DEMON ARMS

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CHAPTER 23

“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, Shiny Thief, 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.

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