Sixx (The Stone Society, #7) (17 page)

“What are you doing?” Rae shouted accusingly. Her normally sweet face morphed into one of anger. One he’d never seen, even when she first noticed him behind the surfboard earlier.

Sixx quickly closed the album with his likenesses and held up the one with the landscapes. “Admiring your handiwork, Doll. You are truly gifted at bringing the images to life. This one here,” he flipped open to a sandpiper walking at the edge of the water, “is so realistic I fully expected the bird to take flight. May I have it?”

Rae grabbed the books from his arms and cradled them to her breast for safe keeping. “You had no right.” Her anger was now replaced with mortification. She knew he’d seen her drawings of him, but instead of acknowledging the truth, he skimmed over it.

“I apologize. I wanted to get a glimpse into the woman I’ve missed out on. But I wasn’t kidding about your talent. Or the picture. I want to frame it for my home.”

Instead of storming off with the books and hiding them away, Rae took them into the kitchen where she carefully removed the picture he requested. “Here.” She held it out to him, and when he took it from her, she then retreated with the others to the back of the house.

When she returned empty-handed, he asked, “Now, would you like to hear about my past? I can’t say it’s all that interesting, but if you’re willing to listen, I’m willing to tell you all about me.”

Rae cocked an eyebrow. “You sure about that? Last time I requested info, you took off running out my back door.”

“I’m sure. I needed time to get my shifter under control. You are way too enticing, Doll.”

Rae was either getting use to her nickname, or she’d decided it wasn’t a battle worth fighting. She gave him a slight nod and returned to the living room. When she was seated, he began with his mother’s death at his birth. At some point, Sixx ended up next to Rae’s chair. He was squatted down next to her, just to be close. He continued giving her the boring details of his life up until that point. The point when his son arrived. Desmond Rothchild blew into the room, fangs bared.

S
ergei had his phone in one hand and his dick in the other. The photos of Kallisto that the Stone Society used as leverage against Alistair were meant to be shocking. Maybe to her father they were, but to Sergei they were fodder for his jerking off sessions. He had seen the woman in all states of dress as well as undress, but the image of her tied up in those intricate knots fueled his addiction for her. The pictures could only be better if they’d removed her underwear before stringing her up and putting her on display. What Sergei wouldn’t give to see those long, tone legs splayed open, her pussy dripping down her thigh. He tightened his grip on his cock and kept his eyes on the gap between her legs, pretending the lace panties were missing.

His balls tightened with his impending release. He jacked faster, ready to bust a nut. He held his breath as he always did when he knew he was about to shoot his load. The first jet of come shot from between his fingers landing on his stomach. What a fucking orgasm. His ears were ringing. Sergei threw his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes. His hand continued moving, pulling the last drop of jizz out of his softening dick.

The ringing in his ears continued. Fuck! It wasn’t his ears. It was his goddamn phone! He didn’t have good news for Alistair, so he didn’t want to talk to the King. Even from thousands of miles away over the phone, the Gargoyle was one scary motherfucker. He wanted to stay where he was, relaxed in the bed, enjoying the effects of his hand job, but he knew Alistair was an impatient Goyle.

Sighing, Sergei moved to the small hotel bathroom and cleaned the spunk off his stomach before washing his hands. The image in the mirror was a stranger to Sergei. The longish hair and the bags under his eyes were all indications of a man missing his purpose in life. Ever since he’d met Kallisto Verga, the woman had become his purpose. He was her lapdog in every sense of the word, but he had no problem with that. He would continue doing her bidding until the day one of them died. Sergei wouldn’t fool himself with the notion she’d ever give in to her desire for him. She was the daughter of one of the most powerful Gargoyles in the world. As long as Alistair was alive, Sergei would never be anything more to Kallisto than a puppet.

He didn’t bother putting his underwear back on. Since Gregor Stone refused to let Sergei see Kallisto again, he had to sit idly by awaiting the return of Rafael. He settled back onto the bed, calling Alistair.

“Did you see her?” Alistair asked instead of greeting Sergei.

“I did, Sir. She is well. Pissed, but well. They aren’t treating her harshly.”

“They have her locked up in a godsdamn cage like an animal. I’d say that’s harsh enough. When do you get to see her again?” Alistair yelled.

“Not until next week. I’m assuming Rafael is out of town. If not, they are putting me off so they have time to come up with their own game plan.”

Alistair groaned into the phone. A low growl sounded and another groan followed.
What the fuck?
His muffled voice said, “Don’t fucking move.”
Holy shit.
Either Alistair was fucking someone, or he was getting blown. Maybe Sergei should have answered the phone while jacking off. The King might get off on that sort of thing. Then again, if he didn’t, Sergei wanted to keep his dick where it was. “Since you can’t see my daughter for a week, I have something else I need you to do. Achilles will be calling you with the details. I expect you and Drago to carry out this mission without being detected. If you’re caught, don’t bother calling for back-up.”

“Yes, Sir. I won’t fail you.”

“You’d better not.” Alistair disconnected, and Sergei let out a long breath. He had no problem with most of the tasks he’d been assigned over the years. He only hoped this one went smoothly. He wasn’t ready to be locked up in the New Atlanta prison, nor was he ready to let go of Kallisto. She needed him, and he wanted her. Using the photos as inspiration, his cock readied for another round.

D
esi was going out of his mind. So many scenarios had played out in his brain during the three-hour drive home. His mom wanted to talk about the man who’d been seen at the restaurant. If the stranger wasn’t his brother, then who the fuck was he? The man resembled Desi too much to not be related. He appeared older, maybe mid-thirties, so there’s no way he could be his sperm donor. His father would be in his fifties by now. Maybe this man was his uncle. Whoever he was, he had clearly upset his mom, or she wouldn’t have asked Desi to come home. She was too strong to call for anything that was merely a distant relative paying a visit.

Instead of pulling around back, Desi parked on the street in front of the house. He didn’t bother knocking. It was his home, after all. He tried the knob, and finding it unlocked, strode into the living room. A strange man was on the floor beside his mother. Desi didn’t bother to find out who the man was. Instead, he lost it.
It
being all sense of normalcy. For the past year, Desi had been battling something inside of himself that he couldn’t share with anyone. Especially his mother.  When his body had turned into some kind of monster, Desi freaked the fuck out. He hid away from everyone saying he was using the down time for creative purposes. He locked himself in a hotel for a couple of weeks until he got the changing under control.

From the beginning of their career, Cyanide Sweetness’ stage show had been quite theatrical. Desi became fascinated with vampires at an early age, and it wasn’t hard to convince the others to make horror the basis of their set. During each show, Desi would pull a pretty girl from the audience up on stage and pretend to bite her with his fangs. The fake prosthetics were high quality and luckily didn’t get in the way of his singing during the one song he “played the part.” When he somehow grew real fangs, he incorporated them into the show with ease. It was the other appendages he had to keep hidden from the crowd, not to mention his friends.

Desi’s fangs were front and center as he closed the distance between him and the lookalike who was now on his feet. One glance at his mother’s frightened face was enough to send Desi into a rage. As soon as he was close enough, Desi swung, hitting the man in the face with his fist.

“I’ll give you that one, Son, but that’s the only one you get,” the man snarled.

“I’m not your fucking son. Get away from my mother.” Desi realized too late that his claws were out, pointing at the man. The stranger held up his hands, backing away from Desirae. Desi held his breath and begged his body to obey. It wasn’t working.

“Desi? Oh my god!” His mom’s voice was frantic, but at least she wasn’t screaming.

“Don’t hold your breath, Desi. Look at me.” The stranger was giving him
monster
advice? What the fuck?

He opened his eyes on the off chance the man knew what he was talking about. The stranger stepped between him and his mom. “Look at me. Breathe. Slowly. Imagine your body returning to normal.”

Desi did as instructed, and his body obeyed. “How did you do that?”

Instead of responding verbally, the lookalike allowed his own fangs to drop. “I’ve had a lot of years of practice in keeping the shifter at bay. When did you transition?”

“When did I what?” Desi asked, but his eyes were on his mom who was peering around the man. “And why aren’t you surprised by all this?”

“I’ve had a few hours to come to grips with it all. But we thought you would have more time, Baby.”

“So you
knew
I would become this... this...
monster
?”

“Technically, you’re a Gargoyle, but there are some of us who are, indeed, monsters. My name’s Michael, by the way. Can we sit down so I can explain everything to you?”

“Michael? As in my sperm donor Michael?” Desi didn’t miss the hurt look that flashed over the man’s face. “Oh, my fucking god. It is you, isn’t it?” Desi’s
monster
wanted to come back out. He began pacing the room, doing his best to remain calm.

“Dez, please Baby, let Michael talk to you. He can explain everything.” His mom was pleading. Desi couldn’t remember ever being mad at his mother. They had been through so much together over the years. He was having a hard time not being angry with her now.

“How long have you known, Mom? Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” Desi felt the backs of his eyes stinging. There’s no way he would fucking cry. Not in front of this man.

“Since this afternoon. I’ve known since Michael showed up on my doorstep and told me this afternoon. You know I would never lie to you. I never have, and I never will.”

Desi stopped pacing and looked at her. Really looked. Something inside his head told him to believe her. Ever since he’d become this
thing
he’d also become really perceptive of other’s moods, emotions, truthfulness, and well-being. It was like his monster was a built-in metaphysical guru.

Desi calmed down, for her sake. “I know, Pretty Momma. I’m sorry. This is a lot to take in. Well, not a lot since I’ve been dealing with this shit for almost a year, but seeing him here...”

His father – Michael – was standing stone still, arms crossed over his chest, but he had returned to standing extremely close to Desirae. Like he was guarding her. “You can relax. I’m not going to hurt my own mother,” he huffed.

“So you transitioned a year ago? Fuck, I’m so sorry. If I had known about you, I’d have been here from the beginning.” Michael uncrossed his arms and rubbed his temples.

Desi shook his head and held up his hand. “Don’t give me platitudes or excuses, Old Man. All I need to know is what the fuck is inside me.
Then
you can be on your merry way. We’ve done without you for this long. Don’t see the need to change that now.” Desi wasn’t normally so rude, but he was in shock. Did he honestly want his father to disappear again? He couldn’t answer that. Not yet.

“I understand. You don’t want to hear excuses, but I need to tell you what I’ve told Rae. The truth. All of it. After I explain, I hope you’ll be able to someday forgive my absence and understand my reasoning for walking out on your mom. May we sit?”

Desi waited for his mom to say yes or no, even though he was dying to hear what Michael had to say. He wanted to know all about the shifter inside and how it all came about. What he didn’t want was for his mother to be dragged through his story if it was going to hurt her in any way. But if Michael had been there since noon, she’d probably heard the story already. “I’m fine, Dez. Please hear him out. Then you and I are going to have a little chat about why you kept this from me. For a year?” His mom was hurt. She never lied to him, but he had kept his secret from her. It wasn’t lying as much as protecting her. When he shifted the first time, he blamed his mother for what he was going through, however illogical that was.

“I think I’m going to need a drink for this,” Desi said to no one in particular.

“I’ll get it. You two settle in, and I’ll get us all something.” Desirae disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a tray loaded with a bottle of vodka and three glasses.
Fuck!
If she was bringing the bottle, this shit must be deep. She handed out the drinks before sitting down next to him on the sofa. Michael tossed back the contents of his glass and set the empty tumbler on the mantle. He remained standing while he spoke.