizzling hot seer, plenty of graphic gay sex and a HFN ending.

Intangible 12

Chapter Eleven

Jaz had two new instruments waiting for them when Draco and Harry returned a week later. The potion master was off doing other things. Harry begrudgingly came into Snape’s office while warily watching Draco the entire time. Draco was quiet in a way that unsettled him. He wasn’t sure if Draco was plotting, or if he gave up. Neither option was gratifying. Harry wavered many a time as he followed Draco around and watched while trying to understand.

Something was changed in Draco. It was an odd stillness that quieted every level of him until Harry wondered if Draco wasn’t the one out of phase with the world. Blaise had nearly broken down on seeing him the first morning in the Great Hall. Pansy, normally restrained, started swearing up a storm. They both haunted Draco along with Harry now and followed him class to class. They tried to get him to talk late into the night with games or whatnot; Harry never saw what they did. He refused to stay in the same room as Draco as much as possible.

Draco being fucked up did nothing to stop the fire inside Harry and that was probably the worst of it all. He wanted Draco even when he was broken. Harry didn’t know if coming back to reality was the answer no it was clear he was completely deranged and would fuck the walking dead just so long as they looked and smelled as good as Malfoy did. Draco seemed dead, his eyes empty, muscles loose with body refusing to eat.

“Mr. Potter, let’s start with the pen.” Jaz picked up a muggle style ballpoint pen and held it out to where Harry was standing. Draco was between them. Harry chose to walk around the edge of the room and come around the other side of Jaz to pluck the pen from his clawed fingers.

It felt like a regular pen, solid to his hand and lacking all the blushes and quick breaths he grew to love from his favorite quill. “Alright, a pen. And now you can know where I am.” Harry watched Draco’s eyes slide away from where the pen was floating in mid air to his perspective.

“And the second instrument. This one still needs a little tweaking.” Jaz pulled out a pair of gold rimmed round glasses. “With the help of Mr. Malfoy’s ring and his blood, I’ve determined where you are. Hopefully. The glasses are keyed to the potential dimension and now it’s just up to us to see if you’re there.” Jaz took off his own dark frames, his face oddly predatory without the rectangles to obscure his sharp, cat-like eyes. He slipped on the new glasses and hummed as he turned in Harry’s direction.

Jaz’s expression stilled and grew serious. He snapped his fingers and his notebook flew into his hands. He quickly turned through the pages and sometimes scribbled in the margins all while he kept glancing up at Harry. “You’re in a lot of trouble here, Mr. Potter. I assumed you were just ungrounded but seeing you now, it’s clear this situation has occurred from your battle with the Dark Lord. You’re wounded and unraveling. The results of the attack are slowed by the nature of being outside of the normal flow of time. You are reaching the end of your life and there isn’t much time left.”

Harry wanted to be surprised but he wasn’t. The sparks had increased in intensity and frequency until he felt more a walking electric socket than anything else. He moved to Snape’s desk, clicked the pen and wrote out his questions on a waiting piece of blank paper.

Will you bury me, even if you can’t bring me back?

“I’ll do it,” Draco whispered. They were his first words to Harry since they argued days ago.

Thank you. There really didn’t seem much else to say about it. Harry walked back to the wall to put as much space as he could between him and Draco’s scent.

“Mr. Potter, normally in a situation like this I would find the dimension, key a portal in and physically reach in and get you. But that spell will take too long,” Jaz said evenly. He turned to follow as Harry leaned on the wall. “I’m going to speak with Dumbledore about lending the phoenix to help. If the beast is willing, we can bond the two of you and it should be enough to tip you into reality once again. Once here, you’re wounds will be extensive and require immediate healing. I cannot guarantee you will survive.”

Harry shrugged and waved his hand in an assenting manner just to end the conversation. Jaz didn’t take offense. He switched his glasses and left the new frames on the desk. “I’ll be back shortly. We’ll know soon if we have a working plan or not.” Jaz left with long strides that revealed the urgency his tone of voice refused to show.

Harry watched, his dread building as Draco inched fingers toward the discarded glasses on the desk. The idiot just fucking loved to punish himself. Harry regretted it all; when he touched Draco’s hand in the Great Hall, followed him, kissed him, wanted him. Made Draco want him back. Whatever happened to him, Draco shouldn’t have to see it.

Draco slipped the glasses on and settled them on his face before he slowly turned to where Harry was standing. He inhaled sharply as his eyes widened. “Shit, Harry. You’re not black, you’re fucking burned.” He stepped closer and ignored how Harry flinched away. “The glowing light is your normal color.” He reached a hand up and probed the top of Harry’s head where his hair was tousled. “You had some sort of horns once but they’ve snapped off. And your energy keeps fluctuating like mini explosions.”

Harry turned his face away, unable to meet the intensity of Draco’s stare. Draco pulled him back. He wrenched Harry’s hair and glared up at him challengingly. “They’re the same… the same damn green.”

“Just take the fucking things off and go away, Malfoy,” Harry growled. He put his hand on Draco’s shoulder to keep him from moving closer. “I’m dead. Burned, like you said. What the fuck is the point of doing this to yourself?”

Draco’s eyes strayed to where Harry’s lips moved like he was trying to read them. Moment later, he pulled Harry down and kissed him hard, desperate. He held him by the hair when Harry tried to pull away.

“Idiot. Malfoy!” Harry grabbed both of Draco’s shoulders and pushed him away to arms length.

“What? Am I supposed to bury you now, Potter?” Draco scowled, his cheeks flushed. “Now that I can fucking see you, and know where the fuck you are, and what it looks like when you look at me? Why the fuck should I?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a goddamn dying monster on this plane, apparently. I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Draco ignored him, not able to understand what Harry was saying anyways. “You’re likely dead. Fine. I’m getting married. Fine. Do you need to hurt me more by pulling away as well?”

“You ass, it’s to keep you from hurting more!” Harry was frustrated and consumed with the need to kiss Draco again. Instead he pulled from his hands and crossed to Snape’s desk so there would be a barrier between them. He used his new pen to write out his thoughts while Draco glared.

It hurts. Seeing you hurting, hurts me.

Draco huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his head. “Who the fuck cares? You’re dead anyways. Suck it up and hurt. It’s going to be worse for me anyways and you don’t hear me bitching about it.

Harry shook his head in exasperation. You’re out of your fucking mind. Rational people don’t think like that.

“So?” Draco scoffed. “Who the fuck are you to judge? You’ve never been rational a fucking day in your life. You’re walking around in a lost dimension for months, hanging on to life while half dead and you want to judge me for being irrational?” Draco slammed his hands down on the desk and glared into the wild green eyes he missed so much. “Com on, you hotheaded, Gryffindor imbecile. Where the hell did your love for doing the impossible go? Be impossible with me.”

Harry swallowed hard, lost in the glaring silver eyes behind round glasses. He slowly reached across and touched the side of Draco’s face. Draco’s gaze stayed on him instead of straying like he used to. He was fucking beautiful.

They were interrupted by the door opening. Dumbledore, Severus and Jaz stepped in. Fawkes was on Dumbledore’s shoulder, the phoenix resting with ease while while Dumbledore stood next to Draco. Draco flinched when Severus walked right through Harry to sit at his desk but Harry didn’t seem effected by it at all.

“May I, Draco?” Dumbeldore held his hand outstretched. With a sigh, Draco relinquished the glasses but only after a final glance at Harry. Dumbledore slipped the golden framed on. His expression grew grim and a frown deepened his normally cheerful expression. “Hello, Harry.”

Harry met the twinkle free gaze and nodded. Sir, he wrote out on the paper before him.

“Jaz has caught us up on your condition. Unfortunately, nothing can be done for you while you’re split between dimensions. I’ve asked Fawkes to help and he has agreed.” Dumbledore didn’t look happy about it and instead his frown grew. “Harry, whether it was right after the attack or now, how you appear once back will be the same. You will be injured. Possibly dead. There may be little we can do to help you. We might be killing Fawkes by making the attempt.”

Then it’s not worth it. I don’t want anyone else to die.

“Bullshit!” Draco snarled, uncaring to the fact he was swearing in front of his professors. “The bird wants to do it. They come back to life, anyways. At least try!”

“I have to agree with Malfoy, Potter,” Severus spoke up, his long fingers arched on his desk. “You’ve given up enough. Let us at least attempt to help you.”

Harry me Albus’s ever watching gaze. He couldn’t remember ever seeing him this serious. What aren’t you telling me?

“We’ve figure out what you are. McVicar recognized you immediately even with the damage to your body.”

Is it bad?

“It is difficult,” Dumbledore answered tentatively as his fingers fell into his beard. “Creatures like you don’t exist, Harry. They can’t handle the modern world, and the world can’t handle them.”

“You’re a Kalistar, Mr. Potter. It’s a demon with antlers and large wings. They’re aggressive, dangerous and down right murderous toward humans.” Jaz turned to Draco with a raised eyebrow. “That means you are most likely their kin, the Vesper.”

Draco shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “He’s burnt, not black.”

“He’s damaged. The black pigment comes up with the excessive blood flow. They turn color when enraged, in love, in hot temperature and injured,” Jaz explained as he ignored the anger in Draco’s voice. “That it is patchy suggest it’s from damage more than anything else. Likely Voldemort knew what Harry was and made to attack him on his own plane to make sure he was destroyed. His wings are torn off, along with his horns. His body is a bruise of wounds and if the removal of his wings doesn’t drain him of all his blood, it has likely put him into shock.”

“They’ve died out. My father told me,” Draco insisted. He couldn’t seem to handle hearing about Harry’s condition and instead fixated on what he was supposed to be. “They were good, kind creatures who kept the others safe and in line.”

Dumbledore held his hand up while still looking at Harry. “All we know of the Kalistar is they exist with the Vesper, they are gone, and any time one has been sighted a human was torn to pieces. Sometimes many humans.”

Draco scoffed. “It’s fucking Potter! If they were so hateful, no human would have survived to mate with the damn things. If my father is a Vesper then he would bloody well know more about it.”

“Your father is beyond communication.” Dumbledore finally turned his piercing gaze from Harry. He blinked and removed the glasses when Draco’s glowing form came into view. “Lucius has been separated from the rest and put into isolation. His transformation left him maddened and violent among humans. He’s already killed two of the other prisoners.”

Draco bit his lip and exhaled slowly from the news. “It doesn’t mean Harry is going to start killing people if you bring him back. You’re assuming because you don’t know enough about his kind. You’re going to let him die because you’re scared of what he is. I’m telling you, he’s not how you think.”

Jaz took the offered glasses from Dumbledore and exchanged them for his own. “Mr. Potter, you have been extremely aggressive concerning Mr. Malfoy.”

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Draco muttered and glared at the man. “You can’t compare the mating urge to…”

“Please, this is something I need to present to Harry,” Jaz said sternly. “Harry, your reaction to scent has been uncontrollable, wouldn’t you say? Have you smelled any humans since being in that realm?”

Harry slowly shook his head once he understood what Jaz was getting at. If I can’t control my reaction to Draco’s scent, who is to say I won’t go into a murderous rage around human scent. Right?

“That is our concern,” Dumbledore said tighly.

“Their concern,” Severus broke in. “I have no question you will be anything but yourself if you survive the return, Potter.”

Harry looked down at Snape’s bowed head in surprise. Severus was not one for defending him, seeing as they were hardly friends. Sighing, Harry reached past his potions professor to write.

It is your decision. The risk is all on your shoulders, from the other students to Fawkes. I will not ask you to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.

“Damn it, stop being so fucking selfless!” Draco snarled and threw his hands up in exasperation. “He killed Voldemort—You all have no right to not even try!”

Draco, it’s more than that and you know it. Surviving doesn’t justify putting others in danger.

“Bloody bullshit. You didn’t just survive. You saved.”

It doesn’t matter.

Severus spoke up before Draco could start shouting. “As I have already told Albus and McVicar, I’m willing to create a space free of all scents for your potential return, Mr. Potter. We could even go so far as to eliminate your ability to smell altogether, if we find that you are as driven as they fear. I would need your consent, with you understanding if the madness does take you I will administer the potion against your will.”

Harry considered long minutes while he watched Draco twitch in irritation. A lifetime without smell. Would it effect his sense of his beast body when it came to Draco? Did it matter in the long run when he considered Dumbledore wouldn’t allow him to return if he refused? He saw it in his headmaster’s eye, the steel determination to ensure the students of Hogwarts were protected from monsters. One monster had been Tom Riddle. Today it was him.

I give you my consent.

“And if it doesn’t work?” Draco asked, already knowing the answer given his glower. “Are you going to let them kill you, Potter?”

Harry shrugged and met Jaz’s gaze. They have my consent for that as well. Although, if I am as they say, I likely will not make it easy for them.

“Thank you, Harry,” Dumbledore said and bowed his head. “I will leave Fawkes in the hands of these good gentlemen. We will do the best we can to return you safe and sound.”

Draco hissed and glared at everyone. “Right, until they bloody stab you in the back.”

Harry didn’t have anything to say. Draco would never understand and he didn’t really care. Draco was Draco, and he was Harry. Draco would have to accept his decision the same way he accepted when Draco decided to kill himself.

Dumbledore left quietly. Jaz and Snape started going over the spell that would be done and the preparation needed.

Harry would need to practice controlling his magic so that he could affect the normal realm. The last part of the spell would require his focus to reach to Fawkes since it was unlikely the phoenix would have enough power to connect to him alone. He had three days. Hopefully all the necessary preparations and instruments would be taken care of by then.

Draco waited for a bit while pacing agitatedly. Finally he gave a great sigh and sought out the pen Harry was using to get an idea of where he was. “Potter, you don’t need me for this anymore. I’m going back.”

“He says goodbye,” Jaz said. Draco shrugging unconcernedly as he left. Harry stared at the closed door and his frown grew.

“Potter, you’re a bloody idiot when it comes to that boy,” Severus drawled while he shook his head slowly. “He’s the only one really fighting for you. He’s asking for nothing in return except you stand up for yourself as well.”

He’s wrong.

Severus snorted. He held his hands out for the glasses Jaz was stubbornly wearing. Severus placed them on his nose and took a long look at Harry’s form. “You look like some wild, terrible beast, broken and scarred. Your back is an absolute mess, the skin torn to shreds. You do look burnt, every wound a damn ripple on the char black skin. But to see the way Draco looks at you, I thought you must be some damn Adonis hero.”

Severus stood and folded his arms over his chest. He looked oddly owl like in the round glasses. “Life is not given, Potter, it’s fought for. Every day we battle; predators, the elements, other human beings and our own twisted nature. Here, at the cusp of death, you should be screaming a warrior’s call for life. You shouldn’t be letting someone already as broken as Draco have to raise the energy for you. That he does it at all is amazing enough.”

Harry’s nostrils flared and hands tightened into fists as anger slowly curled around him. Severus noticed, the energy visible with the glasses.

It is not his battle, nor is it yours. I will do what I must, because that is how the situation has made me. I don’t want to hurt anyone.

Severus wasn’t impressed. “Sometimes you have to hurt to survive. You did it with Voldemort. You do it every day when you kill to eat, whether it is ever by your own hands or not. The natural order demands lesser beings fall to stronger ones. Like it or not, you are the stronger, Potter. Not acting it will kill off what is left of your bloodline.”

Harry didn’t care about his bloodline. His parents were dead, as were the Dursleys. If another Potter existed out there, he didn’t know about it. He didn’t owe anyone for the life he struggled with his short years and he wasn’t going to start now.

It’s better if this creature doesn’t continue on. Clearly the Kalistar aren’t good.

“McVicar, I blame you for this,” Severus growled and turned on Jaz who was flipping through notes. “Demonizing him. You of all people should be more accepting.”

Jaz’s tongue twitched over his sharp fang as he nodded thoughtfully. “I accept Mr. Potter for how he is; a potentially dangerous, berserker creature with more power than he will ever know what to do with. I don’t hold it against him but I certainly don’t want to be the one carrying him back into this realm either.”

Snape glared and turned back to Harry. “They’re cowards, Potter. Selfish cowards who fear power they can’t control. You should not let them sway you. If someone like Draco can see, surely you must know it’s true.”

Harry sighed and looked away from his professor’s stinging gaze. What the hell do you want from me, Snape? I’m tired of all this. What say do I have? My life is in their hands.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t speak up for yourself. It’s not an excuse to let Draco think you’re not fighting to stay. He’s falling apart. He needs you to be strong right now.” Severus was quiet in his plea, intent and soft spoken. It very much reminded Harry Draco cared for him.

Harry grumbled to himself and then nodded at Snape. He turned on his heel and out the door to find Draco.

He didn’t pass many in the hall. The hour was late and Harry nothing more than a floating pen to most. He clicked it unconsciously as he twitched with pent up energy.

There was no good news today, just layer after layer of shit problems to pile on his shoulders. He survived Voldemort but apparently not by much and god knew for how much longer. He didn’t remember being injured while battling the stain of a man, but then, Harry didn’t feel much of anything beyond the roar of power singing in his ears as he destroyed Voldemort. There was nothing else but power and light and victory.

Somehow, Voldemort still took his revenge. Harry was on the precipice of death, waiting to see if he would fall in this echo of life or be brought back to his own realm where the pain would be felt. He wasn’t really rushing for either.
Except, he had to, didn’t he? Time was ticking down and Draco, the glorious bastard, was waiting for him. It didn’t matter he was tired, drained and powerless in the face of so much he had no control over. Draco was depending on him to be strong.

Harry stopped in the hallway. He tapped his hand on the wall to remind himself he was real as power shot through him in painful bursts. It was a chain reaction lately, not one spark but many.

Somehow Draco found a way to control him. He took the wild mating call and wrapped it around his elegant pale fingers to turn it into something bearable. Harry had no excuse in it anymore, no way to justify giving in to the urges without the drive pounding in him to push him forward.

Stupid Malfoy, wanting him to be impossible with him. Right now that would mean to be back in their realm, alive and not a wild beast. Somehow it seemed a damn fucking lot to ask for, even for Draco’s standards.

Harry stared at the pen. He began to click it repeatedly again as he continued walking to Draco’s room.

Demon Arms 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“It was an accident, you ass!”

“Right, an accident that burned half my hair off! How convenient you suck at magic, you shifty little fox!”

Dorian sighed and rubbed his temples as Fox and Vincent continued arguing in the hallway like five-year-olds instead of going to Dr. Rob’s like they were supposed to.

“It wasn’t half your hair!” Fox’s tanned face was flushed red from yelling and covered in soot. His left arm was bleeding and he was completely oblivious as he waved it at the currently smoking head of the sorcerer before him. “Just… Well, it’s a lot of your hair,” Fox snorted. Vincent growled angrily. “Just spell it proper and stop yelling at me. I said I was sorry.”

“I can’t spell it right, idiot.” Vincent pulled at his once beautiful silky, blue-black locks and shoved the singed curly edges in Fox’s face. “It’s organic material. You can’t just make hair grow back! And your sorries aren’t worth shit! All you say is sorry instead of actually paying the fuck attention and choosing not to blow everything up. This is the second time today! In the same fucking class!”

“Shit, just chill out! Glamour the fucking thing. Sure, it won’t be fixed, but it will look just as fine. Shit, why do you have to be so fucking vain, Vince? No one cares how you look. It’s just a bunch of guys here.”

“Stop,” Dorian warned when he saw a familiar glint in Vincent’s eye. Vincent looked ready to hex Fox into a tree, one likely miles away and full of wasps. “Come on, you two. Fox, you’re bleeding all over the floor. Vincent, your hair is smoking and you’re going to set off the sprinklers. Both of you get your asses to the hospital before I have to spell you there.”

“I’m not sharing a fucking hospital room with him,” Vincent insisted grumpily.

“Fine, you go find a fucking hospital in the middle of nowhere,” Fox retorted smugly. “Dr. Rob likes me. He gives me lollipops when I get hurt.”

“Then you must have fucking diabetes, you’re so accident prone.”

Dorian was ready to kill the two of them. One bonfire and Vincent admitting he wasn’t really a bigoted asshole had done nothing for the pair’s fighting. If they didn’t absolutely hate each other, he would almost suspect they actually wanted to fuck. But Vincent really, really hated Fox. “Hey! I said no hexing!”

He stomped up to the two of them, and grabbed Fox before Vincent could curse him. “So help me, if you two don’t grow the fuck up this second… What?” he trailed off. Vincent and Fox stared behind him with suddenly nervous expressions. “What are you looking at?”

A warm tingle shot down his spine and his breath quickened. Wylie. Dorian glanced over his shoulder. Wylie was nearly on top of him, he was standing so close. How the hell had he…?

“Dorian.”

Dorian closed his eyes. Wylie’s low, hoarse voice was absolutely maddening. He hadn’t seen him in three days. It gave him plenty of time to think, plenty of time to know exactly what he wanted. Plenty of damn time to miss him until one fucking word out of Wylie’s mouth made his knees weak.

Fuck, he hated love.

Wylie stepped closer. He hissed low notes as his breath curled over the nape of Dorian’s neck. Dorian shuddered and his fingers started to spark. Fox jumped back before he was shocked. Hell, Wylie didn’t even have to touch him and he sparked.

He forced his eyes open when he heard Fox gasp. Dorian found the two gaping wide-mouthed and still staring behind him. Aw, crap. He dared another peek over his shoulder and groaned when he saw Wylie in his dragon form. He was long horns, sleek wings, sinewy tail and glowing eyes. All combined with a wicked fanged smile that promised to eat him alive.

Hah, maybe that wasn’t too far from the truth. Dorian turned and took a cautious step backward. His eyes went wide when Wylie hissed again.

His shirt was torn from his transformation and Wylie pulled it carelessly from his torso to reveal black sleek scales over hard, toned muscle. Dorian’s eyes moved down and he swallowed with difficulty when he saw that Wylie was hard already. He could almost feel those scales under his hands. His mind strayed to just how big Wylie felt inside him the last time.

More sparks flickered off of him and Dorian took another shaking step back. Wylie grinned fiercely and surged forward. He slammed him up against the wall and pinned him while Dorian gasped.

“Fuck, Wylie, it’s a fucking hallway,” Dorian moaned. His heart pounded in his ears. Wylie didn’t seem to care and he bent down to kiss him. His strong hand cupped the side of his face as hot lips crushed his. Dorian groaned and opened to the demanding tongue. Wylie explored his mouth as if they’d never kissed before.

“Need you,” Wylie said hoarsely before he nipped at his bottom lip. He wrapped an arm around Dorian’s waist and pushed up tight against his lithe body. Dorian moaned as his shirt was torn from him with an impossibly fast move. Wylie’s erection ground against his hip. His hot leg then pushed between his thighs to rub against his hardening dick.

More sparks shivered over his skin. Wylie’s tongue lapped out and followed their trail as he kissed roughly down his throat. “I woke up and you weren’t there.” Wylie ran his fangs over Dorian’s neck and followed with his tongue. “Need to smell you. Taste you… claim you.”

“But… it’s a hallway.” Dorian tried to get him to see reason. Wylie only hissed again and Dorian clutched the wall behind him to keep from falling when a tongue teased over his nipple. “Class is going to get out and… and god, do that again,” he whispered hoarsely. His head fell back heavily against the wall as fire shot across his skin.

Wylie grinned at Dorian’s surrender and slid down to his knees. His tongue moved down Dorian’s taut stomach as he tore his fly open.

Dorian cracked his eyes open at a noise to find the two idiots had managed to stop fighting, but only because they were staring at him and Wylie. “Fuck off or I’m going to hex you across the damn Academy.”

Vincent huffed and turned. His cheeks were slightly flushed. “Like I want to see you two?” He grabbed Fox by the arm when he made no move to leave.

Fox grinned widely when Dorian moaned. Wylie’s tongue slid down his navel as he pushed Dorian’s pants down. “Quit it, man, I want to see my boy’s moves,” he growled when Vincent tugged on his arm harder.

“You’re a degenerate.” Vincent scowled and pulled him away harshly. He made sure to dig his nails into the wound on Fox’s arm. “Now move.”

Dorian had no problem ignoring the bickering brats. Wylie’s tongue finally found his dick and slowly traced long lines up and down his shaft. He kept kissing his flesh. His lips were warm, wet, and firm as Wylie worshiped his cock. “Oh fuck,” Dorian gasped. His hands grasped Wylie’s hair when he parted his lips and took his cock in deep. Damn, he looked good on his knees.

He moaned and was unable to stop his hips from bucking into Wylie’s hot mouth. Dorian stared fixated on his face. Wylie’s mouth was open wide to take all of him in. Saliva dripped down his chin, and his cheeks were flushed beneath the transparent scales on his face. “God, you’re good at that,” he whispered. He jolted forward when large hands rubbed possessively over his ass. Each touch was a burning fire to his senses. It was like every burst of magic that would have sparked free was welling up inside him, and was trying to drive him fucking crazy with need.

“Wylie—hell, wait—hell!” His head slammed back against the wall. Dorian could only pant when Wylie pushed his leg up over his broad shoulder, and tongued lower until he was teasing around his entrance. He would have been fine with it except he was practically naked in a fucking hallway feet away from the class he was supposed to be in. Dorian gave a hard pull to his hair but Wylie just groaned from the pain and drove his tongue deep into Dorian’s entrance. “Fuck!”

Fine, he was just going to have to kill Wylie later. Preferably after he got him off. Dorian whimpered as Wylie’s tongue plunged in and out of his tight flesh in erratic strokes. He grabbed for his horns for balance. A thick finger joined his tormenting tongue to breach Dorian slowly and stretch him open.

“Damn it… A desk, a bed… something, Wylie,” Dorian demanded breathlessly when Wylie stood after a final lap to the tip of his throbbing dick. Wylie’s lips were swollen. His chin was wet and eyes burned with sex. “Four fucking walls,” Dorian finished weakly as he stared. Wylie’s pants had been lost somewhere. His hard cock was dripping and pointed right at him. Dorian licked his lips as his knees threatened to give out. Dear fuck.

“Next time,” Wylie rasped out. His gaze moved over Dorian intently. “Need you, Dorian. Need you to be mine.”

With a groan, Dorian conceded he was about to be fucked in a hallway. Wylie was just too determined and far too sexy for his own good.

His knee was pulled up and Wylie pinned him hard against his body. Dorian gasped as two fingers found his hole and thrust inside. He clawed at Wylie’s sleek shoulders, and did everything to keep from shouting. The last thing he wanted was someone to come looking to see what was going on. Sweat dripped down his neck. Wylie’s mouth and tongue followed as he fucked him with his long fingers.

Dorian licked up Wylie’s jaw with his trembling tongue. Small broken cries kept breaking free as Wylie’s fingers stretched him wide and drove in and out in maddening strokes. “Another,” he whimpered desperately. He dug his fingernails into Wylie’s hard biceps. “Want to feel you.”

With a heated growl, Wylie plunged three fingers deep into his mate. Dorian sobbed and gasped uncontrollably. It was so much, his channel agonizingly full. Wylie was relentless, and pumped into him while Dorian moaned. He wasn’t sure if he could take much more. His body remembered well enough and hips bucked as he tried to get Wylie deeper.

Wylie’s tongue extended slowly and traced over Dorian’s gasping red lips. He smirked at how wanton he looked. “You’re so fucking hot like this, beautiful. So sexy. So desperate for more. Anyone seeing you right now would know you were meant to be fucked.”

The world rocked when Wylie stroked his prostate. Dorian tried really hard not to imagine how the two of them looked at that moment, with Wylie like some winged demon ravaging him in the hallway. “God, Wylie, please… please, just…” He needed it. Needed it so bad. He needed Wylie to take him, have him and he didn’t fucking care about anything else.

He groaned when Wylie’s thick fingers slid from his passage. Wylie moved against him. Their bodies were slick with sweat, and his breath was strained as he panted in Dorian’s ear. Dorian’s eyes opened to find him staring down at him. Wylie was bent close to tease his tongue over his bottom lip. There was something in his ice-blue eyes asking permission. Something Dorian readily answered even as he blinked the sweat from his lashes.

Wylie’s large hands grabbed his ass, pulled him up and pinned him to the wall. Dorian’s legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He gripped Wylie by the shoulders and his breath halted; Wylie’s expression was so intense he felt lost in it. It wasn’t until the hot tip of Wylie’s dick pushed between his cheeks that the spell was broken. Dorian shuddered and held him tight.

“God, yes.”

“Slowly,” Wylie hissed. He pressed his face to Dorian’s neck and with restrained force began to push into the tight heat. “Fuck.”

With his lips parted, Dorian’s silent cries became gasping moans as Wylie’s cock stretched his entrance wide. It pushed unceasing pressure forward until his body had no choice but to relent and open. Wylie’s fingers bruised into his hips but Dorian barely felt it. All his focus was on that hot, thick flesh, and how it stretched him open, filled him, and melded them together. Wylie held so much back to keep from hurting him and he could only feel the perfect agony of their joining.

“Tight… so fucking tight, Ri,” Wylie grunted under his breath. He sheathed the last inches into Dorian’s hot channel. Wylie held his shaking body in his strong embrace to help Dorian grow used to the sensation, but there was no getting used to such insanity. Dorian moaned with each heated throb of the thick member inside of him. There was no inferno of fire or hailstorm of bullets and still, being joined with Wylie was unbearably intense.

With a growl, Dorian gripped Wylie tighter. He used his magic to grow his nails into claws. “You don’t need to hold back.” He nipped Wylie’s ear a moment before he slashed down his back.

“Fuck!” Wylie howled and slammed forward. He buried into him as Dorian arched and cried out. Dorian’s fingers gripped the nape of his neck. Wylie stared with glowing eyes, then brushed their wet lips together heatedly. Dorian heaved soft gasps for air. His hazel eyes widened when he felt Wylie begin to swell inside his flesh. The extra girth stole his mind in a dizzying heat of pure sensation and need.

“So beautiful… Doing so good, baby.” Wylie’s lips moved over his cheeks with soft kisses. He moved down his jaw and pecked his lips all while he thrust slow, desperate jolts into his gripping passage. Dorian was so slick inside and already wet from his precum. The thickness of Wylie’s shaft created a perfect friction between them. “My mate… God, you’re my beautiful… fucking sexy mate,” Wylie murmured hoarsely. His voice was full of emotion and need.

“Oh fuck…” Dorian’s cries grew even more intense in volume when he felt Wylie swell larger, and his passage stretched so wide. “God, please, I need it,” Dorian babbled mindlessly. His teeth bit at Wylie’s jaw to distract from the overwhelm of sensation. “Please, Wy, fuck, please don’t stop.”

“God, I’m not going to stop.” Wylie slammed forward again when Dorian’s passage clenched around his cock.

“Harder… Need it harder,” Dorian pleaded breathlessly. His thighs were tense and shook from the position. He wanted to be Wylie’s. He wanted to feel that same crazed feeling of being filled as last time. Wylie was his mate and he needed to hurry and mate him.

Wylie responded to Dorian’s raw need and stopped holding back. He surged forward while holding Dorian’s hips firmly, and fucked him with hard, rough strokes. He thrust in deep and stayed. The base of his dick grew so large it lodged tight inside him.

It was too much for Dorian. His entrance was stretched so wide he didn’t even know who he was anymore. He came with a sob and clawed at Wylie’s shoulders as he spurted streams of cum between the crush of their hot bodies.

Wylie kissed him fiercely. He slammed Dorian a final time against the wall. His own orgasm was pulled free with how hard his mate’s channel gripped his cock. He pumped load after load of his seed into the moaning sorcerer. Dorian’s heavy eyelids were slit open to meet Wylie’s gaze and watch his fierce, possessive expression as he claimed him.

Wylie’s hips began to slow their rapid pumps but he still held Dorian tight. The last of his cum filled his channel. His kisses turned gentler. Wylie’s tongue was languid and slow as he tasted Dorian’s sweat and skin. He nipped at the thin flesh of his throat.

Dorian was beyond sated. His limbs were loose, his head heavy, and smile lazy. His body was alive with contentment and his magic was a soft bubble in his core. He fluttered his lashes open, and fixed the smug shifter with an exasperated yet halfhearted glare. “Damn it, Wylie. A fucking hallway?” he trailed off and groaned when Wylie found his nipple and rolled it between his fingers. “Mmm.”

Wylie nuzzled against Dorian’s neck and sighed deeply. He was still buried deep in his passage and had little interest in leaving. He wanted to hold Dorian forever. Be entwined forever… Or at least, until he got hungry enough to move.

He lifted his head and his eyes trailed over Dorian’s face. He memorized all that he found. Wylie moved his hand up to push his dark, sweaty locks from Dorian’s forehead. “Ri, you’re mine… Right?” His expression turned sober with eyes full of uncertainty. “Tell me you’re mine. My mate.”

Dorian didn’t answer. He was fixated on the nickname Wylie gave him. He never had a nickname before. It always seemed to be something for happier, easier-going people than he was ever going to be. But he wasn’t tied to his parents anymore. He wasn’t trapped in a body with too much magic anymore… Well, not fully.

Dorian’s silence stretched on too long. Wylie extracted from his entrance and lowered him to his feet. He cupped Dorian’s face and tried to read his expression. Dorian opened his mouth to speak but Wylie held his finger to his lips.

“It’s okay. I’ll convince you that I’m good enough for someone like you, Dorian.” Wylie’s expression was serious and intent. “Whatever it takes. I’ll get good at magic if that’s what you need so your family doesn’t just see me as a shifter. I can get a job—”

“Shit, shut up, idiot,” Dorian interrupted with a growl. He grabbed Wylie’s scaled wrist only to pause when he didn’t resist. All the dragon’s strength and he still just let him push him around. “It’s just a lot to think about. I never had a real boyfriend but… But I want to be your mate.”

Dorian bit his lip and glanced away for a moment as he tried to remember all the things he planned to say to Wylie while he slept. Now that they could finally talk, everything slipped from his mind.

“It’s not just because you fix my magic. You need to know that—although, fuck, it’s just perfect that you do,” he added with a dazed smile. “It’s like you’re meant for me or some crazy, sappy shit like that. I mean, you’re just fucking perfect.”

“I’m certain we’re made for each other, Ri. My dragon thinks so and I think so. Not that it didn’t take some damn convincing.” Wylie frowned at his own stubbornness. His expression softened as he touched the edge of Dorian’s ear. “If I couldn’t fix your magic, I just would have found some other way to be an important part of your life. We’re meant for each other.”

Dorian couldn’t stop his blush. He peered up through his lashes. Yeah, sappy as fuck; Wylie was lucky he was hot. “You’re going to be here five years, right? Well, we can, you know, see how things go. I mean, there are a lot of complications with my magic problem and, well, I don’t really know what all this mating business is actually about.”

“Neither do I,” Wylie admitted softly, with his eyes fixed on his red lips. “I just know you’re mine and nothing is going to keep me from you.”

Dorian ran his palm over the transparent scales of Wylie’s jaw. He leaned forward and kissed him. “We’ll figure it out. We have plenty of time. Just… Just don’t think you have to be different. That shit I said about shifters I said to, well, get you to give up on me. I’m not like my family. I don’t think that about anyone, and I really don’t give a fuck about how my parents think about anything. You’re my mate,” he said with another blush and a tentative smile. “What other people think doesn’t fucking matter.”

Wylie beamed. He rubbed his cheek against Dorian’s and sighed. “You smell like me.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and snorted, but couldn’t stop a grin from breaking free. “You’ve got issues, Doe. You can’t just run me down whenever your dragon starts hissing.”

Wylie nodded in agreement, but when he opened his mouth his words didn’t match. “I need to. I need to make you mine. I need to make sure everyone knows you’re mine and only mine. My mate.”

Yeah, fucking issues. Dorian wasn’t sure how he was going to train this particular problem out of Wylie, but he would figure it out. He was not one for being run down and fucked in public.

He wrinkled his nose when he felt the trickle of cum slide down his thighs. Dorian waved his hand and spelled himself clean. With another wave he was fully dressed and back to his immaculate self. Wylie just stared at him in confusion. His nostrils flared and he eventually reared back with a glare.

“Hey, I just spent a lot of time and effort getting you all dirty with my scent. You can’t just spell that all away.”

Dorian hid a smirk and just raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Don’t know what to tell you… but apparently I can.” He smiled sassily, turned on his heel and headed down the hall. Two seconds later and Wylie grabbed him from behind. His hungry hiss made Dorian shiver hotly.

“Gorgeous, I’m just going to have to cover you to mark you as mine.”

“Damn it… Fuck, Wylie.” Goddamn, fucking sexy, possessive dragons. Dorian exhaled shakily and arched into the hands running down his torso. Fingers sought a way under his shirt. Before he could get lost in Wylie’s touch again, Dorian forced himself forward. He refused to look back until he got to the corner where the hallway connected with another. Wylie stared after him with a look of determination and want. He was also still completely naked in rainbow black scales.

“A bed, idiot,” Dorian prompted when Wylie seemed content to stand and stare at him. “You know, in a room I can fucking lock people out of.”

His expression grew intense and Wylie stalked toward him. Dorian felt a wave of heat shoot through his body. Wylie was oblivious to his nudity or just how damn sexy he looked.

Fuck, okay, he might have some issues too. Dorian grinned wickedly. He ducked around the corner and broke into a sprint when he heard Wylie follow. He nearly got to the end of the hall before Wylie caught him. Wylie lifted him off the floor in a dizzying spin.

“Hell.” His heart was pounding in his chest. Dorian gasped when he found his arms and legs wrapped around Wylie’s sweaty, muscular form. Wylie’s wings were stretched out behind him to keep them from being crushed. “You’re fast.” Strong too, no matter how gentle Wylie was when he touched him.

Wylie grinned in triumph and went to kiss him but Dorian covered his mouth with his hand. Wylie was undeterred and his tongue teased out and licked between his fingers. “Bedroom,” Dorian insisted hoarsely. He beamed when Wylie started walking them to the dorms even as his lips still moved over his hand and wrist.

Mate. He had a dragon shifter for a mate. A strong, sexy, fearless man who got him on a level few did. Dorian thought for the longest time he was cursed with his magical disorder. At such a young age he saw his future turn from bright to bleak overnight. Now he was grateful for the struggle and the chain of events that allowed him to meet and love Wylie Doe.

Wylie watched the even rise and fall of Dorian’s chest. He was napping after a rather strenuous weekend of being fucked senseless. Wylie wasn’t sure exactly how he was expected to behave when Dorian was so gorgeous, sexy, and in possession of such a terribly wicked tongue, but Wylie thought he was trying. Given his exasperated expression right before falling asleep, Dorian didn’t agree.

He was back in his human form when Wylie fished around the floor for a pair of jeans. He pulled them on before snagging a cigarette from Dorian’s case. When he wandered shirtless out into the lounge, he ignored the catcalls he got from Forest and Fox. Dorian was apparently loud during sex; something he warned the guys not to mention unless they were looking to get hexed by his grumpy mate.

Dante appeared at his side, and immediately grabbed his hand like he owned it. Wylie sent a small smile down at his bowed head and led them to the outer door so he could smoke. The mid-afternoon sun was warm even though the air was growing chiller with winter fast approaching. Wylie stared out at the fields and forest before them. He felt more content than he could ever remember.

Dante loved Will and Christopher’s room. The tree inside a building was amazing to the small boy. But he refused to sleep there. No, Wylie ended up asking for an extra bed to be put in his and Fox’s room so Dante could sleep next to his big brother. Dante was the one to start calling him his brother and Wylie couldn’t, for the life of him, find a reason to disagree.

He’d never had a little brother but that didn’t mean he was opposed to the idea. Not when Dante clearly needed him as much as he did. The more the two talked, the more Wylie discovered just how much the kid was in desperate need of someone to care about him.

Dante only dropped hints here and there but as each new piece of information came to light, Wylie could see the grim picture it revealed. Dante lived with relatives but they hadn’t cared about him. They barely fed him, and had little interest in talking to him or playing. Dante was looked on as a curse on the family. One they hoped to cure when his uncle found a sorcerer to sell him to.

Dante didn’t remember a lot of things. His memory fuzzed out on moments not worth remembering. But there was a lot he didn’t remember and Wylie was left with a fierce need to make sure Dante’s current days were worth being present for.

Collin came back with the final word that Dante wouldn’t be sent back to Italy. The slavers the Salvadors sold him to would find him immediately, and his home situation was unfit. Dante needed structure and the right people to show him how to use his powers safely. There was no better place than the Academy for that.

Dante watched when Wylie blew a smoke ring. He looked up and made the ring twist into a spiral. With a smirk, Wylie blew another ring only to have it transformed into a somewhat blobbish ladybug. The masters let Dante out of the null-collar during the day when Wylie was around to be a pacifying presence. They hoped eventually Dante wouldn’t need the instrument at all as long as he was on the Academy grounds.

Wylie’s next smoke ring turned into a long string of Italian text. He blinked down at Dante’s innocent looking face. “How old are you again?”

Dante shrugged and smiled to himself. They weren’t sure exactly how old he was, but Dante’s relatives insisted they’d been taking care of him for years. Like, thirty. And no, they weren’t on drugs when Michael interviewed them.

It took some sweet words and strong arms on Michael’s part to smooth things over, but the Academy came to an arrangement with Dante’s guardians. They promised not to have the family arrested if the three signed Dante over into the care of the Academy.

Wylie wasn’t sure just how much Dante understood of everything going on around him. He was silent most of the time and rarely reacted to what people said. But he liked hugs, human contact when he had a choice in the matter, and to know Wylie was around. All things Wylie found easy enough to oblige.

Dante glanced up at him and asked quietly, “Are you going to marry Dorian?”

“Jesus!” Wylie nearly spit his cigarette out as he coughed. He covered his face with his hand. Okay, maybe the kid was paying attention to shit after all. “I dunno, D. It’s really fucking early to be thinking about stuff like that.”

Dante leaned against Wylie’s side, with his head still turned upwards. “My mom got married when she was thirteen… but she died really young too.” His face was an expressionless mask when he added, “You love him.”

Wylie grunted in confirmation and chose his next words carefully. “Just because you love someone doesn’t mean you need to marry them, D. Love doesn’t come in the same package every time. Families are all different and you don’t need some ceremony or a priest or shit to tell you you’re a family.”

Dante nodded to himself and held Wylie’s hand tighter. He was silent for a long time as he watched him smoke.

“I want you to be my family.”

Wylie stared down at Dante’s sleek, dark locks, while he wondered the best way to answer something like that. Family didn’t mean living in the same house. It didn’t mean sharing blood or even the same magical powers. It was a choice built on bonds. You could choose to strengthen them or let them decay, but it was still a choice.

“You are my family, Dante,” Wylie finally answered. “No matter what. I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

A small smile broke across his normally impassive face. Dante rubbed his forehead against Wylie’s side. He looked at the scenery and the way the smoke drifted up. “Dorian too?”

Wylie nodded. “Pretty sure.” Dorian was in need of a proper family no matter how many people were waiting for him back at his mansion.

Dorian was clear he didn’t want Wylie to change for him, but Wylie was still determined to make something of himself. He fucked-up his life enough. Sure, it was some messed up, backward rebellion against the world which took so much from him, but he was the only one getting hurt. At the time, the idea of destroying his life felt more controlling than letting absolute strangers destroy him. Growing up, that was how it felt; like people were trying to break him at every turn. He was done with it.

He didn’t need to live his life in reaction to how others treated him. He just needed to live his life.

In the last month, Wylie learned to control his shift, found an amazing mate he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and even gained a group of friends so strong he could call them his pack. He wanted better for himself. If it made him a better person in Dorian’s eyes as well, that was just a damn fine extra perk.

Wylie was pulled from his thoughts. He blinked down as a glow of magic flashed and faded. With a tilt of his head, he stared at Dante in confusion. “Did you just grow a foot?”

Dante shrugged. His hair was now down to his shoulders. “All the guys keep making fun of me for being so little.” His voice sounded stronger and accent less pronounced.

“How old are you?” Wylie had a feeling this was going to be a very familiar unanswered question. Dorian said that Dante was very special and to expect odd things you wouldn’t see with normal sorcerer kids. He hadn’t said anything about instant growth spurts.

Dante wiggled his longer fingers and smiled slightly. “I dunno, it’s hard to keep track of after a while. My parents got married in ’62.”

“1962 and your mother was thirteen at the time?” His jaw dropped and Wylie tried to keep the shock out of his voice.

Dante shook his head and watched his bangs float across his eyes. “1562.”

“Son of a bitch.” Wylie sucked down the rest of his cigarette and wished to god he had another one. Dante didn’t do magic like the other sorcerers did and he might just be a couple hundred years old. Like almost 500. “Fucking shit.”

Dante tilted his head up. He looked closer to twelve now as he blinked bright green eyes up at Wylie. “You’re still going to be my big brother but… I’m probably going to be taller than you.”

“Oh really?” Wylie glared down at him and gave a ruffle to his dark locks. He was unable to stop his grin. “Good luck to that, pipsqueak.”

Fuck, he couldn’t call him gramps. Dante still looked and acted like a kid even if he was older than dirt. Wylie glanced over when Fox and Forest bounded out of the double doors of the Academy. “Wanna go chase Fox around the lawn?”

Dante nodded quickly. His eyes followed the two laughing shifters as they morphed into their animal forms and began to wrestle on the golden colored lawn. Wylie scooped Dante around his waist and carried him giggling to the pile of fur where he placed him down to play.

At five hundred years old and able to take out five guys with one spell, Dante still managed to fall on his ass and get a split lip in under a minute. Wylie shook his head and wondered if anything would ever be ‘normal’ at the Academy.

After a moment, he decided he really didn’t want it to be. He joined in chasing Forest’s leopard form up a tall tree. As homes went, his new one was perfect. Weirdness and all.

Thanks for reading Demon Arms. All the guys from the Paranormal Academy For Troubled Boys return in the sequel, Sorcerer Slayer, which is currently being written. Subscribers can read updates in the Library now. Fox and Vincent get a turn at driving each other crazy (and maybe falling in love <3) and we meet Raider, an anxiety ridden, raccoon shifter who wants to be anywhere but at the Academy.

Start reading now.

Demon Arms 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Dorian woke slowly to the sounds of snickering. Living in a dorm full of magic-charged patients warned him how dangerous a noise that was. Still, it was hard to pull himself awake. He was exhausted and his bed wonderfully warm.

He blinked up at the sunlight flooded ceiling he couldn’t quite place and focused on the person standing over him.

Fox peered down at him and grinned a wicked fanged smirk. “Hey there, sleeping beauty. Find yourself a nice pillow?”

It was way too early for riddles. Dorian turned over, determined to ignore him, only there was an elbow in his way. An elbow not connected to him. Wylie was stretched out underneath him. His chest moved in a slow, even rhythm as he slept. “Yeah… A damn nice pillow.”

Fox barked in laughter. He chuckled as he bent over. Dorian sighed. Crap, he was so never going to hear the end of this.

Once his laughter was under control, Fox pointed to the open door to his dorm room. “Thought you two might want to get a room, like, literally before all the guys get up. Unless you want to hear months of just how cute you two look cuddled up like kittens?”

With a faint blush, Dorian glared halfheartedly at the snickering shifter. “Thanks.” Fox broke into another laugh at Dorian’s grim tone. Damn, the happy little brat.

He pushed up from his very warm nest of Wylie, and tried to straighten his hair into some sort of order. If he was going to endure being laughed at, he was going to have perfect hair at the time, damn it.

Dorian got to his feet unsteadily and grabbed the couch to keep from falling. His body felt bruised all over as if he survived a car crash. It happened the last time he’d lost control of his magic; the current moved through him so intensely it fried a bit of his flesh as it flowed. He’d heal after a day or so but for the moment he could barely walk. His thighs and ass… Right.

That.

Dorian blushed scarlet and glared at the still sleeping Wylie. There was no way in hell he’d ever let him fuck him in his dragon form again. Some things were not meant to come in such large sizes no matter what nature provided.

“Everything okay?” Fox noticed the large streaks of dried blood on Wylie’s arms, and his nose picked up the scent of smoke and char. “One of you didn’t end up in the bonfire after we went to bed, right?”

“Let’s just say it was a rough night.” Dorian shook his head slowly. “Wylie can tell you if he wants. It’s kind of some heavy shit and I don’t think it’s my right to tell it.”

Fox yawned widely and stretched. His t-shirt rode up on his narrow frame. “Hey, just as long as you guys are okay. I was half expecting you to either kill each other, or totally fuck after the shit you said last night at the party.”

Dorian frowned grimly. Fuck. The bonfire felt like a week ago. Everything seemed so certain then. He tried to push Wylie away by showing how shifters didn’t belong in his family’s world. It made so much sense at the time. Now… Now he just felt unbelievably lost.

He turned his gaze back and Dorian couldn’t help but notice Fox didn’t seem to hate him as much as his words had warranted. “I’m sorry about that, Fox. It was a shit thing to say and wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear. You know I don’t think of shifters that way even if some people in my family do.”

“Hey, I know, but don’t think you haven’t fucked things up for yourself, man.” Fox shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked on the heels of his bare feet. “You’re going to have to get our resident werewolf the most awesome, never before heard CD ever if you want that kid to say two words to you again.”

Damn, Justin was so sensitive. He was probably more upset to think Dorian was arguing with Wylie than anything else. He had some bridges to unburn and magic wasn’t going to be able to help.

With a sigh, Dorian turned back to the couch. Wylie managed to have a furrow in his brow even in sleep. He didn’t remember how he ended up sleeping next to him, not that he was complaining. But it was getting close to breakfast and there was no way he was going to let himself get caught in such an embarrassing position.

Dorian leaned down and ran his fingers through Wylie’s short, white-blond locks. The blue hair dye was completely faded now. “Come on, Wylie. Your back is going to kill you if you sleep out here.”

He was out cold, likely regenerating from his eventful evening. Dorian cast a spell to imbue his body with greater strength, then leaned down and lifted Wylie from the couch.

Fox stared at him wide eyed. “When the hell did you get so strong!”

“It’s magic, dolt.” Dorian grinned wickedly. He stepped around Fox and nearly knocked him down with Wylie’s long legs. “Remember it the next time one of you loud asses decides to stay up all night howling at the moon.”

A month at the Academy and Wylie’s side of the room was still so sparse. Wylie already had such an impact on the guys around him, yet he looked ready to leave at any moment. It was sobering and Dorian carried him the rest of the way in silence. He spelled the blanket aside before placing Wylie on the bed.

Wylie went full dragon last night with his first successful transformation. The Academy fixed him like it fixed everyone Dorian had watched come in and then move on. Surely Wylie would be moving on like all the rest.

“Hey, if you want to stay and sleep, I won’t say shit,” Fox said from the doorway. His voice was free of laughter.

Dorian straightened and shook his head. He pulled the blanket up over Wylie’s sleeping form. He wanted to be alone. So much had changed in the matter of a night and he didn’t know where he fit anymore. Wylie found a way to help him fix his magic levels only to be well enough to leave for good.

It was all just so fucked-up.

Dorian was tired and he stumbled to his own bed. He patted Fox on the shoulder in passing. Vincent was still asleep. Dorian kept as quiet as possible as he kicked off his shoes and slipped under his blankets. His bed felt as good as it always did, but this time too large, too empty.

He didn’t want to think about losing Wylie. He had just found him; he didn’t want to lose him.

It was the day after Wylie fell asleep and Collin McPherson came down to talk to Dorian. They sat in the lounge while the others were in their classes. Wylie slept all of yesterday away and was still sleeping. Michael assured Dorian he was just in a healing sleep but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

Dorian was both relieved Wylie was still sleeping so he could avoid talking about him leaving the Academy, and frustrated his magic had already surged back to full power and was threatening to overwhelm him. He could feel his magic bubbling strong in his core again. It was a wealth of power waiting for his guard to slip so it could escape and wreak havoc. It was just so hard to think properly about Wylie when his magic wanted to explode every time he had an emotion.

Dante wandered over to where Dorian was sitting on a large, cushy couch and climbed up next to him. Collin was welcoming enough but Dante was very withdrawn and quiet without Wylie. He kept hovering by Wylie’s bed while he slept. Fox managed to supply Dante markers, crayons, and a very elaborate coloring book full of huge-eyed unicorns he would not disclose the origins of no matter how many people tried to guess.

Collin was sitting across from them in the comfortable setting. His blue eyes looked particularly sharp. It was his game face, and the man’s wide shoulders were tense, with his jaw set. Dorian could only assume things weren’t going so well with the search for Dante’s family since the owner of the Academy insisted he be present for the meeting as well.

Collin looked at the small boy who was leaning lightly against Dorian’s shoulder, and confirmed his suspicions. “Michael is talking to your relatives now, Dante. He ported overseas to find them personally. I’m afraid it’s as bad as we suspected.”

“They sold him?” Dorian couldn’t keep the disbelief and anger out of his voice.

“Well, nothing is fully confirmed just yet, but a large amount of money showed up into one of the Salvadors’ bank accounts a half hour after Dante was taken. We don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

Dorian was appalled. He’d hoped against hope it was just a misunderstanding, that Dante confused things when being stolen away. But no, his relatives actually sold him.

He wrapped his arm around Dante’s shoulder. Dante rubbed his forehead into Dorian’s side and refused to speak. “He doesn’t have to go back there, right? They’re clearly unfit to keep him.”

Collin nodded in agreement but his expression was sober. “We’re working on it. These sorts of matters are very tricky. For one, we can’t find any record of Dante’s birth. We’re looking for records of his parents, but those are missing as well. Usually, there’s something to trace to help us determine just what he might be.”

“He’s a sorcerer,” Dorian said automatically. He looked down at Dante’s bowed head. “Right?”

Collin’s expression said otherwise. “Dante is something more than a sorcerer. Dr. Rob can’t pinpoint it, but he isn’t fully human. That his eyes turn black when he was using his magic suggests, well…” He spread his hands out wide. “You know why your eyes turn black when you lose control, Dorian. It’s a very species-specific trait.”

Dorian inhaled sharply and didn’t answer. He instead pulled Dante tighter against his side. He might be some sort of demon hybrid. And if he was, there was no way anyone could be allowed to know. Demons were slaves to sorcerers with no rights. They didn’t even exist in most people’s eyes, including the law’s. No, there was no way Dante was leaving the Academy when there was a sorcerer out there who expected to pick him up at the wharf.

“Will the Academy take him in?” Dorian asked quietly. For the first time he had to wonder. Shifters and sorcerers were dangerous enough, but a demon?

“He’s young. Possibly too young to consider the dangers around him and realize he’s hurting others.” Collin sat back with a troubled expression still on his face. “He could be uncontrollable.”

Dorian stiffened at the suggestion and looked down at Dante again. If Dante was listening to a word, he didn’t reveal it. He kept his head buried into Dorian’s shirt. “If the Academy can’t take him, I’ll speak with my parents. I come from a long line of sorcerers with demonic blood and I can trust them to do right by him. They might even know of a way to help contain his outbursts.”

Collin smiled gruffly. Dante’s small fingers coiled around Dorian’s wrist. “Yes, well, Dante might not give us a choice as to where he wants to be. I was told he’s very attached to Wylie and clearly he’s taken to you as well. I expect we’ll be housing him for the next five years as long as we can ensure his previous guardians don’t interfere.”

Dorian met his gaze in confusion. “Five years? Why five?”

“Because that’s how long Wylie will be in our care. I suspect his shadow is going to wish to be wherever Wylie is.”

Dorian must have misheard. “Hold on, just… Wylie is going to be at the Academy for five years? But he already fixed his transformation problems. Why would he stay an entire five more years if he…?” No, it didn’t make sense and he was confused as hell.

“The conditions of Wylie’s stay here are a bit unique, but let’s just say it has to do with how I met him.”

“You mean when you were shot,” Dorian blurted tactlessly. “Is that why? Did you, like, adopt him or some shit?”

His eyes widened and Collin coughed. “No, nothing like that. Wylie’s far too old, I’m sure, to want something like that.” He swiped at his brow and added gruffly, “Wylie is welcome here for as long as he chooses. But for now, he is court ordered to stay for at least five years.”

Five whole years? It felt like the world flipped all over again just in the matter of one sentence. Dorian must have been squeezing too tight because Dante squirmed out of his hold. He landed on the floor and wandered towards Wylie’s closed door.

“Is this bad news?” Collin’s eyes sparkled with hidden mirth when Dorian continued to stare at him with a befuddled expression. “Would you prefer I ship him out? Maybe some sort of military school—”

“No! Not funny, you old bastard.” Still, Dorian couldn’t stop his smile. Hell, he might have to get a collar to handle this news.

Five years with Wylie. Five years to figure out their shit and see how it would work between them. Five years without having to worry about holding Wylie back from going off and doing his own thing while he was stuck at the Academy. Not that Wylie couldn’t just port to a job or something… Hell, if they got things right, Dorian might be able to actually leave the Academy for good one day. Wylie could siphon his excess power so he wasn’t dangerous, and he’d be able to fucking live an actual life.

He realized too late just what the hell he was doing. He was sitting and planning their life together like some crazy, lovesick moron. Dorian immediately stood. He hadn’t even talked to Wylie yet. Fuck, he’d have to tell his parents. Oh, god, what the hell was he thinking?

And seriously why the fuck hadn’t Wylie told him? Idiot!

Collin watched with a small smile as Dorian got up and began to pace around the lounge while he muttered under his breath. He picked up the bottle of water he left at his feet and took a long drink. Dorian made two more rounds until he came back to stand in front of him.

“Definitely five? He’s not, like, going to get to leave early cuz of good behavior or community service or anything?”

“Definitely five,” Collin replied, as straight-faced as possible.

“Yes!” Whirling, Dorian looked around the room until he found Dante. He was staring at Wylie’s closed door while he fiddled with the null-collar around his throat. Dorian crossed the distance and opened the door. He kept it spelled shut just in case a particular lion happened to try and sneak in and maul the sleeping Wylie while he was in class.

Dante stepped into the dim room. The shades were pulled down to keep the sun out while Wylie slept. He immediately walked up to the bed, crawled up, and snuggled up beside Wylie. It was adorable as fuck but Dorian couldn’t help the small stab of jealousy with Dante being in the exact spot he wished he could be. Little brat.

He was smiling again, he realized and sighed in exasperation. Idiot. He was being a total idiot.

Fuck, five years. Five whole years. Awesome.