BLOODSPRITE ~ Excerpt

Chapter One

There were six people on the main dance floor of the Sleeping Tiger that I could kill outright and sleep later like nothing happened. A three percent fatality rate on a Retrieval was higher than I liked but lower than I was often afforded; I’d take it. Of all the nights since I’d been blasted out of Faerie three years ago, this one was going pretty well. Bonus points, none of the six were with the Hodges boys that I’d come for, so I could ignore them for now. Of course the six weren’t the only ones to consider.

I passed ten others I’d kill if necessary, and shake my head for the next few days at the waste. Eleven after that could fall to me, and I’d mourn them for a year, then off and on for the next twenty. That eleven stood out, for they were so close to good you couldn’t help but wonder what a few more hugs in childhood might have changed.

Around them boiled innocent bystanders; wanna-bes and has-beens hanging onto the Were-Goth scene by their acrylic fingernails and cosmetic fangs. Every one of them stood in my way. That’s why Unyanka had chosen the crowded night spot for the pickup. Unyanka; there was a black-hearted bitch I could kill twice for fun. It sounds bloodthirsty, but in truth, the world could only be made safe from some people with a well-placed bullet or well-timed claw strike. It’s a harsh world, I just live in it. Besides, her black-hearted bitchhood was not metaphorical.

A Canid Shifter, the literal bitch ran Inferno, the latest mystically-enhanced club drug, among whose lovely side-effects were black spots along the heart and liver. Unyanka was the type to sample her own product, but unfortunately, she didn’t have the good taste to succumb to the complete shutdown of the autonomic nervous system from over-indulging in Inferno, like forty percent of her clientele had done this last year. I’d have to kill her by hand. Shucks.

The downside? Not likely to be today. I couldn’t afford to go hunting for her if things got dicey. I’d still need to get the boys out alive with as little unavoidable collateral damage as possible. I trusted my aim not to strike an innocent bystander, but my gut said no one among her crew would be as careful if gunfire broke out. Save perhaps for that eleven.

That eleven; I tell you, hugs make all the difference growing up.

I scanned the Sleeping Tiger for the half-dozenth time, calculating the numbers again. A slow, focused inhale said the boys’ scent trail led deeper into the club, eventually I’d be signaled further into the building so we could take this private. Then I could get what I came for, collect my fee, and be done for a while.

Prioritizing the deaths of enemies—while relaxing in the nine-to-five—didn’t make the overtime particularly enjoyable, especially with so many non-combatants in the way. Just looking at them made me tired and ready for vacation time somewhere where no one knew to ask anything of me. This whole mess had gone on too long, and I needed some rest.

But first the boys; only fifteen and nineteen and more innocent than any I looked upon in the club. In a choice between downtime and peace of mind or them, well, I’d chosen them when I took the Job instead of skipping out to Vegas. Now I just had to see it through.

Finally, a signal came in the form of a six-foot-six linebacker of a security guard holding up a red striped t-shirt. It held the scents I’d been given and resembled the one worn by the younger Hodges boy in the security footage before the kidnapping. With a deft turn for his two hundred and sixty-some pound frame, the guard headed off through the VIP doors with half of the eleven in tow and I followed after them.

Great. A lower level and smaller room meant less innocents and more of Unyanka crew, hopefully even Unyanka herself. I immediately began to relax. I’d get the boys and get out and no one would get hurt who didn’t need to be.

Unfortunately, lots of people usually need to be hurt in this kind of situation.

Especially when things get dicey.

* * * *

Things had gotten dicey.

Both guns were out with the safeties off, and I backed up slowly from the crowd. In the abundant mirrors of the VIP sub-basement, even in seeming retreat, I looked rather impressive. Good. Impression meant everything with Shifters. When you added up the head-to-toe biker leathers, palm guards, custom Metal Storm 9mm in each hand and at least three knife sheaths visible hinting silver, I looked all that in scary-yet-feminine ass-kicking. Hell, a trench coat, a pair of shades and some theme music, and I’d be a regular box-office bad-ass. I’d have been feeling like a bad-ass too, but two things ruined it for me.

First among them, the way Carlyle—also known as handsome henchman number two and one of the eleven—kept looking at me. I’d swear he wanted to know how many licks it took to get to my creamy caramel center and had intention of finding out first hand, over an extended period of time.

Copyright 2007

(Originally Posted, Saturday September 8th, 2007  Edited: January 2nd, 2012)

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PAST

Excerpt

Torrin paced around him, defiant. Quintus reached out and took Torrin’s hand. “I’ve treaded as close to the line for you as I could and still do my job to keep you safe. No one’s had it easy, Torrin, but at least we can all get through it if you’d just sit down.”

Torrin looked down to where they touched. His large, dark olive hand made Quintus’s smaller, pale one look delicate. It was hard to make someone five feet eleven inches, one hundred and ninety pounds look fragile but at nearly six and a half feet and a slimmed two hundred and twenty pounds Torrin managed it. He let his thumb stroke the milky skin along Quintus’s thumb. His long-term memory was fuzzy, but of what he had he could count the number of times his Handler had touched him with bare skin outside of a medical emergency. This would be the eighth instance in twelve years Torrin could recall. Empaths in general didn’t like skin contact with people outside their Triads ... especially other Empaths.

Quintus stared at their hands as well, as if he couldn’t quite make sense of it. The silence grew. Thirty seconds, sixty, ninety seconds and then Quintus looked up at Torrin. Sky-blue eyes had gone glacial-white, and Torrin shivered beneath the Gaze. Sincerity and the echo of old grief moved up his arm from where they touched, while Torrin’s anxiety and loss moved down.
“I’m sorry, Quintus. I owe you everything, including the chance to be here and be an ass. I’ll sit down.”

Quintus blinked and only clear blue skies stared out at Torrin once more. “Thank you, Agent St. James. You have my sympathy. I could not imagine how this was for you. I wish I could make it easier.”

Their hands fell away from one another--a near autonomous motion that made them separate beings again. Torrin sat down and pulled the paperwork toward him. The hard copies became a blur as they moved from point to point in Quintus’s ever-methodical manner.

“How long?” Torrin gave no qualifier or context. He didn’t need to.

“The first six years. Until it was quite clear you could not see beyond Riley and Sky. There was no room for me and so I ceased looking for it. Being your Handler became enough, Agent St. James.”

Quintus never looked up. He passed another datapad for Torrin’s thumbprint and continued on with their task. Torrin wanted to push. How do you not push when you realize someone used to be in love with you? How do you leave it alone when in the touch of a hand your glorified babysitter becomes a well of lost potential?

The first day at PsiCorps, Torrin had imprinted onto Riley and Sky like a hatchling to movement. Each had dominated their psychic categories, setting records in CyberPsi and Psychometry that still held in the Corp more than a decade later. He’d been so dazzled and swept up in their skill and confidence that Torrin had never wondered about his choice. He had never considered what would have happened if he’d just sat at a different table for breakfast that first day; just one table over in the empty seat beside Quintus.

“This is the last set.”

Torrin nodded and took the papers and datapad. Quintus read off the pertinent points aloud, and Torrin took stock of the other man. Quintus’s hair fell in thick, raven waves that captured the light and threw back blue highlights. Skin, merely pale before, shone alabaster in contrast, clear and smooth; trapped in a youth that would not begin to wane for several decades more ... if then. Matte black lashes fringed midday blue eyes that sat large in his face, not quite balanced out by a strong nose and full mouth.

The curve of his neck, strong but almost slender; the set of his shoulders, masculine but streamlined, the body muscled but lean; men like Quintus danced the line between pretty and handsome. A rounding of the jaw, a certain set of the eyes, a half inch there and a quarter turn here, and Quintus had come down firmly on the side of pretty with handsome close enough to lean over and lay its head on his shoulder.

He’d noticed Quintus’s beauty before, on more than one occasion. But now his mind fought to put it in the context of a different choice, a life unlived.

“Will you require another Handler, Agent St. James?”

Torrin blinked. “What?”

“You’re staring, trapped in a thought cycle. There is a great deal on your plate right now and you have no time for what ifs. Do you require another Handler to get through the last of the trial or shall we move past this?”

Torrin nodded. “We’re past it. I’m fine.” He looked down at the papers and started going through clauses and signing agreements. Had he ever touched Quintus intimately before they became Handler and agent? He seemed to remember touching his face while they were shielded. Had that happened? The holes and blurs in his long-term memory gaped in mocking, but Torrin could almost feel the smooth skin glide beneath his hand like silk and cream, leaving the imagination open to what the rest would feel like.

“Agent St. James!”

Torrin looked up and fought to focus. He’d begun to trance unintentionally.

“Did I project?”

“Yes.”

Well, damn. Torrin rubbed his face and laid his forehead on the table. The cool wood calmed his thoughts. The scent brought to mind home and safety. He and Sky had bought a table similar to this one ... similar. Sky and Quintus shared a similar pale beauty, though Sky’s was darker, richer, aged ivory rather than new snow. But it had looked stark against the grain of the wood as they christened the new table. Would Quintus be even more striking against the mahogany? Would his cries sound as intimate and soul-searing off the unfamiliar walls of the safe room? Black hair spilling--raven feathers on wood--the way Sky’s had fanned like rubies tossed in the sun. No, in the snow, rubies in the snow, the two of them naked against the wood.

“Agent St. James!”

SHIFTING PASSIONS ~ Excerpt

His heartbeat sped up but Nathan wasn’t sure why. He and Armand had been talking about kids lately. But he didn’t think his biological clock was ticking quite so loudly at thirty-three that even talk about someone else having a child should do that to him.

“I have no idea if he’s right, Nathan. I got the hearing and some damn good night vision, even a little strength when it counts. But as attracted as I am by scents, I can’t pick up fertile cycles and all that crap. Do I smell all fertile and ready to breed to you?”

She lifted up to look at him. Her eyes narrowed and he immediately schooled his features and spoke as if he wasn’t being scrutinized.

“Your hair smells great and so does the vanilla and honey body wash you used. But neither of them tells me anything. I don’t think I’m sniffing about the right end to check for what you’re asking.”

Lena sat up fully. “This is a Canid thing isn’t it? You’re looking for some excuse to do the whole bottom sniffing thing. I gotta tell you, Nate, that is just weird.”

“Hey, you’re the one who asked me if you’re going to be sitting on the neighbor’s fence yowling to the heavens waiting for some tomcat to come and help you through being in heat. I’m just trying to help a Felid-sistah out.”

Deep but feminine laughter rang out and Nathan knew he’d done his job. She’d forgotten about wallowing over the lost promotion and it was now about the two of them again.

With the clean, easy, grace of her breed, she straddled his thighs and placed her hands on his chest.

“Can you really tell if I’m fertile and going to go baby crazy in the next fifteen months? Have you ever been able to scent that on me?”

She was still smiling but he could tell it was a serious question. He covered her hands with his own.

“Have you been thinking about children a lot lately and not sharing?”

“Yes.”

Nathan blinked. He hadn’t expected such an abrupt and direct answer. Although he wasn’t sure why, abrupt and direct were Lena’s hobbies. “What kind of things have you been thinking?”

She shrugged and looked at their hands instead of his eyes. “I don’t know. Lots of things. Random things mostly.” Her gaze nailed him suddenly. “I’ve still got dibs on your spermy-guys right? You said it was still a valid contract from college. And Armand didn’t mind the last time we talked.”

Nathan didn’t even think to joke about it. Promise of healthy genetic material was not a joking matter among Therian Females, even if they were only half Therian. He’d learned that second-hand from the size of the bruise once left on his brother-in-law’s face by his older sister. Nathan planned to never be on the receiving end of a first-hand lesson.

“Yes, you still have dibs. And Armand didn’t just say it was okay, he offered his own as well.”

She laughed again and nodded. “He said I could happily have it as a direct deposit for however many times it took to be successful, I remember.”

Her laughter grew but it didn’t have the same uplifting effect on Nathan this time around. She laughed because she didn’t think Armand was serious but Nathan knew better. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Lena.



Copyright © 2008 XakaraAll rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication

Never Too Late

The gothic glamour of the Dunvegas Hotel and Casino was lost on Gaelle as she headed toward the private elevator to meet Evan. It had been a long day and all she could think about was the fact that Joel was supposed to be with them. The three of them had planned the trip eighteen months earlier when they’d started their business together.

Vivify had been Joel’s baby. Combining Gaelle’s talents with plant life, Evan’s business sense and immortal contacts, and Joel’s love of adventure, the three had launched an entire line of herbal supplements used to increase preternatural pleasure. It touched on everything from drops to relieve depression, to oils that promoted blood flow to erogenous zones, to creams that when used right, would make even an incubus impressed.

Joel had built their first greenhouse with his own hands and talked about the day they’d need dozens of warehouses to keep up with the demand once they went national after breaking out at the ParaPleasure Expo. In the first six months, their online business and little boutique shop had boomed to his delight, and it seemed his plans would come to pass. Only Joel wouldn’t live long enough to see it.

They’d all known he was on borrowed time. The heart defect he’d been born with was a product of his mixed human and daemon heritage. It was inoperable, and as an infant, medical science had given him a life expectancy of five years. Alternative medicine and a little preternatural science had added nearly thirty years to that in the end. But finally, at thirty-three, his too-human heart could no longer fuel a more-than-human body and he was gone. It had been a long year without him and she and Evan had finally learned to laugh and smile again, but it would never be the same without Joel. Every smile would be tinged with a touch of sadness.

It was supposed to be the three of them. It had always been the three of them. It should have always been so. They were confidants, and co-conspirators, and best friends, and they could have been even more if Joel had just lived a little longer.

Gaelle slowed and looked at the drooping ficus tree tucked into a corner nook beside the elevator. The one there at the start of the day had been proud and vivacious, but over the course of the day had been traded out for this more humble offering. It wasn’t a bad tree. The braided trunk was healthy and the branches sturdy, but it seemed nearly as down and depressed as Gaelle herself. She walked over and ran a hand across the once-vibrant green leaves.

“Hey little guy, looks like neither one of us is quite in the right mindset for all of this. We should try to perk up for Joel’s sake. I know he’s watching.”

She’d felt Joel’s spirit for the last few weeks, his vibration getting stronger each time. It was like that the first year after a death if a soul stayed to linger. There’d be no way to know if he was sentient and remembered her until he could manifest. Not everyone stayed intact when they remained. He might be no more than a strong memory and until she knew, Gaelle wasn’t getting her hopes up. But she would let the feel of him bring a smile as it always did. She passed that smile on to the ficus and watched as its branches lifted and new leaves emerged and unfurled. By the time it was as lush and lively as she could make it, Gaelle herself felt more alive and ready to take on the rest of the Expo.

***

The elevator chimed and Evan stepped out as Gaelle turned to look at him.

“There you are.” He smiled, looking past her. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist making new friends with all of this foliage tucked everywhere.”

“The little guy just needed a pick-me-up.” She laughed.

He could see the flush of giddiness in her aura from the use of her power. It was also evident in the way her hand lovingly caressed the leaves. She didn’t touch him that way. He pushed aside the small pang of envy and extended his sensory Psi until he could feel the caress on his own skin. The sensation pulled him toward her, growing stronger as he got closer, but he stopped cold just shy of arm’s reach.

“Joel.”

He could feel his best friend’s fingers move along his neck in tandem with the psychic caress from Gaelle. The strong scent of vanilla and sawdust assaulted him. That was Joel completely; if he wasn’t building he was baking, enjoying anything that let him work with his hands. What he was working at the moment was Evan.

“Evan?” The psychic touch became a heavy, warm, physical one as Gaelle placed her hands on his face. “Are you all right?” Her fingers slid down the sides of his neck, overlapping the touch from Joel.

“I’m fine.” He grinned, dizzied and swaying with the pleasure of it. “Joel’s here. Stronger than he’s been before.”

He slid his arms around her and pulled her flush to his front as he felt Joel’s ghostly form mold against his back. Giving in rather than fighting it, he let the press of Joel’s will lead him right where he’d wanted to be for so long—locked in a kiss with Gaelle.

He could feel her surprise, yet she yielded rather than withdrew, soft, full lips parting beneath his own. The black Versace jacket and dove-gray silk shirt he wore may as well have been misted to nothingness along with Gaelle’s scarlet silk halter dress and matching jacket, because each place they touched sent a thrill of skin-to-skin contact almost beyond nudity. It was as if they shared the first few layers of cells between them, the nerve endings reaching out and nuzzling against each other in a pleasure cascade reminiscent of Evan’s Vampire heritage.
Each moan vibrated through them from head to toe, and for the first time since late adolescence Evan wanted to drink someone in the way he drank in the kiss. Dormant fangs ached but then no sooner than he acknowledged the desire then the pleasure of her lifeforce flowing into him took them both.
The world consisted of shuddering moans, frictioning bodies, and intertwining minds for a space of minutes that lasted days. A rush of release hit them both and then all at once the connections were gone. They were separate beings again and Joel’s presence evaporated. Unsupported by the burst of ghostly Psi energy, they fell against the wall with a heavy thud and Gaelle laughed out loud.

“Well, that was…unexpected. What happened?” she panted.

Evan shook his head and then laid it back against the wall, catching his breath before he spoke.

“Joel happened. I wasn’t expecting him to be so…”

He could only shake his head again; there were no words. That had been Joel. Not a memory or a shadow of him, but Joel the way he’d been when alive. He’d lost the man he was in love with and now Joel was back just as Evan was reconciling his feelings for the woman in his arms. And then it had all exploded in one big Psi Sensate Orgy. How did you articulate something like that?

“I could feel him too, but it was through you primarily. You must have been wide open for him to sweep into you that way.”

Heavy lids opened in time for him to see her turn toward the tree as if it held answers. Perhaps it did, for when she turned back, dark chocolate eyes stared up into his bright gray ones with suspicion and amusement.

“You were wide open, weren’t you? You were doing the extending thing.” She grinned.

He shrugged. What point was there in denying it? He’d just kissed her deep enough to tickle a rib with his tongue, too late to be embarrassed about a little vicarious caress action.

“I was doing the extending thing, yes. The tree looked so happy I thought I’d share. I guess I looked so happy, Joel thought he’d share.”

He looked around as if he expected to see his best friend standing nearby, waiting for them to recover. There was only a thankfully empty cove, meaning they’d gotten away with their little public display without an audience.

“We should head up to the suite before he decides to share again. I don’t want to end up making out on the lobby tiles. There was already one floor show for the day.”

Gaelle stood back just far enough to cross her arms. “It wasn’t that guy’s fault. He didn’t see her and it was an accident. And I’m sure he could have done without you laughing in the corner.”

Evan put his arm around her waist and began to walk them to the elevator. “I’m sure that with her lying beneath him, he didn’t even notice.” He placed his key card in the slot and the lift doors slid apart. “But if it makes you feel better, I’ll let him know that karma came my way in the south foyer should I find myself in conversation with him.”

She seemed satisfied with the option and let him lead her out of the little cove into the spacious smoked glass and obsidian lift. He didn’t think for a minute that she was really concerned about the unfortunate fellow from earlier in the day. It was just a way to avoid talking about the fact that Joel was there, truly there with them, and what that might mean. A year of mourning, and weeks of wondering, and now here it was and he didn’t blame her for stalling.

“I told Joel I was in love with him at his funeral,” he blurted. One of them had to say something, and that worked just as well as anything.

“So did I,” she replied.

He started to laugh, stepping over to the side of the elevator and placing his back against the cool glass. His head tilted back and his eyes slipped shut.
“So that’s it, huh? He’s finally strong enough to come back and wants to cash in on what we waited too late to say.”

“Probably.” She nodded, knowing he could still sense her movements. “Although, I think he specifically wants to cash in on number 17 on his list.”
Ebon lashes lifted and he ran a pale hand through short raven locks as an entirely different kind of laugh took him.

“Ah, wonderful number 17, getting the three of us in bed together. I remember the list well. That was also number 23 and 41 if I recall correctly.” The laughter died to a soft, sad smile. “He never pushed it because he was afraid you’d run away.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I told him at the hospital in those last days that I wouldn’t have run. I love you both enough that the idea never frightened me. But he always saw me as too human to trust in that. With so little time left, he was too afraid to mess things up between us and then die without it being resolved. I couldn’t blame him for that.”

Evan just stared at her for a second. Then blinked and cleared his throat.

“I heard everything you said, and I’m sure I have something sage and compassionate to say in reply. But can we go back to the part where you love me enough that the idea never frightened you? I’d like to hone in on the love part until I’m clear.”

It was Gaelle’s turn to shrug. “You were there for the kiss and whatever else we’re supposed to call that.”

“I was going with meta-sex,” he interrupted.

“Okay, you were there for the ‘meta-sex’; you felt what I was feeling. You weren’t projecting, that was me.” She paused, her head tilting to the left. “Well, some of it was Joel, but the part that was me was definitely me.”

He stared, a smile of disbelief taking him. “You’re awfully forthcoming all of a sudden.”

“I can afford to be.” She grinned. “I felt you as well. I’m not putting anything on the line because I already know your feelings. It makes being forthcoming rather easy. Not to mention I’m still feeling no pain after all of that.”

The elevator ride was so smooth that it took them a moment to realize it had come to a stop but the doors hadn’t opened. Before either of them could speak, the scent of vanilla and sawdust assailed Evan and beneath it was something heady and sweet. The scent of blood. As a Dhamphir he was only part vampire and he didn’t possess the bloodlust of his father’s side. But the drug-like joy of the Drink was something that could still capture him, and he could taste Gaelle in the suddenly small-seeming space.

“Gaelle,” he rasped. “Please, stay unafraid.”

It was all he had time to say before he had her pressed against the side of the elevator. Overcome by the feel of Joel as well, she managed to turn her back to Evan and grip the handrail just before he got to her. He pressed his pelvis against the high, taut roundness of her and lifted heavy mahogany curls to place his lips to the galloping pulse in her throat. He sucked at the molasses-hued skin without breaking it, pulling tiny droplets through her pores.

The press of Joel’s form at his back nearly paused him long enough to ask if they could at least make it to the suite rather than give security a private show via the cameras. But buried beneath the building sensations and enticing droplets of blood, he couldn’t care long enough to form a coherent sentence.

Besides, part of him knew it wouldn’t have done any good. Sex in a private elevator was number 34 on Joel’s list of things he wanted to do before he died. It apparently was never too late to accomplish your goals.

***
“Cameras.”

It was all she said, all Evan figured she could say in the moment. It took him a moment to connect the word to the fact that he’d stripped her jacket from her and shed his own suit coat to feel the heat of her bare back through the thin silk of his shirt. At the rate he was going he’d have them naked before whatever Joel was doing took over.

“Corner.” He managed as a reply, lifting his right arm from her and placing it against the side of the elevator.

There was no need to explain further. The camera was a tennis ball sized globe in the northeast corner of the elevator nearest the doors. It could see the entire space but the closest thing it had to a shadowed zone would be its opposite southwest corner. Gaelle ducked under his arm and rushed to the corner in a burst of Psi-fed speed that was just fast enough to have her make it before Evan’s predatory instincts had him on her again.

Her back was still to him, for which he was grateful. It slowed him down, forced him to plan and think about where he’d place each kiss and how he’d suckle each drop to the surface. If she’d been facing him, he’d have bitten her already, the easy access too much to overcome. He didn’t believe he’d hurt her, but he was rusty at the mechanics of The Drink and had never done it without direct sex involved. That was more of a floor show than he wanted to give if he could help it.

He just wasn’t sure he could help it.

“Joel, a little help here,” he thought frantically as his hand slipped inside of the halter dress to cup Gaelle’s breast. It would take just a tiny movement to have the dress on the floor and he wanted her open to him more than anything.

And so it was. Just as thinking about her blood had brought the sensation and taste of drinking, Evan was now taken in by the feeling of her naked in his arms, pressed against his own nude body. He knew it wasn’t true. At least, he hoped it wasn’t. But he decided if they really were stitch-less in the elevator for all of security to see, there was no reason not to make the most of it.
He kissed the slope of her neck and down along her shoulder, his teeth capturing the dark skin in delicate, sensual bites that ended as soon as they began. His hands learned the curves of her body in a way their friendship had never given opportunity, but imagination had given ample exploration. His body fed on the sounds coming from her as much as the tiny beads of blood he nursed through skin.

She gripped the handrails and arched her pelvis to his touch as he reached for her slick sex. His fingers slipped between her folds and played the hard bud of flesh at the top expertly, teasing the mini-erection out of its clitoral hood to meet more of his gentle attentions.

Phantom lips brushed over his fingers and then heartbeats later became solid, warm, seeking. Evan’s hand was nuzzled aside as the new mouth claimed its prize.

“Joel,” Gaelle moaned and moved against him.

Evan caressed the face he’d missed over the last year, he brushed the thick sable curls he’d wanted to see spilled on his pillow, and he listened to the sighing moans caught in Joel’s throat as his friend feasted upon Gaelle. For a moment the ache of the last year was so acute that Evan was nearly thrown out of the psychic weave of fantasy. The ache quickly melted under the press of Joel’s naked body against his back. It was impossible, as Evan still had his fingers entwined in Joel’s curls where his head was buried between Gaelle’s thighs.

“There are benefits to life on this side of death,” Joel whispered.

There was no time for response as the twin images maneuvered the bodies between them. Evan groaned as he was stroked along the length of his shaft in a sweet, torturous grip. The tight, straining head was brought to Gaelle’s flooded opening and a tilt of his hips, and steady pressure from Joel at his back, sent Evan sinking into her.

Evan’s mouth clamped to her neck and he held them both still, adapting to the tight wetness spasming around his length. His body tried to relax and tense at once as Joel pressed into him, sinking slowly into his body with the same ease Evan had joined himself to Gaelle. There was no pain, no discomfort, no sense of intrusion, merely the blessed, erotic fullness of being penetrated. Apparently there were indeed benefits to the other side of death when it came to the perfect seduction.

Joel’s hands held Evan in place by the hips as his twin image did the same to Gaelle. The two of them stood locked between the languid push of Joel’s pelvis and the lazy explorations of his tongue as his manifested will did double duty. The dedicated administrations caused Evan to move in shallow thrusts inside Gaelle’s bent and braced body, moving him over the hardening, quarter-sized nerve bundle again and again in time to Joel’s tongue on her clit. She spasmed around his length in a continuous wave, the contractions growing stronger as the mini-quakes of pleasure stacked up toward an earth-shaking release.

Evan clenched his jaw as he tried to hold back against the pleasure onslaught. Then all at once Gaelle became a velvet fist around him, milking conscious thought away, and he let go. His jaw sprung open, his mouth latched onto her throat and his teeth slipped free, bringing a ejaculatory rush of blood that matched the shuddering flush throughout his body as he spilled into her.

Joel’s mirror images increased their efforts, tearing another orgasm from Gaelle before his own manifested form cried out. The release swept through the three of them in a continuous wave and they came to the floor of the elevator in a tangle of bodies.

Three bodies.

Three, flesh and blood, fully clothed bodies.

It took Evan a moment to process it all and then to cap the overwhelming encounter with the fact that Joel was truly there sans mental projection. He reached out with trembling fingers and touched the all-to-solid arm. An arm clad in the exact dove gray silk shirt Evan himself wore. In fact, Joel’s attire was identical to Evan’s in every way save the small skull and crossbones pin in place of the throat closer on the rounded collar. Assured the arm was real, Evan gave it a solid punch.

“We. Have. A. Room.”

Joel’s only response was a laugh as he rose with the grace of the bodily-challenged and pulled his friends with him. Immediately engulfed in their embrace he managed to kiss them both before replying.

“I thought I’d cross off two things at once. I’ve got a lot of time to make up for here. Besides, it’s not like they saw what actually happened. Another one of those perks on this side of things.”

The elevator chimed and they began to ascend again.

Joel looked up at the changing numbers. “Hmm, must be harder to hold the mechanism while holding form,” he whispered. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time.”

The doors glided apart as Evan and Gaelle slipped back into their respective jackets and smoothed themselves back to presentable parameters. There was so much that Evan wanted to say, but he’d engaged in all the public intimacy he could take for the night, meta or otherwise. Still, as they followed Joel down the short hall to the double doors of their suite, Evan couldn’t help but ask the thought bouncing around his mind.

“What happens now?”

Joel grinned over his shoulder and turned to face them, walking backwards towards the doors. “A great many things happen now. This,” he said, placing his hands on his chest, “Is not just a vague shape formed out of memory. I needed your energy the way a ghost would to manifest, but I’m truly here now that I’ve crossed the veil-line. My Daemon half is paying off in spades finally. I can manifest as one of them instead of your average ghost.

“You know what this means, right?”

Evan looked to Gaelle as her entire being lit up.

“The possibilities are endless.” She smiled.

Joel took their hands and pulled them along with him. “They are indeed, and I know just where to start.” He laughed. “I made a list and everything.”

***
Curtis Ladd sat back from the security console and reset the elevator’s surveillance feed. He pulled out the memory card containing the incident and turned it between his fingers, its contents the only record of the unauthorized manifestation. There was no threat of losing his job over the reset. No one cared about monitoring the general Psi Sensors enough to double check behind him. They couldn’t even spare a second set of eyes for the night and Curtis spent his entire shift in the security cubical alone.

Most of the expensive Psi equipment, and eyes to watch it all, were tucked in the casino security cage, set up to catch cheaters trying to read the dealers’ cards or nudge the roulette wheel in their favor. The hotel owner simply didn’t feel threatened by Psi ability enough to make it a priority beyond protecting his money. Of course Mr. Fritz might change his mind on Psi in general if he knew of a couple that could feed a manifestation and pull it right past the hotel’s shields to create a fully fleshed form, complete with clothing.

The hotel had Psi boosters to aid their ghostly employees and guests alike but there were alarms for unauthorized use. Not a single one of which went off during the entire elevator episode. That was a rare talent that could be deeply useful, and usefulness would definitely pique Fritz’ interest. Curtis couldn’t let that happen.

He knew Fritz through reputation only. All of it bad. So bad that Curtis had no intention of letting the pair—the trio now—come anywhere near the wizard’s radar. It was selfish, in part. Curtis had his own uses for what he’d seen on the camera feed. But at least his uses were on the up and up. Mostly.

He sat back and closed his eyes, fondling the memory card between his fingers. The images began to replay through his mind in perfect detail. Not that they could do any less as his Cyber-Psi ability uploaded the recording directly to his optic nerves. He was aroused all over again, clearly seeing the third participant and the dual efforts of the phantom lover.

Curtis could almost feel what they were feeling, and then suddenly he got a load of feelings all his own. The sensation of a warm mouth forming around his straining erection popped his eyes open. He looked down to see the head of dark red curls becoming clearer, tangible, along with the rest of the curvaceous body. It took him a breath to collect himself before he stopped her wonderful intentions.

“I appreciate the thought, love, but I’ve got something to tell you. I think I found another component.” He pulled her up and into his lap, ignoring the lack of proper weight. If he had his way, soon enough she’d be as solid as she once was. “It won’t be long now. I think by next year this time, we’ll be ready. Next year and it all changes.”

He held up the memory card for her to see.

“But for now, I have some new friends I want you to meet.”

Copyright October 2007

The Surrogate

The Surrogate
By Xakara

The world tilted sharply to the left and Larry grasped the crib to steady himself. The small, fragile looking bundle inside barely stirred and Larry brought a hand to his bloated stomach, willing the nausea to pass.

“Probably poisoned me, the pansy-bastard.”

It was a soft grumble as he caressed the paunch he blamed on his brother’s cooking. What kind of man left behind a track scholarship and any hope of the Olympics to transfer to cooking school his senior year of college? He was good at it, and there all these restaurant and cooking shows on television now but that didn’t make it right. Hell, if his shoulder hadn’t blown out his junior year, Larry would have gone pro and been pitching the majors the last ten years. Instead he’d gone into the family business, spending the family and watching his baby brother throw away a real life to cook.

“He’s not a man,” he said down to the newborn bundle in the crib. “If not for me you wouldn’t even be here. Scott can’t even get a girl pregnant right, but who knows what kind of baby he would have made anyway.”

The touched the downy cheek and opened the swaddling blanket to get a good look at his son. His nephew to the rest of the world, but Larry knew little Danny was his son. He’d made sure of it. He’d had to when Scott and Laura had told him they were searching for a male surrogate for their baby.

“Even used the pansy word surrogate instead of sperm donor, like he’s so smart. Obviously not smart enough to get the job done.”

Larry couldn’t have been more offended. They were going to get some stranger, so guy off the street to knock Laura up with a kid who would inherit the Lindford money like he was really a Lindford. It wasn’t right. Their grandfather had worked from nothing and that couldn’t be passed on to some stranger’s baby, to the son of some guy so hard up he was selling his sperm to make ends meet. No, Larry had taken things in his own hand to insure the Lindford legacy.

It had been easy actually. He’d convinced them both that what they needed was a wild blowout night of drinking and partying until they were too relaxed to be uptight about it. It happened to couples all the time, the moment they stopped trying they came up knocked and the rest was history. Larry had been a bit surprised when they conceded his point. From there it has been just been a matter of the right drops in the right cocktails and bam, everything was as it needed to be. Just like back in college.

Scott had been out cold and whatever inhibitions Laura had were out the window. She’d called him Scott the entire time, but that was okay. He knew somewhere inside she knew it was really Larry, the brother she should have ended up with. If not for the brief fling with her sister that ended badly back in school, it would have been his big house full of laughter, and his soft bed and soft wife, living a soft life his pansy brother had stolen from under him.

But he’d shown Scott. He’d done it right in their bed, with Scott not three feet away. It had been thrilling in the sheer spitefulness of it. But at night when all alone and thinking back, Larry had to admit it had been a bit frightening too. It was like a possession at one point. He couldn’t stop. He’d emptied into over and over again, for so long he was nearly afraid Scott would begin to wake up before he was through. He’d wondered if anything would be left of him or if his very life would empty out with the last orgasm.

He’d been chafed and sore and barely able to put on underwear the next day. He hurt in places and ways he didn’t know he could and sex had been the last thing on his mind for weeks afterward. But it had all been worth it when he got the call that Laura was knocked and due in the spring. It was fascinating to watch her grow, something he got to do up close and personal when he moved into their guest room. He still wasn’t sure how that happened. They’d been so grateful his suggestion worked that they’d treated him almost like he was the one pregnant.

All the damn attention and food, no wonder the athletic body he’d been careful to maintain had gone to shit. Back in his condo alone he could control things, but here, it was all about Scott and the restaurant and try this here and taste that there. And maybe some of it had been guilt watching his brother being all adorning for the months leading to Danny’s birth. Eating made Larry feel better about what he’d done. It made seem more like sympathy eating for the pregnancy he’d helped insure. Only now there was nothing good or sympathetic about it. Now it was just pain and dizziness since Laura had gone into labor.

With the kid out now he’d figured whatever pheromones she was filling the house with would have stopped bothering him but the sharp pains and cramps had only gotten worse after everyone had gone to bed. They’d had a touching-feely home-birth and Larry had been left out, calling friends and relatives like a good second-string when he should have been the one coaching her through that breathing crap and—

Larry lurched away from the crib just in time and caught himself on his hands and knees beside it. He thought he was going to retch and welcomed it if it meant the pain was over but nothing happened. He rolled over on his back and panted up at the ceiling, his hand gingerly touching a belly that had become tender and tight in the few minutes of watching the baby. He tried to call out but knew Laura was too exhausted from the birth and Scott to far away to hear him.
He lay helpless, his belly rippling and stretching while he bit back screams for Little Danny’s sake. The world grayed out and then there was the feeling of a cool towel wiping along his forever. Fevered eyes opened to look up at his brother sitting beside him.

“Scott?”

“Shh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was already time. I would have given you the muscle relaxants I had prepared. But with Daniel come early, I was distracted. But it shouldn’t be long now.”

Larry didn’t understand and reach for his brother. “Scott,”

“It’s okay, Lar, it’s almost over. But I want to thank you for what you did. Laura said with what happened with her sister in college it was a guarantee you’d step up and be our surrogate. It was a hard decision, I mean, no matter we’re still family. But it’s the way of Laura’s people to let actions determine fate.”

A tear splashed down on Larry’s face and he bit back a scream and pain lanced through his pelvis.

“What’s happening, Scott.”

His brother wiped his face gently, paying no mind to his own tears as he watched his only brother suffer.

“Laura’s people have been away from Faerie for too long, Lar. She wasn’t strong enough to carry both twins. You fed her enough to strengthen her for the transfer. You made sure our daughter would live. But it’s killing you Larry. Your organs have been liquefying for weeks. She’s absorbed most of your fat stores and the placenta has been mimicking kidney and liver functions as those organs were eaten away. You won’t survive Larry. But you’ve seen Daniel, Deanna will be just as beautiful.”

No longer able to hold back, Larry let out a hoarse scream as his skin seemed to stretch and rip. He watched his brother work his hands into a slit above his belly button that split straight down with the gentle force Scott’s fingers. He lifted a bloody, squirming bundle from the near empty cavern of his brother’s body and Larry heard an indignant infant squall ring out through the room.

Larry’s softer death rattle went unheard.

Copyright 2007