Demon's Triad (3 page)

Dorand’s eyes slid shut, and he immediately found it was easier like this, easier to imagine it was Carantha’s hand caressing his sac, stroking the juncture of his thighs and groin. Easier to imagine Ferrin’s shaft was thickening as he prepared to thrust into Carantha’s ass while Dorand lost himself inside Carantha’s sweet, tight pussy again and again until they were all spent, until their power reached a fever pitch and released itself. Until their spell was cast.

They’d raised spirits dead hundreds of years with the strength of their deathspeaking spells, making their coven famous again in the modern world. Amiantos hardly ever worked in threes, but no one could deny that they had been the most powerful force their clan had produced in years. That Dorand, Ferrin and Carantha were such a strong triad was a source of wonder to their people.

Had
been a source of wonder until Beltane, when Carantha’s broken and mutilated body was found in the woods. Here, in this spot. This was where she had died, where some bastard had tortured his lover, his friend, made her scream and no doubt beg for the release of death before he struck the final blow.

“Dorand.” Ferrin’s voice was thickening, taking on that lazy edge that it always had when the three of them had been together. “What are you thinking about?”

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“Nothing,”

“Then why are you going soft, man?”

“Why are you mentioning it? Bringing attention to the problem is certainly no cure,” Dorand barked, squeezing Ferrin’s cock none too softly.

Ferrin grunted in response, but Dorand knew he would never say uncle. Ferrin was good with pain and at times actually seemed to enjoy a little mixed in with his pleasure.

“How many times have our cocks rubbed together while we made love to Carantha, how many times have we kissed over our sweet girl’s head? The fact that she’s not here tonight means nothing.”

“It means everything.”

“Don’t be a fool.”

“Don’t talk.” Dorand’s voice shook and he was glad he’d kept his eyes closed. He might have kissed Ferrin before, helped him make love to their woman, but there was no way he’d let the other man see him cry. Besides, the bastard was right. If he kept dwelling on Carantha’s murder, they would have no chance to avenge her.

Ferrin’s hands returned to his shaft, stroking Dorand’s thickening cock, running up and down his stomach. Ferrin’s cock was still hard in Dorand’s hand, its burgeoning weight slowly becoming arousing. This was good but it wasn’t enough. Before Dorand could second-guess the impulse he stepped forward, bringing their bodies into more intimate contact.

His lips found Ferrin’s, tentatively at first, then with growing demand as their groins rubbed together, busy hands tangling as they started to stroke each other harder, faster. Little sparks of magic flew from them, tiny lights in the growing darkness of the forest. Heat flowed through Dorand’s body, filling him with power that he could feel buzzing down into the earth beneath his feet. They were getting closer, almost to the point where they could begin to cast.

Dorand moved his hands away from Ferrin’s cock, stroking down the muscles of Ferrin’s back, down farther still to clutch his lover’s ass, digging his fingers into the firm flesh. Ferrin was his lover, had been for years. His brother was right. This was a part of who they were, with or without Carantha. Ferrin groaned and moved his hands around to mimic Dorand’s, grinding his hips forward until he drew a sound from deep in Dorand’s throat. The sweet friction of their cocks rubbing together built the fist of power growing within him to a feverish point, a feeling he knew was echoed in Ferrin.

“Let the gods see this night,” Ferrin whispered. The first words of the spell. Dorand faltered in his rhythm for a moment, but Ferrin urged him on with his hands, his hips.

Dorand continued. “Let this space be made holy by their presence.”

“Let the spirits of the earth and sky stand guard as the dead rise to speak.”

Power swirled around them, a faint breeze that grew as their passion rose. Dorand reached down to grip Ferrin’s cock once more, stroking and pulling, his breath hitching 15

Anna J. Evans & December Quinn

in his chest as Ferrin did the same. The trees around them danced with energy, the few leaves left on them whispering as the wind whistled through them.

Ferrin’s throat was salty under Dorand’s lips, his pulse pounding beneath his skin.

All feelings of awkwardness were gone. All feelings except the awareness of the desire burning between them had vanished under the strength of their need. Dorand wanted this. Wanted Ferrin’s cock in his hand, wanted the other man’s strong hands to bring him to orgasm, to watch his seed spurt across the smooth skin of Ferrin’s stomach and chest.

He shook with it, his body tight and hot as they sank together to the dirt. “Let this, our offering, be accepted,” Ferrin whispered, catching Dorand’s eyes and holding his gaze before lowering his head.

“Let this, our offering, be accepted.” Dorand groaned as Ferrin’s lips parted around the head of his cock. His hips thrust upward of their own accord, arching toward Ferrin’s mouth, the sensations as he was suckled deep inside the hot, wet place taking him higher. By the gods, if he closed his eyes he could almost imagine that he was sliding inside Carantha, that it was her pussy gripping him in its tight sheath.

He knew in that instant that this was what he needed, what they both needed.

Hands on Ferrin’s shoulders, Dorand urged the other man onto his back on the cool earth. Ferrin went without a struggle, immediately taking Dorand’s cock back into his mouth when Dorand straddled his face and leaned over to place his lips over the tip of Ferrin’s shaft. The salty musk of the other man’s cock invaded his mouth as he suckled and laved, and Dorand felt his own cock begin to leak in response.

“Let this, our offering, be accepted.” Ferrin pulled away from his arousal and spoke the words for the final time, then brought his mouth back to Dorand’s sex with merciless fervor.

Power shot through him, through them both. Dorand’s back arched, his hips lifting away from Ferrin’s attentions. It was too much, more than he’d ever felt. Ferrin’s power had always run through Carantha before reaching Dorand, tempered by her sweet light.

Now…there was only Ferrin. His energy rocketed through Dorand’s body, buzzed through his mind. His muscles convulsed with the effort of controlling it, and he pulled away from Ferrin’s member for fear that his jaw would clamp down against his will.

It was time, time to call for her and pray for an answer.

“Carantha,” he groaned. Ferrin’s mouth was still busy on his cock, bringing him rapidly to his peak. “Carantha, we call you.”

“Carantha, we call you.” Ferrin’s voice seemed very far away as he replaced his mouth with his hand, fisting Dorand’s slick cock. Dorand mimicked the movement and soon their hips moved together, thrusting, demanding satisfaction and an answer to the spell they had cast.

“Dorand…Ferrin…” Carantha’s voice, so quiet it barely registered, drifted through the trees.

“Dorand,” Ferrin gasped. “I hear her. Are you close?”

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“Gods, yes. Don’t stop. Faster…faster, Ferrin.”

Ferrin groaned and quickened his pace, his hand squeezing Dorand’s cock until Dorand thought he might pass out from the pleasure of it. He grounded their threesome and had always been the one most able to handle their power. But the physical sensations, combined with the almost feral nature of Ferrin’s magic, was too much. If they didn’t find release soon, he might fall apart, shattered into a million pieces from the pressure of channeling so much raw power.

“Dorand…Ferrin…” Carantha again, stronger now. Dorand thought he saw a glimmer of white in the trees, her pale form moving toward them.

“Dorand…now…oh Gods, now…”

The glimmer of white turned into a flash of blue, a blinding rush of pure light.

Dorand’s body screamed on the brink of orgasm. His balls tightened—his cock throbbed. Ferrin’s cock swelled in his fist as Ferrin’s groan turned into a scream. Just a moment…another moment. Dorand would come, they would come together, and the energy of their climaxes would give their beloved Carantha form and voice enough to speak. To tell them who’d killed her.

Dorand closed his eyes against the painfully intense blue glow. Shouts erupted from his open mouth, but still he hovered. His balls ached. His body screamed with the need for release, a release that did not come.

The light went out. It didn’t fade, it simply disappeared, and with it the vague shadowy form of Carantha.

No orgasm. No Carantha.

“What the—”

Ferrin looked around, dazed. “What happened?”

“Did you come?”

“No. Did you?”

Dorand shook his head. “Fuck!” His body still throbbed and ached, but the intense pleasure was fading, leaving him sore, exceedingly dissatisfied and more than a little pissed. What the hell had happened? They’d never failed to cast once the power had risen. Not one damn time in over five years.

“God damn it.” Ferrin pulled back, sliding out from under Dorand’s body, panting hard on the ground beside him. “I’m still fucking hard.”

“No shit.” Dorand let out a roar of frustration that echoed through the silent trees, and jumped to his feet to pace the accursed space. All for nothing. It had all been for fucking nothing. They’d walked the five miles from the Amiantos settlement in the nude to prepare their bodies for the magic, they’d hung all their hopes on this ritual, and it hadn’t worked.

He hadn’t even managed to get an orgasm out of it, an orgasm his body still cried out for no matter that his mind had moved on to other things. He was going to have to jerk off, stand here in the cold air and find release in his own hand. It was pathetic.

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“Something’s not right. The power had risen. We were nearly there—I could feel it.” Ferrin sat up, his breathing returning to normal. “I don’t know—”

A scream interrupted him, a woman’s scream. The sound made the hairs on the back of Dorand’s neck stand up. In the pale washed-out glow of the moonlight he saw the same reaction on Ferrin’s face.

Both men leapt to their feet. The murders had all taken place on Fire Festival nights.

Samhain was still four weeks away, but that didn’t mean the killer—or killers—couldn’t change their pattern. Nor did it mean they wouldn’t take advantage of the secrecy of the forest to kidnap a victim now.

Ignoring both his nakedness and his erection, Dorand started to run.

* * * * *

Aleeza set up her things in the clearing. The full moon sat heavy in the sky, smiling over her as she took out the large chunk of Queen Elizabeth root and placed it on the cloth in front of her. Her skin tingled just touching it and her pulse began to race. If this worked, she would get a lot more than just tingles. She would finally get what she needed, what she’d been needing for so long.

“Please.” She closed her eyes and whispered the words, offering up a heartfelt prayer for the first time in way too long.

Hunting the worst of humanity while laboring under a centuries-old curse didn’t inspire an abundance of faith. But Aleeza still believed, knew that the ancient gods were there and might just be listening to a witch whispering in this quiet wood tonight. The Amiantos had settled here for power, not privacy, though they defended their hermit-like ways with a vengeance that didn’t fit with their nicey-nice image.

She was risking more than a lawsuit by invading their turf. Many of the Amiantos had the ability to magic meld, to give their magic away and to take magic from others.

Her Aunt Sylvia’s husband had stolen her magic before he left to return to the woods, and it had taken nearly three years of therapy for her to return to her full power. But sitting here in the midst of the ancient wood, Aleeza had no doubt that the risk was worth it. The air around her vibrated, even the trees seeming to move with an awareness of the supernatural.

If the spell was ever going to work, it would be here.

“There is no ‘if’.” Aleeza spoke the words out loud in the same tone she used to intimidate criminals three times her size. It had to work, failure was not an option. She couldn’t go on like this anymore, at the mercy of the endless frustration or destined to marry a man from a clan she despised.

She would succeed, or suffer the consequences.

Either way, the best part was that no one would know. If she failed, her magic could take a serious beating from working a gray spell and failing. But she didn’t rely on magic as much as others in her clan. She could still work the bounty hunting 18

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business without supernatural aid. And if she succeeded, she could behave as though the chastity curse bound her. She might have to watch herself in situations like the interrogation with Keller, make sure she didn’t allow things to go too far unless she was prepared to finish what she’s started. But she would know freedom. She would finally know how it felt to be held in a man’s arms, to have his warm, bare skin pressed against hers. To be filled with not only his cock, but his power.

Lovemaking between witches was alleged to sate not only physical lust but to enhance magical ability as well. Not that she cared about enhancing anything at the moment. All she could think about was finding release from sexual frustration and from the dreams that had haunted her for the past year. Since Beltane, they had become almost unbearably frequent and wickedly vivid. Every night she was ravaged by some invisible lover who tormented her, driving her to dizzying pinnacles of desire and then leaving her to hang there, breathless, bruised and aching with a need so horrible that often she awoke with tears streaming down her face.

Just thinking about it made it difficult to swallow and sent sharp waves of heat rushing to her pussy. Hopefully, tonight that heat would finally find its climax.

Aleeza stripped off her jeans and corset, placing them neatly on the grass and dropping her bra and panties on top. Her nipples hardened in the night air, but the shiver that went through her wasn’t due to the cold.