Nexus (5 page)

“Oh,” he moaned, his breath catching, stuttering, before his hands fisted in my sweater and held on.

He just fit me like no one ever had. My mouth on his, my thigh nestled against his groin, one hand buried in the thick, wavy auburn hair, the other kneading his ass as he pressed forward—all of it a dance we had perfected years ago. He always wanted to be closer. I couldn’t wait to have him there; being entwined was always best.

The first kiss quickly became the second and the third with nothing but a panting breath to mark one from the next. His submissive whimper, so sweet, so heartfelt, infused with wanton need, made my balls ache. Every time,
all
the time, my lust for the man was like brushfire, consuming me, leveling me.

He started to rub his bulging erection into my thigh, the contact making him shudder, and I was helpless to stop him, wanting instead to make him come apart faster.

My fingers worked his belt loose, undid buttons, slid his zipper open just enough to get a hand down the back of his dress pants, slide over elastic and underneath. I had wet them, shoved them inside with our dueling tongues to make sure they were coated with saliva before I began my campaign.

I lifted his hard, leaking cock from his briefs and gripped tight as I pressed slippery fingers slowly inside him from the back.

“Marcus!” He gasped my name, whispering it fiercely as I stroked him and curved my fingers forward, pushing deeper, looking for the spot that would make him howl.

“You’re so hot, so beautiful. Show me baby. Come for me. Come in my hand.”

His breathing changed to panting, and when my fingers pegged his gland, my name came out as a cry.

“I have you. You’re safe in my arms, Joey. You know you’re safe.”

“Yes.” His eyes fluttered with the sensations rolling through him.

He rocked forward, pushing in and out of my grip, the friction, the pressure too exquisite a temptation. His hands were like claws on my sweater as he held on. His head tipped back, his eyes closed tight and mouth open. The orgasm built until I bent and kissed him, taking the roar into my mouth as his body went rigid with his release. He came hard, spurting into my fist, semen oozing through my fingers as he shuddered in my arms.

The man trusted me implicitly, and that was all over his face. He knew wherever we were, no one else could see, because he knew that I wouldn’t share the sight of him. I would not allow anyone else to ever see my love’s surrender.

I watched him finish, buck forward into my hand, press back on my long fingers, and the ache that had welled up inside me blossomed and became hunger.

“Don’t you want me?” he asked, his breath stilted.

“Always.”

“Then?”

“I can wait,” I breathed.

“I could have too.”

“But I had to put my hands on you,” I growled, leaning forward and kissing down the length of his throat.

His low whimper was very sexy. “You could have put me up against a wall.”

“This was better.”

“You didn’t even get off.”

“But I got to watch you lose yourself with what I was doing to you, and we both know I’m the only one that you trust enough to abandon every inhibition you have.”

“Yes.”

“Kiss me,” I ordered.

The way he lifted for me, parting his lips, licking them…. His desire to submit was intoxicating. I ground my mouth down over his and laid claim. I devoured him.

I kissed him until he shoved me off, breathless, his lips red and swollen, and as I nibbled down the side of his throat, licked and sucked, he began to writhe in my arms. In seconds the movement, the pressure, the friction would be too much. I stepped away fast, leaving him gripping the wall behind him, and I wiped my hands on my pants.

I stared at him, certain that I really would have him there in the alley if we didn’t stop.

“Marcus,” he said between breaths.

“Sorry.” I managed to get out. “We need to just—”

“Is there a mark on me?” he asked, twisting his head so the cords in his neck bulged.

I shook my head, trying to get my racing heart to calm down and my cock to stop throbbing. Anywhere else, with anyone else, never, ever, would there be a problem. Only Joe released this wave of lust that I couldn’t contain.

“Use your words, Marcus.”

Shit. “No.” I cleared my throat, shivering. “There’s no mark.”

His eyes became narrow slits of heat. “Then make one.”

I almost swallowed my tongue.

“Please,” he whispered.

The idea of shoving the man deep into the alley and bending him over and fucking him hard and fast had me choking on my own desire.

“Let’s go get your scarf,” I rasped.

“Fuck the scarf.”

“Let’s just go get it and then find a hotel like you said,” I grumbled, pushing back against the wall, counting in my head, willing my body to calm to be cool, normal and thoughtful Marcus Roth.

“Look at me.”

I was. He looked debauched, pants down around his ankles—underwear as well—and hooded eyes, standing there with his flaccid cock still leaking at the tip. He should not have been in control of any part of the conversation. But he was so self-possessed that even though he was the one who had been ravished, it didn’t matter.

“When you fuck me back at home, I want you to leave marks, you understand?”

“Yes.”

His face brightened. “Good.”

I growled at him and he beamed back at me. He loved to win.

When I walked back into Joe’s father’s hardware store five minutes later, I left Joe outside to wait for me. The jingle of bells again announced my arrival, and I was surprised that the two guys I had seen leave when we arrived earlier were back. What was even more interesting was that one of them was behind the counter with Elliot.

“Marcus.” Elliot smiled at me. “What brings you back, son?”

“Joe forgot his scarf.” I squinted at him.

“Oh.” Elliot forced a smile, looking around. “Isn’t that it right there?”

He pointed and I saw it, the primary-color knitted beacon of a scarf one of his employees had made him. When I picked it up, I looked back at Elliot and saw again how uncomfortable he looked.

“Who are your friends?” I asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, but apparently the guy on my side of the counter had had enough of my presence and the interruption.

“Why don’t you get out of here before I put you out. We have things to discuss with Mr. Locke here.”

I nodded as I moved forward. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Marcus,” Elliot interrupted, tipping his head toward the door. “Go on and catch up with Joe, son. This doesn’t concern you.”

“Oh, but it really does,” I said, moving forward until I was beside the counter and turning my head to the guy beside me. “What’s your name?”

“Why the fuck you wanna know?”

I arched an eyebrow at him.

“Arcan.”

My head turned to the guy beside Elliot.

He scoffed at me. “Emir.”

One name. Both of them only had single names. Interesting. I returned my gaze to Arcan. “Okay, tell Emir to come out here and talk to me. Him being back there with my father-in-law is making me nervous.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I asked nicely,” I told him, moving fast—faster than either Arcan or Emir could track—and cleared the counter to stand in front of Emir in seconds. I was in his space, nose to nose, so he had no choice but to take a step back. “I really did.”

“You have no idea who you’re messing with,” Arcan barked.

“Marcus, please just go,” Elliot pleaded. 

“Whoever you’re collecting protection money for,” I told them, “Mr. Locke is done paying.”

“Marcus,” Elliot’s voice cracked. “You have to go or they’ll hurt—”

“They won’t hurt anyone,” I promised him.

“Oh yeah we will,” Emir assured me, and I saw his eyes suddenly change from the ugly dishwater blue they were to an even uglier blood red.

“No!” Elliot yelled. “Please don’t hurt him.”

I felt Joe’s father pleading for my life all the way down to my soul. The man really did love me.

“Too late,” the second guy said as his eyes changed too and he reached for me.

I took a breath, held it for one heartbeat, two, and then released a pulse of power that froze both men in their tracks.

“That’s bullshit,” the first guy said.

It was not exactly the response I was expecting, but they stopped moving nonetheless.

“Breka paid fuckin’ Tarin this month; you ain’t supposed to be here.”

Tarin? “I don’t know him.”

“How?” Now Arcan was confused.

“I’m visiting,” I told him. “And I’m not alone, and I can assure you that when my sentinel finds out what’s going on here, the council will be notified.”

They both went even paler than they were to begin with.

I wanted them out because I had calls to make, because I knew I needed backup. “Go now.”

“Or?” Emir asked.

“Or I can make you.”

I was not the scary warder. My friend Malic, with his growl of a voice, bulging muscles, and arctic blue eyes—he was spooky. Even though I was big, I normally came off as benign. But the two demons tripped over themselves getting out of the hardware store.

When the door slammed behind them, the bells having never been so loud, I turned to look at Joe’s father.

“How do you not tell me that you had demon trouble, Elliot?”

His eyes, that wondrous cerulean blue he shared with his son, were huge.

“You need to tell me what’s going on.”

The man was speechless, just staring at me.

“I can help, but you have to tell me everything.”

“Marcus.” He finally breathed out my name, grabbing hold of my arms. “What are you?”

“He’s a warder, Dad,” Joe said, and when I turned my head, I realized that he was there along with his mother and sister. The bells had been loud, and it made sense that Elliot’s family had been coming in while the two demons were running out. I just hadn’t noticed. “And I’m thinking you need one.”

“What are you two doing here?” I asked Joe’s mother and Barbara, scared for them, startled because I had not prepared for them. I had been ready to protect Joe—I always was—and his father at that pivotal moment, but I had not anticipated the women, and it made me nervous that I had not.

“I forgot to get the zip ties to hold up the banner, and I thought we’d stop and grab them, and… what in the world is going on?” Deb yelled.

“They ran from you.” Elliot said, all his focus locked in on me, holding me so tight.

“Which was smart on their part,” I told him. “Because I would have sent them both back to the pit if I’d had my swords.”

“You didn’t bring your swords?”

I looked over at Joe because I heard the alarm, the indignation. Joe didn’t get upset and reel with pain or worry, he yelled. And he was mad.

“Why the hell would you leave your swords at home?”

“Think about what you’re saying,” I reminded my boyfriend.

“No, Marcus!” he shouted. “You should have brought them! You should always bring them! Being a warder is twenty-four-hour, seven-day-a-week job, and we both know it!”

Shit.

“You know I’m right.”

He was right.

“Say it, because I can’t see the look of resignation on your face!”

I crossed the room and grabbed him instead. His arms wrapped around my waist as he pressed his body against mine.

“Please,” he spoke into my throat, his breath warm and his mouth on my skin causing a shiver of anticipation anyone could see. “Baby, you have to be more careful. I can’t lose you, okay?”

I nodded. He clutched me tighter.

And we stood like that with my cheek resting on the top of his head, one hand in his hair, the other around his back and both his arms wrapped tight around me. He always liked listening to the steady beat of my heart. 

“Marcus Adam Roth!”

I started and looked across the room at Deb.

“Oh, you’re in trouble,” Joseph chuckled, lifting his chin. “Gimme a kiss before you die.”

I growled at him, kissed him, and then turned my head to his mother.

“How dare you keep a secret like this from us, from your family!”

“I—”

“And you!” she roared at her husband. “How dare you not trust me with this?”

“I thought you’d think I was nuts talking about demons and such.”

“We have been married for forty-five years, Elliot Locke. There is nothing that would come out of your mouth that I wouldn’t believe!”

He stared at her because he had no excuse to give her.

“All of you,” she said fast, “need to go get in the car so we can go home and have us a talk.”

Joe groaned.

I pressed his face into my chest before his mother killed him. “His stomach hurts,” I told her.

She leveled me with her look. “Marcus Roth, I’m about ready to skin you alive.”

But the thing was, she was mad, really mad, and I loved it. There was no talk of how scared she was and how I was putting her son in danger or how I should get out. She was just mad that I hadn’t confided in her.

I moved fast, crossed the floor, and grabbed her, hugging her tight.

“Marcus,” she whimpered against me, her arms around me, and her hands digging into my back.

“I thought you would hate me or not want me near Joe, and I’m so sorry, but I love you all so much and the thought of losing you, any of you, just—”

“Marcus, don’t be stupid. We’re your family. Families don’t turn their back on their own.”

I clutched her tighter and put my head down in her shoulder.

Seconds later she pushed free. “But you, Elliot Locke!”

“Yeah, you’re toast,” Joe laughed at his father.

“Joseph Locke!”

And it was a free-for-all after that as Barbara started yelling too. It was nice to be part of a family that cared.

I
N
THE
van it was quiet, so I took that opportunity to call Jael.

“Marot,” he said, and I realized he sounded annoyed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled.

But something was and I could guess. “Your warders and Deidre’s not hitting it off?”

There was a long silence.