But now he had to return and deal with the shitshow that was currently his life. He agreed with trying to goad the villain into showing himself and making a mistake, but he didn’t like the way his heart sank as he contemplated how exactly they might be able to force his hand. He wasn’t certain they would succeed. He shoved the negative thought aside. Theyhadto find and stop him, so they would. Failure simply wasn’t an option.
Sorley halted his stroll in front of the small cluster of tended graves in the churchyard of the little chapel that presided over the tiny stone hamlet. As he mentally ran a finger over the neat gothic script etched into the headstones, he heaved a silent sigh for the number of lost lives he’d been witness to in his three hundred years. He’d not known Dalziel when his sire had a human family, but their both having been fathers had created a bond between them, Dalziel’s earnest interest in helping Sorley keep track of his family after his death and rebirth one of many reasons Sorley loved Dalziel.
Sorley no longer actively mourned his dead family — he’d long ago come to terms with the lifespan of the average human and would have driven himself mad if he’d allowed his grief to consume him — but in his opinion,family, no matter how you defined it, was as essential as blood. It was why he treasured Melody, Alec, Baxter, and even Edwin, the moody bastard. Jasper was in a separate category that he didn’t allow himself to even think about too often, but he was at the pinnacle of Sorley’s imagined family pyramid. He was furious with Baxter for having nosed through his computer, but then again, he had left her in his home unsupervised, and she lived to hack. He didn’t think half the time she even realised how much of a compulsion it was for her. He guessed having lived her twenty-two human years in a bewildering fog of confusion and then physical pain, she was entitled to enjoy eternity however she pleased. And, he consoled himself, at least if he did find himself blinked out of existence on the wrong end of a sunrise or a stake, the nosy cow already knew about Jasper, so could take over Sorley’s careful checking up on him.
He slipped into the church and did a lightning sweep of the place, checking it was clean, and there were no ominous damp patches that would indicate a leaking roof. As usual, it was perfect in its plain, quiet simplicity. He bobbed his head reflexively towards the altar, lit a candle out of habit, because he knew it meant something to his sire, then pulled the door closed behind him as he realised he’d have to sprint back to the house. The familiar tug in his guts that signalled the impending sunrise could no longer be ignored, and he was damned if he’d spend the day wedged into a cupboard covered with a musty-smelling altar cloth. Not when there was endless hot water and a sumptuous bed to take full advantage of.
He found Dalziel, Alec, Edwin, and the three Fae in the cinema room. Whatever film had been showing was long finished. The mood was a little tense, but mostly friendly, the gentle burble of chatter pausing as he stuck his head around the door. Dalziel beckoned him inside.
Clancy and Trace, two of the witches, and Marlowe were missing, presumably asleep upstairs, but Rosie was dead to the world sprawled across Dalziel’s lap, drooling ever so slightly. Somehow the woman still managed to look glamorous in an ungainly position and with smudged lipstick. Sorley felt his hand clench at the way his sire was absently carding his fingers through the sleeping witch’s blonde locks. He stuffed it in a pocket and commanded his fingers to relax.
Hoping he sounded casually neutral, he asked, “Gethin about?”
Alec shook his head. “The wolves all went out together. Except young Lucien. I last saw him heading for the cellar with Charley.” He tilted his dark head as if listening.
Dalziel looked up from his caressing of Rosie, although his digits didn’t falter in their slow rhythm. “He’s still there. You won’t get a read on him through these stone walls though.” He smiled fondly. “It’s encouraging there haven’t been any screams of frustration. I’m assuming Charley has sobered up enough to have fun that doesn’t involve either a mattress or a petrol engine for once. Luc is good for him.” A vague look of surprise crossed his face. “Not a phrase I ever thought I’d be uttering about a wolf, but perhaps the Council is finally starting to achieve its aims.”
Sorley laughed, although he didn’t find the situation funny. Being attracted to a shifter was something he’d spent three centuries happily avoiding — until now. He still found it astounding on an almost hourly basis that Gethin only had to look at him for his cock to twitch.
He glanced at the slumbering witch. “Won’t she get a crick in her neck like that?”
Dalziel raised a cool eyebrow. “How sweet of you to be concerned about a human, Sorley. Rosie is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions.” His gaze took in the rest of the room. “However, it probably wouldn’t hurt to lay her somewhere warmer. She does enjoy a feather quilt.” There was a hint of snobbery in his tone that suggested he couldn’t quite believe anyone would ever use anything but the finest bedding. Sorley bit back a scoff at memories of the way the pair of them had hunkered down in various graveyards, outhouses and far worse over the years, without so much as a worn blanket between them. Dalziel hadn’t been born wealthy. Still, he could hardly call his sire out on his predilection for the finer things in life, not when he felt the same way.
Dalziel got smoothly to his feet, Rosie seemingly no more of a burden than a cushion in his arms, and inclined his head at Volik and Neele.
“My Lord, my Lady; tonight has been a pleasure. I shall take my leave of you for a short while. If you require anything that my kin don’t know the whereabouts of, Pavel will be only too happy to serve you.” He bestowed a head tilt and an expression that could have been the beginnings of a smile on the third Fae. “Isher.” He jerked his chin at Sorley. “The door, if you please.”
His sire gone, Sorley dropped into the chair next to Alec and poured himself a glass of wine. He would delay his shower a little. He felt unsettled knowing Gethin was out without him. That required alcohol and not being alone. He raised his glass in a salute to the others and took a large gulp.
“So, what happened after I left? I presume more bickering and dick-waving? God forbid anyone actually has a plan.”
He listened while the others filled him in, feeling a sense of resignation steal over him to learn Marlowe would be accompanying him and Gethin to Leeds. He supposed he’d have to offer the mage the use of the sofa in his basement, although the idea of that tangy salt-smell in every corner of the flat made the fine wine taste sour on the way down. He rose and filled a whisky tumbler instead with some of Dalziel’s top shelf single malt. It didn’t do much for the leaden rock in his chest, but it slid down like honey, warming and soothing.
Volik and Neele excused themselves to tour the estate now it was light. Sorley, unused to Fae, waited until they’d left, then asked Isher, their quiet kinsman, “So, do you lot have to sleep like humans or what?”
Isher stiffened at being addressed directly, but relaxed a little when Edwin pushed the whisky in his direction, although he didn’t take any.
“We sleep,” he said softly. “But we don’t have to abide by human rules.” His smile was sweet and drowsy. “We can use magic to override our natural inclinations.” He punctuated this with a giant yawn, which he was unable to hide. “Oops, I beg your pardon.”
There was an awkward moment when it turned out nobody had considered Isher might need or even want a bed. Sorley fist-bumped Edwin, extracted a promise from Alec not to sneak away without saying goodbye, then led the young Fae upstairs to an empty bedroom. Making sure Isher knew how to find his way back later, he shut and locked the door in his own room, then took a long hot shower. He stroked himself half-heartedly, deliberately trying not to think about Gethin, then, annoyed with himself when it failed and the wolf was all he could think of, he gave in and reached over to slick his fingers. Braced against the wall, warm water cascading over him like a tropical waterfall, he talked himself into a very specific fantasy; one where a naked and eager Gethin slid under the spray behind him. One strong hand grasped Sorley’s hip, the other dipped below his arse cheeks to fondle his balls. In real time, Sorley mimicked the latter action, slowly circling his thumb around his rim as a perfect counterpoint to the controlled squeeze he gave his sack.
He took his weight on his forehead and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around his cock. Already shaking with need, he moaned. Fantasy Gethin leaned in closer, the press of the crisp hairs on his chest sending prickles of fire licking down Sorley’s spine.
“I want you,now,” growled Gethin.
“Take me. Use me.”Oh fuck, I’m close already.
Sorley shoved two fingers inside himself as he worked his cock, a scissor-and-twist motion that had him rolling his eyes back in his head as the embers of his orgasm caught and warmed, flames creeping then gathering pace as he allowed Gethin control of him, mind, body, and soul.
His climax took him utterly by surprise, exploding from him in a blaze of light and heat that left his thighs wobbly and his chest tight. Which was nonsense as he didn’t need to breathe. But damn…
In a daze, he rinsed himself down then shut off the water. The old house was never silent to a vampire’s ears, but as he dried off, the creak of a door opening then closing reached his ears. A few minutes later, the faintest burble of amused chatter was apparent; the wolves were back. He couldn’t distinguish the individual voices at this distance, but he couldfeelGethin’s presence. He pulled on a clean pair of silk pyjamas and rolled over to grab his phone; he didn’t want to dwell for long on why his cock was rising at the mere suggestion the shifter was back in the building. He was probably still horny from the earlier feeding — he’d taken the maximum possible from the young couple without harming them.
He pulled up a playlist and a new shooting game that so far hadn’t managed to bore him, then busied himself firing at alien warships.
The novelty wore off in under half an hour. Sorley dropped the mobile to the rug and flung himself across the mattress, sighing dramatically. He pulled a pillow over his head and contemplated screaming into it; he’d heard it could be therapeutic. But no, he would restrain himself. For one thing, he was much too fond of Eleanor to chance disturbing her sleep. He silently bitched and fumed for a while, not even sure why he was so grumpy.You know why. You just don’t want to admit it.Then, with another loud and dramatic sigh, he went to brush his teeth. Just because they wouldn’t ever rot was no reason not to keep his breath sweet and fresh.
“Dunno why you’re even bothering,” he snarled at his reflection. “The man you pledged your love and loyalty to would rather fuck a witch, and you’ve made an idiot of yourself in front of your fuck buddy, who isn’t, can’t be, yourbonded mate.”He spat out the last two words along with the toothpaste that was suddenly way too minty. He rinsed his mouth out, then peeled his lips back and let his fangs slide down. “Vampire,” he affirmed, as if seeing himself clearly for the first time in years. “Killer, predator, fornicator, immortal creature of the night.” He breathed a soft sigh, then uttered in a low, ragged whisper, “Damned. Soulless. Cursed. Alone.”
