"We'll figure something out. . . ." Mirceo trailed off when feminine laughter sounded from inside the villa. "For now let's enjoy the present. Our entertainment has arrived."
_______
The night's becoming a blur.
Mirceo's surprise was a trio of ravishing nymphs--a pale redhead, an olive-skinned brunette, and a curvaceous blonde--who made their home in Dacia. After flirting, teasing, and drinking, the five had ended up on Mirceo's mammoth bed.
But Cas's mind was wandering. He hadn't resigned himself to never seeing the outside world again. Just don't do anything rash until then, Tina.
Not as Cas had done. Yes, he'd taken a night to contemplate his decision to come here, but he'd spent it imagining a future with Kosmina. . . .
Mirceo's banter with one of the nymphs roused him from his thoughts. As usual, the prince had focused his attentions on a redhead. When Mirceo laughed at the female's playful teasing, Cas grew distracted, scarcely noticing as the other two removed their tops.
For weeks, Cas had watched Mirceo bed any available beauty--they'd even shared females--but Mirceo's enjoyment of that redhead irritated Cas for some reason.
Like claws down a chalkboard. Was it because Cas had drunk too much tonight?
The prince caught him frowning, so Cas averted his gaze, reaching for the busty brunette to knead a plump breast. That delight should have filled his shaft with blood, but he . . . flagged. She even stroked his horns--which demons loved. So why did he wish this night was already over? As he dropped his hand, he found Mirceo's attention on him.
The air between them seemed taut. Awareness prickled. Why had Mirceo's addictive scent--sandalwood with a hint of blood--never registered with him before? Why had Cas never noticed the heat his vampiric body gave off?
The redhead noticed them staring at each other. "You two should kiss."
With a smile in his tone, Mirceo said, "What an intriguing idea, tulip." The vampire traced to sit beside him at the foot of the bed.
"Hardly," Cas said. "I only pleasure females."
The brunette stood, crossing her arms over her chest. "Nothing would pleasure us more than seeing you two masculine specimens lock lips."
The blonde stood as well, leaving Cas and Mirceo on the bed. She joined the other two--nymphs in solidarity.
Mirceo laughed again, treating Cas to that rich, throaty sound. "It's just a lark, sweetheart. Something to titillate our ladies. I can scent them growing wet in anticipation."
The redhead said, "Perhaps the demon hunter isn't as secure in his tastes as we thought."
Cas raised his brows. "I'm very secure." He knew two things about his sexuality. I've always been attracted to females, and I've never been attracted to males. So why did Mirceo's vampire charisma seem to get stronger every day?
Maybe Cas should press his lips to Mirceo's--to cure himself of this growing obsession with the prince.
Clasping her hands in front of her chest, the redhead said, "Pleeeeease. Something to remember for the rest of our eternal lives."
Cas turned toward Mirceo to crack a joke. "I've done a lot of things to get laid, but--"
The vampire's mouth met his.
Sensation flooded Cas, electricity crackling up and down his spine. Too much, too . . . He tensed to jerk away, but Mirceo darted his tongue between Cas's parted lips.
Fuuuck. Their tongues touched. Cas's head swam.
Stop. What the hell are you doing? STOP.
The vampire threaded his fingers through Cas's hair to draw him even closer. Breaking away from Mirceo's carnal mouth felt impossible. Some kind of madness was overtaking him! He found himself . . . giving a tentative flick of his pointed tongue. Then another. Why can't I stop?
The prince submitted, letting him delve. Tasting Mirceo. Exploring this. The vampire's lips yielded beneath his own.
Curiosity goaded Cas to take another lick. A nip. One more taste, then he'd end this. One more dip into this unfamiliar well.
Yet soon raw lust overwhelmed curiosity. He slanted his mouth over the vampire's, demanding more. Their tongues twined, their breaths gone ragged. My gods, this feels so fucking good.
Dimly, Cas realized the giggling females were closing the bedroom door behind them.
He roused, his mind struggling to come back online. Mirceo's moan slammed him right back into this kiss.
Just one last taste. . . .
FIVE
Cas collapsed at the vampire's side. They lay sprawled on the bed, heaving breaths, both still dressed.
Cas threw an arm over his face. What the hell just happened? Sweat coated his body. Shock consumed him.
He shifted his arm to glance at Mirceo. When the prince stretched with a smug grin and a sound of satisfaction, one word blasted through Cas's head.
ESCAPE.
He shot upright. I just got off with Mirceo.
The prince's smile faded. "This isn't so monumental a thing, Caspion. Just a lark. Just pleasure." Of course it was just pleasure to him.
While Cas felt scalded and exposed--as if his entire body were a new wound--Mirceo remained unchanged, offering nothing else of himself.
"We still have our pants on." With a hint of amusement in his eyes, the vampire said, "Though mine are filled with semen."
The intoxicating scent of it made Cas' cock stir for more. What godsdamned power did Mirceo wield over him?
Whatever the vampire saw in his expression made him sit up. "Be at ease, friend."
"At ease?" Cas had never felt more lust for another. How had he gone from desiring only females to desiring Mirceo? Wait . . . Cas's eyes narrowed. "You fucking mesmerized me." Taking away my choice!
Mirceo's brows drew together. "Caspion, I did not. I don't possess that ability."
"You must have. I'm straight. Why would I want another male?"
"Because our minds are synced. Because we care for each other. Our friendship has grown into more."
"No, that doesn't explain . . ." My explosive lust. For Cas, a male who required control in all things, this situation was terrifying. He tried to say more but his throat felt too constricted.
Can't breathe. His gaze darted. ESCAPE.
"Calm yourself, demon, and think about this. You can't leave. My uncle Trehan will find you, and he will kill you. He carries death in his pocket."
Trehan Daciano. Cas had met the centuries-old Prince of Shadow this week. The grim, unsmiling assassin always carried his weapon--a sword with a crossguard in the shape of a crescent moon--and he was notoriously skilled with it.
But if Mirceo didn't reveal details, how could that soulless bastard find a single demon of no importance? Cas could return home and try to regain some semblance of his life.
ESCAPE NOW.
Mirceo raised his palms. "I can help you. Just give me time to figure this out. Let me help you."
"Don't tell Trehan where I live, Mirceo." Cas tensed to trace. "You owe me this after what you've done." You made me a mindless slave. You took away my choice, my control.
Sadness filled Mirceo's gray eyes. "They know when someone leaves. Trehan will find and kill you before dawn--"
Cas teleported away. An instant later, he materialized into his small loft in Abaddon. What have I done? Sweat covering him, he leaned against his door, about to vomit. Paranoia gripped him by the throat. Kill me before dawn?
No, no. Mirceo would never tell his uncle where to find Cas. Hell, Mirceo never listened to him, probably didn't even know Cas hailed from a backwater dimension like Abaddon.
Claws digging into the door, he struggled to process this night. He'd come with Mirceo, harder than he knew was possible. And I'd still craved more of him--
Commotion sounded from a nearby thoroughfare. He crossed to a window and cautiously peeked out. The swampy hamlet he'd left a month ago was packed with various Loreans.
They milled about like tourists. Why would anyone visit this place?
He traced out to the street and addressed a ferine demon gnaw
ing on a pheasant leg. "What's the occasion that brings so many here?"
"Death-match tournaments in the old Iron Ring," the male said with excitement. The notorious cage arena of Abaddon hadn't been used in ages. The demon took another bite, saying, "Competitors--demons, trolls, Lykae, you name it--are teleporting in from all over the Lore. Understandable, considering the prize."
"Which is?" Cas asked, but he had a sinking suspicion in his gut. There were only two things in Abaddon that others might fight for.
"Whoever wins gets the crown of this entire demonarchy! Oh, and the hand of the princess." The male spat out a bone and walked on.
Bettina, no. A godsdamned troll could win her hand! Her guardians must have browbeaten her until she'd agreed to this.
I could enter the tournament. Could save her. A sense of being watched lifted the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. Was a killer already loose in Abaddon? I could enter, if I live till morning. . . .
SIX
Last outpost before the Plane of Lost Years Several months--or centuries?--later . . .
Mirceo was on the hunt.
As he moved through the smoky, rough-neck tavern, he grinned to himself. I, Mirceo Daciano, am chasing my fated one.