Page 58

Chapter 16

Kostas

K ostas had made a promise. Tomorrow .

He’d meant it. Unsurprisingly, his dick had woken up before he had, pressed against the firm globes of Malcolm’s ass. With a sigh, he flexed lazily against the warm flesh that felt so much like it was his.

Kostas didn’t want to let Malcolm go. The incubus belonged to him. Malcolm needed protection, and those little fangs, those tiny black horns, those pinprick claws—none of that was going to get the job done.

Kostas had never worried about anyone before. His family had been apex predators, able to take care of themselves. Everyone else, everyone weak enough to get caught and hurt, was prey. They deserved what they got, because that was their lot in life. No reason to whine about it.

But there was Malcolm McKittack, miraculously, neither.

When they’d met, Kostas had discounted him as another predator. Competition. Base and violent as his own impulses pushed him to be.

He would never open his mouth and suggest Malcolm couldn’t take care of himself. That’d get him a set of claws to the face, to start. More importantly, it wasn’t about that. Not exactly.

Kostas knew the truth of things now: Malcolm wasn’t a killer. Not like him.

He shouldn’t have to be one simply to keep his freedom and choice, to avoid being used by humans. There was a brittle, self-righteous part of Kostas that thought he’d been wrong to let them free, to stop the killing. Humans deserved the pain and sorrow they got.

Deep down, he knew that wasn’t the answer either. He couldn’t take out his vengeance on all humans. Didn’t even want to. He liked the person he’d become, who could hide his teeth and walk the land and wrap his arms around the middle of a beautiful incubus who, at least for the moment, wanted him.

With his lips tracing the nape of Malcolm’s neck, everything was clearer. There was one thing that mattered—not who or what Kostas was or who deserved to pay for hurting Malcolm. All that mattered was that Malcolm was safe, that his smiles were less sharp, and his heart less broken.

Kostas had always been able to pick out a good heart.

Malcolm wiggled in his arms, that lithe body and smooth skin all along his front, twisting until he could look back at him. His brow was furrowed.

“You’re humming,” Malcolm accused.

“Sorry.” Kostas went back to nibbling the slope of his shoulder.

Malcolm let his head drop back against the pillow. “It’s fine. I... I don’t think it affects me. Or, well, not in any bad way.”

An eyebrow raised, Kostas pushed up on his elbow and searched the side of Malcolm’s face. Did that mean Malcolm liked it?

A few seconds passed.

“I hum when I’m happy,” he admitted. If he could bare his feelings, maybe Malcolm wouldn’t feel so exposed when he returned the favor.

The incubus wiggled, then shot him another incredulous glare. “You’re happy? Stuck out here in the woods, on the run, tired.”

“With you.” Kostas kissed the corner of his jaw. “You’re not who I thought you were. I like you. Like this.” His palm pressed against Malcolm’s belly. The incubus wasn’t anything close to soft there, but Kostas felt a sharp inhale rise under his touch.

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not.”

Malcolm tossed his shoulder back and looked up at Kostas again. “That’s so weird.”

“That I’m right about everything?” Kostas smirked.

Malcolm only rolled his eyes, but there was something there, in the stiff corners of his mouth, that said it was something else. His eyelids fluttered. He glanced away.

“That I’m happy with you?” Fuck, that was bleak.

“No,” Malcolm protested. He only sounded a little pitiful, and Kostas let it slide. “I mean... we’re not fucking.”

Kostas scraped his blunt teeth across Malcolm’s shoulder. He wanted to bite him, claim him, but knew that was instinct more than reason. He ought to wait. “I wouldn’t call that weird . But if you want...”

His raised eyebrow served as his suggestion, and Malcolm went pink. Who knew incubi could blush?

“No. I mean... yes. Maybe. In a minute. But I can feel you. Your energy. Even though we’re not fucking. It’s just a trickle, but?—”

Kostas tightened his arms around Malcolm’s middle. “I’m feeding you?”

He hadn’t even felt it.

Malcolm nodded. He turned away again, and Kostas kissed the sharp edge of his jaw. No matter if Malcolm didn’t want to look at him right then. He wasn’t pulling away.

“Good. It’s because I’m enjoying this.”

When Malcolm exhaled, his breath shook. “Because you’re happy?”

Kostas hummed his agreement. Somehow, he got the feeling that wasn’t enough.

He flexed his hips again. All this talk of feeding and happiness, and the feel of Malcolm in his arms, swirled together until his cock was throbbing. The smooth friction of Malcolm’s silk skin was enough, barely. At least for a moment.

“I am,” Kostas affirmed. “Because I have a beautiful man in my arms. Because you’re safe. Hell, even with all this trouble, I’m happy I got a chance to see what an arrogant, dismissive ass I am. Turning you down at Phaze. Fucking stupid. Should’ve seen what a pearl you are then. Kept you with me. Kept you safe.”

Malcolm whined. He pushed back into the cradle of Kostas’s hips.

“You want?—”

“ Yes ,” Malcolm hissed before Kostas could even get out the question.

Kostas slipped a knee between Malcolm’s legs from behind, then hitched his knee, drawing Malcolm’s top leg up, spreading him apart.

The hand he’d kept on Malcolm’s stomach trailed lower, brushing lightly against his balls and then lower still. He held Malcolm flush against him as he sank his fingers between his cheeks, spreading them and lining himself up with Malcolm’s tight hole.

Slowly, so slowly, he pushed inside. Malcolm’s soft keen rang in his ears, swept down his spine.

Kostas could do this forever. Lose himself in his incubus. That’d be just fine.

“That’s it,” he whispered against Malcolm’s jaw. “Take me just like that.”

Malcolm whimpered. He twisted his neck, straining to see Kostas. His eyes were wide and dark, all pupil.

Kostas hummed. Not a single, solitary sound, but the start of a song. A soft tempo and thrumming magic in the air that set their languorous pace.

He was patient. He could move slow, wait for his time to strike.

Gently, he dragged the heel of his palm up, pressing into the underside of Malcolm’s rigid cock. It was flushed and red and hot in his hand, and Malcolm gasped, desperate for more.

Still, Kostas barely gave it to him. His hand was a loose curve, his hips thrusting Malcolm forward into the press of it. Slow and gentle as the waves at low tide. After the way he’d taken Malcolm the night before, hard and demanding, he wanted to give him this, something soft. A world of pleasure and rolling sweetness.

It could’ve been an hour that way, lost, moving together but getting nowhere, before Malcolm whimpered. “I’m so full, Kostas,” he whined, squirming and wiggling back, like he’d drive Kostas deep inside and take what he needed.

That, Kostas didn’t mind one bit.

Lightly, he kissed Malcolm’s shoulder. “Can you take a little more?”

Though Malcolm’s breath jumped, he nodded. But when Kostas pulled back, his throbbing cock slipping free from the heat of Malcolm’s ass, the incubus whined.

Kostas clicked his tongue, grabbed Malcolm by the waist, and rolled onto his back. He pulled the pretty incubus on top of him, a warm, squirming line all down his front.

Already, Malcolm was wiggling, spreading his legs and burying his knees in the bed on either side of Kostas’s hips. He wanted more. That connection.

He’d braced his pretty hands on Kostas’s chest, his incubus aspect coming out at the frustration of their pause. His little claws scratched at Kostas’s skin. The pain was sweet.

He reached down between the incubus’s thighs to grab his own cock, holding it steady beneath Malcolm.

“It’s okay. I want you to take what you need from me. Whatever you need.”

Malcolm blinked at him, red eyes gleaming with confusion.

Kostas wasn’t confused. He’d never been clearer. Anything Malcolm needed, anything he wanted, it was his.

Malcolm’s eyes widened when he realized Kostas wasn’t playing, wasn’t offering Malcolm anything he wasn’t perfectly willing to give. He was a siren, not to be entranced by incubus magic.

Then Malcolm sank down, forcing himself back, taking his cock as deep as it’d go.

His claws dug in, and Kostas pressed them to his chest.

“Will you say it?” Kostas asked.

Malcolm’s lashes fluttered, his breath heavy enough that all he could manage was, “What?”

“That you need me.” That you want me , Kostas thought, but that was far too dangerous. He hadn’t been needed by anyone in years. Wanted? Sure, but not for himself. He wanted this—a chance with an incredible man, someone who understood him and saw all of what he was—but they’d need time. Small steps away from their past hurts to get to their final destination. And Kostas didn’t care, so long as they kept walking together.

Malcolm furrowed his brow, a frown on his lips even as he rode Kostaas’s dick like a pro. He didn’t stop moving, the languid roll of his body beautiful as the dim morning light reflected off his sweat-slick skin. The mark on his leg all but disappeared. Bruises gone. Perfection with his curled horns and the tail that flicked across Kostas’s leg, agitated and nervous.

“Please, psychi mou ,” Kostas pressed. He needed this—to hear it. That he hadn’t fucked up, that one person saw him and wanted him.

Malcolm’s lips fell open. Words tumbled out.

“Yes, dammit. Yes.” He dropped back, rolling his hips in a circle, his channel flexing around Kostas’s shaft, milking him. His eyes would’ve rolled straight back in his head, if only he’d been able to look away.

He couldn’t. Maybe ever.

“Need you,” Malcolm hissed. “Need this. Feel so good. So full. Fucking endless. Cock like a battering ram. Stupid fucking handsome siren.”

Blood trickled on Kostas’s chest under Malcolm’s claws. He gripped Malcolm’s thighs, rubbing them, pulling him back and forth with no grace at all. Just need.

Heels braced, his hips shot off the bed. He snapped Malcolm down, buried to the hilt, and shot his seed inside his molten body while Malcolm flexed around him. Whimpering and beautiful. Flushed skin and heat and need and the sharpest, sweetest pain where his claws had scratched lines in Kostas’s chest.

Kostas was humming again. He didn’t know when it started, until Malcolm started moving again, his hips rocking in time with the music. The magic of his song carrying him higher, until Malcolm fell apart in his arms.

His spine curved forward, every muscle in his lithe torso flexed as he came. Kostas would swear, when Malcolm came on his skin, it marked him. It changed him like the ocean had, his skin feeling the salt and bitterness and warmth of home.

It broke his ties to the Mediterranean, lines pulled taught snapping back into place, curling around the precious fingers of this incubus as he reached for him.

Kostas gathered Malcolm in his arms, kissed his temple, his lips. “I needed that too,” he whispered. “I’ve been so alone.”

Malcolm buried his face against Kostas’s chest. He didn’t look up. It was too much for both of them to look at this squarely. But Kostas felt the hitch of his breath, heard the click of his throat as he swallowed. He even felt the gentle tickle of lashes wet with salty tears.

“I don’t want to go home,” Malcolm whispered.

Kostas squeezed him tighter, a sudden edge in his voice when he growled, “I will see the rivers run red with blood before I let anyone hurt you again.”

Malcolm shook, and Kostas cursed himself. His head was scrambled. He was—he was lost to Malcolm. It didn’t justify terrifying him.

“But if you want somewhere safe, I’ll—I’ll take you to Carson. He’s done me favors before. Knows what I am. He’s well connected. He can help.”

For a long time, Malcolm was quiet. Kostas didn’t think he’d say another word, but he stayed still, unwilling to get up before they had to, wanting to prolong this warmth between them as long as he could hold onto it.

He almost thought Malcolm had fallen asleep again, but then he felt the brush of Malcolm’s silk hair against the smooth skin of his chest as Malcolm nodded. “Okay.”