Tezcatli's Game

Praise for the writing of Willa Okati The Brotherhood: Amour Magique

What an intriguing story to start a series with! Ms. Okati has come up with a novel idea of an incubus who needs friends and wants to help them. But I’m not surprised, her stories are always creative and unique. I can’t wait for the next book. -- Joyfully Reviewed With a unique plot and a host of sexy characters, The Brotherhood: Amour Magique is a winner... From humor to intrigue, to sexual sophistication, this is a first-class read. -- Nancy Jackson, Coffee Time Romance

The Brotherhood 2: Bite Me Tie me up, tie me down, do whatever you want as long as I enjoy it as much I enjoyed The Brotherhood 2: Bite Me. The writing is fabulous, with thought processes that are just funny as hell, and when the characters start talking to themselves it’s damn hilarious. -- Sin St. Luke, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

The Brotherhood 3: The Dragon’s Tongue

I'd have read this in one sitting if real life hadn't intruded. Ms. Okati knows how to draw in a reader and keep them engrossed. Collin is very lovable. You will find yourself rooting for him to find love, and have a few giggles along the way. -- Astraea, Enchanted Ramblings

Amour Magique, Bite Me, and The Dragon’s Tongue are now available from Loose Id.

THE BROTHERHOOD 6: TEZCATLI’S GAME

Willa Okati

www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

***** This book contains substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable (homoerotic sex).

The Brotherhood 6: Tezcatli’s Game Willa Okati This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © May 2006 by Willa Okati All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

ISBN 978-1-59632-261-5 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Olivia Wong Cover Artist: Skyewolf

Dedication Ever and always for A.D., who holds my hand through every up and down of the writing process. You are my sunshine.

Chapter One When a man wants to be alone, where can he go? You wouldn’t think a place like this would suit him. Well, me. Amour Magique is everything Liam promised, and more -- lights, colors, sounds. Men thrashing around, almost primal in the way they dance. They’re beautiful, like untamed angels on a wild spree. You can all but hear their blood pounding in tune with the bass. God knows the sound of a pulse is better than disco. I think that’s what I’ll listen to. I’ll listen to the club’s beating heart. I have to, because my own is empty ... Amour Magique was an amazing building, rising several stories high in the air, with open space in the middle for music and the shouts of dancers to echo far to the ceiling. All around, wall to wall, there were nooks and crannies. Some of them contained bars, some of them resembled offices, others were observation decks with stairs twining down to the main floor. Every one of them hummed with activity -- every one except his. Quentin sat very still in his hiding place halfway between floor and ceiling, watching life churn and thrash below him in Amour Magique. God, it was wonderful. So gorgeous that it hurt, or would have hurt, if he’d had any room left in his heart to spare for aching over beauty. He sat almost as still as a statue, not moving an inch. Not a finger, not a muscle, and he was barely even blinking or breathing. He didn’t want anything to interrupt his last moments of looking down on humanity, seeing it with all its flaws and wonders. The only time he shifted was when the rickety chair he’d found wobbled, and even then he went with it, fluid as flowing water. Quentin knew he shouldn’t be lurking in his current hiding spot. Liam had let them all disperse when they’d entered the club, so if he’d followed Liam’s orders, he would be out there like the other members of the Brotherhood, a good boy, dancing and thrashing with the rest of the muscle crowd. But Quentin had taken himself off, determined to find some place where a man would be able to just sit and absorb. Somehow, he’d managed to locate the kind of hushed corner he’d wanted most of all and had taken it over. It felt almost like a box seat in a theater. He could sit in peace and quiet and observe. He could simply be. He wished he could savor the solitude. Being alone felt so much better than attending a Brotherhood meeting. Chinese food and mockery. Pretensions of friendship while every man there bared his teeth like a wild animal. It felt better than talking to Liam, who was all chatter and joie de vivre. Better than being with David, even though David was kind and soft and understood more than anyone else what made Quentin tick. He’d miss David. Quentin turned his head to look around himself, making sure he was still alone. Not a person in sight. Good. Not that they’d want to come up where he was, he supposed. Only a fool or a madman would really feel the urge to sit in the middle of a deconstructed bar. Well, maybe a couple looking for a place to have a quickie. From what he saw on the dance floor, though, that wouldn’t be a problem for most. They went at it where they stood. Others danced alone next to couples tangled together, fucking with or without their clothes on. It was amazing. It was terrifying. So much freedom. No limitations. Quentin closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Hush ... hush ... get through this. It’s only a moment. One second in time. Breathe, and then it’ll be over. Opening his eyelids, he turned around to look at the wreckage he’d claimed as his hiding place. Piles of scarred wood sat against the wall, what he supposed were the pieces of a bar. Spanish oak, he thought, remembering from another time and place how that particular wood gleamed and shone no matter how hard folks used it, or for what reason. It was a shame to waste such good material. The bar could have been fixed. So many things couldn’t. He hated to see a work of art torn apart like trash. It had been a thing of beauty, and now it was ruined. Stone-faced, Quentin pivoted back toward the dance floor. Silent, he watched the clubgoers. Idly, using one foot for leverage, he rocked his chair of scarred Spanish oak. Back, forth, back. Taking his time. He breathed. In, out, in, out, in, out. Slow and steady. He felt a little dizzy. Low blood sugar, of course. His stomach had been sour and sick-feeling, so once again he’d put off eating before coming to the club. The thought of ingesting anything, even a glass of juice, made him nauseous. Not that he wanted to steady himself. He was empty. The way he should be. Nothing less than what he deserved, after all. “You still treatin’ yourself the way you wouldn’t handle a dog?”

Quentin looked up. He smiled at the man who’d come to join him. He, at least, was welcome there. He always would be. “Zach,” he said, caressing the name on his tongue. The sound of it tasted good. Leather and hay and the great outdoors. “Zach, you came.” “Always do, with you.” Zach leaned against the guardrail of Quentin’s balcony and winked at him. Quentin couldn’t help chuckling back. He felt suddenly free and easy in his skin. Zach always made him forget about his worries. “Don’t tell me you didn’t eat before coming out tonight.” Yeah, he could forget about his worries, that was, except when Zach reminded him. Quentin flushed and glanced down a little -- but not entirely away. He didn’t want to take his gaze off the tall man, dark as ebony, strong-armed and long-limbed. Zach had taught Quentin how to ease up. He’d always lounged, even when he worked. He’d made everything look so easy ... “I’ve missed you,” Quentin said, not answering the question. “You were gone for so long this time.” “You know I don’t stay away. How could I? Man would have to be crazy to leave someone like you. Damn, Q, you’re pretty as a girl.” “Hey!” Both of them laughed. “You with that long, shiny hair and those big old ‘please, please hurt me’ eyes,” Zach teased. “We know who wears the pants, is all I’m sayin’.” Quentin’s eyelids lowered. “Just because I’m most often on the bottom doesn’t mean I’m a woman.” “Hell, no.” Zach’s own eyes, chocolate brown, darkened with want. “You put it to me so good the last time we were together.” He dropped down into a lazy crouch, reaching out. Almost touching Quentin’s thigh. Not quite. He drew in a deep, lusty breath before he glanced back up. Quentin hadn’t looked away. If it were up to him, he’d watch Zach all night long. Zach’s fingers curled and uncurled. “Tell me a story, Q.” Quentin couldn’t help broadening his smile into a grin. “What do you want to hear?” “Anything I ask for?” “Anything. I promise.” Zach looked up with darkly smoky eyes. “Tell me about the last time we were together. You and me. And I want details, Q. Give it to me. I want to hear it again.” Quentin drew in a sharp breath. Beneath the zipper of his loosely fitted khakis, he felt his cock begin to swell. Being near Zach was enough to arouse him. Hearing the man’s bedroom voice in public made him hard. “I’ll embarrass myself.” Not that he’d deny Zach. He just wanted to hear him speak again. But Zach knew what game Quentin was playing. He sank down fully onto his knees. “You don’t feel like telling me? Then how about I tell you something I remember? Last time I was here, like this ...” He flashed a look up at Quentin. Pure sex. Breathtaking. “... we were in the stables. No one else around but the horses. Just you and me. Nighttime. Dark velvet sky. Bright stars. And me ...” He shifted. “... right here. Only the way I recall, you weren’t wearin’ so many clothes.” “Zach,” Quentin breathed, his cock rising. He reached out as if to touch the closely shaven head. “Go on.” Zach knew what he was doing, Quentin could tell, and Quentin loved every second of it. “You were spread out on a square bale of hay. Legs wide open. Your gorgeous cock, man, so fuckin’ good, standing tall just for me. I rubbed my hands along your legs.” He ghosted the motion, up and down. The hairs on Quentin’s legs rose and tingled at the almost-touch. Zach leaned in, closer still, his mouth almost on Quentin’s swelling erection. “I was right here,” he said, the words coming in short bursts. “Already made you come once. Smelling you. Pure, rich manliness. Ripe. Hard day’s work. Hard night’s play. My hand and my fingers on you. Solid. Heavy. Ready to go pop. Then my mouth, my lips. Tasting you. Salty. Musky. Even better than that rich wine Ricky brewed. You remember what kind?” “Mead,” Quentin breathed. “You’re remembering mead. Heavy and smoky, tasting of heather. I was like that to you.” “No. Oh, no.” Stroke, stroke, stroke. Heavy-lidded look. “So much better.” Zach licked his mouth. “Took you between my lips. Just licking at the head. Little drops of come on my tongue. So sexy. So fuckin’ sexy. Thought I’d go off myself, just from the way you felt in my mouth.” “Zach ...” Quentin had begun to shake. “What’s wrong?” Zach looked up sharply, all play forgotten. “Damn! Quentin?” “I’m -- I’m all right.” Quentin scrambled after the lost moment. “It’s fine. Go on. Please, go on.” “Nuh uh. You got me all distracted, and you didn’t answer my question. Did or did you not feed that scrawny-ass body of yours before you came out here to play tonight?”

Quentin couldn’t help glancing away, ashamed. “No.” “Damn it, Q!” Zach stood, hands on his hips. “You know better. You’re gonna bottom out, and who’s gonna see you up here all alone?” “I wanted to find a place where we could be alone,” Quentin said. Almost begged. “Don’t be angry.” Zach eyed him fiercely for another few seconds, then sighed. He leaned back against the railing a second time. “I ain’t mad, Q. But you have got to take better care of yourself. Do you hear me? You gotta stick around for a long, long time. For me.” “No. That’s not fair.” “I want you to promise me, Quentin. Say you’ll go downstairs and get yourself a screwdriver, no vodka. Drink it up.” Quentin’s stomach turned. “I can’t.” “Damn straight you can, too. All those bars, one of them has to serve orange juice. Probably a damn smoothie. They got everything here.” “They didn’t have you.” Quentin looked back up at his lover. “Didn’t have you. I had to be sure you’d come.” “Baby, I always come for you.” Zach reached out, his wonderful dark fingers reaching to caress Quentin’s cheek -- skating away, then down toward his hand, to twine their fingers together. His hand passed through Quentin’s. Light as air. Just as solid. Zach shook his head. “Why’d this have to happen to us?” Quentin’s heart ached. He opened his mouth. “I don’t --” “Quentin!” The voice startled them apart. Quentin looked away for a second. Just one second. Too long. He felt Zach vanish from the railing. Disappear into thin air. Going, the way he always did when someone else appeared. Quentin wasn’t a violent man, but he felt inclined to murder just then. He shifted posture as the warmth of Zach’s presence faded away. From relaxed to sinuous. A snake, coiled up, ready to strike -- but waiting for just the right moment. Balanced on the edge, and empty as a dry well. “Liam,” he said. The small man clattered past a pile of broken wood. He paused to shake his head at the remains of the Spanish Oak bar. “Such a shame,” he said in clear dismay. “To throw away what is perfectly good! I must have a word with Silas.” “Silas?” Quentin asked, his voice pitched low and flat. He didn’t care about the answer, but he didn’t want any questions turned on himself. “Who is he?” Not that Liam ever paid any attention to signals. Verbal, nonverbal, Quentin was screaming at him to go away. The little man never listened. “The owner of Amour Magique. Well,” he stopped to consider, “insofar as a place such as this can have an owner. Perhaps you would be better to call him a caretaker during his time. What are you doing up here by yourself?” Ah. Quentin’s eyes squeezed shut briefly. He’d known Liam wouldn’t leave it alone if he didn’t answer. David would have. David understood things. He wasn’t any Zach, but he knew what it was like to want to be by yourself, and quiet. “It’s too much down there,” he lied. “Men, noise, sweat. There are too many -- things.” “And you, you are so single-minded.” Liam thrust his hands into his pockets as he took a couple of steps closer to Quentin. He nibbled thoughtfully at his lower lip as if he were trying to figure out what to say. Odd, to see Liam at a loss for words. Normally he chattered like a magpie. Quentin thought absently that once upon a time, before there had been Zach, he would have considered Liam cute. Without a doubt, the man was crazy, but he had a strange way about him that made you want to touch him and be touched in return. Maybe it was his curls. They were just about the color of autumn leaves. Quentin knew they’d crinkle beneath fingertips and twine around a man’s hands. He shuddered and turned aside. All he wanted was the smooth glide of Zach’s scalp. Curls couldn’t compare. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. Damn Liam, anyway. Quentin’s erection was all but gone, but his balls still felt heavy and full. Uncomfortable for more than one reason, he shifted again. Still smooth, coiling and uncoiling. “Do you want something?” he asked quietly. “Do you need help with one of the other men?” He wouldn’t call them Brothers. He never had. “What? No,” Liam said. He cocked his head to one side. “It is you, I think, who needs looking after. You were pale outside the club. I had meant to ask you if you had eaten, but then the altercation between Bree and Collin and Micah -- ah!” He shrugged expressively. “That was unforgivable of me. None of you take care of yourselves. Is the sugar in your blood too low again?” Quentin’s stomach muscles squeezed. “No,” he said without flinching.

He knew Liam knew he was lying, just as he knew Liam wouldn’t let it pass. The smaller man shook his head and dug into one pocket. “Here. I bought a chocolate at the bar below. I thought you might be in need of it.” He drew out a silver foil-wrapped morsel and stepped forward, putting the candy in Quentin’s hand and closing his fist around it. “Go on, now. Eat, eat.” Quentin’s fingers clenched. He felt the candy, warm from Liam’s body, squish between his fingers. His gorge rose. “Liam, I can’t. Truly. I’m all right.” He thrust the chocolate back into Liam’s hand. When Liam wouldn’t take it, Quentin let his treat drop to the floor. It landed in a pile of construction dust with a small puff. Like ashes. Struggling not to vomit, Quentin turned aside, looking away from Liam. “Go,” he said, his voice choked. “Just -- go, Liam. I don’t want you here. Please.” “You must listen to reason.” Quentin laughed for the first time in -- months, perhaps. He didn’t remember. It didn’t sound like his laughter used to. When he’d been with Zach, he’d chuckled, rumbled, whooped and even giggled once or twice. This sounded like the husk of dead bark, two strips of the stuff rubbing together. “Go away, Liam.” Liam started to speak, then let out his breath in a great big sigh. He stared at Quentin for a long moment. Quentin could feel that amber gaze on him, raking him up and down. He resisted the urge to shiver. Liam saw too much; he always had. He could look through a man’s armor to his soul. Quentin was willing to bet he could see through pockets to what was hidden inside. Would he say anything? Quentin held his breath. Don’t, he begged silently. Please, don’t. I have to do this. I don’t have anything left. Let me be. Let me rest up here, in peace. Let me go out the way I need. Deserve. Should. “Quentin ...” Liam said. There was another vast pause. “Eat the chocolate. For me.” Quentin stared stonily forward. “Go away, Liam.” “Will you not --” “Go away!” Quentin roared, surging up out of his seat. He would have hit Liam if the other man hadn’t jumped out of the way, backing up much too gracefully. “I want to be alone,” Quentin said, his voice dropping back to normal. He could hear the sorrow lacing his tones, and knew Liam could, too. He could see it reflected on Liam’s face. “Just ... go.” Liam shook his head. “I tried,” he murmured, to no one in particular that Quentin could see. So far as he knew they were alone together. The phrase struck him as funny, and he laughed again. Rasp, rasp, rasp. No -- like a rattlesnake shaking its tail. Warning Liam to stay away. Everyone, away. He had to be alone for what he had come up there to do. No one could see. No further than Liam had seen. That way, no one would have themselves to blame. “I tried,” Liam said again. He shook himself, as if he were covered in dust and wanted to be rid of the particles and motes. “Be careful, Quentin. No matter what else happens, be careful. Will you do this much for me?” Quentin, staring down at the dancers, through the spot where Zach had stood, made no reply. After a moment, he heard the soft scuffling sounds of Liam walking away. Gone? He waited, listening. Willing himself to hear the sounds of life above the screaming thresh of life and joy from the dance floor below. Nothing. He was by himself again. Quentin reached into the pocket of his coat. The club was cold, he told himself. That was all that made his fingers shake as he closed his fist around a capped syringe and a small glass bottle. A syringe. Empty, or so it seemed, yet it was actually full of air. Send a large enough bubble into someone’s bloodstream, and it could cause an embolism -- a person would be dead within minutes. Funny that so much destruction could come from such a small thing. He’d stolen the injector from an empty supply cabinet at work, in the clinic where he saw too many people come in every day, all so full of pain. He’d been a good doctor once. Now, even a secretary could have told him he was in danger. His blood sugar had fallen below acceptable levels, and he needed to bring it back up. He removed his hand from his pocket and looked at the needle and vial. “Way up,” he said softly. Quickly, before he lost his nerve, Quentin uncapped the syringe and plunged it into the bottle. It had already been loaded with an acceptable maximum dose for a crashing diabetic. He filled it four times past the plunger capacity, watching the liquid rise milliliter by milliliter into the syringe. Looking up, he tried to imagine he saw Zach standing in front of him. Zach. The man he’d loved with all his heart. Still loved with all his heart. His forever love, who had left him all alone. Gone where he could never return.

Quentin’s hand shook around the needle he held. “I’ll see you soon, love,” he whispered, lowering the needle to a spot just above his heart. “Very soon.” “Maybe so,” a stranger’s voice said. Quentin jumped violently, whirling around. He only just managed not to drop his needle. A man appeared around the edge of a support beam. He looked dangerous. Wild, somehow. Untamed. Perhaps it was the way his hair fell forward on his forehead, loose and black. Or his smile, a flash of teeth, an expression made for dark rooms and wicked deeds. It might even have been the unbelievable arrogance in his stance. He was a god among men -- and he obviously knew it. Quentin’s heart rate rose, hammering in his throat, at the sight of that smile, which was totally without humor. A jungle cat baring its teeth at its prey. “Maybe you’ll see me, instead. What do you think?” the stranger asked. “I’m right here waiting for you.” His fingers curled around the edge of the beam. “I’ve been here all along.”

Chapter Two I am an animal. Feel the beast inside of me. I run. I fight. I play. I fuck. I am a man, and I am a monster. I am the jaguar, and the jaguar is me, every moment. He’s closer to the surface than anyone is comfortable with. But I ride him, not the other way around. I have the power over myself. That’s why I’m alpha over all of them. I shouldn’t exist but I do. I am. I take what I want, and I know what I’m looking for. Him. Tezcatli’s game begins tonight. “I’ve been watching you,” Tezcatli said again as he stepped out from behind the balcony’s support beam. The words tasted good in his mouth, like musk and blood and honey and sex. He ran his tongue over his lips, enjoying every drop. “You,” he repeated, watching the man he’d hunted down turn pale. Beautiful. Leaning forward, Tezcatli kept one hand on the pole, resting lightly on its solid surface. It felt good to him. Cool, round, sturdy. He’d had a vampire once on a dare, had felt the man’s cock rest in his palm. The sensation had been like ivory, hard and silky. The vampire had wanted to fuck him, but he’d had the creature on its hands and knees before they’d finished wrestling. Tezcatli always won his games. Always. The gods favored him; after all, they’d given him the Great Cat Spirit, taught him how to be its master. But they demanded things back from time to time. Lately, he’d been putting off a scent, had had the urge to find a mate. The women in his clan had told him he smelled of pure lust. They’d pouted at him, wanted a place in his bed, to be positioned as beta. He’d laughed at them. They should have known better. Tezcatli liked women just fine, with their soft curves and tangling legs. But what he wanted in bed was a man. Hard. Rough. Fast. Often. And he definitely wanted the man he saw in front of him. “Quentin,” he said, so he could see what flavor the name had. It tasted like salty tears and ... come. He felt his inner Cat purr with satisfaction. A good taste. He liked it. “Quentin ...” He trailed off, teasing. Batting with his voice like the Cat would with a paw. “Why don’t you say hello? You’re not scared of me, are you?” The man sat in front of him, frozen. He looked like a robot who needed oil. Handsome as fuck, but frozen at odd angles. Looked damn silly. And the syringe in his hand ... Tezcatli narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air. Sickness. The man’s blood wasn’t good. And the drug he was about to inject ... “Put that down,” Tezcatli ordered. He thrust himself forward, leaning toward Quentin. “Did you hear me, boy? I said put it down. Now.” Quentin’s jaw hardened. His hand trembled around the syringe, but he shook his head. “No. Go away. You didn’t see any of this. You didn’t know I was here. It’ll be safer for you if no one knows.” “Too late.” Tezcatli slipped back behind the pole. Then, he leaned out the other side. Quentin still held his weapon of self-destruction poised over his heart. “I told you, no,” he warned. “Give it up, boy.” That got a reaction, the kind that made his Cat sit up and smile. Deep inside him needle-sharp teeth gleamed brightly, he knew. Quentin raised himself in his chair and almost hissed. “I’m not a boy.” “Do you think you’re a man?” Quentin blinked. “I’m just asking.” Tezcatli flickered back behind the pole. He looked out from the opposite side. “I see you,” he said, singsong, testing how the man would react to a Cat’s teasing. He wasn’t disappointed. Quentin’s hand began to shake again. “Who are you? Did Liam send you? What do you want?” Tezcatli grinned, coming back around to display himself again. He let one hand glide down his chest and his stomach. Trailed it down to his cock. Slid a finger up and down. Already half-hard. He saw the other man swallow and imagined those bite-worthy lips closing around his length. Gods, yes. Good. Quentin would be the lay of a lifetime. “What do I want?” he asked, baring his teeth. The sharp edges of them stung his mouth. He savored the pain. “I want you, Quentin. I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time. And now?” He held it for a beat. “You’re mine.” Quentin almost dropped his syringe.

Several hours earlier “Tonight is the night, isn’t it?” Oma ran her hands up the expensive cotton of Tezcatli’s undershirt. His blood needed to be good and hot for the hunt, so he’d been sparring with one of the other Cats in their cellar. Still, the fight had left him messy. If he’d been after another Cat he would have stayed rough. Let the other beast know exactly what he was up against. But no, he was going to Amour Magique. He was enough of a man to know he had to play by their rules ... play around their rules. He bared his teeth at Oma. She met him eye for eye. Oma was the most powerful among the female Cats. He would have taken her if he liked women in bed. And she knew it. Sometimes they battled, sometimes they ate together, sometimes they hunted. They shared a bond, both wanting mates, but they couldn’t take anyone who wasn’t a match for them. They needed someone powerful. Too bad they couldn’t be what the other wanted, Tezcatli thought. Then he reconsidered. No, it wasn’t. He feinted at Oma, who snarled at him and swiped at his face. He dodged easily. She backed up, her shoulders hunching. If she’d had a tail in her human form, it would have been switching back and forth. “Tonight is the night,” she said, her cadence lilting, wailing up and down the scale. A Cat’s warning cry. “You’re going to meet with him. Whoever he is. The interloper you would bring among us.” She slashed at Tezcatli. “You’re going to bring a cuckoo home into the nest.” Tezcatli leaned back against the wall and folded his arms, daring her to try again. He taunted her. “And? You have a problem with that? Something you want to share?” He paused. “You don’t have a place in my bed. The gods told me I’d find the man I’m looking for with the incubus.” Oma spat. “It’s dangerous to trust the demons and angels. They’re fallen or they’re too damned high to trust. You’re putting us all at risk by bringing in a stranger. What if he won’t come?” “Oma ...” Tezcatli uncoiled himself and reached out almost too quickly to see, first gripping and then caressing her cheek. “Mind your manners. I’ll be home later with our new beta. Or I’ll be home with blood on my claws, alone.” She showed him her fangs. He bared his own. They glared at each other, face to face, for a long moment, before she backed down. “Have it your way, Tezcatli,” she said. “Dress up like a prince, and go parade yourself. Keep your tail high and show off everything you’ve got. But when you come home, I’ll bet anything you will be alone.” She crooned the syllables. “Al-o-ne.” Tezcatli exploded. “Out! Devil woman -- get out!” She’d gone, but she’d snickered at him all the while as she went. Tezcatli had sent a vase into the wall, smashing it after her. Insolent Cat! Meddling bitch! She knew better than to challenge him, he who had the power. He was their king. Their alpha. The favored one. He glanced down at the outfit he’d chosen to wear. The dark shirt and pants had an Aztec flavor. “Sun God, Moon Goddess, grant me favor,” he recited, stroking the fabric with one finger. It rustled beneath his touch. Bewitching. “Take me to my mate.” Then, he’d tilted his head back and laughed. It was all too damn funny not to. He might come home with red paws, but he’d dip his dick into the honey before he got his fingers dirty. He savored the thought of taking a long, lean, strong body down to hard-packed earth or wooden floor. Pinning his prey’s hands and teaching him who was master. Oh, yeah. Whatever else happened, Tezcatli planned on his night being one to remember for a long, long time. He stroked himself with a lazy grin. Very long. Present moment “I watched you come in,” Tezcatli said. He let go of the pole and let his hands swing at his sides in controlled arcs. Switch, switch. Just like a tail if you knew how to read the body language. He almost chuckled. Quentin didn’t, of course, though he soon would. In fact, he’d know a Cat body damned well. “Watched you and your friends, and that ...” He sniffed the air, grimacing at the light smell of the incubus. “... Liam,” he spat. Then he turned all his attention back to Quentin, not blinking for a second. Leaning forward and invading his space -deliberately. Every move planned. Sneaking into place. “Did you feel my eyes on you? You had to have. You should have known

someone was looking. You, with your pretty hair.” He reached out and caught a long, shining brown lock, twining it around his fingers. One sharp tug for fun, then he let go with a mocking grin as Quentin made a protesting sound. A protest with a little bit of snarl. Tezcatli liked that. He dared a little more, enjoying his game, laying hands on that slim body. There were muscles underneath the coat. Oh, yes. No pretty boy who didn’t know what it felt like to run for Tezcatli. This man worked hard for his looks. Another point for him. Tezcatli pressed tighter still, his lips parted. Tasting Quentin. He’d lost the sorrow. Good! More anger, now. And fear? Fear he could work with. He’d turn it into respect. “Now, I’ve told you twice already,” he said, wrapping his hand around Quentin’s, around the syringe. “Put that damn thing down.” Quentin’s hand relaxed around the needle’s barrel. Tezcatli yanked it out of his hand. He would have thrown it against the wall, but -- plastic -- it would just bounce. He satisfied himself by squirting all the air out. The small puff sounded loud as a gunshot, and it reeked of hospitals, sickness -- death. “What the hell are you doing? Stop, stop!” Quentin protested as the poison splattered. Tezcatli didn’t give an inch, not stopping until the syringe was empty and he’d dropped it to the floor. Bending, he picked up the squashed chocolate that reeked of Liam. His lips curled, but he shoved it into Quentin’s hand. “Eat!” Quentin stared at him. Slowly, he shook his head. “No,” the man said aloud, but Tezcatli knew that tone of voice. It said one thing, but it meant he wasn’t really sure. He had to be convinced. “Eat,” Tezcatli said, taking the chocolate back. He unwrapped the morsel slowly. Crinkle by crinkle. The sweet cocoa goo stuck to his fingers. On an impulse, he thrust one out and painted a stripe across Quentin’s lower lip. “Eat.” Slowly, as if hypnotized, Quentin’s tongue flickered out where Tezcatli’s finger had been. He shuddered as he tasted the chocolate stain. Tezcatli painted his upper lip, pulling back from the touch of that pink tongue. He wanted it wrapped around his own. He’d admire it for the moment, though. It would be enough. For now. They’d have more fun soon. “Eat,” Tezcatli chanted. He lifted the melting chocolate to his mouth and placed it between his teeth. The sugar and cocoa sat heavy on his tongue. He swallowed as it made his mouth water. Bending down, dark chocolate clasped between sparkling teeth, he presented it to Quentin. He didn’t need to say it again. Eat. Quentin ran his tongue around his own lips again. He was shivering. Tezcatli pushed in, close enough for the chocolate to touch Quentin’s mouth. He let all the heat of the moment burn in his eyes, the way he knew he could. They stared into Quentin’s. Heat for cold. Scorching for cold and rainy. Eat. Eat. Eat. Quentin’s mouth closed around the sweetness. For just a moment, their lips brushed. Quentin’s eyes fell halfway shut as the chocolate melted between his teeth. Tezcatli stole a quick taste of him, before what he expected would happen happened. He wasn’t disappointed. Quentin jerked away from him, leaping out of his chair, his moves almost feline. Tezcatli followed, admiring the man. Even when someone was fucking with his head, he kept it cool. From the fall of his hair to the light balance on his toes, he was one of them -- or he should be. Maybe he would be, soon. At least Quentin had swallowed the sweet morsel. Tezcatli took that as a good omen. “Now, that’s better,” he said, his voice low and silky. “Good boy.” Quentin’s cheeks flared bright red. “Stop calling me that!” He backed up a few more steps. “I’ll call you what I want to call you,” Tezcatli purred as he matched Quentin’s movements. “You may call me Tezcatli.” His Cat body had begun to sing to him. The way Quentin moved set a fire burning deep in his belly. His cock rose and filled a little more. He reached down to stroke himself again. Even Quentin would be able to smell it. Didn’t mean a thing that he was just a human. A horny man recognized another horny man, no matter what. And Quentin did. He faltered, then stopped, staring. His lips parted again. “You -- I -- don’t --” “I think I will.” Tezcatli paced closer, keeping Quentin off his balance. They were almost at the wall now. Close enough to touch. He did. Palms flat against Quentin’s chest. He felt the man’s heartbeat pick up its pace, going faster and faster. He tweaked at one nipple through Quentin’s shirt and laughed when the other man jumped. Close enough to lick.

He did. One long, liquid stripe up the line of Quentin’s throat. The man moaned, tilting his head back even as he shook it a little. That movement said no, no. His body, though, near enough to feel the heat, said yes, yes. Close enough to kiss. He didn’t. Not yet. A Cat stalked his prey with fire and caution. Slow, steady, slow, steady, never giving up. Just putting it off. His prey could run, but they’d only die tired. Although he didn’t plan for Quentin to die at all. Not a final death, anyway. Not if he could help it. But another test first, maybe? As if it were meant to be -- approving, Tezcatli thought -- the music and lights changed in Amour Magique. His Cat called out to the DJ’s soul and the god-awful disco stopped, the room growing dim. A voice began to sing in Spanish. One of his clan members. He’d enjoyed that one in bed before, but he’d never be powerful enough to please Tezcatli for long. All the same his voice was pure sex rising in the air. Tezcatli heard the rustling of men stopping their wild gyrations and coming together in pairs ... or more. Closing his eyes, he imagined he could feel the heat of their bodies pressing against each other. God, it was fine. Beneath him, Quentin shook like a kitten trapped by a huge paw. Would it kill him or take care of him? Honestly, humans! Tezcatli changed his mind and stole another kiss, after all. One sweet, hot taste that left Quentin gasping and staring at him as if he were both devil and angel. He whispered two words. “No. Zach ...” “There is no Zach here,” Tezcatli growled. “Pay attention to me. Tezcatli, not Zach.” “Zach.” Quentin shook his head again. “I can’t. I’ll betray him.” Tezcatli leaned in tightly, nudging his cock against Quentin’s. Hard and full. Quentin wanted it. Wanted him. Tezcatli knew it. The human smelled like salt and sex. Grief and lust. It went to Tezcatli’s head. “Can’t you?” he taunted. “I think so. This says you want to.” He rocked his hips forward. “You’re not my keeper. You have no say over what I do or don’t do.” “Oh, yes, I do.” Tezcatli tasted Quentin’s lips again -- all too brief. Then he wrapped his arms around the man. “Come on,” he challenged. “Dance with me. Or are you too afraid?”

Chapter Three Thunder rolled outside the window, and rain pelted the glass with a sharp, staccato rhythm. Quentin could tell from the sound of the wind that dark weather was brewing. Past experience told him a storm front was moving in -- the serious kind that kept men off work for days on end. No mending fences or riding out to exercise the horses in a foot of sticky, suctioning mud. He and Zach lay together on Zach’s bed, idly reading through a newspaper together. “Here, don’t flip over the page, Zach. I wasn’t done reading the advice columns yet.” “Slowpoke.” “Slow -- I’ll poke you!” Quentin wedged an elbow into Zach’s side. The man was terribly ticklish and wormed away from his lover, chortling. “Gotcha,” Quentin said triumphantly. “But where do you think you’re going?” “Not too far, babe, don’t worry.” Zach reached down to grab his cup of coffee, sitting on the floor beside them. Drinking was awkward while lying on his stomach, but he managed it. The expression on his face as he took a long, deep swallow, was one of absolute bliss. “God, that’s good.” “Coffee hound.” “Don’t be makin’ light of dogs, now. I’m the faithful kind. Just one scratch behind my ears and I won’t stray.” “You’d better not.” Quentin reached out to seize Zach with one easy hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Zach lustily pressed his lips to Quentin’s, then -- stopped. “What is it?” Quentin asked. “What’s the matter?” Zach’s eyes were troubled. “We are safe in here, right?” “Safe? What do you mean?” Quentin glanced around them. “The door’s locked. Everyone else is down in the common room playing cards or shooting darts.” “You don’t think they’ll notice we’re both missing? Put two and two together, maybe come up with an answer that won’t do us any good?” “No, no.” Quentin shook his head. He stroked the back of Zach’s neck. “They think we’re both out doing chores. I made sure to spread the rumor myself. A word in MacGuire’s ear, and ...” He grinned brightly. “... everyone’s convinced the boss sent you out to check the fences and that I’m in the library reading up on the latest medical journals.” “Damn selfish of him, keepin’ those in the house where you have to go with your hat in hand to keep up with your job,” Zach grumbled. “But Q ... you smile at me like that, and I think the sun’s comin’ out.” He leaned in closer, almost touching despite the flicker of fear in his eyes. “Do it again.” “I’d rather kiss you.” “Quiet, man, quiet!” “No one’s going to hear us, Zach.” Quentin gathered his lover’s hand in his own. It was cold. “Put down your coffee. We’re safe here, very safe. And I’m tired of the newspaper. I know how I want to be entertained.” He brushed their lips together. “I want you.” “Quentin ...” Zach protested, but a grin was tugging at his own lips. “You’re gonna get us killed one of these days.” “Could be. But we’ll both go happy, won’t we? Come here. Give me a real kiss. And maybe a second, and a third, just for luck ...” Quentin finger-walked his hand down below Zach’s waist, fondling his cock and balls. They hardened even more beneath his touch. “You’re always so horny,” he said in admiration. “It just takes a little, doesn’t it? “Oh, God, Quentin,” Zach moaned. “That’s right.” Quentin squeezed gently. “So tell me, lover ... may I have this dance?” The scene flashed behind Quentin’s eyes as the strange man pinned him to the wall. So close to him. Closer than anyone had ever been since he’d last had Zach. David’s hugs didn’t count, because he didn’t have the same intent as this creature, whom Quentin couldn’t help thinking was not quite human. The way he moved and talked -- he was almost bursting with energy he just barely controlled. “Quentin,” the man breathed, his voice slightly accented. It’d been a long time, but he understood what that tone meant. This stranger wanted him. Right there, right then, up against the wall. “Dance” might or might not have meant moving to the music. Quentin couldn’t tell. He stared at the proud face so close to his. There was an Indian-like cast to the features. His voice, though, had a Spanish flavor. He sounded more like the ranch hands that had come up from Mexico, across the border, searching for a better life. They’d

found the cattle spread and called it good enough. This man’s body language said he was something else entirely. “What are you?” he managed to whisper, hoping the man would hear him above the music. Maybe let him go. If he thought Quentin was crazy -- and he was, wasn’t he? -- then perhaps he’d be put off. “Who are you?” He was wrong. The man leaned in a little further, nuzzling against Quentin’s cheek. Quentin shivered, both at the automatic reaction of his body to a male touch and at the thought, I’m betraying Zach. Zach’s memory. I can’t do this. “Stop,” he said, pushing the man -- or trying to. The stranger was stronger than he looked. A good shove didn’t even budge him. Then again, chocolate notwithstanding, Quentin felt weak and shaky. “Stop it! I don’t know you.” “That’s going to change,” the man breathed against Quentin’s skin. “But what I am? That’s another story.” He bit Quentin’s earlobe. Hard. “I’m the man who wants to fuck you. Right here, right now. But I’ll settle for a dance, first.” He drew back far enough for Quentin to see dazzling white teeth flash at him. “I’m a patient ... man.” He laughed. Quentin didn’t see the humor. “I don’t want to dance.” He tried to slip underneath one of the arms all but pinning him to the wall. “Yes, you do.” Quentin thought of Zach. How they’d gone out after dark, still in the rain, and shared a slow, lazy spin behind the stables. The doctor and the veterinarian cowboy. They’d whirled to music that played only in their minds, although Zach had sung a snatch or two of the song. They’d laughed, quietly, and held onto each other in the sheets of water pouring down. His last dance. He wouldn’t spoil that memory by dancing with someone else. He wouldn’t. “No!” he repeated, pushing at Tezcatli again. “Let me go.” “Or you’ll what?” Tezcatli leaned upon Quentin. He rubbed against him, groin to groin. Quentin bit back a quiet groan at how good it felt -- and God, it felt so unbelievably good. Tezcatli might move like some big animal, but his cock was every inch a man’s, and it was hungry. He wanted Quentin and didn’t mind letting him know it. He couldn’t help pushing back. His body acted of its own accord, nudging up into Tezcatli’s groin. A thrill shot down his chest into his belly, setting up a low flare of heat, driving him a few inches closer to wild. But still -- “I can’t,” he managed. “My -my old -- my Zach -- he won’t --” “This Zach isn’t here. I am. Dance with me.” Tezcatli’s strong hands slid behind Quentin’s back, pulling him away from the wall. He had an effortless strength that was sexy and terrifying. He tugged Quentin close to him, molding their bodies together, nudging Quentin’s legs apart and inserting his thigh. No question what kind of dance he wanted. Dirty dancing, old school style. Chest to chest and cock to cock. Quentin flagged briefly. He glanced over Tezcatli’s shoulder, searching for any sign of Zach’s ghost. Nothing. He was nowhere to be seen. “Don’t leave me!” he cried out, forgetting the man who held him for the one who had disappeared. “Zach, don’t go. Please!” Tezcatli gave Quentin an angry look. “Who is this Zach?” he demanded. “Is he one of your Brothers? Did someone steal your heart before I could?” When Quentin hesitated, Tezcatli shook him like a kitten -- not to hurt, but to teach a lesson. “Tell me.” “Not one of the Brothers,” Quentin managed. “Not someone ... here.” The man’s face changed again, irritation melting away for utter sensuality once again. “Am I coming on too strong for you?” he asked, startling Quentin. “I don’t think so. I think you like it this way. You want my hands on your back, your chest, your ass. You like having my prick pressed hard and tight up against yours. I can hear your breathing getting faster and faster.” He paused to skate his nails up Quentin’s back, making him hiss and arch in tighter. “You want me,” he said, his voice full of self-assurance. Quentin buried his face in Tezcatli’s shoulder. Not for comfort or reassurance, but because it was easier than looking at the man. Saints and angels help him, he was right. Quentin did want him. His body had been starved for pleasure so long, and it was fighting to dip into the well again. He could already feel fingers invading his hole, the sharp pain and the burn easing into pure pleasure. When Tezcatli trailed his tongue down the side of Quentin’s neck, he thought of that proud, full mouth on his cock and groaned. His groin bucked involuntarily into Tezcatli’s own. “Oh, God.” “Pray to me,” Tezcatli ordered. “I’m the only one who hears you. Now dance with me.” He swayed Quentin to and fro, a tree in the wind. Hurricane Aztec. Aztec! The pieces came together. The man was like an ancient Native American god come down to earth. His touch set Quentin on fire. He couldn’t help moaning and moving with him. His body wanted to dance. But could he? His bit of sugar intake wouldn’t hold. He’d fall down soon. The syringe lay impotently at their feet. He wouldn’t be making his way out of the world that night unless he jumped over the balcony’s railing, and he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t ruin the night for the dancers down below. They still knew how to enjoy life, or they were able to pretend. They had themselves and everyone else fooled if they didn’t.

But him? He’d wanted to join Zach. He’d been waiting for this moment since Liam had mentioned Amour Magique. Gotten everything ready. Then ... Tezcatli had appeared. And it all went straight to hell. A place where the fires were too beautiful not to touch even if he knew he’d be burned. “Wait,” he said, struggling against the Aztec. “I have low blood sugar.” Tezcatli glanced down at the empty, abandoned syringe. “I knew something was wrong,” he said. “You smelled like sickness.” He sniffed. “You still do.” His lip curled. “Do I have to take care of you? Bring you some, what is it? Orange juice?” For some reason, that amused Quentin -- tickled him enough to make him want to laugh. The man barged into his private scene, drove away his lover, forced him to dance -- not quite against his will -- and he was concerned? Talking like a novice volunteer for the Red Cross? He couldn’t help laughing. Tezcatli growled softly. “Don’t mock me. No one mocks me.” “I’m not. I ... I just ... this is insane!” “Then isn’t it fun,” Tezcatli asked, drawing his finger down Quentin’s cheekbone, “to be a madman? Tell me what you need. Then I want my dance. Do you understand me?” Quentin nodded. “In my coat,” he said. “The inside pocket.” Tezcatli’s fingers began exploring immediately. Quentin sucked in a breath as the man brushed over his nipple, searching. “A tube. Small.” “Unlike you.” Quentin laughed again. Tezcatli found the inner pocket at last and drew out a small dose of oral glucose. He’d meant to leave that at home in case someone like Liam had been extra pushy. Habit had made him forget to take the emergency supply out. Or maybe it had been the memory -- he’d been wearing the same coat since Zach. The tube he carried was old. Zach had grabbed him tight for a goodbye kiss one morning and slipped it to him because he hadn’t had time for breakfast. “You need to take care of yourself,” he’d said. “Someone has to, and it ain’t always gonna be me.” Quentin had rewarded Zach for his teasing by spinning him around, and then with a kiss ... “The oral glucose,” he said. “Let me drink it. That’ll help. Then, if I dance with you -- if -- just one dance? Then you’ll leave me alone?” Perhaps when Tezcatli left, Zach would come back. Tezcatli shook his head. Instead of replying, he held the tube up, pressing it to Quentin’s lower lip. “Open for me,” he whispered. “Open up.” His eyes were stormy as the sky on the day Quentin remembered spending in bed with Zach. Dark coffee laced with lust. The way he nudged the tube at Quentin’s mouth brought up images that Quentin couldn’t shake off: thoughts of being on his knees in front of the proud man. Being faced with a cock that stood out hard and proud. A firm hand on his shoulder, urging him close. Sticky sweetness painting his tongue. Quentin let out a shuddering sigh as Tezcatli slipped the tube inside. He closed his mouth around the glucose without thinking, or perhaps thinking too much. Imagining the medicine was a cock. A spoonful of sugar, he thought crazily, wanting to giggle. Then, Tezcatli depressed the plunger and Quentin fought not to gag as the vile, concentrated sugar water flooded his mouth. “Don’t you dare get sick on me,” Tezcatli warned. “Drink that. Swallow. Do you hear me? I want you better so that we can dance.” Quentin managed to get the dose down without his gorge rising. His stomach twisted as the dose hit bottom, burning him from the inside out. But it worked, oh, yes, it worked. He could feel the remedy course through him right away, feel himself stop shaking and sweating, color returning to his skin. Tezcatli was regarding the dropper with suspicious interest. “So fast,” he muttered. “How long have they had these?” The question struck Quentin as ridiculous. To be standing in the middle of a dance club balcony, music playing and couples fucking below them, held in the arms of a man who wanted to bend him over and drive into him like a hammer and nail -- oh, he had no doubts about that, not at all -- and they were discussing first aid? He did laugh, then, unable to help himself. “I told you not to make fun of me!” Tezcatli threw the empty vial away, but for all his words and actions, he was smiling. Sharp white teeth shining. He jerked Quentin back against him, hard. “Is that it? Are you better now?” Quentin swallowed again. He swept his mouth with his tongue for any last traces of sugar. The sick sweetness repulsed him, but he knew the dose was doing its job. He nodded, acknowledging his shortness of breath had nothing to do with the state of his health. Not anymore. And as his cock came into contact with Tezcatli’s, still eagerly erect, he realized he had to confront an entirely different sort of weakness. “Don’t,” he said, even as his body leaned into the embrace. Embrace? Assault? A little of one and a pinch of the other. His traitorous libido, starved for attention, was betraying him. And Zach. They’d sworn to be faithful to each until death did them

part ... but it hadn’t parted them ... not really ... “Don’t,” he whispered again. “Say it like you mean it, and I might believe you.” Tezcatli kissed a line down across Quentin’s face, flickering at his skin with a wickedly talented tongue. “You do want this. You want me.” “I don’t.” “Liar. Listen to your body, Quentin. It’s telling me a different story. Is this Zach going to come after me? Is he someone I need to take note of? Someone you need to be afraid of?” Tezcatli looked fierce. Protective and possessive. “You’re mine. I picked you out when you walked into the club.” He paused thoughtfully. “Well, first I liked the one with all the jewelry, but a bartender told me he’d already been chosen by a vam-- by someone else.” “Bree?” Quentin couldn’t help his amusement bubbling over. “You liked Bree first, then me?” “You’re making fun again.” “I’m sorry.” “You’re not. But I know how you can make it up to me.” Tezcatli’s hands came down to cup the globes of Quentin’s ass, pushing their groins together. “Dance with me. Admit that you want to.” “I can’t.” Tezcatli’s hands squeezed. “You can. You do. You are. You want me. Just like I want you.” “I shouldn’t ...” “Oh, yes,” Tezcatli breathed against Quentin’s shoulder. “You should. You really should. Forget everything else for a moment.” He set up a slow, steady beat, thrusting against Quentin’s lower stomach. Every time their cocks skidded together, even through clothing it was like touching hot iron. Quentin’s heart jumped at the thought of feeling it in the flesh. But Zach ... “Forgive me,” he whispered. “Who are you talking to? Pay attention to me!” Quentin ignored the man he was about to have sex with, for the ghost of one he’d loved. “Zach, please, don’t stay away.” Tezcatli was watching him fiercely, face feral. “Are you done? Is that a yes? You’re finally going to --” He kneaded Quentin’s ass. “-- dance with someone who wants you?” Quentin swallowed hard. Lifting his chin, his “Yes” met Tezcatli’s air of anticipation. Then he gathered up his courage, leaned in, and kissed the man. The moment their lips met, he hissed and felt himself become lost. Tezcatli was like a quick-acting, potent drug. “That’s better,” the man murmured against his mouth. “So much better.” One hand worked its way between them as he thrust. “Now,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “You’re wearing too many clothes. What do you say we fix that?”

Chapter Four My God. I expected to die tonight and either join Zach, wherever he went to, or float up to heaven or plummet down to hell. I didn’t expect a fallen angel to come and save my life -- not that I wanted it saved. And I didn’t think he’d want more from me than to get that syringe away. But ... more ... he wants more. He wants me. I can feel him. And I’m tempted. So tempted. It’s been so very long since Zach. What if Zach comes back? What if he doesn’t? “Your heart’s beating a whole hell of a lot faster all of a sudden,” Tezcatli whispered, easing his way behind Quentin. He pushed his arms underneath Quentin’s to hold him around his chest, one hand over his sternum. “I can feel it. What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?” Quentin felt the pressure of a rigid cock lined up dead center with the crease of his ass. He fought for breath. “No,” he said. “Are you excited?” Tezcatli nipped his earlobe. Sharp, sharp teeth. He didn’t break the skin, but it left behind a sting that first burned, then tingled. He thrust against Quentin. “Do you feel that? You made me this way. I’m burning for you from the inside out, man. Give me a break and give me a chance.” Quentin couldn’t help pushing his head back, sleek hair and their shirts the only things separating him from the furnace warmth of Tezcatli’s shoulder. “I shouldn’t.” “But you want to.” It wasn’t a question. Quentin closed his eyes. “Yes. I do.” Tezcatli gave a low growl. He sounded satisfied, as if he’d won some big battle. Actually, he had. Quentin groaned, halfterrified of what would happen next -- he didn’t do casual sex, he never had -- and half unable to wait to see what Tezcatli would do. “I think I said a minute ago,” the other man said softly, hot and heavy against Quentin’s ear, “you’re wearing too many clothes. I want them off your hot, tight body. Now.” A thrill rippled through Quentin. He hadn’t had anyone demand to see him naked since Zach. Oh, there had been offers, to be sure -- but they were from half-drunk men and the odd woman who thought she could “turn” him, that he was too handsome to be gay. More fools them. Tezcatli wasn’t offering, he was claiming. Quentin knew he’d be stripped of every stitch before they were through, public area be damned. Memories flashed through his mind about how he’d had to pretend, with Zach. Not meeting one another’s eyes over the breakfast table. Brief, terse discussions when there wasn’t anyone around to hear. The West didn’t like gay men, and it hated gay cowboys with a vengeance, even if they were medic and vet. God knew what would have happened to them if they’d ever been bold enough for anything in public. Anything ... Quentin turned his head away. Waves of unhappiness washed through him. Tezcatli gave him a small shake. “Stop that!” he ordered. “Whatever it is you’re thinking about, wherever you go, come back. I want you to be with me. Pay attention to this body. Touch me, want me.” Quentin yanked himself back to the waking world. “Like you want me?” he asked, although it wasn’t really a question. “Now you’re getting the picture.” Tezcatli thrust his hands beneath the lapels of Quentin’s jacket. “I want this off. Now.” Quentin tried to fight it one last time. He brought up picture after picture of Zach. His gorgeous lover. Swinging bales of hay to cushion a sick animal. Currying a horse after a long ride. Laughing at him over a cup of coffee. Lying in bed next to him, so hard and warm. Eager to kiss as he was to talk, and twice as eager to fuck as he was to hold and be held. He shouldn’t. But he was, wasn’t he? “Tezcatli,” he moaned as the Aztec began to draw his jacket off his shoulders. The other man’s touch infected him and made him feel too hot all of a sudden. His skin felt alive again, not cold and dead as it had been. “We’re in public ...” “Not that public. You picked a good place, Quen-tin.” Tezcatli dragged out his name. “No one’s going to see us up here.” His teeth bit at the soft skin of Quentin’s neck as it was revealed. “No one will ever look up and notice us, no matter what we’re doing up here. And ...” The jacket came off, inch by inch. It rustled with the soft, living sound of good leather worn hard. “If they do see us? They’ll be jealous of me simply because I’m the one with you.” A hard hand cuffed the back of his neck. “And of you because you’re the one with me.”

A wave of heat swept over Quentin. He murmured something, not really words, but they made Tezcatli laugh. His jacket slithered down to the floor, where Tezcatli kicked it aside. He heard a clanking noise as it hit the empty syringe and glucose tube and sent them rolling back into the mess of the dismantled bar. Tezcatli’s hands began working quickly on the buttons of Quentin’s shirt. He had amazing fingers, the tips rough and callused, almost like paws. Just like other hard-working men he’d known. For all that, though, they were sensitive. He moved gracefully, not wasting any effort, but so fluid in each tiny gesture. Quentin’s shirt opened notch by notch, Tezcatli pausing to brush across each tiny patch of bared skin. When the shirt hung open to his waist, the man splayed his hands flat across Quentin’s chest, fingers working as if he were kneading the flesh. “Good,” he purred into Quentin’s ear. “You feel so damned good. But don’t you think this is a little one sided?” He stepped back, removing the tantalizing pressure of his cock from Quentin’s ass. “I think we should level the playing field. Be equals.” For some reason, that amused him, and he laughed. Quentin inhaled deeply, unable to help a comparison. Zach’s laughter had been a light tenor. Tezcatli’s was a low rumble. Both had the same effect: they set his nerves on edge in the best possible way. His own cock had risen, just as it had with Zach’s ghost, but this time with an urgency he hadn’t felt in months. Wanton with the new sensation, he arched back, searching for Tezcatli’s warmth and hardness against him. Forgive me, Zach! I’m only a man. Tezcatli swayed against Quentin’s body, and Quentin let him. He led the dance, and Quentin followed. The best kind of dance ever. Slow and dirty, grinding hips against ass, stripping away layer after layer of clothes. When they came back together, Quentin had only a second to register the feel of a smooth, hard-muscled chest against his shoulder blades before Tezcatli whirled him around. “I want to taste your mouth.” Quentin’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at Tezcatli, drinking him in. Tezcatli’s eyes, heavy-lidded with lust; lips, slightly parted. His chest, hard with a bunching, flexing six-pack. Quentin couldn’t help bringing his hands up to do some touching himself, pressing his palms against the bronzed skin. The other man’s heartbeat was rapid. “You want me,” he murmured, still unable to wrap his head around the idea. “Right here. Right now.” “I want you. And I’m going to have you.” The words were more promise than wish. Quentin felt a little more of himself slip away under the man’s spell. Still, he had to know. He pushed his hand hard against Tezcatli’s lower belly. “What would you do if I said no and meant it?” he asked. “If I didn’t want you.” Tezcatli grinned wickedly and thrust against him. The explosion of sensation when their erect cocks met almost melted Quentin’s spine. “God, you feel so good. But -- no. What if? What would you do, Tezcatli?” “The way you say my name,” Tezcatli murmured. “So good. It’s natural on your lips. Those full, kissable lips. I want to eat you up starting with your mouth.” “Tezcatli. The answer to my question. Please.” Tezcatli’s lip curled. “Do you honestly think I’d do this if you didn’t want it? You don’t know me very well.” “I don’t know you at all.” Quentin struggled for words. “But we’re about to fuck, aren’t we?” “Is that a ‘yes, please’ that I hear?” “Tezcatli ...” The man brought his hand up to Quentin’s face. His touch light for once, he ran the ball of his thumb over Quentin’s lower lip. “I would let you go,” he said. “If I didn’t know for damn sure you wanted me, I’d let you run away.” “Would you have let me --” Quentin looked over Tezcatli’s shoulder in the direction where the syringe had rolled. “Would you have stopped me then?” Tezcatli looked insulted. “You think I would have let you kill yourself? No way, Quentin. You’re too pretty to be wasted. I’m not heartless. I followed you up here for a reason. I heard you talking to someone, and then to the incu-- to Liam. I knew when you first looked at me. There was a light in your eyes. Every man knows what that look means.” As his fingers trailed down to swirl in the light down of hair on Quentin’s lower stomach, Quentin gasped, but had to push on. “What -- what does it mean? The look you’re talking about.” Tezcatli’s face lit with an inner blaze. “It means,” he said, “fuck me. Come and get me. Win a prize for the big man. It means you wanted me before you knew you did. I knew I wanted you.” Quentin shut his eyes briefly, then opened them to the sight of the Aztec who was taking advantage, rocking against him in a seductive rhythm, distracting him by the blasts of sensation from cock against cock. Quentin’s breath was coming in short, fast bursts.

He still remembered Zach, but he’d gone past the point of no return. It was fuck or be fucked, no choice about it. He thought, from the way Tezcatli dominated him, there wouldn’t be any question about who was on the bottom either. His inner muscles began to ache. He felt empty in an old way that, at the same time, was entirely new. He wanted to be filled. He needed another man inside him. No waiting. “Then take me,” he said, his words staccato. “Take me hard and fast and now.” Tezcatli grinned. “That,” he said, “won’t be a problem at all.” Gorgeous little fuck, Tezcatli thought as he held the man in his arms. Had to pin him down, ’cause otherwise he’d fly away. Maybe less Cat than Bird. Butterfly? Could be. There were Old Ones who liked the feeling of soaring through air instead of pounding across the earth. They were prey. So was Quentin. The most delicious hunt he’d been on in years, and he had the prize between his paws. He bared his teeth. Let’s do this. Quentin moved with him like liquid, molding to his grasp. Tezcatli only had to push in one direction, and Quentin followed. So fucking responsive. He wanted to see what would happen if he pushed the man all the way over the edge. Figured he might drive him there, inch ... by inch ... by eight inches. Tezcatli laughed to himself, a dark laugh he knew, full of the predator’s voice he kept inside, and attacked. Their shirts were off. Pants needed to go next. Tezcatli shoved his hand down the front of Quentin’s loose khaki slacks, working his way past the waistband of fitted boxers, so nice and tight on Quentin’s flesh, and struck gold. Or cock. He wrapped his fist around the man’s member. As big as Tezcatli’s. Damn, the erect penis felt good. “You have such a fine set of balls,” he whispered, voice full of the night, as he rolled them in his palm. Quentin moaned like a slut, spreading his legs wide for Tezcatli’s invasion. Hot hands and arms had wrapped around Tezcatli’s back. Fingertips pressed into the meat and muscles behind him, urging him on. Never let it be said the Cat didn’t follow the leader -- well, sometimes. His lover wasn’t circumcised, a surprise. If they ever did this again, Tezcatli thought he’d like to give the man a present. Take that cock between his lips and let him feel what it was like to be sucked off by someone who knew damned well what they were doing. Tezcatli imagined himself pushing the flap of foreskin out of the way and tasting the man’s pre-come. Not a lot of it, just enough to make him damp at the tip. Sticky on his hand. He imagined rolling his tongue around the fat mushroom head, tasting that musky fluid. Well. Why wait? Loving the protesting groan that Quentin gave, Tezcatli drew his hand back out of the man’s pants and lifted it to his lips. He sucked one finger in, then another. “Hell. You’re good,” he said, his own breath quickening at the unique flavor on his tongue. “Here.” He figured it would drive Quentin wild, so he pushed a third finger to the man’s lips. “Taste yourself. See what you’re like along with me.” Quentin’s eyes rolled back in his head as he drew the finger in, obedient as a kitten on milk. His hot tongue wrapped around Tezcatli down to the knuckle, lapping his own flavor and that of the Cat’s skin. “Oh ... God,” he breathed, sucking hungrily. “So long. Too long.” Tezcatli narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t good for men to deny themselves. Why else had so many monks and priests gone crazy? The Old Ones wanted men and women to enjoy themselves or they wouldn’t have made it -- this -- feel so damn good. He pushed his other hand into Quentin’s pants, wrapping it around his lover’s cock and jacking him hard, fast. “We’ve put this off long enough,” he said. “Get on the floor. Now.” His voice low and full of sex, Quentin said: “You’re holding me up.” The man teased him! Tezcatli growled and gave Quentin a few more pulls in response. He watched the man all but double over, letting out a hoarse yell. Quentin must have forgotten his worries about being seen or heard. Good. No more waiting. Tezcatli reached for the zipper to those damned pants; they were in his way. He wanted to see Quentin’s tight ass naked, and he wanted it right then. Although he was clumsy from want, he managed to open the fastenings without tearing them. His hands swam in avidly, shoving both khaki cloth and molded boxers down to his lover’s mid-thigh. Quentin’s cock sprang free, long and heavy, a pearl of come on the crown. He panted and hung his head backward as cold air swirled around his heated length. Tezcatli grinned as he ran his hand up and down the stiff organ. He thumbed Quentin’s

foreskin, which was drawn back on itself. At the same time, he tugged at his own zipper, forcing it down with eager fingers. When his own cock came out and he felt the air, the music and the vibrations of the club echoing through his bare skin, the Cat rose up inside him and roared. “Hands and knees,” he growled, twisting Quentin around and giving him a push downward. “Down, now.” Quentin obeyed just the way Tezcatli would have wanted him to -- a small snarl at being ordered, but then dropped low as he’d been told. He even shoved his binding pants down around his ankles and kicked them off. Naked as a wild man, he spread himself wide. He seemed no longer aware that he was in the middle of a throbbing club full of horny men. All his attention was on Tezcatli. Right where it should be. Tezcatli felt in his pocket for a tube of lubricant before pushing his own pants down completely and out of the way. Quentin’s ass looked good enough to bite, thrust up in the air as it was, waiting for him, his touch. He wished he could wait long enough to sink his teeth into one toned, taut cheek, but knew he couldn’t. He had to have him. There were no more moves. The game was over, and he’d won. When his slickened cock touched the tip of Quentin’s hole, both men groaned. Their twinned, strangled noises mixed with the music infecting their blood. He didn’t even have to stretch Quentin, the man was that eager to take him. He slid inside, slow thrusts, careful, so careful. His hands worked at Quentin’s back, who had gotten slippery with sweat, beading and gleaming on his skin. Tezcatli knew he wouldn’t last long. He pulled out and pushed back in, riding Quentin’s moans and thrusts like a wave. So hot, so tight, absolute perfection. Made to fit his cock. And the way he squeezed, bearing down -- the pressure was delicious. Damn! The man was a needy one. Tezcatli bared his teeth. He’d love keeping Quentin ... occupied. Speaking of which, there was one other thing he needed to pay attention to. Bending, Tezcatli pressed himself to Quentin’s back and reached down to grab the other man’s throbbing cock. It jumped in his hands, almost independently alive and hungry for him. He began pumping the organ, a slick slide up and down. The sounds Quentin made were enough to make Tezcatli crazy, especially when Quentin stopped breathing for a moment and his ring tightened in spasms around Tezcatli. “Coming,” Tezcatli gritted, even as he began to spray quick jets of seed. “Coming now.” And, oh, gods, Quentin was too, hot warmth bursting over his hand and dripping through his fingers ... Quentin couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. The world narrowed down to a single focus: Tezcatli’s hand around his cock and himself coming in bursts that turned his vision white. Smelling the man’s spunk, his sweat, and the scent of his hair. If Tezcatli hadn’t been holding him up, he thought he would have collapsed on the bare wooden floor, boneless as a rag doll. Breathing heavily, he looked up --- and saw Zach, watching him with round eyes full of some expression he couldn’t name. “No!” Quentin struggled to get out from underneath Tezcatli’s heavy weight. “No, no, no! Get off of me! Get off!”

Chapter Five Oh, my God. What have I done?! Zach -- Zach -- don’t -Quentin’s legs nearly gave out from underneath him, but not because of the ass pounding he’d just taken. No. Zach continued to stare at him, some look in his eyes that Quentin was hard put to define. Part shock, yes, but also something elusive. Zach shook his head slowly. His lips started and stopped moving in aborted attempts at words. “Zach, I’m sorry,” Quentin managed to get out. He leaned his weight on one hand and reached out the other, damp from the effort of fucking and from fisting his own cock while another man fucked him. Zach flinched back as if touching Quentin would burn him. His reaction was a wound that cut deep. Quentin shook his head. “No. No, please don’t. I’m sorry, Zach. So sorry.” Zach shook his head slowly. Sweet chocolate turned dark and bitter. He raised himself up from where he had been sitting on Quentin’s abandoned chair and moved backward. “Don’t go. No, please, don’t leave me!” Quentin pleaded. “I’m not going anywhere,” Tezcatli whispered in his ear. His breath was hot. It smelled of sugar, mints and sex. “I’m still inside you. Can’t you feel me?” A thrill rolled down Quentin’s spine. He could yet sense the man, buried deep. Another man’s cock had gone into him, and he hadn’t thought about Zach -- he’d let go for a moment -- he’d given in -- “Not you!” Quentin blurted. “Zach! Zach, please!” Zach jerked his head again, like a marionette who’d had his strings cut. He didn’t say a word as he backed up, into and through the wreckage of the bar. As Quentin stared helplessly, desperate for his dead lover to say something, words of forgiveness or even condemnation, Zach began to fade. Quentin pounded his fists against the floor. “No! No! You promised you wouldn’t do this! Zach!” Tezcatli’s grip tightened around Quentin’s middle. “Do what?” he demanded. “You keep saying a name, Quentin, and it isn’t mine. Who do you think you are, to talk to me like that? I asked you if you wanted this and you agreed.” “Off! Off! Get off me!” Quentin began to writhe, trying to buck Tezcatli off. “Get out of me. Move!” The other man’s grasp on him tightened. “I’m not going anywhere, boy. You think you can just reach your pleasure, then kick me out? You have a lot to learn about who I am, what I am, and I’m not leaving until you have the proper understanding of things. Am I making myself clear?” Quentin was past caring what Tezcatli thought about him as Zach became almost insubstantial. “Don’t go,” he whispered, begged, one more time. “I can’t be by myself.” Zach bit his lip. Finally, he spoke three words, the sound breaking the rest of Quentin’s heart. “I can’t stay.” And he disappeared. Tezcatli’s hold became almost painful. “Who are you talking to?” he asked directly in Quentin’s ear. The sex-dampened weight on top of him became heavier as the other man pressed down. Almost as if he were trying to take Quentin down to the floor. Pin him flat until he got the answers that he wanted. Quentin began to laugh. It started off as the raspy bark of a chuckle he’d heard himself make before, then became crazy giggles, and finally turned into ragged whoops. He hiccupped, bucking against Tezcatli again. He could still feel the bigger man’s cock buried inside him. It burned. What had been momentary pleasure had in one instant become all pain. He couldn’t answer any questions, couldn’t make speech come out around his humorless outburst. Tezcatli made a grunting sound and pushed forward, hard, knocking Quentin off his braced hold. Arms that splayed as he hit the wooden floor were caught in a vice-like grip, clearly not about to let go any time soon. Tezcatli lay full length on top of him, restricting his movement. “I want some answers,” his accented voice hissed. He pulled out, as if it were meant to be a punishment. “Start talking. Who is this Zach? What is he to you? Is he up here? Did he sneak in, like that meddling inc-- like Liam? Is he one of Liam’s kind?” Quentin couldn’t stop laughing. His shoulders hunched with the force of the gales escaping him. To his horror, he felt tears begin to fill his eyes. Helpless to do anything about it, one escaped and ran down his cheek. “Talk to me,” Tezcatli ordered. He sounded dangerous, but for the life of him -- the life! -- Quentin couldn’t seem to care. “Stop making that goddamned racket and say something. Now!” “I can’t stay,” Quentin managed. He giggled again. “Can’t stay! He couldn’t. I can’t either. Don’t you get it? Nothing gold can stay. Nothing sweet lasts.”

A sudden wrath filled him, and with a strength he hadn’t known he possessed, he raised up and flipped over under Tezcatli. The man’s cock dragged out of him with a searing ache. Still half-hard, it jabbed at his belly as he writhed about. Facing the angry man, Quentin rolled his head back and forth, shouting out, “You made him go away! He was mine, and you made him leave!” Tezcatli’s face was a dark cloud of anger. “Who? Tell me. I’m warning you, Quentin, I don’t share.” “Neither does he. Neither do I!” Quentin gave another mighty shove, managing to shift Tezcatli a little. He heaved again and rolled out from under Tezcatli and up onto his knees. Naked as the day he was born, cock unprotected, Quentin balanced in a crouch and half glared, half pleaded with his eyes. “You don’t understand.” Tezcatli withdrew into a similar posture, though he was balanced much lighter and easier. “You aren’t making any sense. How can I understand you when you talk in riddles?” Quentin rolled his eyes. Another tear slipped loose. He dashed impatiently at it with the back of one hand and swallowed hard, forcing down the rest of the bitter salt. “I have to go,” he said in a rush. He moved sideways and reached out for his clothes. His pants and shirt were dirty with trash from the floor and they stank of sex. He dropped them, feeling himself grow nauseous again. Tezcatli’s hand landed on top of his. “You’re not going anywhere.” “Try to stop me.” Quentin shook off the other man’s hand and made a second grab for his clothes. This time he managed to bat away his disgust and hold onto the things. He stood, not caring who might be looking up to get an eyeful. “You can’t keep me here. I was an idiot to fall for your games the first time around. This won’t happen again.” Tezcatli stood, too, fluid as water, graceful as a cat. An angry lion. Lion? No. A jaguar. Yes, a jaguar, all dark hair and flashing eyes with the peculiar yellow-green lights in them. “You’re not leaving me, boy. I haven’t said you can go.” “I told you I won’t stay,” Quentin flung back. He tossed his come-stained boxers aside, into the wreckage of the bar. The gray cotton shorts caught on an angled plank and hung there, looking sad. The remains of a brief affair. Quentin almost started laughing again. When one-night or one-hour stands were over and done, wasn’t that all that was ever left over? Nothing but the smell of spunk and stains. He choked down another fit of hysterics, tasting bile in his mouth. Shaking his head, he stepped into his khakis and pulled them up. “You want to know who Zach is? Really, really want to know?” He cut a glance at Tezcatli, standing in front of him like some angry Indian deity, arms folded, naked and unashamed. Adam in the garden, before he ever needed a deerskin or a fig leaf. Like an animal. He stared at Quentin stone-faced, but any idiot could see how furious he was. Quentin couldn’t really blame him. This was almost as bad as calling out someone else’s name while they were still fucking you. “Count yourself lucky,” he said, shrugging into his shirt. “I didn’t think about Zach when you were putting it to me. Didn’t think about him while you shoved your cock deep inside me and while you came inside me. God!” His head spun. “No condom. Oh, God. I’m leaving.” Tezcatli seemed to simmer quietly at Quentin for a long moment. Then, a sly smile spread over his lips. He changed from an angry jaguar to a cat who’d just stolen the cream. And, really, wasn’t that just what he’d done? He leaned backward against the railing, pressing his bare ass cheeks into metal that had to be freezing cold. Didn’t wince once. Instead, he reached down to his half-hard erection and gave it a leisurely stroke. “Go then,” he said lazily. “I’ll find you again later.” Quentin’s fingers had been busy buttoning his shirt. He stopped. “What do you mean, later?” Tezcatli gave a lazy, rolling shrug. “Later.” He lifted his free hand and examined the nails. The fingers that had been wrapped around his cock now trailed against his thigh. “You’ve had a taste of me,” he said. “You won’t be able to stay away.” “Fuck! Are you full of yourself, or what?” Quentin demanded, amazed at the man’s, well, balls. “You think I’m going to come running whenever you call me? Snap your fingers, and I’m there?” Tezcatli made another dismissive gesture. “Maybe I’ll find this Zach, whoever he is, and have a few words with him. You might have belonged to that man once, but you’re mine now. I don’t let go of what I’ve laid claim to.” His hand returned to his cock, teasing the length. “Maybe if you behave, and I mean really, truly behave, I’ll suck you off. You’ve never had anything like my mouth on you. You won’t need this Zach anymore. I’ll be all you need as soon as I find him and get my -- hands on him.” A lunatic chuckle spurted out on its own. “Good luck,” Quentin managed, finishing dressing with trembling fingers. “Good damned luck.” “You think I need it?” “I know you do.” Snatching up his coat, Quentin stormed from the balcony, heading for the yellow tape and the staircase

he’d come up. “Zach is dead.” He didn’t wait around for a reply. He didn’t need one.

***** The clock struck midnight as Quentin finally stumbled outside. He hadn’t been able to find the main entrance and exit for Amour Magique. Figures. The management of the club wouldn’t want anyone leaving. Not when they could stay and dance, stuff dollars into the G-strings of the cage boys, and pour out even more cash on watered-down beer or overpriced liquor. He’d stumbled through or run across what seemed like a dozen different bars on his quest for a way out. One of the bars had had a small door that showed the nighttime sky through its panes of glass. Ignoring the bartender’s yelps of protest, he’d shoved his way through passing customers. He’d tried not to notice the way some of them had sniffed the air, inhaling his reek of sex, or those who’d turned around to stare at him. Had tried, but failed. The door actually led to a small smoking porch. Another balcony! Quentin sagged against the plaster stucco wall and let the last of his chuckles out. It was a desperate, lonely sound. What if I’ve driven Zach away forever? I was going to kill myself over losing him the first time. How am I supposed to go on if I don’t even have his ghost here with me? “You sound troubled.” The voice startled him. Quentin turned around sharply, craning his neck to see who’d spoken. A small figure hunched in the shadows of two potted plants and a hulking ashtray. The glowing coal of a cigarette wobbled as the stranger lifted it to his mouth. He inhaled, then started coughing. “Filthy things! I will never understand what Bree sees in such rubbish. If he had only not forgotten his pack out here, I would not have been tempted. I --” The man raised his head even as Quentin stiffened, recognizing the lilting cadences of his accent. “Quentin? Is that you?” “Liam,” was all he could say. Boneless again, Quentin slumped against the stucco. He knocked his head lightly against it. “Liam.” There was nothing else to say. Not that he had a chance. Tossing his cigarette aside, the little man leaped up and made for Quentin. “You are well!” A small body tackled Quentin, slender arms slipping around his waist. Quentin grunted as Liam squeezed. God, for a small guy he was strong! Liam paused, breathing in. “Even with the stench of tobacco in my nose, I smell ... Quentin?” He looked up, questioning. Quentin stared down, unable to think of a single word to say. Liam refused to let him look away, holding his gaze. Searching his face for something. He reached up and brushed at where the tears had rolled down Quentin’s cheek. Brought his fingers to his nose and wafted them beneath it. When he looked up a second time, it was with quiet acceptance. “I see. They tell you to beware of the scratches, but no one knows how deep the claws go, do they?” Quentin frowned. “Liam?” “No, no, never mind me. Come! Walk with me back to where I was. There is room on the bench for two.” Liam, still seeming absurdly strong, tugged at Quentin’s waist and forced him to walk along beside him. Quentin couldn’t help but go with him, even though he huffed and tried to hold back. No good. Liam had made up his mind, and he wasn’t about to change it. They stopped briefly for Liam to pick up his cigarette and dust it off. Then, the three of them -- two men and one ember -made their way to the smoking perch. A nudge to Quentin’s shoulder and he collapsed into a sitting position. The bench was cold beneath his ass, enough that he shifted uncomfortably. A vision of Tezcatli leaning on the rails sprang to his mind. He shuddered, both with discomfort and with a sudden burst of completely unwanted arousal. The man had been so hot -- but -- no. Zach, he needed Zach. He wanted only Zach. Liam was ignoring Quentin for the moment. He blew on the filter end of his cigarette, squinted at it, then finally made an expansive movement. “What do they call it? The ninety-second rule? If you pick it up before a certain amount of time has passed, it’s still clean enough to put in your mouth. In any case, it isn’t as if a few germs will hurt me,” he muttered. “What?” “Nothing, nothing. It’s not important. Every spot and surface out here is clean as a whistle. Everything is with Magique.” He lifted the cancer stick to his lips and took another drag. His cough was more subdued. “Perhaps I see what he likes about these, after all. They are somewhat calming.” With that, Liam turned to Quentin. “I thought that the next time I saw you, you would be dead,” he said simply. Quentin stiffened. “How did you -- I -- the syringe -- you --” “A needle? Ah. Something to do with pushing your low blood sugar into a life-threatening range, I would wager. Quentin.” Liam looked deeply saddened. “So you were planning to end your life on the night when it should have been beginning anew. I was

so afraid, but how can a man know these things? He cannot, not for sure.” He sucked at his cigarette, fingers skating up and down the cylinder as if it were a cock. “I would ask why you stopped, but I think I know. Someone found you, did they not? Someone, not me.” Quentin thought, in a flash, of Zach’s ghost appearing to him. Beautiful dark skin, warm brown eyes, good humor and gentle scolding. He blinked, and the image changed to Tezcatli in all his arrogance, arms folded across that muscled chest, dewy with sweat. “Someone did,” he said, his lips numb. “Do you have another one of those?” Liam looked at Quentin strangely but, after a bit of wiggling around, withdrew a crumpled pack from his hip pocket and passed it over. Quentin hadn’t smoked in years, not since his residency days ten years earlier, but it felt so unbelievably familiar and good to take hold of the cigarette and place it between his lips. “Light?” he asked around it. Liam produced a battered Zippo and flicked the wheel. Quentin dipped toward it and came up breathing in smoke. The tarry air burned his lungs, but the nicotine rushed in like an old friend, flooding him with relief. He took three, maybe four more puffs before he remembered. “Thanks,” he muttered. Then, “What?” The little man was half grinning and half frowning. “I suppose it would be in bad taste for me to say that these things will kill you,” he said, raising his own cigarette as if in a toast. Quentin surprised himself by laughing -- genuinely -- and lifting his own. The embers touched. In the darkness, the fused cherries glowed suddenly brighter than a beacon. Quentin stared, mesmerized. He couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to. Liam moved his cigarette slightly to the left and to the right. He was humming under his breath. The music sounded unbearably old and just as terrifying. Quentin felt suddenly freezing cold and all alone. “There are more things on heaven and earth,” Liam murmured, “than are dreamt of even in my philosophy. I think the time has come for us to have a talk, Quentin. You have to tell me everything that you think I know, that Simon might know, that no one knows except for you. Tell me what haunts you.” Liam leaned forward. He looked ancient and frightening. Less a man than a wild beast who’d cornered Quentin with the promise of a fleeting buzz. “Talk to me, Quentin. “Now.”

Chapter Six I shouldn’t say a word. No one knows all the details, not even Simon. This belonged to me, only me, for so long. Zach is mine to keep close to my heart. I don’t want to share him with anyone, just like he didn’t want to share me. Liam doesn’t need to know. So why am I telling him? “About two years ago,” Quentin began haltingly. “A few states across the way, that’s where Zach and I lived, on a working ranch. It was a huge operation in a rural area, so they needed a medic there to take care of minor injuries, things that didn’t need a trip to the hospital. And I’d always wanted to be a cowboy.” He laughed, mocking himself. “I knew the whole gay thing would be a problem, so I kept it to myself. But someone found out.” “This Zach you speak of?” Liam prodded. “He was their horse doctor, yes?” “Horses and cattle. One guy for such a huge spread. He stayed busy from dawn to dusk, every single day. I had stretches where I saw one huge man after another with gouges, scrapes and contusions, and I had long, dreary days when no one came in. Then, one day, Zach stopped by. A raw colt had bitten him on the shoulder. Barely broke the skin, but he knew he’d need shots.” He fiddled with his cigarette, nearly burned down to the filter now. “Can I have another?” “No. Go on.” Quentin bit his lip in silence for a moment. “I don’t want to.” “I know.” Liam’s face did look sympathetic. He reached out, his slim fingers caressing Quentin’s temple. “You must. Here, I will make it easy for you. Close your eyes. Sit in the dark and the quiet, and remember.” “What do you --” “Let me in,” Liam whispered, tracing a pattern on Quentin’s skin. “Let me help you.” Quentin couldn’t help it. He suddenly felt dizzy, as if he hadn’t had the chocolate and glucose after all. He found his mind spiraling down a long flight of nothingness into a deep well. He saw a glimmer of light and flew toward it. To Zach’s face, smiling at him. And all else was darkness.

***** Tezcatli slunk down the back staircase of Amour Magique, smoothing the wrinkles in his deep red shirt as he went. Dark red, the color of good wine and hot blood. His favorite. He breathed in deeply, tasting sex on the back of his tongue, then ran it over his lips to pick up the last traces of Quentin. The man whose life he’d saved. Who’d mocked him and run away. His face tightened into hard, narrow lines. Quentin would pay for what he’d done. Who is this Quentin, that he thinks he can make a fool out of me? Tezcatli thought indignantly. No one laughs at me and lives. I am Tezcatli. I run, I fight, I fuck, and I feast. I rule the Cats over all other alphas. King of the world, that’s me. And he’s just going to run away, when I am about to claim him? Trust him with all our secrets? Not damned likely. No. I will find Quentin. It won’t be hard. He smells of me, and I learned him well enough. I could track that fragrance through thousands of thousands. The mere hundreds here are no challenge. I am Tezcatli. I play my game to win. Quentin will be mine. Tracing the man proved to be as easy as he’d thought. Quentin’s trail led right through a small stand providing weak beer and fruity martinis. A gaggle of elvenkind and their ilk had gathered around it. They laughed and chattered like a group of schoolgirls, their silvery laughter guaranteed to get on one’s last nerve and wring it. Tezcatli scoffed at the fairies drinking their brightly colored beverages. Give him tequila, if he drank anything at all. Maybe a good whiskey or a well-aged wine if he wanted to be pretentious. He’d tried absinthe. Wasn’t stupid enough to drink it more than once, but he liked the stuff. Misty green and acrid. The contents of the ancient, stolen bottle had made him see colors in things that had been black and white. His hands had danced through the air as he watched them. Those were drinks for the man.

For the Cat, he wanted clear water, or the blood pumping from a torn artery into his mouth. He had to get out of the city, soon, and return to the country. He had no idea how those of his kind who lived in Charleston proper all the time managed the feat. Almost no place to run, to hunt; hell, it was dangerous enough just to Change. He’d done it, of course -- no one told him no -- but they’d actually dared to scold him for putting them all at risk. Fools. What was life without risk? All the same, he’d be glad to put the metropolis behind him. He only wanted to claim his mate, then he’d head back down toward the borders of Texas and Mexico, where he belonged. Men didn’t like him there, but they fucking well had respect for the Cat. As an elf tried to paw at his sleeve, he knew which of the two he preferred. Yes, he just needed to claim his mate, and he could be on his way once again. The scent was especially strong near the bar’s exit onto a smoking porch. Tezcatli laid his hand on it and imagined he could feel Quentin’s warmth stealing into his palm. Yes, oh, yes. The man had been there, and just recently. Ran you down to earth, boy. He gave a savage grin and shoved hard at the door’s crash bar, flinging it open. Stepping out into the night, he breathed deeply and gazed up at the sky. He knew what kind of impression he’d made. Black and red and deep tan. Yellow lights shining in his eyes. Body saturated with sex and semen. He looked down after a beat, searching for Quentin. Would the man be standing across the way, staring back at him? Could he be on one of the benches that ringed the small patio? Tezcatli frowned, then almost pouted. Quentin was nowhere in sight. It fucking figures. A grand entrance, and no audience to appreciate it. But if Quentin wasn’t there, where was ... Oh. Tezcatli drew up short as the odors of cigarette smoke and blood simultaneously hit his nose. He turned his head toward a bench in shadows near the doorway and stared. His Catholic upbringing as a Man almost moved him to cross himself. He stopped the gesture just in time. He doubted it would make any difference to what he faced. Quentin sat swaying, apparently caught in a trance. The incubus, Liam, weaving in time with him, back and forth, snakelike, undulant. And there, standing beside them -- a ghost. “Madre de Dios,” Tezcatli blurted. “Fuck me.” Liam glanced up. “I think not,” he said with a small smirk. “You have already had your fun with Quentin tonight, yes? If you want someone, look no further. He has no scratches, but you hooked him deep. Pierced a spot in his heart and let out all the darkness that has been bottled up for so long.” Liam rose. “I know you,” he said. “You rule the Cat kind. Even those outside your lycanthropic species. You are a King among the Jellicles.” Tezcatli bared his teeth. “If you compare me to those idiot dancers again, I’ll --” Liam snorted. “You’ll what? Kill me? You should know -- Tezcatli, is it? -- that one such as I cannot be struck down. I cannot die. I have been here since before the Garden. I will be here long after you’re all dust.” He glanced down and away. “I could have a long and carefree life. Fuck my way from one orgy to the next. But I get involved. This, you might say, is my ‘fatal’ flaw. I dive into the hearts of men, and I cannot but help them out with what I see there.” He staggered slightly, then righted himself. “Quentin’s heart is heavy with grief. You know what he was going to do, I assume?” Tezcatli had shifted almost imperceptibly into attack mode. His muscles quivered, on the verge of pouncing and finding out if Liam really was immortal or just talked a good game. “You can’t catch me with your tricks.” “Did I try?” Tezcatli growled. “No. But you’d better not. And take this -- this -- whatever it is off of Quentin. He belongs to me. I don’t want you screwing with his mind.” He barked a humorless laugh. “It’s already twisted into knots. The last thing he needs is you.” “No,” Liam said simply. “I am what he needs most.” He held up a hand as Tezcatli made a quick movement. “Only at the moment. This man, here, is who he lived for, and who he would have died for.” He wafted a hand at the ghost. “The question now is, are you who he’ll exist for in the future? Quentin needs a reason, Tezcatli. He has to have something, someone to live for. Else, he sees no purpose in existing.” As Liam talked, the ghost followed his movements with his eyes. Otherwise it remained still, in one spot, right next to Quentin. One transparent hand floated over that of Tezcatli’s mate. Protective. Tezcatli bristled. “Who are you?” he demanded, ignoring Liam. “Are you this Zach he keeps talking about? If you are, then piss off! He’s mine now. I want him. No one can stop me from taking him, especially not a corpse who should have passed on. El Dia de la Muerte is months off. Go home until you’re wanted. Which, I’m going to add, will be never. Quentin belongs to me now!” The ghost spoke, startling Tezcatli. The dead had no voices! Did they? “I was his lover,” Zach said, brown eyes turning darker with rage. “We were the entire world to each other, man. Now I’m

gone, and he was about to off himself. Do you know what that feels like? To almost lose the one you love?” His tone rose in anger. “Who the hell do you think you are? Do you even care one damn bit about Quentin? If you do, then you better sit your ass down and listen to me.” He nipped at his lower lip. “I’ve only got a little while left. You did this to us, so you’re gonna have to pay the price.” “Me? What did I do?” “You made him move on!” “And is this a bad thing?” “No! Fuck, no. I’ve been pushin’ at him for months, trying to get him to stop grieving. He wouldn’t listen to reason. Spent whole days in bed, hand around his cock, pretending it was my mouth. Not jacking off, not letting himself come. Killing himself by inches. I had to watch because I couldn’t leave.” The ghost’s voice broke a little. “Now I can’t stay. It’s all your damn fault. But I half think I ought to thank you.” Tezcatli shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said, lacing his words with menace. “Explain yourself, Zach. Demon or ghost, I don’t care.” “I am the demon here, thank you,” Liam murmured. Tezcatli ignored him. “Well? Talk!” “You gonna listen to me? Or do you plan on standin’ there all night posing like you’re the damn King of the Jungle?” “Men!” Liam interrupted. He turned to Quentin, who had uttered a whimper at the raised voices, and ran a hand down his glossy hair. “Hush, hush, it’s all right.” To Tezcatli, he said, “He is coming out of his trance. I could have kept him there for the whole of the night if I were not -- divided.” He waved off the question before it could form. “Suffice it to say I do not have all the power I usually possess. Zach, speak your piece. Be quick about it, please.” Zach took a last, quick look at Quentin. His expression was touched with what looked like sympathy, and without a doubt, love. Tezcatli scowled. He didn’t want anyone looking at Quentin that way but him. They’d only just met, but he knew Quentin could very well be the beta he’d been hunting for, and he wanted the chance to grow to love the man. “All right,” Zach said. He rounded on Tezcatli, turning all the might of his ghostly presence up to eleven. Tezcatli managed not to wince this time. He faced the fucker down with the power of Cat. They stood at odds for a long moment. Quentin’s soft moan brought Zach out of it first. He reached down and laid a hand just over the man’s shoulder. “This is how it went down,” he said hoarsely. “You see me and him? Black and white. That don’t work where we came from. You hear my accent? I hear yours. We come from about the same place, wildcat. “You think it’s hard for someone like you? Think about what it was like for me. For us, fallin’ in love.” Zach looked at Quentin. His expression changed from abject misery to wistfulness. “We managed it, though. We did all right.” “Until that night,” Quentin said suddenly. All eyes turned to him. He stood slowly, like an old man. His eyes were for Zach alone. “I knew we couldn’t go on like we had been forever. I asked you if you’d leave with me. Go to one of the big cities. We could set up a practice, each of us. Live together without having to hide. We could be. Just be. No more pretenses and no more lies.” “But I said no,” Zach replied. “I was scared, Q. You know how I felt about the ranch. Didn’t have any other place to call my home. I might have had to hide one thing, but I was a damn good horse doctor, and they all respected my name.” Quentin nodded. “And I wanted you to walk away from all of that,” he said. When he swallowed it made a harsh noise. “Someone heard us arguing.” “Put all the little clues together.” “They looked in the window.” “Saw us kissing.” “They heard us talking about where we’d go. How we could make a new life together.” Quentin choked again. “They went and got their friends, and they came back ...” He slumped back down into the bench. His hands came up over his eyes. “I still see what they did. Every night, in my dreams, I have to watch it all over again. Those men, with horse whips and wood -- and iron branding rods.” Zach sank onto his knees in front of his former lover. “You did the right thing. You got out. Ran for help. Made a call. It saved your life, Q.” “But I left you.” Quentin looked up. His eyes were dry, but Tezcatli found himself horror-stricken by the look in them. “I let you die.” “Q ...” Zach reached out, as if he’d thumb Quentin’s cheek. “I was already gone by the time you left. The M.E. said as much. You heard him. God, you made him repeat himself a dozen times. You made it out alive, and that is all that matters. You

hear me? I don’t mind bein’ dead. It’s not bad. There’s something good just waitin’ for me beyond the horizon but, babe, you have got to let go.” “No.” Quentin’s hands darted out, flashing through Zach like mist. He stared in terror, then shook himself. “I don’t want to be without you.” “Babe. You have to.” Zach glanced at Tezcatli. “I ain’t mad. You moved on, and you made yourself another lucky catch.” “Another?” Zach’s grin was unexpected. All the same, it lit up his entire face. “What can I say?” He brushed off his lapels. “You do know how to pick the best guys out there.” When Quentin gave a small laugh, he went on. “This man ain’t all he seems, but he isn’t gonna lie to you. Hear me? I was talkin’ to this creepy little guy --” “I beg your pardon!” Liam burst. Zach ignored him. “-- and he’s told me all about Tezcatli over there. He’s a good guy, even if he does have his head up his ass half the time.” “Hey!” Tezcatli barked. “Don’t you dare talk that way about me.” “I dare. I know I can. What are you gonna do? Kill me?” Zach snorted before turning back to Quentin. His movements had the flavor of finality, of “one last time” about them. “I’m gonna leave you to him. Okay?” “No, Zach, no --” “Hush, now. Yes. I am leavin’ you to him. He’ll take care of you, Q. He’s a good man. Watches his peoples’ backs. He’s got a lot on him, and he needs someone to come home to. You could practice again, out on the ranches, the way you loved to. Or, hell, you could specialize.” “Specialize?” “You’ll find out what I mean soon enough.” “You always did like to make me think and wait.” “Yeah, and I always will. That word means something to you and me. So, listen to what I’m saying. You stick with Tezcatli. He’s the one for you right now. He’ll keep you safe. All you have to do is say yes.” Quentin stared at his ex-lover. “You really are leaving.” “Said it once, Q. I can’t stay. Hey, hey, no, stop that.” Zach leaned in toward Quentin. “You stay standing up and be a man. Act like the guy I fell in love with. Brave. Bold. Fearless. He could face down a ranch full of cowboys without cracking and say, ‘Hell, yes, those bastards beat up my lover.’ “I’m gonna go, but you know I’ll be keepin’ an eye out for you. You might want to keep that in mind, Tez,” he raised his voice to add. Only Liam’s hand, suddenly there, warm and slender, on Tezcatli’s arm, stopped him from lashing out. He wished he had a tail to whip back and forth -- but he understood what Zach was getting at. Someone under the protection of a ghost was someone to be respected. Quentin and he had big powers looking after them -- a dead man and an incubus, no less. With that kind of backing, even an alpha had to be careful of his beta. After a moment, he nodded carefully. “Right.” Zach dismissed Tezcatli as quickly as he’d drawn him in. “I will never really leave you, babe. You’ll have me right in here.” He touched his hand over Quentin’s heart. “You just won’t see my ugly mug around here no more. But you promise me one thing, you hear? Say you’ll promise.” Quentin closed his eyes. “I promise,” he whispered. “Good. You’re gonna live for me, and for Tez over there. You’re not gonna die for any of us. Got that?” Eyes still shut, Quentin nodded. Zach smiled at his lover, even though he must have known the man couldn’t see him, then leaned down as if he’d kiss the man. He brushed his lips ever so lightly over Quentin’s, whispering, “Goodbye.” Tezcatli shivered as the night air got cold. A gust of wind blasted through, tearing leaves off the bushes on the smokers’ porch. Liam’s cigarette winked out. And when it was over, Zach was gone.

Chapter Seven “And so we are alone again,” Liam murmured. He squeezed Quentin’s shoulder. Then, casually, he began backing up toward the exit from the smoking porch. “I think it is time for me to be on my way as well, and leave you two with one another.” “You do that,” Tezcatli said shortly. His hands curled and uncurled into fists. He didn’t like any of this, and he wasn’t holding back his anger. “Meddler.” “I only did what had to be done. What I set into motion has freed Quentin from his cage.” The incubus looked sideways at Tezcatli. “Now, it is up to you to help him walk past the bars. Are you man enough for it?” Tezcatli bristled. “You’re asking me a question like that? He’s soaked with my sweat and my come. What do you think?” “So defensive. I did not ask if you could, or would, fuck him. I asked if you would help him. Will you? Can you?” “Fucking isn’t helping?” “It is part of the cure, of course. Quentin needs a warm, live body, not a ghost.” Liam fiddled with his crushed pack of cigarettes for another moment, then pocketed them. “However, he also needs someone who will be honest with him.” Hot blood rushed into Tezcatli’s face. “I’ve never lied to him. Not once!” “A lie by omission is still a lie. You did not tell him who you are. What you are.” Again, the slanted look. “I would suggest that you do so.” Tezcatli had had just about enough of the nosy incubus. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, anyway?” he snarled. “Quentin is my mate. Not yours. I suggest you stay out of our way from now on, do you hear? Pretty damn far away.” “No.” Tezcatli opened his mouth, then blinked. “What did you say?” Liam rounded on him, human mask slipping. Behind the cracks, Tezcatli could see a creature of unbearable beauty and deeply marked ugliness. A creature from both a wet dream and a nightmare. Not a god, but not too fucking far from the mark. “He was mine first,” Liam said in a terrible voice. “If I find out that you have not been taking care of him, that you have not been honest with him ... You will wish you had never come here this night.” “I am a favored child of the Old Ones! I --” “You are a foolish Cat who was so hungry for cream he would knock anyone else away from the plate.” Liam looked suddenly very tired. “Go on along, Tezcatli. Go to ‘your’ Quentin and seize this moment by the reins. See if you can gentle the colt and win him over.” They’d been speaking in low voices, but Liam suddenly raised his. “Quentin! Eh, Quentin!” Quentin raised his head. His face was blank, no emotion showing in the eyes. He tried twice to form a word before managing it. “What?” “Listen to Tezcatli,” Liam said, clapping the man’s shoulder. “Remember what Zach had to say before he left. Give yourself a second chance -- and take it, Quentin, grab it with both hands and hang on. Do you understand me?” Quentin nodded slowly. “You’re leaving, too?” “I must.” “Thank the gods,” Tezcatli snapped. “Get out.” Liam’s air of mockery floated back around him like a pair of sheltering wings. He grinned wickedly at Tezcatli. “If I did not wish to go, you could not budge me. Favored of the Old Ones or not.” He leaned up on tiptoe and spoke into the Cat’s ear. “I am an Old One,” he whispered. “And you are no child of mine. Bear that in mind.” He danced backward toward the door. “Remember what I told you!” he ordered, hand upon the crash bar -- then he was gone. A quick burst of noise from inside Amour Magique floated out to them on the patio. Then, all was silence. Tezcatli turned to Quentin. He watched him for a long minute, measuring him up. His temper, never far from the surface, was simmering to the boiling point. “This is not how I play my games,” he growled. “Bringing in a ghost is cheating.” Quentin looked back at Tezcatli. Directly, no hiding his face or ducking behind a tangle of emotions. “I didn’t have a choice. He came with me.” “You dragged him along behind you.” “I suppose I must have.” Quentin’s fingers picked at each other. He never lowered his eyes. “He’s all I have. Everything that matters. Mattered.” “Wrong. Now you have me. And if you think I’m letting you go, you have another think coming. Several of them.” “I’m not deaf. I heard you the first dozen times.” Quentin leaned his head against the cool-looking stucco of the patio wall.

“So, you have me. What are you going to do with me?” “No. No, no, no.” Tezcatli’s temper flared too hot to be restrained. “What do you think? That I want a puppet? A dog that’ll roll over when I say, ‘Play dead’? I came in search of a partner.” “Which would be why you fucked me like an animal. It all makes perfect sense now.” A thrill shot through Tezcatli. He stopped still for a moment, then began his approach. Slow, languorous, sinuous. “Yes, I did. And you liked it. I can still feel you --” He ran a hand down the length of his chest. “-- beneath me. The way the muscles in your back bunched and stretched. The weight of your cock in my palm. The hot spunk when you came all over my hand.” He raised that hand to his mouth and sucked in a finger, savoring the memory of his taste again. He’d been saturated with Quentin. He wanted more. Pacing closer, he let himself stretch and arch, loosening his muscles. “You didn’t just like it. You loved it. The way you gasped my name -- you were begging for more even when I was hammering. And you want me again. There’s no ghost in our way now.” “You don’t think? I figured he always would be.” Quentin smiled tiredly, resignedly. “By the way, yes, that does mean I see us having sex again. Probably often. But he’ll still be there.” “No!” Tezcatli came to a stop in front of Quentin but refused to kneel or put himself in the inferior position. “He has said his goodbyes. And Liam has said it’s time for you to move on. I’m saying the same thing. Let go of him and go forward. With me.” Quentin half-laughed. “Oh, and you’re a real catch, aren’t you? What makes you think I’d want to be with you, outside of the sex? What do you possibly have to offer me?” Tezcatli bent and seized Quentin’s head with one hand on the back of his skull. He dragged the man into him for a crushing kiss. Teeth and lips and, insistently, tongues. He slid between Quentin’s lips intending to put his mark of ownership on that smart mouth and make it his own. He wouldn’t want him to shut up forever, but they had to get past this. As he kissed Quentin, Tezcatli slid a hand up underneath his shirt. He tweaked one nipple, just hard enough to sting, then brushed it with his fingertips. Responsive as ever, Quentin gasped and arched into his hand. “More?” Tezcatli whispered against his new partner’s lips. Yes, new partner. Paired with him in all but words. He would trust Quentin with his life, and the lives of his pack. If the man had been so loyal to a ghost, he wouldn’t betray a group of people who had never done him any harm. “Tell me. Ask me. Do you want more? Will you be good enough to earn it?” Quentin moaned, seemingly against his will. He followed Tezcatli’s mouth, kissing it just as hard, if not harder. “Good ...” he managed to say before slipping his tongue in turn between Tezcatli’s lips. Taking the advantage shamelessly. He glided that tongue along Tezcatli’s, stroking it, dancing along his teeth, trailing across the sides of his teeth. He fell into their kiss, sucking Tezcatli’s lower lip into his mouth, then nibbling at the top. Tezcatli heard himself groan as the man pulled him into a sweet surrender. No, not quite -- not a defeat. He never gave up, and he was still in control. Damned if he didn’t want to just give in, though, and let Quentin have his way. The man kissed as if he’d won contests for it. He felt a stab of jealousy. Who had taught Quentin to kiss that way? Zach? His shoulders stiffened at the thought. He would gladly have wiped his mate’s memory of the man, if it weren’t for the ghost’s threat. He would have to walk carefully. A spirit protector could be powerful if it were pissed off enough. He didn’t want to see what Zach could do now that he’d moved on to his full strength, no longer caught between earth and the heavens. What he did want to see was more of Quentin. Preferably all of him. Naked from head to toe with nothing to get in the way of feasting on him with his eyes. On his knees again? God, yes. Tezcatli snarled and dipped in deeper. His fingers started the tedious process of unbuttoning again -- then, he changed his mind. Bunching the fabric in both hands, he used a little of his Cat strength and yanked. Buttons went flying across the concrete of the patio floor, pinging this way and that. Quentin didn’t protest. As the cool air hit his bare chest, he only moaned more and sank deeper into Tezcatli’s grip. “Beautiful,” Tezcatli chanted as he moved away from Quentin’s lips and down his arms. “Handsome, gorgeous, obedient ... mine.” His fingers itched to shape themselves into paw and claw. To mark this man and be sure that the infection would take him over and make him one of the Pack. He hesitated for one moment, then stopped abruptly. Quentin had jerked away and was staring at him with dazed eyes that were quickly growing sharp with suspicion. “Liam’s words, what he said, it just now sank in. You’re a goddamned liar!” he exclaimed. “What the hell?” Tezcatli snapped, annoyed. Quentin planted a hand in the middle of Tezcatli’s chest and shoved. “Liam said you’d lied to me. A lie of omission. What did he mean?”

Ah. Tezcatli stared intently at Quentin, judging whether or not he was ready to see. Asking whether the man believed in the supernatural would be stupid. Hadn’t he had a ghost lover for -- who knew how long? Yet he didn’t seem to know the truth about Liam. Tezcatli settled for the easiest road out. “What do you mean, lie?” Quentin brushed away the question. “You know exactly what I mean, what Liam meant. Stop it -- stop kissing me! I can’t think when you do that.” “Good,” Tezcatli said, diving in for another taste of his soon-to-be official mate. “I don’t want you to think. Just accept. Just be. Be mine.” These weren’t candy heart statements. He’d infused his words with all the fire and blood he had in him. A tang of the Cat. No one could have mistaken his words for anything but what they were -- out-and-out claiming. Quentin, though, still wasn’t satisfied. “Who are you?” he demanded. “You keep starting explanations, then stopping. I’m not stupid, you know. You think I believe Liam is entirely normal? No way. He saw Zach and talked to him. You did, too.” He started. “Zach! He said it, too. You’re hiding something from me. Tell me what they were talking about. Now, Tezcatli.” “Damned pushy bottom.” Quentin’s eyes flashed. “What makes you think I’m always on the bottom?” Oh, fire, fire. Tezcatli liked that in a man. He wasn’t about to have his dominance challenged, though. But Quentin went on defiantly. “What if I want you on your knees, Tezcatli? Taking it from me from behind?” A hand shot forward to grope Tezcatli, still hard inside his jeans. He’d taken a moment to wash himself clean in a lavatory, and the skin still tingled from the rough paper towels on sensitive flesh. His member sprang to full life under Quentin’s touch, swelling up hard and proud. A glance down told him Quentin was in the same state, his dick pressing at the zipper of his khakis. A small, spreading damp spot revealed even more clearly to him what his kisses had already accomplished. He wanted more. He could still taste the ghost on Quentin’s lips, and he wanted it off, gone. Needed to have the specter of his mate’s old lover erased from his body. “Have you been with anyone since him?” he whispered. “Anyone but me?” Quentin shook his head wordlessly. His mouth followed Tezcatli’s, demanding more kisses, more tongue, more teeth. Tezcatli couldn’t help but give him what he wanted -- a gift, for being such a hellcat. “He’s gone,” he managed to say. “Gave us his goodbyes. I’m all that’s left.” Quentin moaned, his arms coming up to grasp tightly at Tezcatli’s neck. “I know,” he said through kiss-swollen lips. “He wants me to live. And I want to do what he said, in his memory.” Tezcatli stilled. “Is that all?” “No.” Quentin’s tongue flickered out to trail along Tezcatli’s cheek. “He said I should go on. That means with you. That means it’s all right.” “What’s all right?” Tezcatli thought he knew, but had to be sure. Everything rode on what Quentin made up his mind to do. “Say it, boy. Say it out loud.” “Stop calling me ‘boy’!” Tezcatli refused to look away. “All right. Boy.” Quentin bared his teeth. “You are a pain in the ass. Literally. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, or who you are, beyond your name, but you’ve caught me. You got me by the short hairs, then you dragged me in. I want you. I’ve been alone for a long damn time. You are the first one to have gotten through. Does that make you happy?” “Oh, yes. And I’ll be the last,” Tezcatli threatened/promised. He moved his hands downward, jerking at the fastening to Quentin’s pants. They popped open easily under his strong grip, freeing that swollen cock to the night air. “It’s all right,” he said. “No one can see us,” he lied. “Tell me. You know what I want to hear.” “Damn you!” “Tell me!” His hand hovered over Quentin’s cock. “Tell me, or I won’t be good to you.” “Good to me? Good? Fine, then, you fucker, fine! I want you. I belong to you now. I am yours.” Quentin blazed with anger and lust. “Is that what you wanted to hear?” Tezcatli grinned, his mouth full of sharp teeth. “It’ll do,” he said. “It’s a start. Now.” His hand began to work the hard column of flesh he’d been so close to, but hadn’t yet touched. Again. He half closed his eyes at the feel of the weight in his palm. Gods, nothing compared to cock. His free hand ran up Quentin’s chest, counting the muscles as he went. Six-pack -- hell, he all but had an eight-pack. This one was strong, proud, brave. He had fire inside him. There was no doubt in Tezcatli’s mind that he’d make a gorgeous cat. Tezcatli made his decision. “I’ll be good to you,” he said, meaning it on several levels. He thought Quentin understood him as he dipped his mouth down toward that cock. “So good,” he breathed over the tip. “I’m all you need ...”

He sank down. Quentin gave a choked cry and gripped at Tezcatli’s shoulders, at his hair. Tezcatli grinned around his mouthful and set to work. Tongue up the thick vein on the underside, teasing circles around the head; suction up and down the length. He loved cock. Loved sucking as much as he enjoyed fucking. He wouldn’t ever stop if he had a choice. And with a tom like this? There’d be plenty of chances. Quentin moaned beneath him, writhing up and down as Tezcatli rubbed his thighs, weighed his balls in one hand and rolled them back and forth with just the right amount of pressure, then used his hand to work what parts of the cock his mouth didn’t cover. The man was shameless, kneading Tezcatli’s scalp and arching his hips up. Tezcatli drew back to breathe over the wet cock, drenching it in sensation. “It’s all right,” he said. “You have permission. Live again. Give it to me.” He licked once more, a long, lazy stroke. “Live!” Then, he drew the head back into his mouth and probed at the slit with his tongue. Quentin bucked, yelled something that wasn’t quite words, and grabbed Tezcatli hard enough to hurt. Spunk shot from his cock into Tezcatli’s mouth, salty and musky. Jet after jet of the stuff, even though he’d already come once. His balls were tight as knots against his body as he came. Tezcatli gave them a squeeze, milking his mate until Quentin cried out again and slumped back against the wall. Tezcatli followed, swarming up onto the bench and balancing on his knees. He thrust his own hard cock at Quentin, nudging his lover’s spent member. “Me now,” he said. “My turn. Service me.” Quentin looked at him with dreamy eyes. He opened his mouth and closed it -- so fucking tempting that Tezcatli had to seize it in a kiss. Let Quentin taste himself on Tezcatli’s tongue. When he drew back, though, the look he got had sharpened. He wasn’t quick enough to avoid the man’s hand as it shot downward to grab his cock through his clothing. “Thanks,” Quentin said. “Now, I want to know something. I figure turnabout is fair play.” Tezcatli gaped. “You -- you --” “Tell me, Tezcatli,” Quentin warned, applying just a little bit of pressure. “You distracted me before, but I don’t forget easily. Tell me who you are. Are you going to hurt me? Put me in danger? I’ve had enough for one lifetime.” Tezcatli couldn’t believe his ears. “You think I can just blurt it out? You think it’s that easy?” “No. I think it’s hard.” Quentin did something with his hand that should have been illegal -- Tezcatli registered the thumb sweeping down the length of him and a finger digging into the swollen head. “I’m willing to accept what Zach told me. God help me, but I do want you. The thing is, that means if you want me to take you on, you have to tell me the truth. I’ve done my fighting and my hiding, Tezcatli. I don’t ever want to do that again.” Quentin drew back, utterly serious. “Tell me, or I walk away. You said you wouldn’t take me by force. I don’t think you will, even if you can be a conceited asshole. I want to hear everything from you, the whole truth. I know you’re not normal. Are you even human?” Tezcatli opened and shut his mouth, stunned at his mate’s defiance. “I -- I --” he stuttered. A madness overtook him. He wouldn’t give up Quentin, he couldn’t. So he’d just have to make sure the man couldn’t leave him. “Forgive me,” he whispered. Then, with the slightest application of pressure, he quickly extended a claw and scratched a light trail down Quentin’s chest. It wouldn’t be enough to turn the man, but he had to mark him. Had to see his signature on that beautiful flesh. “Ow!” Quentin jerked back. A few ruby droplets of blood welled to the surface. “What did you do that for?” Tezcatli caressed his shoulders, then moved his hands down Quentin’s arms to the elbows. “So handsome,” he murmured. “Your body gave me no say in the matter.” “Between hurting me and walking away? Great choice, Tez!” “Don’t call me that!” Tezcatli ground his teeth. “I’ve warned you not to mock me. No one does so --” “-- and lives?” Quentin finished. Tezcatli glared at him. Then, he changed his look to an assessing one. Quentin had gone a little pale and a little red at the same time, his skin blotching. He looked well-fucked, his glossy hair in tangles and his lips swollen. He smelled of blood and come. Gorgeous. He was someone Tezcatli could treasure. “No one who wants to enjoy their life runs from me,” he said softly, dangerously. “The things I could make you feel, Quentin! Who am I? I am Tezcatli!” He struck himself on the chest. “I run through the night. I feed. I fuck. I fight. I rule. I am the King of my kind. They all obey me. By mating with you, by giving you the favor I would give an equal, by placing my initial mark on you I’ve picked you as my second in command.” He paused. “You want to know what I am? Very well. Watch!” He changed, just a little, his teeth sharpening into points. Drawing back, he bared them at Quentin in a glittering Cat smile.

“What do you think I am, now?” he whispered, his voice as rough as his tongue would be now. “Name me.” He felt his eyes change to yellow-green as he watched Quentin’s face drain of color -- then soft lips hardened into a tight line. “Come on,” Tezcatli challenged. “Do you dare? Ask me again, Quentin. Come on!” Quentin drew back his hand, and lashed out at Tezcatli. Marking him with four stripes of blood in turn. His face was blank. “I know what you are,” he said. “Jaguar man!”

Chapter Eight Quentin fought back the urge to laugh -- in triumph -- as Tezcatli stumbled back, one hand flying to his scratches. The look on his face was priceless. One part disbelief, one part rage, and one part admiration. Seriously grudging, but there. Rage won out when he finally spoke. “You little prick!” “You thought it was big enough earlier.” Not caring anymore who might be looking out to see them, Quentin cupped his cock and gave it a tug. He felt strange. Wild and free. He knew he had the warm wind of Zach’s approval at his back, and he could do no wrong. His first move? Teaching Tezcatli a lesson. Oh, it all made sense now. The Aztec look the other man had, his name, the way he moved ... the pieces all fit together. “Jaguar,” Quentin repeated, slowly moving around toward Tezcatli’s side while holding his pants up with his free hand. “Did you think I wouldn’t know what you were when you showed those teeth? Your claws?” Tezcatli moved away, slinking sinuously while keeping his eyes fixed on Quentin. His proud mouth was turned down in a scowl, but his eyes told a different story. “What am I?” he challenged. “Jaguar. I come from close to the border, Tezcatli. You think they didn’t tell stories about your kind at night?” Quentin flung back. “Folk who walked like men, talked like them, fed and fucked just the same -- but put them underneath a full moon? Presto! Cats. Big jungle cats who liked to eat our cows and horses. Zach -- yes, I said his name, and I’ll say it again if I feel like it -patched up those you only managed to graze.” “We don’t miss often.” “Then there must have been a shitty pack living close to us.” Tezcatli bared his teeth and hissed. Looking at him, Quentin wondered how on earth he’d thought he was human. Cat showed through in every bone, joint and sinew. It wasn’t just the eyes, gold and green now, or the way his nails had become hooked claws that flexed and retracted back into his fingers. “How close to the border?” “What is that? Wounded pride? Close enough. You could see Mexico on a clear day, out on the ranges, or close enough. I learned Spanish from the best cowboys we had. Vete a la mierda, chupaverga.” Go to hell, bastard. He grinned, feeling almost as if he had sharp teeth. As if a huge weight were lifted off his shoulders. “Chupame la pinga.” Suck my cock! “Corigo tu!” Fuck you! “Y tu.” Quentin moved again, forcing Tezcatli into a slow circle, around and around the smoking porch. He decided to throw in some English for good measure: “Damn pussy.” He’d expected an immediate reaction, and he wasn’t disappointed. Tezcatli’s nostrils flared, and for a split second Quentin braced himself for the lunge, the attack, the wrestle. Then, Tezcatli broke into a reluctant grin. Still laced with rage, but a smile all the same. The admiration was not entirely hidden. “You learned all that from a computer.” “More like from cussing out cows and cowboys.” They made another slow circle. “Not going to argue my words? Or are you too busy deciding how you’re going to slash me up into itty bitty pieces?” Tezcatli stopped. He ran the tip of his pink tongue over his sharpened Cat teeth. “I think you taste too good to kill,” he said. “Besides, I said it first. I’m keeping you.” “What if I don’t want to be kept?” “Well, too bad for you, then, isn’t it? I make the rules. I am alpha. You? You’re just a human.” “Maybe not for long. You scratched me, remember?” “Not deep enough. Not hard, nor long. If that was all it took, you would have already been turned from the way we marked each other while fucking.” Tezcatli subtly relaxed his position, his hand on his chest. He circled a nipple with his finger and grinned wickedly. “You bit me, here. Remember? It’s not like vampires, boy.” “Stop calling me that. I know it’s not the same.” “You believe in vampires?” “I believe in ghosts and jaguar men. I’m open-minded.” Almost too quick to track, Quentin grabbed a handful of sand from an ashtray and flung it at Tezcatli. While the jaguar was choking and spitting, he made his move. He lunged, taking the werecat down to the ground with him. Tezcatli went, mostly out of surprise probably. But like a cat, he landed on his feet -- or his hands and knees, then twisting and pinning Quentin after a moment’s startled sprawl. Looking down at him, his face would have put the fear of God in any other man -- but not Quentin. He could barely keep from chortling.

“What’s so funny?” “You,” Quentin said, letting himself smile. Felt really good after living with tears for so long. He still missed Zach, and he always would, no matter what Tezcatli said. He still blamed himself. There was more he could have done, should have done. There had to have been. But he no longer felt the crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders. He had been forgiven. Zach had spoken the words, and he’d moved on. Now Quentin could, too, and it would be all right. He batted at Tezcatli’s face like a kitten would. “One time I chased a big jaguar away from a campfire,” he said with a lazy grin, testing the waters. “I grabbed a burning log and smacked at him until he ran away. Probably singed a few of his whiskers.” He cocked an eyebrow. “That wasn’t you, by any chance?” Tezcatli stared at him with startled eyes, slowly shaking his head. “And to think,” he said, almost to himself, “I’ve been censoring myself all night just in case the thought of a Jaguar Man would frighten you off.” “No. I probably would have laid myself down for you to eat, when I first came in here.” Quentin stirred, his pulse quickening. He could feel the beat thrumming steadily at his neck, his heart and his wrists. A snatch of the Spanish music that had been playing the first time Tezcatli fucked him floated through his mind. He translated it into English and wanted to whoop. “Shed your skin / run through the night / four feet forward / face the wind,” he quoted. “He one of your boys?” “One, yes.” Tezcatli could win championships for the intensity of his stare. “You’ve changed. You are not the man I first met tonight.” “No.” Quentin searched himself and felt alive. “This is the real me. I don’t even know myself, it’s been so long. But I’m going to find out again.” He let his fingertips trail over Tezcatli’s cheek. “Are you coming along for the discovery, too?” “That depends,” Tezcatli returned smoothly. “Do you want to join me?” When Quentin hesitated, the man dipped down, nuzzling against a pulse point. “I thought I’d have to kill you,” he said, pausing to trail the tip of his tongue over Quentin’s Adam’s apple. Figure eights, swirling around and around. He bit down lightly. “That if you found out about us and didn’t join us, that you’d run screaming. Tell the tabloids. I couldn’t let that happen to my people, no matter how --” He thrust down. “-- fuckable you are.” “Sweet-talker.” Quentin arched up to meet Tezcatli’s rocking motion. He sucked in a breath as their cocks bumped. God, he wasn’t a horny teenager anymore, but the Cat could bring it out of him. Three times in one night? He wouldn’t be surprised. Tezcatli could do anything. Could ... change him. “You could be one of us,” Tezcatli said, as if on cue, against Quentin’s skin. His hand moved down between them, teasing at the tip of Quentin’s cock, which still gaped from his undone pants. Almost too sensitive to touch, but it hurt so good. “Not just a pack member. I didn’t come here tonight looking for another lackey. I came here looking for a mate, and I am a Cat of my word. A mate is what I have found.” “Your crew don’t mind?” Tezcatli looked up, the sheer arrogance on his face amazing. “They don’t question or dictate to me,” he said in a low voice that resounded with the echoes of battles long since won. Quentin felt a chill creep up his spine. Yanking Tezcatli’s chain might be fun, but he’d have to remember that it broke easily. A warm hand closed over his. “I won’t hurt you,” the Jaguar man said quietly. “Only enough to change you over. Make you like us. Strong. Free.” “Wild,” Quentin pointed out. “I’m a doctor. What would I do if I had to check out of the office every full moon? I -- what?” Tezcatli looked taken aback. “A doctor?” Quentin nodded. “Where do you think I got the syringe and glucose? I stole them from the supply cabinets at work. A clinic down on the West Side.” “What sort of doctor?” “A general practitioner. God, you sound like a debutante who just caught a big sugar daddy. You -- hey, stop that!” Quentin laughed and slapped at Tezcatli, who was busy lavishing kisses over his chest. He groaned when that wicked mouth reached a nipple and bit down lightly, then sucked. “Why? What does it matter?” Tezcatli spared him a look obviously intended for someone devoid of intelligence. “How many of my people do you think actually go to see doctors when they’re sick? Do you know how valuable you’d be to me?” “Some kind of dowry.” Quentin chose his words deliberately. When Tezcatli stopped his mouthing of Quentin’s skin and went still, he knew they’d sunk home. He went on. “That’s kind of what this is, isn’t it? I don’t remember if jaguars mate for life, but I do. That’s the sort of man I am, and I don’t think I’d change too much if I were to become a Cat.”

“You’re considering it, then.” Tezcatli sounded thoughtful. “You idiot.” “What?” Quentin bucked up, then sank back down with a moan as his cock rubbed against Tezcatli’s again and the man bore down harder on him. “Say that again?” The Jaguar man actually looked wounded. “Did you think I’d change you, take you to meet the others, then continue to bed everything that caught my eye? Did you even wonder what kind of man I am?” “You have to admit I haven’t had much of a chance to find out.” Quentin’s breathing was quickening as Tezcatli kept up the slow rhythm, tormenting him. He realized again, vaguely, that they were outside, where anyone who wanted to could look through the glass doors and see them. Then again, they were at Amour Magique. Did it matter? Somehow, he didn’t think it did. Not anymore, at least. His head whirled, full of thoughts. Some of them good, some bad, and some he didn’t understand. Tezcatli moved a little faster. “Home,” the man said, somehow choosing the words that would strike directly to Quentin’s heart. “Family. Belonging. Acceptance.” “Texas?” Quentin managed to ask. Tezcatli shrugged. “It’s where I come from. I’m not happy in the city. There’s no place to run, unless you’re brave.” His sparkling eyes told Quentin just who had been for a midnight jog to scare the locals. “Are you?” He rocked. “Brave? Strong enough to believe me?” Quentin hesitated. “You’d never be alone again,” Tezcatli promised him. He ran his hand down Quentin’s arm, stopping with a hold on his bicep. “I’d be by your side. Alpha and beta. Mate and mate. We would rule together. You could bring so much to us. That is what I can give to you.” He hesitated. “I won’t say ‘love.’ Not yet. It’s too soon. And I ...” His voice trailed off. Quentin knew what had stopped him. “It’s okay,” he said. “Most guys can’t say that, ever, even when they mean it. But what’s between us -- I think it can become more significant than love. A different bond of sorts. You and I would be together. And with me, until death do us part has a deeper meaning.” He felt a surge of panic. “Oh, God. What if something happened to you? I couldn’t lose you, too.” Tezcatli bit down again on his chest. He didn’t break the skin. Almost, but not quite. “Shh. No one can ever know about that sort of thing. I might lose a fight one day, but I don’t think so. No one’s brave enough to come up against me. They haven’t been in years. Do you see any scars on me?” “They’d heal, in human form. You heal fast.” “I keep forgetting you know too much about us already. Do you know what Liam is, too?” “Nope. Something not human as well, I’d guess. But I don’t care. Do you really want to talk about Liam at a time like this?” Quentin lifted his hips off the ground. His cock, miraculously fully hard and ready yet again that night, scored over the hard planes of Tezcatli’s lower belly. Both men drew a ragged, lusty breath. “No.” Tezcatli swore in something not quite Spanish. Older, Quentin guessed hazily. The intense look was back in his eyes. “But before this goes any further, choose. Are you mine? Will you run with me under the next full moon? Go back to the border with me? Out where there’re wild lands? Take care of me and mine, even as I will take care of you?” He thrust against Quentin, his words becoming thick and labored. “Don’t say yes because I want you to. If you say no, I will let you go. But I want you to say yes. Say yes for me, and mean it.” “Tezcatli ...” “No. This is the way the game is played. In or out, Quentin? Choose. Choose now.” Quentin tipped his head back. He met Tezcatli’s eyes. Dark, serious eyes, flickering between brown and gold and green. His mouth was like a knife slash, but Quentin knew how kissable it could be. Something inside him said it wasn’t fair to have to choose in a heartbeat, not when someone was making love to him and his brain was all down south. But would he really make a different choice when he was awake, or in the daylight hours? Tezcatli wouldn’t change if you saw him by day. And once you’d tasted pure, wild freedom, you could never turn away. He grinned. Then, he arched up to kiss the man. A full kiss, sucking on lips, biting, tongues clashing and rubbing against each other. Tezcatli thrust quicker. His breath was hot on Quentin’s mouth. “Say yes,” he muttered, stopping for a moment. “Please.” Quentin opened his mouth.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Take me. Make me. Change me. I can’t live this life I have. No, not living. Existing.” He gripped Tezcatli’s shirt by the collars. “The real me -- Quentin -- never made it here from the West. Turn me into someone -- something -new.” Tezcatli tipped his chin back, grinning proudly. “And you do this for me?” “For me.” Quentin pulled the proud Aztec closer, smashing their mouths together in a kiss that became ravenous. As their tongues clashed, he let out a low moan that seemed to start down at his toes and rush through him, out his mouth. “Do it, Tezcatli.” Tezcatli looked down into Quentin’s face. He was breathing heavily. “You’re sure? No looking back?” “Not for a minute.” “Let it be as you say, then.” Tezcatli lowered his mouth to Quentin’s chest, nuzzling at his nipples. “Skin,” he muttered. “Such supple, gorgeous skin. Touch yourself for me. Tease me, just a little. A show for both of us.” Quentin obeyed, his hands shaking just a little. Nerves, nothing worse. Adrenaline. Excitement. He raised his hands to the small brown nubs on his chest, first toying with them, then tugging and tweaking in earnest. The shock of sensation took him by surprise, ripping a groan from him. “I’d rather this was you,” he said in a low voice. “Your mouth. Right here. Sucking me.” “You tempt me to the point. But only just there?” Quentin licked his thumb, then made slow circles around his nipple. The taut flesh glistened in the light of the moon. “No more waiting,” he ordered. “Do it.” Tezcatli flashed him an unreadable look. “Are you so impatient?” “You’re the one who taught me not to wait.” Quentin raised up to his knees, removed his pants completely, then leaned back on his arms. He knew his cock would be an irresistible temptation to the Cat, hungry beast that he was. He’d take care of Quentin and then some. Sure enough, Tezcatli stared, dark eyes glittering. He licked his lips. Then, heedless of the public place they stood in, reached for the fastenings of his own pants. He jerked them down and kicked them aside. Holding his cock out, hard and dark as carved teak wood, he asked, “Is this what you want?” “I want,” Quentin breathed, letting his lips part invitingly. Enticing Tezcatli in. Tezcatli stroked himself. “Where do you want me? In that devil mouth, or somewhere else?” “Else,” Quentin said, swallowing hard. “Do it.” “Here? Now?” Quentin gave in to temptation and reached up, straining to touch. “Here and now,” he whispered. “I want you inside me. Come on. Now is the time and here’s the place. Fill me up.” Tezcatli snarled, not angrily, but as if he were sizing up a savory meal. Naked, he made his way down to the cement floor. Quentin felt questing fingers at his entrance, and a muffled sound of pleasure that must have been Tezcatli deciding he was still slick enough to be taken without waiting. Tezcatli lifted Quentin’s legs easily as feathers, resting them over his shoulders. Quentin could feel the tip of Tezcatli’s cock pressing at his opening, just about to breach him, but not ... quite ... there. “You’re ready for me?” “So very ready,” Quentin breathed, reaching for something to hold on to. He had a feeling he was in for the ride of his life. Tezcatli pushed in, one slow inch at a time. As he moved, he chanted something soft and low in a language Quentin almost recognized. A prayer? A blasphemy? He didn’t know and didn’t care. He was being spitted open on one of the best cocks he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing, and now that it was okay to appreciate it, God, did he ever. When they were joined fully, bodies pulsing around and within one another, Tezcatli grabbed at Quentin’s chin and forced him to look up. “You’re ready?” he asked one last time. As if he had to be sure. Quentin almost laughed. He arched up, shameless and wanton. “I’m yours.” Tezcatli let loose with an unearthly cry and plunged down, raking his nails deep in Quentin’s chest. At the same time he began to thrust hard, fast and deep, so that with the pain and the pleasure mixed together Quentin was coming -- right over the edge and into the great white beyond. And when he came to, somehow he knew he had been changed. Now he, too, was Cat. Sweat-sheened, Tezcatli offered him a hand. Though they were still joined more intimately, Quentin took it. Tezcatli squeezed tightly enough to crack human bones. “Brother,” he said roughly. “Lover. Mate.” “Mine,” Quentin breathed, reaching up for a fierce kiss. “Yours,” Tezcatli replied, bending to return his embrace ...

***** “For the last time, move. You’re blocking the view.” Liam shook his head. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the solid door leading to the patio. The blinds had been drawn, and Liam wasn’t allowing any comers to push him out of the way. Not that everyone couldn’t guess what was happening outside. Tezcatli and Quentin’s voices were raised high enough for the mixed clientele at the bar to have a good idea of the events in motion. Some enterprising folks had even placed pools on who would come first, who topped whom, and whether or not Quentin would say yes. In the moment that followed, there was nothing but silence -- then, two voices, raised in howls of mixed pleasure and pain. Some men winced, either from uncomfortable hard-ons or from imagining what Tezcatli must have done. Raspy breathing drifted in along with murmured words too low to hear. Liam closed his eyes and smiled. “I will have to suggest that this bar be renamed The Two Cats,” he said. He thought back to the needle, the chocolate and the god-touched Aztec he’d known would climb the stairs to lay claim to Quentin. Of Zach, of jaguars and of things that went bump in the dark. Hours past midnight, and there was still so much more to do. Liam let himself rest for another minute. Soon, he would be needed somewhere else. But for the moment, just one moment, he could let himself go boneless. He was tired, so very, very tired ... Finding true love for his friends might very well be the death of him, instead.

Willa Okati Although a relative newcomer to the field of e-publishing, Willa Okati has been writing since before she was old enough to pick up a pen. She thinks she knows where those dictated stories are hidden, but she'll never tell. Willa is also very interested in the paranormal: magery, Wicca, New Age philosophy, transgender studies, and of course, writing. You can drag her away from the computer if you really fight, but you'd better be prepared for a battle. Just so she doesn't sound entirely dull, Willa has her fun: she is a practicing member of the SCA (Society for Creative Anachronism) and is involved in her community. She is owned by far too many cats, all of which have serious attitudes, and addicted to anything made out of chocolate or involving coffee. She is quiet, but has a very wicked sense of humor that springs out when you least expect it. A secretary for eight years, she now writes full-time -- and wouldn't trade it for the world. She loves to hear from readers, and always responds. You can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website to check out her work at www.willaokati.com.