Binding Santos (5 page)

"Tyron said you didn't mate with him," Max growled, showing his fangs. "Did you mate with someone else? Even after he told you he was your mate?"

Banking his anger, Santos shook his head. "No. It doesn't make sense. I haven't been with anyone since Tyron."

Maximus frowned and whispered, "The love bites."

Santos shook his head. "I didn't bite Tyron."

"No. The marks you sucked up on Tyron's neck. Did you pull any blood through them? They looked dark enough," Max pointed out.

The memory of Tyron's sweet metallic taste came back to him, making his cock hard. Groaning, Santos nodded. "Damn it. I guess I got just enough to start the binding process."

Max took the now crumpled letter and frowned. "What's an uncleared binding?"

"When demons want to bind with someone other than another demon, they are supposed to acquire permission from the Demon Coalition. The coalition say it's so they can keep track of who may have inside information on demon's abilities." He shook his head and ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Personally, I think it's a way to keep demons under their thumb and garner favors to cash in later," he growled, his anger renewing.

"And what do they mean by
he'll be returned once the break is complete?
" Graden asked, crossing his arms over his massive chest.

"They mean to kill me," Santos replied without hesitation. The damn fools. They wouldn't get him without a fight.

As if to cement his words, he felt a shiver run up his spine just before a large demon popped into the room. "Selvator," Santos hissed, just as the demon sent a bolt of energy at him. Santos instinctively lifted a wing, deflecting the bolt, absorbing the energy into himself. With a feral grin, he asked, "Sent you after me, did they?"

The demon Selvator was a tracker, similar to himself, but often times, due to the gray cast to his skin, which the coalition deemed as lower breeding, he got the shitty tasks of killing other paranormals instead of bringing in demons for trial. The demon grimaced. "Sorry, old friend, but I've got to follow orders. They want you brought in, dead or alive." He shook his head as he eyed Santos's wings. "And now I see why. You've become a threat to them."

"A threat?" he snarled.

Selvator smiled, showing off a fang. Santos saw his body relax slightly, though he kept his hands in a defensive posture, ready to raise a shield if Santos decided to strike at him magically. "You mated without permission to..." he glanced around and took in the frowning gargoyles behind Santos. "A gargoyle. Powerful creatures, gargoyles. A demon can draw on the power of their mate in battle. Combine that with the wings you now sport, you've become a danger to them."

Growling low in his throat, Santos thought quickly. If he went with Selvator, the coalition would kill him. If he didn't go, he'd have to kill Selvator, and then the coalition would just send someone else after him. Neither option appealed to him. Another thought struck. If they couldn't kill him, they may decide to kill Tyron.

Santos groaned in frustration as he turned to Selvator. He appreciated the demon giving him the choice, realizing Selvator could have shot that bolt of energy while still concealed by the powers of the lei line. The memory of absorbing his shot with his wing came to mind and ideas filled him.

"I'll go with you, Selvator, but I'll not go in chains."

A smirk grew over the other demon's features. "I thank you for your choice, Santos." Santos felt his brows lift at Selvator's words, and the tracker chuckled softly. "I wouldn't have been able to take you."

"Then why did you appear? You know you could have struck first."

Selvator shrugged. "You didn't deserve that, old friend. I don't give a damn what the coalition says."

Santos bowed his head in thanks before turning to Maximus. "Allow me to make certain no other creature can just
pop
in," he said, lifting his fingers in air quotes. After a nod from the Huzza, Santos flexed his fingers and mentally reached out for the lei line that Selvator used to enter the gargoyle's stronghold. He traveled the line in his mind, fusing the thread with several other entrances into Rostrorod. Seconds later, he'd blocked every entrance from use by any paranormal but himself and those he'd invited.

He turned to Max. "One way or another, Tyron will be returned shortly."

"He won't want you sacrificing yourself for him," Max warned him. "Surely there's something we can do to help?" he said, shifting his gaze briefly to Graden, who nodded his agreement.

Santos smiled, feeling gratitude for the first time in nearly a century. "I'm honored that'd you'd wish to assist, but this is demon politics. There is nothing you can do."

He watched Max's jaw tighten before he nodded curtly. "Once I leave, no one will be able to enter except me."

"You're welcome anytime," Max murmured.

Santos nodded, crossed to Selvator and settled a hand on his shoulder. He reached out to the lei lines around him and took the pair to the demon realm of Overworld.

∗ ∗ ∗

Tyron bared his fangs at the demon that opened the door. They may be holding him in a comfortable studio style room, complete with a stocked refrigerator and king size bed, but to him, it was still a prison.

The demon, the one who'd brought him his last meal a couple hours ago, hissed back, showing off a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. "Come on," he ordered, motioning him forward.

"Where?" Tyron asked coldly, not moving an inch toward the demon.

"The coalition has convened. They've called for you."

He could tell by the contempt dripping from the demon's voice, he didn't like the duty of fetching Tyron. Glancing out the tiny window at the red landscape outside, Tyron quickly weighed his options. He could refuse to go before the coalition, but then he'd never know why they'd kidnapped him and locked him in this room. He figured it had something to do with his contact with Santos, but for the life of him, he didn't know what was going on. Best to get an explanation, he decided.

Tyron nodded curtly and moved warily toward the demon. When the demon held up a pair of wrist restraints and motioned for Tyron to turn, he growled, "Not happening." There was no way in hell, or in this case, in Overworld, he was turning his back on this creature.

"Fine," the red beast snapped.

He led the way out of the room and down the hall. The gray stone of the hallway had grooves chiseled into ornate patterns. The gouges were filled with gold and red metals creating one long intricate decoration. Tyron had to admit that it was stunning. Even the stone beneath his claws had designs carved into them. It was a sharp contrast to the barren, non-descript room he'd been held in.

A short walk through twisting corridors and passed several cross-hallways had Tyron being led through large wooden doors. He hardly had to tuck his ten foot wings to get through the opening. Stepping inside, the cavernous room was easily as large as four football fields with a sixty foot ceiling. Dozens of demons sat along the far side nearly two hundred yards away. More demons stood lining the walls. Santos stood in the empty center next to another demon, this one with a gray cast to his red skin.

His heart skipped a beat as Santos turned toward him. The demon's glittering red eyes swept over him quickly, as if assessing for damage. Tyron offered a tight smile, trying to reassure his mate. He nearly stumbled when he heard Santos's voice in his head.

Can you hear me, little one?

He lifted one black brow and gave a tight nod, veering toward his mate.

Good. Are you well? Have they mistreated you?

At that, he couldn't stop the small smile, knowing that Santos at least cared a little. When the demon he'd followed to the room grabbed his arm to lead him away from Santos, Tyron swung to face him and growled. At the same time, he heard a roar. Looking toward his mate, he watched what he thought was a cloak lift and spread to show off twelve foot, red membranous wings that, except for the color, looked a lot like a bat's.

"Come between me and my bindling again and it will be the last thing you do," Santos snarled, his cold, angry words carrying easily through the room, silencing all other conversation.

Tyron sucked in a surprised breath at Santos's words, and by the reaction of most of the demons in the room, he wasn't the only one shocked. Santos crooked a finger at him. The demon holding him released his arm and Tyron wasted no time going to Santos. Even more amazement flooded him when Santos wrapped Tyron in his arms and kissed him deeply, almost as if staking a claim.

When Santos finally released him, Tyron's breath came in panting gasps and his cock pressed painfully against his fly. "What the hell is going on?" he murmured when he could finally speak.

"The coalition monitors bindings, Tyron," Santos replied. "They're not too happy that we started the process without permission."

Tyron felt the color drain from his face. "Oh, shit. I'm so sorry, Santos. I didn't know. Will you be in much trouble because I bit you?"

Santos scraped his clawed forefinger across Tyron's cheek, causing a shiver to travel down his spine and settle in his balls. His cock twitched in his pants, and Santos smiled, as if knowing the affect his touch had on him. "I could have stopped you, love, but it felt far too good. And if you remember, I marked you as well. I drew just enough blood from you to start the binding. The process isn't complete, and they want it stopped. They fear the power I've gained by mating you. Gargoyles are powerful creatures, Tyron," he murmured, flexing his wings, drawing Tyron's gaze to them.

"How will they stop the process?" he asked, trying to control his need to explore his mate's new appendages. When Santos didn't answer right away, his attention snapped to his lover's face. "No," he growled in realization. "I won't allow it."

Santos's grin turned feral, but before he could say anything, a deep voice bellowed through the chamber. "Enough!" All talk ceased. Santos and Tyron turned toward the large gargoyle, but much to Tyron's pleasure, Santos kept a possessive arm around his waist. "Santos Ry Conica, you've been brought here because you've begun the binding process without the coalition's permission. As punishment, your binding must be severed. Either sacrifice yourself or your bindling. Choose your fate, demon."

"No, Coalition Member Braken," Santos replied, his voice cold and clear. "The Demon Coalition's control over who mates who is an antiquated and demeaning tradition. The hold you have over our lives ends now. I challenge the coalition's right to choose. I demand a free-vote."

Silence even more profound than when the coalition member spoke followed Santos's demand. After several long seconds, Braken snarled, "You know the law. You'd put your life on the line for this gargoyle?"

"Yes," Santos responded firmly.

"So be it," came the disdainful reply.

"What's going on?" Tyron whispered as he watched the demons at the far end file out of their chairs and form two lines across the massive hall.

"If a demon feels his belief is stronger than the strength of the coalition, he can demand a free-vote. He walks a gauntlet. If he survives, his belief is the new law."

"If he survives," Tyron murmured, watching the coalition members get into position. "A gauntlet? You mean each member will have the opportunity to strike you any way they want and you can't defend yourself?"

Santos wrapped his arms around Tyron, pulling him close. "You are my defense, Tyron. You gave me wings. They allow me to absorb blows more easily. Plus a demon draws on the strength of his mate," he whispered. "Even though we haven't completed the mating, we are still linked. My only concern is that you may feel some of the pain. If it gets to be too much for you, please close the link in your mind. I don't wish any harm to come to you."

Growling softly, Tyron shook his head. "Not going to happen. Finish the bond, so I can help you fully," he demanded. When Santos just stared at him, he lifted his wrist and used his fangs to tear it open. He held the bleeding limb up to Santos's face. "Take it."

Santos grimaced, and for several heartbeats, Tyron thought he'd refuse. A soft smile curved the demon's hard features. "It's not the way I would have wanted to complete our coupling, but we'll do it right later," he promised before latching onto Tyron's wrist, sucking several large swallows of blood into his mouth.

Santos's moan and the feel of his lips on his wrist sent a fresh wave of lust though Tyron's body. He had to concentrate hard not to come in his jeans. He felt the faint mental link Santos had used to talk to him earlier snap into place.
Delicious,
Santos whispered in his mind. His mate swiped his tongue over the gash, licking up a few last drops before removing his shirt and wrapping it around Tyron's wrist. He smiled. "I can't wear it anyway."

Tyron grabbed Santos neck and pulled his head down for a quick kiss. "I'll be here to patch you up when they're done, but don't think I'll ever stand by for this behavior again. Do you hear me?"

His mate's eyes glowed with amusement and affection. "Yes, my bindling." His whispered words sent another wave of warmth through Tyron, this time of happiness. Now if he could just get Santos home safe, everything would be perfect.