Netherworld II: Blood Potion No. 9 (24 page)

Each of my hands gripped a base. Since
Tristan had initiated the fun, he received my mouth first while I
worked Dan’s cock up and down. Wetting him good with my spit, I
sucked Tristan down deep, inhaling his musk. Soft moans from both
men rewarded my efforts.

After enjoying the taste of Tristan for
a few minutes, I wrapped my lips around Dan. I compared his flavor,
a smokier kind of essence to Tristan’s salt-tang. They were both
delicious, and I gave each equal time in my eager mouth, delighted
at how they thickened with desire under my attention. My thighs
rubbed together as my excitement rose with theirs. Zings of
pleasure darted through my loins as I performed my oral
choreography on the two men.

At Tristan’s command, I released them
and stood. Tristan took my place on the chair. “Clothes off,” he
told me, and I shed my clothes with a thought. It sure beat
struggling to peel Fizz’s tight jeans off.

Tristan rubbed himself up and down.
“Have a seat,” he invited. I was quick to obey, straddling his legs
to lower myself onto him.

It got a little awkward when Dan moved
in behind me, but boy, was it worth it. I love the fullness that
comes with double penetration, feeling two big men inside me at
once. We didn’t do this very often, but when we do, it makes me
feel like my head might just blow off the top of my
body.

I set the pace, raising and lowering
myself over Tristan, and Dan matched his thrusts to time it just
right. We were a bit clumsy, but it didn’t seem to inhibit anyone’s
enjoyment. No, we were liking this just fine.

They’ve learned I have my limits when
it comes to doing this, and neither made the demand that I control
orgasm. I simply can’t, not with both of them inside me. The
pressure of all that gorgeous flesh rubbing against those sensitive
parts of my sheaths is simply too much. We all know this kind of
lovemaking usually goes pretty quickly. So when I cried out after
only a few seconds, my lower bits convulsing around those thick
staves inside me, there were no warnings or punishments. Dan
stilled and Tristan’s face tightened with the effort of not joining
me. They held control over themselves, and when my pussy and
backside stopped seizing, I resumed riding Tristan like my favorite
hobby horse. Dan stroked in and out again in flawless harmony with
my movements.

It was near perfect possession, and I
admit I cheated some in my head. You’d think having two men seated
inside me, the double friction sending my insides into a full
liquid boil, would be more than enough. I agree it should have
been, but I couldn’t help but imagine Gerald joining us, so that I
could take him in my mouth. I’d never been triple-teamed, but the
fantasy occurred naturally and wouldn’t leave my mind as I took my
two lovers’ gorgeous cocks deep in the other openings. I thought of
the werepanther’s warm flesh snaking its way down my throat, moving
back and forth across my tongue, his pulse beating wildly in the
vein that ran its underside, of his strong, salty semen
erupting…

I went off again, my sleeves clutching
hard on Tristan and Dan. This time they went with me, their deep
groans joining my high-pitched cries as they shot their hot fluids
deep into my core. Feeling them jerk and pulse inside my tightness
erased all thoughts of Gerald, and it was only the three of us
again. Only? Oh, they were more than enough for me. As much as my
kinky mind might light on other men from time to time, these
two

were perfection. Once again, as my
naughty bits shuddered and quaked with sweet surrender, I swore I’d
never stray again.

Afterward, Dan and I got off Tristan’s
lap (I told you it was an awkward position) and everyone got
themselves decently covered again. The boys hadn’t really touched
each other in any intimate way; for heaven’s sake they’d kept all
their clothes on. Still, they weren’t meeting each others’ eyes
either now that their lust for me was resolved. I had to bite my
lips together to restrain the giggles that wanted to escape. No one
homophobic here, oh no sir. Hee hee.

Dan broke the weird silence that had
fallen over us. “Well, that killed a little time. Did anyone happen
to hear how the hunt’s going?”

Tristan stood and searched for
something for his hands to do. He put them on his hips, then
smoothed his hair, then folded his arms over his chest. “Enough to
know they’re coming up empty. The teams are now broken into pairs
what with all the different trails to follow.”

Gerald spoke, claiming our attention.
“Dead end, huh Eddie? You might as well head back in unless you
want to join up with another team.”

Eddie’s voice crackled over the
two-way. “Jess and Sam were on the freshest scent. Any word from
them?”

“It turned out to be a storage facility
on Highway 17. They couldn’t get in without the security code, but
they were pretty sure none of the units on the premises were big
enough to house a dragon over a year old. They did say it smells
like a lot of shifters have been there recently, so it’s likely the
Beasts have something going on there.”

Tristan mused, “That might be where
they house some of their drugs, which would be useful to getting
the bunch locked up. But we really need to find that dragon before
something bad happens.”

I scowled at no one in particular.
“It’s not looking good, is it? Maybe I can pop back in on the
Beasts club, see if I can find anything from C.K.’s
end.”

Tristan said, “It can’t
hurt.”

Worried I’d sent so many people on a
wild goose chase, I took off.

Chapter 13

I materialized crouched behind the bar
in case Hazel was in the club. Immediately I knew something was
off. The sound system was completely silent. Only a couple of low
voices muttered in the room. The place was usually quiet during the
day, but this was downright eerie.

I slowly rose, peeking over the scarred
surface of the bar. The club was nearly empty, no Hazel in sight. I
stood all the way up, noting only two weregators I knew to be low
members in the Beasts hierarchy playing cards, and a couple of the
older women wiping down tables. There was an atmosphere of nervous
expectancy, like these four souls were waiting to hear the outcome
of a loved one’s surgery.

I had a bad feeling. I rushed back to
C.K.’s office, finding it empty. No C.K., no Hazel, and most
worrisome of all, no enforcers. I’d always seen at least two
representatives of the muscle of the gang here. Something was up,
something that had called all the heavies out in force. Had Hazel
discovered there were shifters tracking his dragon?

Really worried now, I decided to go to
Bane’s trailer.

* * * *

Carnage.

All the furniture in Bane’s living room
was overturned, the television dead in a sprinkling of glass. The
coffee table was broken in half, as if Chris Farley had dropped by
to do a skit in which he landed smack in the middle of
it.

Drying blood sprayed the
walls.

And two weres were raiding the
refrigerator, a gator and a bear. Low-ranking Beasts, like the ones
back at the club. “Pizza,” the gator announced, holding the takeout
box aloft like a war trophy.

As they chowed on Bane’s leftovers, I
zapped back to the bedroom. Bane’s laptop was a shattered mess on
the floor. No sign of Fizz on the rumpled bed, even though
according to Bane’s note she should still be out cold. Had he
miscalculated, allowing her to wake and warn the Beasts of his true
identity? That the agent had been grabbed by C.K.’s gang, I had no
doubt. The only important question left was whether he remained
among the living.

I returned to the kitchen where the
shifters continued their misappropriation of all things edible.
“Where is he, you stupid animals?” I screamed.

Gator had his head tilted back, pouring
a two-liter bottle of soda into his elongated mouth. Furious at my
impotency, I stormed to the microwave oven, pulling energy from it
so hard that it beeped and the clock began to flash 12 over and
over. I walked back to Gator and slapped the bottle right out of
his hand. The dark brown liquid splashed all over him.

He turned to Bear, who was gobbling
store-bought cookies, and shoved him. “Are you
retarded?”

Spraying ginger snaps, Bear threw the
bag of cookies on the floor. “Fuck you!”

With that intellectual start, they went
at each other, moments later rolling all over the floor as they
shifted, jaws and claws reaching. Too worried about Bane to enjoy
the fight, I left, hoping the stupid jerks would do the world a
favor and kill each other.

I made a quick check of the strip club.
No Bane, Fizz, or Hazel. I was ready to panic. Where was
everyone?

My next stop was the library,
forgetting I had left Dan and Tristan at Para Central. No matter;
Dan was there, perusing the books crowded on the shelves in the
true crime section. My Marlboro Man isn’t one for light
reading.

He took one look at my expression and
had his arms around me in a second. “What’s wrong, baby
girl?”

“Bane and Fizz are missing. His trailer
is trashed.” I quickly described the carnage, tears spilling down
my cheeks when I told him about the blood on the walls.

Dan frowned. “Definitely not good. The
weres checked all the places Hazel has been that could remotely
hold a dragon, but nothing was reported.”

“Okay, so we need to check the smaller
areas for Bane. Hazel has a storage rental. C.K.’s got a garage.” I
thanked my lucky stars I had double checked the file on the men’s
properties before the laptop was destroyed.

“Where to first?”

I thought fast. “The shifters reported
smelling a lot of weres at the one storage unit. Do you know Simply
Storage on Highway 17?”

Dan grabbed hold of my hand. “Sure.
Hang on.”

We arrived at Simply Storage, outside
of the passcode protected gate. Neither of us had ever been here;
our knowledge of the place came from passing by during our
lives.

Gritting my teeth, I followed Dan
through the chain link of the gate, feeling the weirdness of mesh
passing through my body. We ran past aisles of beige storage units,
looking for Hazel’s. Of course it was at the back of the place,
which was pretty huge. It even stored RV’s and boats.

We figured out easily where we wanted
to be, because at least a couple dozen motorcycles and two cars,
one with Bottle behind the wheel, were parked in a group. Beasts,
about fifteen of them, milled around, not talking. Expectation hung
heavy in the air.

“I guess this is the place to be,” I
remarked to Dan, noting the beat up aspect of Bottle’s old Chevy.
Being C.K.’s main squeeze and owner of a blood distributorship had
few perks, apparently. The other car was unremarkable but newer, a
silver Toyota that hadn’t been off the lot for very
long.

The storage unit was closed, and the
air near it was thick. “Warded,” Dan said, his voice strangely flat
as he cautiously moved into the heavy atmosphere, right up next to
the door. I stood back, nervously waiting to grab him and snatch
him out of harm’s way if needed.

He turned to me and mouthed something.
I shook my head. “What?” I stage-whispered.

Dan took a step towards me, and he
spoke in a normal, if still echoless tone. “It’s a sound-dampening
spell. Whatever’s going on inside that shed, we can’t hear out
here.”

“I guess we have no choice but to
chance it,” I said.

Dan nodded and took my hand. We passed
through the door.

I blinked in the dim space then froze.
A battery-powered lantern showed me Hazel right in front of us.
Fortunately his back was turned facing the back of the unit, so he
hadn’t seen me and Dan enter. But that’s not what held me riveted
to the spot.

Bane was chained to bolts in the floor,
the links connected to a metallic collar glinting around his neck.
His wrists were cuffed behind his back. Shifters in various stages
of change surrounded him. The dozen Beasts, including C.K., were
beating, kicking, and biting him to shreds. Blood pooled everywhere
around him. Off to one side, Fizz, still blessedly unconscious,
drooped like a rag doll on the floor.

And in the corner, behind a shimmering
curtain of floating wards, a baby dragon, no more than three and a
half feet in length (not counting the tail; that gave it another
two feet), crouched on a battered love seat, its ice-white eyes
whirling in excitement as it watched the beat down. Its flapping
veined wings made a dry, paper-rustling sound. Iridescent scales
caught the light and turned it to rainbow hues, like the inside of
an oyster shell. Its long tapered face, similar to a horse’s,
confirmed it was a European dragon. I guessed it might be about a
year old.

I took everything in with a glance then
my attention tunneled to a single point: Bane, helpless on his
knees, his hands bound behind him, bleeding and gasping as he was
mercilessly pounded by the biker gang. I opened my mouth to
scream.

Dan’s hand clapped over my mouth, and
the next second we were behind a stack of cardboard boxes in the
near corner. He breathed in my ear, “Stay quiet. We can’t help Bane
and Fizz with that witch standing there. He’ll make us
wraiths.”