Plague Dance

This book was published by Shadowfire Press 2019 Grove Street #6 Boulder, CO 80302

Plague Dance Copyright © 2008 by Michael Barnette Cover art by Kat Haeske Edited by Helen Revell Book layout and Design by Coyote All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews, the reproduction of this book by any means known or devised in the future, are prohibited. Scanning, uploading, posting to the internet on any download or sharing site, making available via peer-to-peer sharing, creating print, audio or electronic versions of the book, or offering this book for distribution by any other means is illegal and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. If you obtained this book from a source other than a book seller he author did not receive payment for the book. Our authors deserve to be paid for their work. You wouldn’t work for free and our authors should not be expected to work for free either. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and all characters are the creation of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events, or persons living or dead are purely coincidental. The mention of, or reference to any product or service within this book is not intended to be a challenge to the trademarks or copyrights of those products or services.

Plague Dance A Dragon Dance Cycle Novella Deshawn & Cory 1 By Michael Barnette

Plague Dance

Chapter One A torrent poured forth from the darkened sky, the pounding drops intermingled with the chattering sounds of hail against the windows. Bursts of lightning shattered the night, bright as explosions in an embattled city. Deshawn Roberts stared out at the fury of nature, wondering who else might be out there witnessing the storm. Wondering if he might be the only one left after the outbreak of Ebola tore through the country leaving millions dead. Millions that included almost everyone else on the base where he’d been stationed. Other than himself he didn’t know who else might have survived the pandemic that had swept the US— the entire world— and left more people dead than living. The barracks where he’d lived with the rest of his platoon was empty, the rest of the men he’d liked, and those he’d tolerated were dead. Their mortal remains lay in the mass grave he’d managed Page 1

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to dig with a backhoe from a construction site, a subdivision that would never be finished. There was no one left to do the work, and no one alive to buy the half finished houses anyway. Of the hundreds of people who’d lived at the base, he was the only one left. Him alone with the echoing silence. He’d never understood that term, ‘echoing silence’ until he experienced the utter quiet of a place so devoid of life that seeing a bird made his heart fill with joy. He braced his forearms against the window sill, stared out at the raging storm. Lonely. He craved the sound of a human voice. The camaraderie of other soldiers, of men he knew, missed, wished he could talk to one last time. Share a beer and off color jokes, stare at the TV and hear laughter and angry words exchanged. To hear any voice break the plague of silence that ate at him day after day the way the plague of the body had eaten away at the people he knew until all that remained was the dust of the grave. Page 2

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Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. The words mocked him. Taunted him with the promise of a release from loneliness he was unable to take. A few others had survived, a couple men from a different platoon, one of the officers from his own command group. But they’d gone to find their families and no one had tried to prevent it. Not after captain Ferrel had killed himself in the bedroom of his home, surrounded by his Ebola murdered family. There wasn’t much point in saying anything to them about duty or remaining to guard the base. Not after the government collapsed. That’s what the media had begun to call it in the last few struggling days of the United States. The Collapse. The end of civilization as everyone knew it. Even then the reports of warlords rising to power were coming in. Men— women too— carving out a niche in the plague shattered land. He wondered if any of the men he’d known reached their homes. Wondered if they’d found anyone alive if they had. Deshawn sighed, gaze riveted on the wild night, the storm torn riot beyond the glass and came to a decision. Page 3

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At first light he would load up a Humvee with supplies and head out. There wasn’t any reason to remain at the base, no one left to care what he did or whether he remained loyal to his oath as a soldier. With no government he had no one left to be loyal to, so his oath meant less than the rain hammering the base. Sooner or later other survivors would show up. Survivors he might not want to meet. People like the warlord types the last few newscasts he’d seen reported about. He’d heard a few radio broadcasts after that, the station running on a generator for a few days. The last discjockey left for hundreds of miles talking himself hoarse, passing on any information he received, broadcasting rumors about the self-proclaimed King of the Lone Star Empire. A king who the rumors said was some former military guy named Roderik who’d raised an army and sent them rampaging around the countryside capturing the few people alive. People he forced to work for him, women he turned into servants fit only to cook and clean, the prettiest ones forced into lives of slave prostitution. Page 4

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Then the station went silent. Either out of fuel for the generator or silenced by one of the warlords. Deshawn didn’t know and he’d probably never find out. In the long run it hardly mattered. The world had gone from a thriving global economy, from civilized high-tech and instant communication across the globe to a barbaric age of savagery in the span of less than a month. There were some really bad customers out there, prowling the post-Collapse landscape. People he had no desire to meet. Nor any desire to join in their egomaniacal quest for power. “Rain, rain go away,” he murmured to himself before turning from the hammering of hail and rain to try and get some sleep. Deshawn climbed out of his bunk the next morning, loaded up the Humvee and rolled out into the new world created by the Hand of Fate at a wink from Old Man Death. * * * A gully-washer of a storm had chilled him Page 5

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during the night and left the whole area awash in thick, slippery mud. Cory stumbled, feet sliding as he struggled up another treacherous rise, the tree roots adding to the danger. He thought they’d offer him better purchase for the climb, but covered in moss, they were as slippery as the mud itself. The roots, instead of aiding him, were dangerous obstacles he had to tread on with increasing caution. He was already bloody from falling amid a tangle of roots, knees and feet suffering from exposure and injury. He raised burning eyes to the thick brush and trees surrounding him, tired to the point of being ready to give up. To lay down and rest. Giving up would mean death. And he wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet. He wasn’t ready to suffer an even worse fate, that of yielding his very soul to feed a power mad monster. A self-proclaimed King of an empire that used to be called Texas. He staggered to his feet and stood there gathering up the will to go on. Sore and aching all over. Hurting. Bruised. Page 6

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The worst pain came from his abused feet, the tattered layers of rags wound around them had proven less than enough protection from the roots, rocks and sticks he’d stepped on during the night. His first night of freedom since... He didn’t even know how long it had been. How long he’d been a slave. There’d been no other choice for him. There still wasn’t any choice but to go on. Go on, or go back.... “No fucking way!” he muttered through chapped lips. He shocked himself with both the raw sound of his own voice and the soft laugh that accompanied the words. He sounded unhinged even in his own ears. After his ordeal it shouldn’t have come as such a revelation, that faint trace of madness, but it did. He pushed his tired body onward, climbing the slope, feet slipping. He grabbed a sapling, pulled himself up, using a tree root for better footing, leaving bloody scuff marks on the moss. Half crazed or not, bloody footed or not, Page 7

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hurting and numb with weariness, he had to keep going. If he stopped he’d never get back up. If he stopped they’d find him and it would end everything. His freedom. His life. His pain. All of it. Pain means your alive, he silently reminded himself as he struggled up the steep hill, pulling himself along with roots, branches, anything he could use to keep going. He reached the top of the slope, glanced back and realized he’d crossed a shallow creek. He hadn’t even noticed the muddy ripple of the water, his mind not registering anything properly anymore. He licked dry lips, thought about going back down for a drink, stared at the brown stream and kept going instead. Thirsty or not, he wasn’t ready to try drinking something that, to his eyes, looked more like mud than water. He was still too much the city boy for that. Weeks as a slave he hadn’t overcome his squeamishness about some things. Dirty water and half spoiled food being two of those things. Cory heard a sound. Turned to see a large Page 8

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shape moving through the trees far beyond the creek bed. A first he couldn’t get his tired mind around the shape, wasn’t able to comprehend what it might be, what it meant. A soft snort that carried through the chill air, and “Easy boy,’ spoken by a voice his mind identified as one he knew, a familiar voice, sent him running. Blind-panic overcame weariness, fear driving him forward on all fours like an animal when he fell. He got to his feet, ran, staggering, terror driving him on, pushing him with the memory of whips and beatings, of humiliation and pain. Hoof beats. Coming closer. Dogging his flight. An animalistic whimper escaped from a throat choked by unreasoning fear. They’d found him. They’d take him back. Use him. Kill him as an example to anyone else thinking about escaping. In his mind he could already feel the hands on him. Hands he’d felt during his nightmare captivity. Grabbing him. Hurting. Cruel, painful hands would only add to his suffering, his Page 9

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misery. Hands that belonged to grinning fiends with cocks like steel, flesh that impaled him until he thought he’d split in two. Flesh that filled his mouth, suffocating him. Taking hands that gave nothing but humiliation and pain. Wild eyed devils that hurt him. Left him battered and bloodied, wishing for the death that never came, an end that could take the agony away but was denied to him. “No more—” he sobbed, hearing the sound of hooves on wet ground coming closer. He was crawling, scrambling along. He pushed himself upright, stumbling onward, fleeing and knowing his efforts were hopeless. He would never escape. Couldn’t get away from a man on horseback. He ran anyway, not even feeling it when a branch struck him. Uncaring when he fell, tearing the skin from both his hands, his knees. He got up and kept running, steps wavering. He felt nothing but the terror that drove him forward. Nothing but the dread of who was following him. A fiend from the very bowels of hell.

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A creature that looked like a man, but couldn’t be human. Nothing that evil could be something like him, a person, someone who’d had a family, a job, friends. He refused to believe it. Only a fiend from the darkest depths of Hell could torment someone that way and laugh while Cory screamed in an agony of horror. Heart hammering panic drove him onward, shrouded his mind, clouded his awareness of anything but the creature hunting him. His feet went out from under him and Cory slid down a steep hill, fell, rolled coming to a stop at the bottom amid a bed of early wildflowers, weeds and dry grass. Wildflowers. He stared at them. How could something so innocently beautiful still exist in the mad world in which he now lived? It didn’t seem right somehow. Didn’t seem real. A demon from hell chasing him and here he lay in a patch of flowers. Another slightly off kilter giggle escaped him Page 11

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and he clamped his hands over his mouth to stifle the sound. A sound reached him. The odd noise familiar somehow. He stared at the plants around him, trying to place what that odd rumbling might be, what it might mean, his sluggish brain unable to identify the sound until he saw a pair of bright glowing eyes coming toward him out of the gloom. Eyes that turned to headlights in his exhaustion fogged mind. Cory got to his knees, gasping, dazed by the fall, he forced himself to his feet. Jerky as a puppet he headed toward the oncoming highbeams, eyes wide, blinded by their brilliance. A horseman appeared at the top of the hill he’d just fallen down just as a military Humvee slowed. Cory stared. Military vehicle. More of his tormenters. He turned to flee, a whimper of hopeless desperation rising in his throat. Choking on terror Page 12

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which was far greater than the pain wracking his body, more powerful than any emotion he’d ever known he tried to run from the vehicle. He couldn’t let them catch him. He lurched forward, his body sluggish, steps tottering. Slow, so damned slow. Worse than a turtle trapped in ice, he barely moved. Run! his mind screamed at his aching legs, at his numb feet. Instead of running he crumpled to the ground, barely feeling the impact with the cracked pavement. Deshawn stomped his foot down on the brake when a bedraggled figure stumbled out into the path of the speeding Humvee. He barely managed to get the big military vehicle stopped in time as the person— he hadn’t been able to tell if the rag draped figure was a man or woman— vanished below the hood. He knew he hadn’t hit the person, he would Page 13

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have felt the jolt and heard the sound of flesh being struck. Adrenaline humming through his veins, he shoved the door open and hopped out of the Hummer, coming to an abrupt stop. He was being watched. Another presence above and to his right. He turned, peering through the twilight and saw a man sitting a horse at the top of a tree clad hill. A man. His eyes narrowed as he sensed something else. The feel of a lurking beast. Of something dark and menacing, the taste of evil on the breeze. “Best you just turn that Hummer off and wait for my boss. He’ll be wanting to talk to you,” the horseman called to him. He glanced at the mud smeared form lying so still on the road. Face down. Unmoving. Maybe not even breathing. If the person was dying from the plague there wasn’t much he could do to help. If the person was just suffering from something else— exposure or malnutrition, both appeared possible— then there might be a chance. But not if he had to stand around listening to someone he suspected didn’t have the person’s best Page 14

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interests in mind. Something in the scenario— a horseman atop the hill, a ragged figure lying on the roadway— whispered ‘hunter and hunted’ through his mind. He looked from the man on the horse to the battered and filthy person on the ground. “Your boss?” he asked as he stepped away from the door of the idling Humvee. The horseman nudged his mount and the animal eased down the steep hill toward the road. “You’re in the Lone Star Empire and there ain’t no need to waste your time on him. He ain’t gonna be around long enough for help to matter.” Deshawn’s gaze went to the bloody mess at his feet. The horseman had stopped his mount and sat there regarding him. He could feel the man’s gaze on him, taking in his uniform, the hard body beneath the fatigues. Sizing him up. A tingle flowed through his veins. Warming him. Warning him. “Why’s that?” he asked as he knelt down by the prone form. “He’s a runaway.” Page 15

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Deshawn frowned. The words went a long way to confirm his own uneasy suspicions about the man on the horse. The guy was the soldier for one of those warlord types he’d heard about on the radio. Lone Star Empire. That Roderik guy who named himself King. Deshawn touched the rag clad form, felt the hard edge of a shoulder blade beneath the muddy shreds of fabric. Starving and cold as a block of ice. He rolled the limp body over. Slim, almost androgynous in these days of stick thin people, but the cheek bones and firm line of the jaw, though a bit delicately shaped, were those of a man. A good looking white guy who wasn’t at his best. His bottom lip was swollen as if he’d been slapped or punched recently. Layers of grime and mud were unable to hide the bruising that darkened one cheek, or the swelling of one eye. He put his fingertips to the man’s wrist to check for any sign of life, worried that the guy might have died of hypothermia. He heard a pained whimper. Wounded animal noises so soft Deshawn’s ears barely registered the sound over the rumble of the Humvee’s idling engine. Page 16

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“Didn’t you hear me? He ain’t worth worrying over. He dun runaway.” He already knew what the man would say, but he had to ask the question anyway just to be certain. “Runaway? What do you mean by that?” “He’s a runaway slave. He’s owned by the Empire. What you got there is a slave of the state.” “Why’s he a slave?” he questioned. He had to have answers. Wanted confirmation of how things were here in the warped remnants of what had been the northern edge of Texas not too long ago. “He was a stock broker’s assistant. Can’t use a gun or do nothin’ useful.” “Useful?” “Killin’ farmin’ repairin’ vehicles or drivin’ trucks, stuff like that.” “I see,” Deshawn remarked as he scooped the pitiful remnants of a man up in his arms. In the light of the Hummer’s headlights he could see the man had red-gold hair. The color he’d heard Page 17

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called strawberry blond, somewhere between a red head and a true gold blond color. It had been crudely hacked, the mud turning it into wild spikes that gave the unknown man the look of a fashion model in one of those hair care ads you’d see plastered on a billboard. At least before the Collapse anyway. “You ain’t listenin’ to me, I dun told you he ain’t worth wastin’ time on.” Deshawn noticed the man’s accent getting thicker, a possible indication of anger. He changed the subject. “So this boss of yours, he likes military men does he?” “Yep. Folks like you, they’re really useful. The King’s real good to folks that know how to use military hardware. Good food every night, beer on Saturday, all the bitches you can fuck, or if that’s not your style, well we got us some fine looking boys.” He grinned. “That there was one of them, but he run off and now he’s got to die for the crime. We don’t hold with runaways.” “I see,” he replied. He’d made up his mind, knew what he was going to do. He wanted the right moment, bided his time, letting the man Page 18

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on the horse make the first move. “So you’re planning to kill a helpless man?” “That ain’t no man. He ain’t nothin’ except a hot hole to fuck,” the horseman explained and spat into the weeds. “Men join the King’s Army.” “And you’re a man, are you?” “Damn straight! Got me a good spot workin’ for the King. I ain’t no shit shoveling grunt neither, no siree, I got my sergeant’s stripes for being such an expert at hunting down runaway trash.” Deshawn’s frown deepened as he pulled the back door of the Hummer open and pushed the unconscious man inside. Behind him he heard the horseman shift in the saddle. He felt a warm prickling sensation throughout his body, could sense the hostility coming from the man on the horse, the animal dancing a few steps, it too aware of the emotions bleeding off its rider. “You don’t listen for shit do you?” He shut the door, turned to face the man, Page 19

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a hard-edged smile on his face. “No, I don’t suspect I do,” he agreed as the man leveled a rifle on him. “Which are you boy? You a man or a slave?” the rider questioned and there was no mistaking the insult, no doubt about his intention. Deshawn could sense a willingness to kill rising around the man. A desire to maim and murder glittered in his eyes, a cloud full of evil spreading from the horseman. The taste of Hell come to earth carried on the wind. The taint of a soul corrupted spilling outward. He felt it slip over his skin, the seduction of damnation, the lure of power twisted and warped, the taste of a killer’s soul. Deshawn shook himself, offered the man a sad, tired smile. “Well the honest truth is I’m neither.” The guy blinked. “What in hell’s that supposed to mean?” Deshawn let his Beast free just as the Page 20

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horseman’s true form appeared in his gaze. A Raven. Black wings and sharp beak. Beady eyes that seemed to glare hate at him as the man raised his rifle to fire. Ephemeral wings, feathers the color of a rainbow covering them, spread outward from Deshawn’s shoulders as the heavy coils of a serpentine body appeared around him and a head similar to that of a rattlesnake— if a rattlesnake ever had feathers instead of scales— rose above the coiled mass of the Immortal Beast. Winged Serpent, the core of Deshawn’s very soul awakening for battle. Deshawn reached out for the horse with his power, letting the animal sense a snake nearby. The animal rolled its eyes, nostrils going wide, a shiver running through its body. “Holy...” The man fired his rifle, the shot going wide as his horse shrilled in terror, bucked him off and bolted, galloping away as if it had discovered a rattler under its hooves. The Raven rose into the air as the man sat up, dazed, reaching for his rifle, eyes wide as he stared at Deshawn. “What in fuck are you!” Page 21

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Deshawn didn’t answer, and he didn’t give the man a chance to regain his feet or to fire the rifle a second time. A sparkling rainbow of light struck the man who’d called himself a sergeant in King Roderik’s army, the man who carried a Raven at the core of his soul. The light burst in a brilliant flash, sparks like burning opals blazing bright as Fourth of July fireworks. When it faded nothing but a dusting of ashes remained. Ashes delicate as the wings of a butterfly, the color of a rainbow spread out across the weeds and wildflowers at the side of the road. Deshawn stood there for a moment, staring at the remnants of a man. A scattering of dust, all that was left of an evil man who’d been purified in the chromatic light of the Winged Serpent. He stared upward at the dawn washed sky. Somewhere out there were more men like the one he’d just killed. Men searching for the guy he’d loaded into the back of the Hummer. With his full power raised, the Winged Serpent revealed, Deshawn could taste them on the wind. Men with black hearts, and souls foul as a toxic pool. He froze, sensing something else. Another Immortal. One tainted by dark Page 22

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deeds, but not carrying the deep corruption of evil the other men with him did. An Immortal on the brink, teetering between the Light and the Dark. Deshawn debated reaching out to the other Immortal, considered trying to influence the direction he chose, but he refrained. Everyone chose their own path in life, even Immortals. We all make our own decisions. I made mine a long time ago. Something hard, cold and unutterably evil brushed across his awareness and Deshawn withdrew his mind, concealing his Beast quick as a thought. Yet it wasn’t fast enough. He felt smug satisfaction and a determination to have him, to destroy him, to feed from him. Shuddering at the vileness of that touch Deshawn climbed into the idling Humvee muttering under his breath about stupid son’s of bitches trying to rule the world. Putting the vehicle in gear he hit the gas ready to put some distance between himself, the so-called King of Page 23

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the Lone Star Empire and his army before he had to kill anyone else. And before the King could find them.

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Chapter Two Warm. That was the first thing that came to Cory’s mind when he rose from the dark recesses of unconsciousness. Warmth and a softness enfolding him. The feeling made him want to slip back into the arms of sleep and never return to the bitter reality of his life. Two things impinged on his thoughts and pulled him back to full awareness. First came the memory of where he’d last been, fleeing for his life from Roderik and the pack of killer dogs he called an army. Second was the fact that, if he was waiting to die at their hands he wouldn’t be warm— unless they’d tied him to a stake preparatory to burning him to death— and he certainly would not be wrapped in the soft folds of a blanket. He opened his eyes and found himself confronted by a generous mouth that split into a broad, friendly smile. His benefactor was a good looking black man with a face sculpted by genetics to match the generous, far too sexy Page 25

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mouth. He had strong cheekbones and wide, intelligent eyes that were gazing on him with genuine concern. The unknown man was real easy to look at. And the overture of friendly intent left Cory uncomfortable when taken with his own innate interest, his reaction surprising him after all the abuse he’d suffered. “How are you feeling?” The voice was deep, a mellow bass that sounded as warm and friendly as the gaze leveled on him. “I...” his own voice was a harsh croak of sound, and he coughed. His throat felt as if he’d been swallowing sand laden with shards of glass; raw and sore. Maybe he was sick. Maybe what had happened to him before had been some sort of weird posttrauma induced hallucination. “Here, this will help.” He was lifted to a sitting position, the man’s handling of him gentle, care taken not to hurt his abused body. A bottle of water was held to his lips so he could drink. He took a few swallows relishing the pure taste of clean pre-Collapse bottled water on the raw Page 26

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meat lining his throat. It hurt to swallow, but for a moment that cool soothing liquid was the only thing he was aware of, the glorious wet purity easing some of the hurt. But only some of it. After he had a few swallows he became aware of other things. The hard muscles of the man’s body, the faint scents of soap and shaving gel, of laundry detergent and deodorant. The scents of civilized life, of the time before the Collapse, before warlords and slavery. Another underlying odor clung to the man, the scent he’d come to identify with guns. Guns that formed the new law of post-Collapse reality. Survival of the fittest. The rule of conquest and murder over the relative peace and sanity of his former life. He also realized his benefactor was in some sort of military outfit and that sent a frission of newfound terror through Cory. Scared anew, he shoved at the big man’s chest, ineffectually struggling for his freedom. He didn’t have the strength to push a wet paper bag away, much less get loose from the man holding him. “It’s okay,” that deep voice assured him. “You Page 27

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don’t have to worry about those assholes who kept you captive.” A few precious drops of water splashed on his chin and Cory stopped fighting. He didn’t want to waste the water, and he was too exhausted to resist any longer. He tipped his head back to look at the man holding him, completely breaking the contact of his chapped lips with the bottle of water. “Who are you?” he asked as the water was withdrawn and the man eased him down. “Deshawn Roberts. I was a staff sergeant in the United States Army until,” he made a sort of waving gesture that Cory understood to mean ‘before the Collapse.’ Lots of people referred to their lives as before and after the Collapse as if they’d died and been reborn. Reborn in hell. He also hadn’t missed the way the man explained which army he’d been in, distinguishing his preCollapse military career from that of men the armies of the post-Collapse world. The man tucked the blankets around him, and Cory realized the black man’s reassuring smile hadn’t wavered once. “What should I call you?” “Cory, my... my name is Cory.” He closed his eyes. He felt tired. Drained. Page 28

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“Cory. That’s a good name. Is there more to it? A last name maybe?” Cory blinked, frowned. He couldn’t remember his last name. He should have. Felt it sitting on the back of his tongue like a bit of popcorn husk that he couldn’t quite dislodge. “Don’t remember?” He shook his head. “That’s okay. You’ve had a rough time. You just rest and don’t worry about it, or anything else,” the man who’d said his name was Deshawn told him. His tone, like his touch, was gentle. Soothing. The fact that he couldn’t remember his last name weighed on his mind heavy as a bar of lead. How long had he been a slave? “What’s today?” “Tuesday.” “No, I mean what month and day?” “Fourth of May.” Page 29

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Cory looked up, eyes wide with shock. “May?” “Yeah.” The dark eyes were regarding him, the man’s expression full of thoughtful concern. “Lost track of time in that place, did you?” Cory nodded, stunned by the amount of time he’d lost. The last day he clearly recalled was the tenth of March. “It’s hard to keep track of what day it is when you don’t get to see much sunlight.” “They had you underground?” “Yes. Not all the time. They’d bring us up for some sunshine and to do some light work. We used to clean houses for people, do dusting, stuff like that.” “So they have homes?” He nodded. “All the officers have their own homes. They’re on the base where Roderik has his army, and the palace.” Deshawn’s face registered true shock. “A palace? He’s got a palace?” “Yes. They’re still building it but that’s what they call it. We’d have called it a mansion prePage 30

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Collapse, but he insists it’s a palace. It’s even going to have an indoor pool and,” he stared off into the darkness that was growing around them. “A harem for all his women.” Deshawn shook his head. “A harem? The man is a real egomaniac.” “He’s their King. His word is law,” Cory whispered remembering the executions, the brutal killings that greeted anyone that broke even the smallest of the King’s laws. So many people already dead and Roderik kept on killing those that were left. A hand touched his, made him aware of the bandages covering both his hands, and, now that he was paying more attention, his feet too. “You’re free, Cory. You aren’t ever going back there.” He gave the man a wan smile. “I know you’re trying to save me, and I thank you for that, but they aren’t going to just let me go. It’s a matter of pride to them. I have to be brought back. They can’t let anyone escape. It would make a smudge on the King’s Law.” Deshawn sighed. “Well they’ll have to get over Page 31

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themselves,” the man asserted confidently and asked, “Would you like something to eat? I’m afraid all I’ve got are a couple crates of MREs, but they really aren’t bad despite the stuff you might have heard.” “You’d give me food?” His mind just couldn’t get around the fact that this man, a military man like the core of Roderik’s followers, had given him water and was now offering to feed him. He’d even rescued Cory from a fate more horrible than mere death at the hands of Roderik’s goons. At Roderik’s hands. He shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if they’d discovered his secret. If Roderik’s attention had finally come to rest on him. The man’s smile vanished. “Let’s get something straight here, what they’re doing is wrong in my book. Damned wrong. So you don’t have to worry that I’m going to hurt you or anything. Okay?” Cory stared at Deshawn, nodded slightly. “Okay.” “Good. I’ll get you something to eat.” The man stood, giving Cory a better idea Page 32

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of how tall Deshawn the black man was in comparison to him. A bit over six feet which made him a several inches taller than Cory’s five feet nine inches. Cory had always been on the thin side, nothing like the sleek, masculine lines of the man who’d saved him. A warrior. A soldier. His protector of a sort. Cory sat up, hugging the blankets around himself trying to deny the emptiness in his heart. Wanting the memory of that old loss, the days of the plague, and watching his family die, of watching his lover die to just go away. But no matter how bad his life as a slave got, it couldn’t erase those memories, or the pain. Paul had been his life, his lover, his everything, and he’d died. Died and left Cory alone for the first time in his life. No family, no friends, and no Paul. They’d planned to be together forever. Page 33

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Nothing was forever, he’d learned that the hard way. Tears welled up in his eyes and he wiped them away on the edge of the blanket, unwilling to cry in front of this man. No matter how caring he seemed to be, men never wanted to see another man cry and he didn’t want to lose what little respect the man might have for him. Respect. How could anyone respect a man who’d let himself be enslaved rather than die? Of course that was the root of the problem. He didn’t appear to be able to die. Not anymore. Not since... Cory didn’t want to think about that either. Instead he took in their surroundings as the broad-shouldered man opened up the rear door of a nearby Humvee and climbed inside. He was lying on a tarp, wrapped in several blankets. They were at what appeared to be a highway rest stop. Weeds and debris were spread on the sidewalks and across most of the weather damaged parking area. He turned his head and Page 34

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saw the road, it too scattered with the debris that a lack of traffic and road crews assured would remain right where it lay. His mind had cleared enough to realize a few more things. He was clean and no longer clad in the remains of his button down shirt and trousers. In fact he wasn’t wearing anything at all under the blankets and his face heated flame hot at that knowledge. Deshawn returned with a box that had to be the promised food and some camouflage clothing. “Sorry I don’t have anything better for you to wear,” the man said as he crouched beside Cory. “And I don’t have any shoes to fit, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. We’ll just find a mall or store somewhere and if we can’t get what you need.” “Thank you.” He managed to get the words out, though there was a lump in his throat that felt big as a fist. The man’s kindness was like some beautiful dream and he kept expecting to wake up back in his cage in the slave compound or, worse, right as he was about to be killed for his crime of running away. Killed. Page 35

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He feared it, but he didn’t know if it was possible. Not after he’d lived through what should have become a fatal injury. If it wasn’t just the product of an hallucination. “You’re hands are pretty sore, I’ll open this for you.” Cory raised his gaze to the black man’s face, gave a wan smile, discovered that even his lips were sore which made him recall the beating that had finally given him the courage— or had it been hate nothing more than hate?— to risk his life and run. He watched as Deshawn opened the MRE and then offered it to him. “They aren’t too bad, but they aren’t fine dining.” Cory nodded and looked down at the meal. It smelled good, unlike the crap he’d been fed for— how long had he been a slave? Two months? Three? He wasn’t even sure how long they’d had him, the days a blur of humiliation and hurt. “No matter how long you stare at it that MRE won’t turn into a steak.” Page 36

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“Sorry, I was just...” “Thinking about being a slave?” the man questioned. Cory nodded. “How did you know?” “Educated guess. That’s in the past. You’re free now, so let it go.” Cory gave a bitter, cynical laugh. “They won’t stop searching until I’m found and killed. They’re vindictive bastards.” A hand gripped his arm, and he met Deshawn’s gaze, seeing a fierceness in the man’s dark eyes. “You let me worry about them. You just worry about getting your strength back.” Cory looked at the hand that gripped his biceps firmly, but not hard enough to hurt. “You’re one man against an army.” “I drove for most of a day, and I didn’t travel in a direct line. I took a turnoff not long after I picked you up and then another one about midday. We’re a couple hundred miles away from where I found you, somewhere in Missouri I think. I saw a sign that said Monett, Pride and Progress about a hundred miles back. I managed Page 37

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to fill up the gas cans I’ve got in the Humvee there. I seriously doubt Roderik’s men are going to catch up with us anytime soon. We’re going to keep moving.” “Oh.” Cory thought about telling the other man that they’d never stop searching for him, that Roderik was a vindictive bastard who’d keep looking for them both until they were both found and killed. “Eat. I’m going to go over some maps I have and try and figure out exactly where we are if I can. I really miss the days of GPS.” “Does where we are matter?” The man regarded Cory silently for a moment. “I’m trying to get us as far out of King Roderik’s domain as I can, so yeah it might.” “He’s got most of Texas, about half of Arkansas, and a big chunk of Okalahoma. If he’s won his war against the Red American Nation he might have some of New Mexico under his control by now.” “Red American Nation?” “Yes. A lot of the native American people got Page 38

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together after the Collapse and started their own nation. They’ve been giving King Roddy a lot of shit. Seems like fewer red people died from the strain of Ebola that just about wiped us white people from the globe.” “Maybe their prayers were just heard more often,” Deshawn remarked, with an odd smile. “But if he’s won that fight then he’s got a big chunk of New Mexico to go with the rest of his territorial acquisitions. He’s already taken two other warlord’s armies out of the picture.” “Damn. That’s more territory than I expected. He must have moved pretty fast to grab all that land.” “There wasn’t much resistance really. Most men think it’s better to join up than get shot, and well... women don’t get a choice.” “And the kids?” “There aren’t many, the few really young ones that survived the plague are killed. I guess they take too much effort to raise. Any kids over the age of ten or so they put to work. Teen aged boys become cadets in the army, teen aged girls...” Cory tried not to remember the screams, but Page 39

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they were imprinted in his mind, probably for life. “Well you can probably guess what happens to them.” He glanced at Deshawn, saw the man’s jaw working, noticed a faint glimmering around him as he moved. Cory knew what he was seeing. Another person with the soul of an animal. The kind of people Roderik favored because they were entirely immune to the plague. Immune like him. He shivered and looked away, off into the deepening twilight. It had been morning when he’d staggered out of the trees and found the road, right at the pallid edge of dawn. Sunset painted the sky with glowing orange and red. “Even Missouri isn’t that far out of his territory, and he’s expanding it almost as fast as his army moves.” The big man snorted. “Figures.” Cory took the food he’d been offered, his bandaged hands making a task that was usually simple into an awkward one. He struggled for a moment with the fork that came with the meal but finally got it firmly in his grip. It hurt, but he Page 40

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would manage because the only alternative was asking the man to feed him, and he wasn’t about to do that. “So can you tell me how he managed to get these people to follow him?” his rescuer asked. “He was a major in the National Guard. He started with a cadre of survivors. Men he knew. It’s pretty weird really. There were a lot of survivors among his men. They’re all—” Cory hesitated looking for a way to explain without revealing certain facts about himself he didn’t think this guy would accept. Hell he hadn’t fully accepted them. “All what?” Cory debated how to answer without sounding like he’d gone completely insane. He knew the answer, but didn’t know how Deshawn would react to the truth as he knew it, so he hesitated, trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete basket case. “Immune to the plague,” he finally answered, opting for a half-truth for the moment. “From there it just snowballed I guess. Survivors from all over flocked to him because he was a leader Page 41

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in a power vacuum. It wasn’t long before he set himself up as a king and started forced recruiting.” “Forced recruiting?” “Yes. Anyone they found they captured. Men became part of the Army— unless they were deemed useless like me.” He sat there and stared at the food, appetite gone as he remembered seeing a man, his wife and their surviving child butchered for resisting. “So he’s forcing people to join his army?” “Men, yes. Women aren’t given an option either, but they don’t go into the army. They’re all classed as slaves. The pretty ones become concubines and whores, the others are slave labor, forced to do all the work to keep the men happy.” “Why doesn’t someone kill him?” Cory looked up at Deshawn. Thought about his answer and decided to stop avoiding the truth. The guy might think he’d lost his mind, but he had to lay out the danger clearly for Deshawn. After the man had gotten himself into Page 42

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so much trouble by aiding him it was the only decent thing to do. “Roderik can’t be killed. He’s an Immortal.” Cory waited for the disbelief, the ‘you’ve got to be nuts’ that he expected to hear. Instead the man asked, “What kind?” He stared at the tall black man, too stunned to speak. That was not the reaction I expected. “For the record, I don’t think you’re a brick short of a load,” Deshawn remarked, turning a wry smile on Cory. “So go on and tell me what he is.” “Dragon. A green one.” “You were able to see it?” “Yeah.” The former military man just sat there watching him for a few moments, then he nodded slowly. “Most people can’t see what an Immortal looks like at the heart of their soul.” “So I’ve heard,” Cory replied. He’d revealed more than he’d intended. Didn’t want the other man to know what he was anymore than he’d Page 43

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wanted Roderik to discover his true nature. He didn’t want anyone knowing about the Thing dwelling at the center of his being, refuting its existence to everyone, including himself. He’d seen what Roderik did to one other like him, someone who wouldn’t fight, someone with an Immortal Beast for a soul. He took a bite of the food, chewed, forcing himself to eat because his body needed it. It didn’t taste near as bad as the garbage he and most of the ‘worthless’ slaves were fed. Quite the contrary it tasted good and he took another bite, enjoying the first good meal he’d had in more weeks than he could accurately remember. Putting the food in his mouth was easy, but swallowing it was another story. His throat hurt and he could feel the other man’s curious gaze on him. He knew what would come next. The question the man was going to ask him. “What are you?” Cory kept his gaze averted. “You know about this stuff then?” “Yeah, I know,” Deshawn admitted. “But I Page 44

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can’t tell what you are. You’ve learned to hide it, haven’t you?” “I had to keep it hidden. I’m not like Roderik and I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not even to save my own skin.” “Look at me.” A gentle hand touched his chin, guided his face upward, forcing him to look at Deshawn. Cory stared, seeing the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. A rainbow of light glittering off of the spread wings and gleaming coils of a feathered serpent. “You’re one of the Immortals.” “That’s right.” Deshawn’s hand moved from his chin in a gentle caress that pushed his ragged hair from his face and made him horribly aware of the other man, of his reassuring presence, his masculinity. It would be easy for him to learn desire for the other man. Too easy. His chest tightened, but it had nothing to do with his past. He wouldn’t let it have anything to do with Page 45

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his future either. He couldn’t expect that of his savior. “Tell me, Cory. What are you?” Again the hand stroked across his hair, down his neck, the feeling like the touch of a lover after so many grasping, hurting hands. The touch seared deep, awakening feelings, emotions he’d never thought he’d experience with anyone after Paul died. Emotions that had no place in this world and were misplaced now, but they were there just the same. Don’t do this. He doesn’t want you. He doesn’t. He’s just being nice. Either that or he’s so lonely he’ll take any hole to fuck. He knows you were a slave, that you were used too. He wanted to think Deshawn might be different, but that lingering hand spoke of want as strongly as his own body told him he wanted in return. “I won’t let them get you again, Cory. Not ever,” the man with a Winged Serpent at the core of his soul promised. Page 46

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Cory wanted to believe him, but he couldn’t. Not because he thought the other man was lying, but because he knew Roderik’s men would hunt them like hounds on a blood trail. “You say that now, but you haven’t faced Roderik.” “True, but he can’t kill me.” Cory turned his head away, breaking the contact of Deshawn’s hand on him. He set the food aside unable to eat, the fear of Roderik and desire he felt for Deshawn turning his mind into an emotional battleground. He felt ill with the tension. “No, but he could steal your power, tame the Beast at the center of your soul and twist it to do his will.” Deshawn’s brow furrowed at those words and he let his hand drop, seeing that the blond didn’t want that type of contact. After everything he’d probably been through that shouldn’t be a surprise. Hell, I don’t even know if he’s gay. They might have been using him just because he couldn’t fight back. As far as Deshawn knew there was no way Page 47

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to do what Cory said Roderik had done. He’d never heard of any method that would allow one Immortal to take another’s power. It wasn’t possible. Then again, he sure as hell didn’t know everything there was to know about being an Immortal either. While he had discovered what he was a bit over a decade ago, he really didn’t know everything there was to know about his kind. From what he did know, though, what Cory said Roderik had done defied every rule he thought governed an Immortal’s abilities. “How is that possible? Dragons have no power over what I am.” “Well I was under that impression too, but Roderik’s got a way to steal another Immortal’s power. I know he does because while I was there he captured a Unicorn and enslaved him.” “What! How?” The man’s dark eyes were wide with disbelief. “Are you sure?” “I don’t know how it works, but... it terrified me,” Cory whispered and Deshawn could see the horror in the other man’s hazel eyes. “Did you see how he did it?” The blond shook his head. “No.” A haunted Page 48

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look filled Cory’s eyes. A look that held some indefinable terror which clued Deshawn in on the fact that Cory wasn’t being entirely truthful. Deshawn sat down near the blond. Maybe this wasn’t the time to press him, but if what Cory said held even a grain of truth they were both in more danger than Deshawn had known when he stopped to save the other man. Even if you’d known, you wouldn’t have hesitated. You’d have stopped and saved him from them anyway. It’s what you do, it’s part of what you are. “Tell me what you can, please,” he urged gently, trying to coax more information out of the scared Immortal. “Our lives could depend on me knowing as much information about Roderik and his Dragon as you can give me.” Cory sat there, staring at nothing, his look distant. Deshawn understood the younger man was staring into the past, into the desolation of memory, of life as a slave. Used, abused, hurt in ways that Deshawn could only vaguely understand and never fully comprehend. “He’s a power mad bastard. Roderik talks Page 49

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about ruling the whole country as its King. He’s got some poor girl named Nikki that he drags around with him wherever he goes, keeps her on a leash like a dog. He says he’s going to found a dynasty on her and that he and his sons will rule forever.” Deshawn listened, waiting for the things he really wanted to hear. How the self-proclaimed King had enslaved another Immortal.” “His brother Hawk is an Immortal too. A Fenyx.” “And he’s helping his brother?” “Yeah. But I’m not sure he really wants to, I mean—” Cory sighed, picked up the MRE and took another bite, chewed, swallowed. Deshawn could tell the man was eating to distract himself from what they were talking about. All the while Cory was staring off into an horrific nightmare, the terror of it reflected in his eyes. This guy’s seen stuff that’s come close to destroying his mind. Probably would have if he weren’t some sort of Immortal himself. “Hawk’s not like Roderik. He never treats anyone like a dog. He’s—” Cory glanced up Page 50

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at him, “He’s nice, so long as his brother isn’t watching.” Two Immortals working toward the same goal made the situation even worse. The best they could hope for was to keep well away from Dragon King Roderik and his Fenyx brother. Deshawn knew his limits. He’d learned that it took one of your own kind to kill any Immortal. He could only be killed by another Winged Serpent, and Roderik could only be taken down by another Dragon. They could hurt one another. Badly, but it wasn’t possible to kill another Immortal who wasn’t what you were. Then again, until recently, he didn’t know of a way one Immortal could steal the power of another. As far as that went, he only had Cory’s word that it could be done, and Cory, Immortal or not, didn’t seem to be mentally stable. Who would be after some of the things he must have suffered at the hands of Roderik and his army? “What else can you tell me?” Deshawn prompted. Page 51

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“He’s got a real army, most of the officers have animal souls and that gives them even more ability to do what they want to all the normal humans.” “Well they can be killed.” “Some have been.” Cory put aside the remains of the MRE, sat there silent, weariness plain to see in the tightness around his eyes and the pallor of his face. “What does he have in his army?” “You mean animal souled people?” Deshawn nodded. “A few bears, a cougar, a horse, some wolves and a couple of lions.” “All men?” “Yeah. There are a few women. They’ve all become part of Roderik’s harem or he’s given them to his officers.” “So women are nothing but slaves ever?” “That’s all they’re allowed to be. Roderik has no respect for women. He treats them worse than you’d treat a dog.” Page 52

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“He sounds like a real winner,” Deshawn remarked, the sarcasm thick in his tone. “So he started out with a batch of animal souled survivors. That still doesn’t explain how he managed to get so much territory so quick.” “They gained recruits. More of the animal souled and just normal people who survived somehow.” Deshawn nodded. He needed to know what Cory was, what animal the blond had hidden inside him. He knew Cory didn’t want to reveal himself, but knowing was important to Deshawn. He also needed more information than he had about Roderik and his army. Details about their abilities, their equipment and anything else the man could tell him. Knowledge was power, it always had been, and in the war ravaged aftermath of the Collapse that adage continued to hold true. Knowing your enemy made it easier to fight him, or avoid him in this case. Deshawn didn’t think it would be wise to confront Roderik’s army, and he didn’t have any foolish notion he could take the guy out and be hero of the day. Page 53

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Only another Dragon could accomplish that. He needed intel, but the fact that Cory was in such bad shape both physically and emotionally didn’t make what Deshawn had to do any easier. Yet he had to find out. “I need you to tell me everything, Cory. If we’re going to survive I need to know more about the King and his men.” The strawberry blond head bobbed in a listless nod. “He’s got a group he calls his Rangers. They do special operations, like go in and spy on settlements. I heard them talking about towns building walls in an effort to keep Roderik’s army out. They’ve got some guys who can drive tanks. The towns don’t have a chance.” Deshawn thought about that and finally grasped what sort of killing Roderik’s army could lay down. More dead in a world already ravaged by a plague greater than any the world had ever known. More lives lost. Lives he’d sworn to protect. Lives he was helpless to save. One man, one Immortal against an army. He couldn’t die, but he could be rendered damaged to such an extent Page 54

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he would be all but dead for months, perhaps years. Exactly what would happen to me if a depleted uranium round from a tank struck me? Or what about a rocket propelled grenade? The thought of what could happen, how bad the injuries sustained by such an encounter might be left him chilled to the core of the Winged Serpent that was his soul. Deshawn scooted closer to Cory, the man turning wide hazel eyes on him, eyes full of fear. “You understand now, don’t you? We don’t stand a chance. Your best bet is to leave me behind and run. They might not follow you if they get me back.” “Nothing doing,” he murmured. He had an urge to reach out and wrap his arms around the frightened blond, but stopped himself. He didn’t know what it was about the other man, didn’t understand why his protective nature rose to the surface, sought expression in a desire to comfort, but it did. “I’m not going to leave you or hurt you.” The man turned an uneasy smile on him. Page 55

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“If you wanted to hurt me I couldn’t stop you anyway.” “Couldn’t or won’t?” “Both. I can’t hurt people.” “Not even to save yourself ?” The blond just shook his head slowly. “No.” “Why not?” “I told you, I can’t.” Deshawn took a firm grip on Cory’s chin, forced the man to meet his gaze without hurting him. Fear filled the other man’s eyes, but Deshawn ignored it. He had to know, had to have the answer to the most important question he’d asked Cory. “Tell me what you’re afraid of, Cory. It’s not Roderik, you’re afraid of, it’s yourself.” Hazel eyes met his. “I found out what I was while all the people around me were dying. I—“ Cory sighed, the exhalation harsh, as if he found fault with his own survival. Maybe he does. Maybe he lost someone he loved. Didn’t we all? Survivor’s guilt must be as common as guns and bullets these days. Deshawn mused as he waited for Cory to say more. Page 56

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“I wanted to die too. I was so lonely. Instead I decided to go looking for other people. I kept driving, forgot to eat, dozed off and wrecked my car. I woke up covered in my own blood, and hallucinating. At least that’s what I thought I was doing.” He’s only just discovered what he is recently. No wonder he’s so scared. It scared the ever-lovinghell out of me when I found out about the Winged Serpent. Too bad this shit doesn’t come with an instruction manual. It would sure make things easier. “So how did you find out what you are?” “I could see what I was but I didn’t understand it. I should have died in the crash, but I didn’t, but God I hurt. Moving enough to get out of the car the worst pain I’d ever known, but I wasn’t dead.” The surprise and shock of what he’d gone through was clear in the expression on Cory’s face, the sound of his voice adding to Deshawn’s conviction that the young broker’s assistant had survived Hell on Earth more than once since the Collapse. Page 57

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“So how did you figure out you weren’t hallucinating.” Cory turned away, a visible shudder passing through him and Deshawn understood with a flash of insight. Cory had killed someone. Deshawn couldn’t think of anything else that would cause such a negative impact on a man, and for someone as apparently gentle as Cory, killing to survive would have been the ultimate violation of his wounded psyche. Death, murder, enslavement, beatings and rape, Cory had endured all of it. Deshawn set a gentle hand on the younger man, trying to reassure him that he understood, that he had no intention of judging him. “You don’t have to say anymore about what happened, Cory. I just want to know what you are. Will you tell me that at least?” In answer Cory got to his feet. He swayed unsteadily, a strident gasp torn from him as he put weight on his battered and slashed feet. Deshawn could see the raw agony in the pallor of the blond’s face, the sudden sweat of pain that broke out on his forehead. Page 58

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Gritting his teeth the blond dropped the blankets that he’d been clinging to and stood naked in front of Deshawn. He couldn’t help himself. The unveiling of the other man’s body hit him hard, making his pulse race, his cock twitch and harden. Battered and abused, dark bruises marring his body, yet Cory was beautiful with a fragile grace that heated Deshawn’s blood, made him want to protect and cherish Cory, to drive the horror from his eyes and make sweet, gentle love to him. He wanted to be everything to Cory, friend, protector.... lover. Cory lowered his head as if he had to focus on the Beast residing in the center of his being. As if he were calling to It from a great distance. Gradually, mist rose, enfolding Cory, rising above him to form a pair of pearl white wings that spread from his shoulders as a long tail and the pattern of decidedly reptilian scales formed over his entire body. Scales that glowed like opals in the dim light of late evening. Deshawn stared, eyes wide with shock. Disbelief bringing him to his feet to step closer to the impossible. The improbable. Page 59

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He was staring at another Winged Serpent. One with wings like those of a dragon rather than wings like his own rainbow-feathered pinions. Cory was a Winged Serpent. A golden crest and a golden tuft at the end of his tail looked more like fur than feathers, but there was no denying that Deshawn was looking at another of his own kind. Another of the Immortal Beasts, another Serpent. He couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to stop staring because Cory’s Beast was the most beautiful thing Deshawn had ever seen. Deshawn’s mouth went dry, heartbeat stepping up to a faster pace, his cock aching and eager. He took a half step forward, stopped himself. Their eyes met, Cory’s gaze widening, pupils dilating, lips parting. Moist, kissable lips. Deshawn swallowed, heart racing. Drawn to the other Immortal he took a step forward, hesitating at the flicker of fear in Cory’s gaze. Like a bee to nectar, Deshawn rushed forward, took the other man in his arms and held him close. The mist thickened, rising around them in Page 60

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a glowing cloud of rainbow washed pearl, a scent like summer flowers, a sweet perfume tinged with a musky undercurrent wafted to him, filled him with desire’s heat. Deshawn looked deep into Cory’s hazel eyes. He saw the terror and let go, shaking, wanting, a volcanic flow of emotion, of lust and protectiveness screaming through him, urging him to safeguard the other Serpent. Urging him to claim the man who was his match. “I.. umm...” he stammered, confused by the turmoil filling him. He wanted Cory bad, the desire to hold, to protect and love the other man hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. He stepped farther from the blond, shaking even harder as if afflicted by some palsy, mind reeling, body thrumming with desire. He couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t get the desire to kiss those moist lips, to lay Cory down and love him out of his thoughts. That he was attracted to another man was no surprise. None at all. He’d known he was gay since his freshman year in high school. But he’d never felt anything like this for anyone. He’d also never met another Serpent. Page 61

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He looked up to see Cory staring at him. Shock had replaced the fear, the initial reaction fading. Scales glimmered in the dim light, sparkling as the coils shifted, as Cory turned away, reached for the blankets on the ground and wrapped it round himself, concealing his body. The glorious beauty of his Serpent vanished too.

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Chapter Three A hand gripped his arm, the touch gentle. Warm. Cory turned to see Deshawn, the man’s own Immortal form clearly visible amid glowing rainbow mist. Mist only other people with animal spirits, or Immortal Beasts at the center of their souls could see. People like themselves. People like Roderik and Hawk. Good and Evil. “I killed a man. I’m tainted with evil,” Cory murmured. “Tainted and broken. Whatever you thought,” he shook his head, refuting the way Deshawn had tried to hold him, seemed to want him, “whatever you wanted from me, I can’t give you.” The feathered head moved from side to side as Deshawn shook his head, Beast and man one and the same. “No Cory you aren’t evil. If killing made a man evil, well—” Deshawn let his arm go, Page 63

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reached up and touched his cheek, the caress soft as down, the tickle of feathers against the scales of his Serpent form. “I’ve done some killing and I don’t think I’m evil because of it. Sometimes a man needs to protect what matters, even if it’s only his own life.” The touch felt good. More than good, it felt— right. As if the hands of those other men who’d used him, abused him, hurt him were swept away. Just the touch of another man’s fingers. The brush of an Immortal Beast’s feathers across his own scaled form could erase the pain, ease the suffering of his mind and body. He met Deshawn’s dark eyes, saw something there at first he didn’t understand, a tenderness. One man reaching out to another, offering more than Cory expected. Offering... what? Friendship? Someone he could trust? Someone that would stand by him, couldn’t fall victim to plague or murder? He saw the Feathered Serpent too. Saw It wrapping a few caressing coils around the Winged Serpent. Page 64

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Around him. Deshawn’s own Immortal Beast soul reaching out to the Immortal Beast that was Cory. Protective and gentle, the feathered Serpent touched Its feathered face to the scaled head of his own Serpent, nuzzling as Deshawn leaned in to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. Forgiveness in the brush of lips, the touch of feathers to scales. Absolution from one Serpent to another. Cory thought about why he’d killed the man, and what he’d found afterward. The man had turned cannibal, eating people, killing them as if they were animals. He would have tried to eat Cory if he hadn’t fought back, killed his would be murderer, but that death had made Cory no better than the man he’d killed. At least in his own mind he hadn’t been any better. “I don’t know, maybe you’re right.” He found himself wrapped in Deshawn’s arms. Strong arms that held him close as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if he belonged there. He was eased to the ground, felt the softness Page 65

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of blankets beneath his bare behind, realized he was cold and shivering, but no longer in such terrible emotional pain. “If you’re done eating, put these clothes on and we’ll get going,” Deshawn said as he let go, handed Cory the clothes. “The more distance we get between us and that Dragon, the better off we’ll be.” Cory nodded his agreement, but his mind wasn’t on the words Deshawn had spoken. His thoughts were turned inward on the horror he’d found in a cannibal’s den. Deshawn was right. He wasn’t the same as that man, nor was he anything like Roderik and his killers. Yes he’d killed to keep the man from killing him— he hadn’t realized he couldn’t die then— but he’d taken no pleasure in it, nor had he turned his victims into a meal. He reached for the clothes, hands clumsy from the bandages wrapping them. They hurt, he hurt. Physically and mentally, he hurt. Tears welled up in his eyes. He fought them. Tried to keep them at bay. Page 66

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“Yeah, with those hands it’s going to be hard for you to get dressed. That was stupid of me, wasn’t it?” Deshawn said, voice soft, gentle. Kindness after months of nightmare torment. Gentleness after months of pain. Months of fear. It overwhelmed Cory. The tears got loose, fell like a never ending rain from his eyes, sobs breaking free, ripping out of his sore throat, making his bruised ribs ache. “Shhhh...” A soothing murmur, comforting arms embracing him, pulling him close to the broad safety of another man’s chest. A hand rubbing his back, trying to calm him, trying to help him the way no one had done since Paul died. Everything that had happened to Cory broke free in a torrent of agonized words, like a confession of sin and crime. “Paul died. He died! Oh God, why? Why kill children and eat them? Why?” He knew he wasn’t making sense, and he didn’t care. “So Page 67

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many men. Every night. Hurting me. God why? Why has this happened?” Deshawn let the blond cry, let him rail at God, at the fate that set him in the path of so much horror. A cannibal eating people. Killing children. A man gone mad at the death of the world he’d known. Roderik’s men. Cory suffering cruel abuse, helpless, at their mercy. Watching women suffering the same fate, living in fear of death—or something much worse— afraid of his secret being revealed. Living in terror that Roderik would find out his secret, and use him the way he was using another Immortal to increase the power of the Dragon at the center of his soul. He let Cory cry it out. Held the younger Immortal until the tears dried on his cheeks and the sobbing had come to an end, turning into body shaking hiccups that gradually subsided. Holding Cory until he had drifted into an exhausted sleep in Deshawn’s embrace. He slipped the clothing on the exhausted man, Cory so far gone he never woke, not even when Deshawn picked him up and placed him into the Page 68

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back seat of the Hummer, tucking a few blankets around him to try and warm his chilled body. “Time to put more distance between us and them,” he murmured to himself as he started the big vehicle up and eased it out of the darkened rest area. He didn’t know where they were going, or what they might find out there in the insanity that was once a proud nation, but it was time to get moving. He might not know what lay ahead, but he sure as dawn knew what lay behind them. A power mad Dragon, his Fenyx brother and a horde of ruthless killers. They needed somewhere to stay. Somewhere well away from Roderik’s grasping talons. A place to lie low, to hide while Cory forgot his captivity, a place where he could heal and live in peace. But where that was, or how he’d find it Deshawn didn’t know and rather than worry about it, he drove as the stars spun across the heavens and the moon rose to keep them company. He’d tried not to analyze his reaction to Cory. Tried not to think about how he’d wanted Page 69

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the injured man, still wanted him, his cock going instantly hard at the memory of that pale body glimmering in the twilight, of the beautiful Serpent rising from the otherworldly mist. Avoiding the implications of his strong attraction, Deshawn put it down to nothing more than weeks of loneliness and the discovery of someone who was an Immortal. But it was more than that. Cory wasn’t just another Immortal, he was another Serpent. A possibly straight, sexually abused Serpent. He stopped the Hummer at a crossroads, checking the map and trying to decide which way to go. Perusal of the map yielded no clues except one: he wasn’t where he thought he was and had taken a wrong turn several miles ago. Distracted by his thoughts he’d missed the turn off somewhere. He looked at the bullet pocked highway signs, glanced at the map trying to pinpoint their location. Found it. Oklahoma. Not where he’d wanted to be, he’d accidentally circled around and crossed back into Roderik’s territory. Page 70

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Back into the lair of the Dragon and his army of murderous dogs. He heard a sound behind him, turned to find Cory sitting up and peering out of the window. “Where are we?” “Oklahoma, apparently.” “Oklahoma? I thought you were trying to get away from him.” “I was but I missed a turn off somewhere and here we are.” “Oh.” Cory shoved the door of the Humvee open and got out, limping to the side of the road. Deshawn didn’t even ask where Cory was going or why. He could guess. He opened up the map and lay it over the steering wheel while the powerful vehicle voiced its low diesel purr as it idled. After a few minutes he pinpointed their exactly location, the signs telling him he needed to turn north to get back out of Roderik’s kingdom. Cory walked in front of the headlights, closed the back door and came around to ride shotgun Page 71

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rather than return to the back seat. He climbed in, pulling the door shut, a soft grunt accompanying the use of his sore hands. I can’t even imagine how much he’s hurting, beat to hell the way he is, but it’s got to be bad. “We’re going to take the interstate north.” “Okay,” Cory acknowledged as he put his seatbelt on. Deshawn folded the map closed, reached into the back and got the blanket and handed it to Cory. “Thanks,” the blond murmured as Deshawn put the big vehicle into gear, turning it north, away from Roderik’s domain. He drove on, thought about talking to the other man, but he kept quiet when Cory made no effort to strike up a conversation. They rode in silence for the better part of a half hour before Deshawn got an uneasy feeling. He slowed the Hummer, peering ahead, beyond the reach of the headlights. When he turned to say something to Cory Page 72

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the blond was twisted around in his seat, looking behind them. “What is it?” “I think someone’s coming.” Cory replied, then turned his gaze on Deshawn. “Why did you stop?” “Something ahead. I can’t tell what it is, but I can sense—” But it was Cory who finished his thought, “Something evil.” “Yeah.” “What do we do?” Deshawn thought it over. “Go off road and try to avoid them. Or stick to the road and run right into whatever’s out there.” “Which would be faster?” “The road I guess. But it depends on what we find ahead.” Cory felt him behind them. Felt the power of the King’s brother, the Fenyx, closing in on them. He shuddered, terror rising to grip his heart. Page 73

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“Hawk’s coming. If he catches up with us we’re good as dead.” “We can’t die,” Deshawn remarked as he turned off the headlights and stared into the night. “I’m not as sure of that as you seem to be. I told you, Roderik has some way to drain our power. If we’re captured that’s going to be our fate.” “I remember what you said.” “Is that something you want to risk? I sure don’t.” Deshawn turned his dark gaze on him. “Don’t be afraid, Cory. I’m not going to let them take you but I need a minute to work out what to do.” Cory nodded and let the other man think while the Fenyx and Roderik’s men drew closer. He could sense something ahead of them too, but the sense of impending doom coming at them from the south was stronger to him than whatever Deshawn sensed north of where they’d stopped.

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Deshawn put the Hummer into gear and pressed his foot down on the gas. “What are you doing?” “Running.” “But there might be a trap ahead.” “There is, but I’d rather face a couple of the Animal Souled than face that Immortal coming at us from behind. We’re going to break through whatever they’ve got up there and run.” Cory nodded. The plan made sense to him. Whether it would work or not... Well I’ll get an answer to that soon enough I guess. They rolled up a hill. From the crest they could see the blockade laid out, a few Hummers sitting in the middle of the road just below the peak of the hill where it had been out of their line of sight until the last moment. Two other vehicles, half-tracks roared onto the road behind them, coming out of some screening trees. “Here we go,” Deshawn stated and gunned the Page 75

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engine, twisting the wheel to send the Hummer off the road. It jounced roughly, shaking Cory and making his teeth rattle as they roared into the scrub and pines just off the side of the road. A sapling went down beneath the Hummer. Deshawn, driving without headlights, twisted the wheel to avoid a larger tree,. Cory didn’t need to ask him if he could see, He made the calculated guess that seeing in the dark came with being an Immortal. Behind them the half-tracks— Armed Personnel Carriers, or APCs— loaded with some of the men of Roderik’s army roared along in their wake. Cory held on as Deshawn cut the wheel hard to the left, then to the right as something bright lit the darkness. A boom shook through the framework of the Hummer, and several trees burst into burning kindling on their left. “What the hell was that?” “Rocket propelled grenade from one of the APCs behind us.” Page 76

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“Shit!” Cory cried out when a second explosion sent bits of tree, dirt and rocks clattering into the window beside him. “They know what we are!” “Or they just want you dead,” Deshawn replied. “Isn’t that what you said? That they’d hunt a runaway down to kill them?” Another tree died, dirt and pine branches raining across the Hummer, the flash of the explosion blinding Cory for a few heart-rattling seconds. “I’ve never heard of them going to this extreme!” He was hanging onto the grip at the top of the door to keep from being shaken like a rat in a pit bull’s jaws, the Humvee jolting over the rugged terrain. Deshawn was driving like a maniac, trying to avoid taking a direct hit from the RPGs, while racing at an insane speed through trees. The man’s expression was intense as he drove through the trees, trying to keep them from being hit, or colliding with anything too big for the Hummer to knock aside. Another explosion rocked the Hummer and this time the vehicle started to go over. A Page 77

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collision with a big pine prevented the vehicle from rolling. They flew into the last stand of trees, going uphill heading for the road. Cory looked behind and saw the two APCs following, one of them colliding with a small pine and snapping it off, the tracked machine grinding over the broken remains. They left the tree cover, hit the road as the blockade behind them dissolved, the vehicles giving chase. Cory turned to see Deshawn grinning. “Why are you smiling?” “Because those dumb shit’s are doing exactly what I expected them to do.” “What do you mean?” “They’re following us. The idiots in the APCs won’t dare fire at us because those guys from the road block are between them and us.” “Oh.” The Hummer was gaining speed, but so were the vehicles giving pursuit. “Can you outrun them?” Page 78

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“I don’t know,” Deshawn admitted, “but I can sure as hell try.” “I hope to hell we don’t run out of gas.” “We’re good, I filled the tanks not too long ago,” Deshawn explained as he gunned the engine to greater efforts. The pavement was relatively level, but it also ran in a straight line. Deshawn glanced back. “Jump!” he shouted and shoved at Cory. “What?” The world dissolved in a roar of sound, a blinding burst of light. Cory felt himself lifted and tossed as the explosion tore the Humvee to pieces. Breath knocked out of him, he landed in some bushes at the side of the road, dazed, his ears ringing. For a brief moment disorientation kept him from figuring out how where the Humvee had gone, why he wasn’t inside it anymore. It also kept him from understanding why he was lying face up in thick grass under some bushes. Something wet slid down the side of his face, Page 79

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but when he touched it he couldn’t feel anything. He brought his hand into view and he noticed the bandages on his hands which explained to his dulled mine why he’d been unable to feel wetness on his fingers. He blinked, saw the fresh blood covering his wrapped hands. Blood? Where did it come from? A thick fluffy cloud drifted across the sky, blotting out the stars. He became aware of sound through the ringing in his head. A deep rumbling noise. They’d been in a Humvee. He and Deshawn. But how had he gotten where he was now? He rolled onto his hands and knees, peered out of the bushes to see several vehicles— three Hummers and two APCs— rolling to a stop just beyond the burning remains of the Humvee Deshawn had been driving. A fierce bonfire, fueled by the diesel that had spilled from the ruptured tank, turned the area into a hellish blaze of light that was almost impossible to look at. Page 80

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“Deshawn?” he couldn’t tell how loud his voice was, his own words almost inaudible from the lingering effect of the explosion. Cory struggled to recall the immediate past and came up blank. The best he could do was a memory of Deshawn driving the Humvee as they’d fled from Roderik’s goons. Then he’d been lying in the grass. He stared at the burning Hummer. My ears are ringing because of an explosion. They must have hit us with something. Men were getting out of the vehicles. Men with guns. Roderik’s men. Cory crawled deeper into the bushes. He had to run. Had to escape. But he couldn’t leave Deshawn. What if he was still alive? Of course he’s alive. He’s like you are. And if Roderik gets hold of him, there’s no telling what he might do. But that wasn’t true. Cory knew exactly Page 81

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what the Dragon would do to Deshawn. He’d enslave him, steal his power, maybe find a way to kill Deshawn and the Feathered Serpent at the center of his soul. If they capture you, you’ll suffer the same fate. He crept deeper into the bushes, intending to run, to leave Deshawn. The memory of the man’s warm smile, the gentle touch of his hand stopped Cory, held him there with a power greater than any collar or chain around his neck. He owed Deshawn for trying to save him, trying to protect him. Instead of making good his escape Cory stayed. Tears blurred his eyes as Cory watched the men gathering beside one of the APCs. Two dozen of Roderik’s soldiers, the evil bleeding off of them making him feel sick inside. He could sense the Fenyx getting closer and once Roderik’s brother arrived to take command of the troops, there would be no escape. Not for him. Not for Deshawn. Page 82

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He crawled closer to the road, looking for Deshawn. If the explosion had torn him apart, could even Deshawn’s Immortal Beast keep what remained alive? Deshawn couldn’t move and every nerve in his body knew he needed to move. Knew that it was a matter of time before the King’s men found him, but his body wouldn’t obey him. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get so much as a finger to move. His eyes were open but he couldn’t tell what he was looking at. He wasn’t aware of any pain and he didn’t know if that was good or bad. He blinked, unable to focus on anything but the wild dance of red and orange light. His brain failed to identify what it was at first. Those dancing banners of color should have made sense to him, but they didn’t. Not at first. Finally something clicked in his head and Deshawn realized he was lying on the road watching the Humvee burn. Once his brain got around that he could feel the heat, smell the acrid smoke— a mix of hot metal, burning diesel, plastic and Page 83

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other components—and feel the roughness of the pavement under his cheek. He concentrated on moving just his right hand. Felt his fingers twitch, tried the same thing with his left hand and got no response. His legs and feet also gave back no sensation, no sense that he’d moved anything and he worried his back was shattered. Or worse. He also couldn’t hear. Not a thing. Not even the beat of his own heart. When he tried to turn his head he found that just as impossible as moving either of his legs had been and that drove home just how badly injured he had to be. I wonder what happened to Cory. Boots filled his field of vision. Military boots. He couldn’t hear anything. Hadn’t heard the sound of approaching footsteps, and if they were talking he didn’t hear anything that was being said. He felt a hand touch him, fingers against his throat and it dawned on his dazed mind that Page 84

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he wasn’t breathing, that the reason he couldn’t hear his own heartbeat amid the white noise in his head was that he didn’t have a pulse. Well that explains why you can’t move. You’re technically dead. Fucking great. Dead means helpless, and that means I couldn’t do shit help Cory even if he needs me to help him. The boots left his field of vision. He wanted to turn his head. Wanted to push himself to his feet and find Cory, wanted to help the younger Immortal escape, but he couldn’t even help himself.

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Chapter Four Cory got as close to the road as he dared in his quest to find out what had become of Deshawn, eyes scanning the darkness, trying to pierce the glare of the burning wreckage. When he spotted Deshawn it took a moment for his brain to unravel what his eyes were seeing because the angle of Deshawn’s body was very odd. His back twisted in a way that defied reason. Contorted in a way that told him Deshawn’s back must be broken, his spine severed. He wasn’t sure if both of Deshawn’s legs were still attached, and he was almost positive that one of the man’s arms had been removed by the blast. He closed his eyes, fought off the sense of hopelessness. No one could survive that. Could they? He watched the body, saw a hand twitch. The fingers dug into the ground, then went still. Deshawn struggling to move, still alive when the visible damage said he should be dead and heading for the Reaper’s embrace. Page 86

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The soldiers were spreading out. Coming into the trees and he knew of only one explanation for that. They were searching for him. Cory crept deeper into the brush, praying he could evade capture, could find a way to get to Deshawn and somehow get them out of there before Hawk arrived. Once the King’s brother arrived there they’d have no chance to escape. None. The other Immortal would find them, capture them, and that would be the end of them. Fortunately for him, the men weren’t searching in any sort of a pattern, they were just wandering around aimlessly which helped. It also helped that his hearing was returning. Everything sounded as though he had a bucket over his head, the noises the men made as they searched for him distorted and weird with an echoing quality that tended to confuse his sense of direction. To his dismay, Hawk arrived in a gleaming black Humvee that came to a stop well away from the remnants of the destroyed one they’d been in. Cory hadn’t even gotten a good look at Deshawn much less gotten close enough to try a rescue. Forced to retreat, Cory found a place Page 87

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where he could stay under thick cover and watch Hawk. Instead of letting the men continue their search, the King’s brother recalled the men, gathering them around him, giving instructions. Cory was too far away to hear what he said to them but he could guess. He’d be telling them how to go about their search. Instructing the soldiers on the best way to find him. I should be running. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave Deshawn. The other man looked more dead than alive, which made him a fool for staying, but Cory wouldn’t allow Deshawn to fall into the hands of Roderik’s men. Not when he knew Deshawn would never abandon him if their situations were reversed. He also didn’t know what he could do to save Deshawn. If Hawk discovered the Immortal Beast that formed the very center of Deshawn’s being, he would take the former soldier and turn him over to Roderik. Cory knew what would happen if Deshawn fell into Roderik’s hands. Roderik would steal the power of Deshawn’s Feathered Serpent just as he’d stolen the power Page 88

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of the Unicorn who was already his captive. Cory tried to think of something, anything that would save Deshawn from that fate, but he wasn’t a soldier. He was an office worker. The closest thing to strategy he’d ever attempted was planning a going away party for a coworker. When it came to fighting and rescuing people, he was clueless. Hawk began gesturing to the men, giving them orders, and none of them seemed to like what he was saying. Cory watched with stunned amazement as the majority of the soldiers climbed into the APCs which were started up and turned around, the big vehicles grinding their way up the hill. The drivers were taking them back the way they’d come, down the road in the direction of the Lone Star Empire. Hawk seemed to look right through the bushes in which Cory was hiding, the man’s dark gaze locking with his. Cory froze. Hawk knew exactly where he had gone to ground, the Fenyx appearing around the man in a burst of red and yellow fire in Cory’s gaze. Heart hammering with a burst of terror Page 89

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that screamed through his veins, Cory found he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Fear urged him to flee, to abandon what remained of Deshawn and run for his life, but he didn’t. He stood his ground, waiting for the other Immortal to come for him, determined to fight if that’s what he had to do to save Deshawn. He saw a faint smile play at the corners of the Immortal’s mouth then Hawk climbed into the Hummer and it drove away leaving five men and a Humvee behind. “Spread out and find him!” their sergeant shouted. The four men moved into the trees on the opposite side of the road, spreading out to search for him on the wrong side of the road. The side where Hawk had directed them to search. The sergeant moved toward Deshawn. There was something in the man’s walk, in the way he held the rifle that bothered Cory. He’s going to shoot Deshawn! Cory bolted from cover, running as fast as he could, no longer aware of his injured feet. Page 90

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I have to protect him! I can’t let that guy shoot him! “No!” Cory shouted and jumped toward Roderik’s soldier and Deshawn, his power rising, the great leathery pinions of his Beast beating. The wings lifted Cory into the air in an impossible leap that resembled flying. He landed, his wings sweeping around before him to cover them both as the sergeant opened fire on them. The bullets stuck, rebounding from the invisible barrier only Cory could see. He felt the phantom echoes of pain as the bullets pounded his wings, but such discomfort was nothing compared to the damage they would have done to the badly wounded and helpless Feathered Serpent. The other four soldiers came racing back, their rifles at the ready as the sergeant opened fire on Cory a second time. Cory faced the group of men as the other four began firing, their bullets stinging his wings, but unable to penetrate. He took a step forward as something hot and deadly rose inside him. Rage. An anger unlike any he’d ever known, ever felt ignited in his heart, filled his soul. Page 91

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These men were killers. Dark and twisted things, their souls black as a lightless night. He could see the evil inside them, taste it on the air the way a snake could scent its rightful prey and creatures of evil were his prey. He understood that now, accepted it as part of himself. Fully awakened, the Winged Serpent rose on massive coils that shone with all the colors of the rainbow rendered in pastel tones across the white scales. Broad wings with the shine of pearls spread upward, and a serpent’s head, crested with reddish gold streamers of feathery hair lifted into the sky. “You made your choices and did unspeakable things! You’ll die because of those actions!” Cory shouted. He raised his arms, blue-white lightning crackled along them, tingeing the air with the scent of a summer storm. His red-blond hair whipped in a wind that danced around him as the great wings angled and drove downward. Mist and bolts of coruscating light, the opal color of the Serpent’s scales danced around him, burst free and rode the wind. The men opened fire, one of them tossing a grenade toward the ghostly image of a monster, Page 92

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a titanic glowing Serpent with wide sweeping bat’s wings where the runaway slave they’d been looking for stood. This time Cory was ready for the explosion. It rocked him on his feet, but he held his ground, protecting Deshawn and himself with the full power of the awakened Immortal Beast. At his feet Deshawn got to his and knees, braced by one hand, the other arm dangling limp and useless. Deshawn was trying to stand, power rising, manifesting as rainbow streamers of hazy light that drifted from his torso to form the gossamer suggestion of feathered wings. More bullets screamed for the pair of Immortals, the high velocity lead death striking the whirlwind forming around Cory and deflecting away with an audible sound like the striking of a large gong or the peal of a great bells. Fear overcame aggression, the men turning to run. Too late. The Winged Serpent unleashed the storm of his wrath which swept for them, lifting them up Page 93

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on the wings of a hurricane wind that touched only them. The wind carried them to treetop height, spinning their bodies, their screams lost in the shrieking roar of the wind. The bright orbs of light dancing around the Winged Serpent shot away from Cory, following in the wake of the King’s soldiers who were borne along on the wind at a speed that stripped the clothing from their bodies. One to a man, the lights streaked after them to impact with the killers in bright flashes and a boom of sound loud as a thunder clap. Glittering motes of dust drifted to the ground powdering everything it touched in a patina that glowed with the cool beauty of opals. Deshawn got to his feet, stood there swaying and shaking his head. “What’s wrong?” “That was a dumb-ass thing to do, Cory.” The blond stared at him in abject shock, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. “W... what?” “You heard me. That was a stupid thing to do, Page 94

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risking yourself to help me,” he reiterated. “You shouldn’t have done it.” “But...” Cory frowned, “they would have shot you.” “Yeah, but I was already hurt bad, a few bullets would hardly matter, but what if they’d done the same to you? We would have both been at their mercy.” Cory looked away, and Deshawn thought he saw the glitter of tears in the other man’s eyes. “I just wanted to save you,” Cory explained, his tone a contrite murmur. He reached up and wiped at his face, brushing away tears. Tears that made Deshawn feel like seven kinds of jackass because his thoughtless words had brought them to the other man’s eyes. You should say something. Apologize, do something to make him feel better, but he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Cory continued his explanation while Deshawn racked his brain trying to think of some way to make amends. “I didn’t want to risk them taking you to Roderik. If they did—” He shook his head. “I don’t know what would have Page 95

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happened to you, and without you....” the blond’s voice broke and Deshawn wanted desperately to take the man in his arms and hold him, comfort him, but his body didn’t work for crap and he still couldn’t move his left arm. “I just couldn’t risk that Roderik would enslave you too, like he did that Unicorn. I had to do something.” “You would have been safer running away though. I thought you weren’t going to kill anymore.” That the other Serpent had decided to kill surprised Deshawn. Cory’s conviction not to hurt anyone had been a strong one, yet he’d turned the power of the Serpent loose on the soldiers, exterminating them as was right for the sake of every innocent person they’d ever destroyed. Deshawn had met such people on more than one occasion before the Collapse and, these days, they seemed far more common. Or perhaps it simply came down to the fact such people survived the present sort of world while gentler people didn’t make it. Cory frowned, his gaze on Deshawn. “I thought so too, until I felt how evil they were. Page 96

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The Serpent thought they should die, and, well I can’t say the Beast was wrong. They would have kept on killing people. Doing murder for their King. It’s wrong to kill, but its more wrong to allow cold-blooded murderers to go about killing innocent people.” “Cory?” The blond turned his hazel gaze on Deshawn. “Yes?” “Thanks.” He gave Cory a warm smile, reached out with his working arm and patted the other man on the shoulder. “For what?” “Not running away. That’s what I would have expected. You were so afraid of them, but you stood your ground and fought to save me.” The man stared at Deshawn in disbelief. “Umm... correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you just call me a dumb-ass?” Deshawn nodded. “Yep, I did. And you are, but that’s okay. I’m a dumb-ass too or I wouldn’t have stopped to rescue you in the first place.” The frown evaporated, turning into a tiny Page 97

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smile. “Okay then. Maybe we both us dumbasses should get out of here.” “Sounds like a plan, but—” Deshawn tried to take a step and felt his legs giving way under him. Cory stopped him from falling somehow, the skinny blond wrapping an arm around him. Steadying him, though he could feel how much Cory had to strain to keep both of them on their feet. Feet. God his feet must be pure agony. Deshawn got his own feet under him somewhat better, realizing his clothes, hair every part of him was wet. Covered in his own blood, shaky and now that the numbness was wearing off, Deshawn felt more pain than he’d ever experienced in his entire life. He tried to walk but his legs refused work and he stumbled somehow winding up face to face with Cory their lips almost touching. Cory’s arms tightened and he found himself embracing the slim blond just to remain upright. So close, warm breath mingling and something in Cory’s gaze, in his expression made Deshawn’s Page 98

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chest go tight, his breath catching. The blond was damned handsome. Without thinking he leaned in and kissed Cory, the touch light, a gentle questing for consent. The warm lips under his parted, opening and receptive. Acceptance and welcome, his kiss was returned, Cory pressing himself tighter to Deshawn in response to the increasing passion awakening between them. Awakened by a kiss, despite the injuries they both had. Passion confirmed in the hardness of a cock pressed to Deshawn’s thigh. He reached up, his arm awkward, not responding the way it should and he recalled that he’d been unable to use it earlier. Deshawn managed to get his hand to the back of Cory’s head ignoring the way the muscles shook, how weak the arm felt. He held the blond deepening the kiss, exploring the sweetness of Cory’s mouth. Their tongues tangled in a hungering dance that left the former army sergeant dizzy from lack of oxygen, his own dick throbbing with desire for Cory. Bad hurt, but he wanted the man with an intensity that erased the pain. The blond was returning the kiss with fervent enthusiasm his Page 99

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hands roaming along Deshawn’s back, molding to the curve of his ass. Deshawn broke the kiss to stare into Cory’s hazel eyes to see hunger there, a flush of color across the blond’s cheeks. Cory roused and wanting. Wanting him as much as he wanted Cory. There was a questioning look on the other man’s face, and Deshawn smiled, leaned in and touched his lips to Cory’s before retreating from the contact. He caressed Cory’s cheek, fingertips brushing over a few days’ growth of beard stubble, and a streaks of dried blood that flaked away as he touched them. They’d both been injured by the explosion, a small scabbed over cut along Cory’s cheekbone showing him where the blood had come from. His thumb touched the softness of Cory’s lips which parted, the blond capturing the end of his thumb in a light, sucking kiss. “You okay with this?” Cory let go of his thumb and nodded. “Can’t you tell?” Deshawn smiled. “Now that you mention it, I guess I can.” Page 100

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He held Cory, seeing the forms of their Immortal Beasts around them, their coils intertwined. He also noticed his own form was very hazy, the Feathered Serpent pale and washed out, the normal rainbow faded to pale a remnant of their normal bright primary colors. His legs were shaking under him in a warning he couldn’t keep ignoring. He was still alive, but the incident with the explosion had left him weak, and his Immortal Beast had faded from repairing the extensive damage. Damage that should have killed him outright. Immortal, yet as their kind measured age, Deshawn was very young. For his body to fully heal such horrific damage could his body weeks, and a year or more might pass before the Feathered Serpent resumed its full brilliance. At least his back wasn’t broken. He really couldn’t tell if it had been or not at this point, and his arm, while awkward was attached to his shoulder. That was something he couldn’t be sure was the case after the explosion since he’d been totally unable to move it until right before Cory had killed Roderik’s soldiers. He grunted as a sharp Page 101

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muscle spasm ripped down his back. Anything that would have left him crippled or maimed were the first things that his body— or rather the power of the Feathered Serpent— healed. He was in one piece, but those pieces weren’t very happy. “We should get out of here. I don’t know if Hawk plans to come back or not,” Cory warned gently. “Well we’ve got a slight logistics issue there,” he reminded Cory. “I’m not sure I can walk very far, and that mess right there was our transportation so we won’t be using that to go anywhere.” “We don’t have your Humvee, that’s true enough,” Cory agreed, “but we’ve still got the one Roderik’s men arrived in.” Cory told him and eased Deshawn around to give him a view of the waiting vehicle. “Good enough,” he stated. With Cory’s help he made it to the Hummer, his legs wobbling as bad as legs made of cooked pasta, back a screaming mass of cramps as the Feathered Serpent continued to repair his body. He was in pain, but he could handle Page 102

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that. Immortal, wrapped in the embrace of the Feathered Serpent’s wings, held safe by his Beast’s coils he would live forever, but no one had ever promised he’d do it without suffering pain and loss. Pain he could handle. He glanced at Cory as the blond helped him into the driver’s seat, saw the gleaming opal scales of the Winged Serpent, the two Immortal Beasts still wound around one another like lovers. Lovers. I like that idea and I think he might like it too. Cory leaned into the Hummer, put his lips gently to Deshawn’s mouth, and kissed him. Deshawn returned the kiss. I’m liking it more and more. Cory broke the kiss and Deshawn fumbled around, trying to start the Hummer as the blond went around to the other side and got in. His hand was clumsy as he tried the ignition, his fingers slipping off the key twice. He might be in one piece, but the pieces certainly weren’t working very well. Not yet anyway. Given some time he’d be fine, but right now he couldn’t even Page 103

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manage the motor coordination needed to start the Hummer. “Let me help with that,” Cory said and reached across the seat to turn the key for him. The engine coughed and started, the diesel growling to life as Deshawn put more pressure on the gas pedal. “Thanks.” “No problem,” Cory replied, then twisted slightly to give him another kiss before he settled back on the passenger’s side and put on his seatbelt. “We’ve got a half tank of fuel so we’ll need to find some pretty soon.” “There are two cans of diesel strapped on the back bumper.” “Good enough for now,” Deshawn acknowledged as he put the Hummer in gear and eased off the clutch. “I wonder why Hawk took the soldiers away,” Cory remarked. “No idea except—” he turned his stiff neck to glance at Cory. The motion hurt, but it was Page 104

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bearable. “He doesn’t feel evil to me. Not the way the soldiers do.” Cory’s eyebrows drew together, glinting with golden sparks, the man frowning as he thought about something. “He was the last one who came around to check on us the night I escaped,” the blond stated. “Maybe he’s the one that left the door to the basement unlocked.” Deshawn shrugged, winced at the blaze of lightning pain that shot along his spine at the motion. A hand touched his forearm. “You’re sure you can drive?” He wasn’t, but Deshawn gave Cory a nod and a smile. “Sure, I can manage.” The hand felt good on his arm, but it moved away, Cory withdrawing it. The touch left a lingering warmth, a tingle in Deshawn’s skin. A tingle that left him wanting more of Cory. A lot more. He shifted the vehicle into gear and pushed Page 105

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down on the gas heading north, away from King Roderik and his army. Heading for freedom. Deshawn just needed to decide where they were going. And once they got somewhere safe.... He glanced at Cory again and smiled the blond smiling back. I’m going to have a big helping of hot white boy, that’s what I’m going to do. As Deshawn drove, Cory stole a few quick glances at the man, taking in his profile, the strong cheeks and firm mouth, the hard line of a masculine jaw. He’d liked what he’d seen from the start. The few days in Deshawn’s company, along with finding out they were both Serpents, had gone a long way to quell his fears from his time in Roderik’s slave cages. The way Deshawn treated him, with gentle respect, did even more to ease his mind. They also added to his carnal interest in the other man. He could still feel Deshawn’s kiss. It had burned through every nerve in his body and Page 106

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left a tight coil of desire in his balls. He wanted Deshawn despite the recent abuse, the repeated rapes by Roderik’s men, the beatings. None of that had been done by the man seated beside him and he wanted the handsome black man. Wanted to make love the way he’d made love with Paul. As friends. As equals. As lovers. Perhaps it was like calling to like. Or was it something more? Cory didn’t know. What mattered to him was he wanted Deshawn. And if the kiss was any indication of what Deshawn wanted then the attraction was mutual. Cory leaned toward Deshawn. Reaching over he set his hand on Deshawn’s thigh and sat there staring out of the window at the passing scenery a slight smile on his lips.

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Chapter Five Cory opened his eyes, startled to realize two things. Darkness still held the world in its grip, and the Humvee had stopped, the vehicle idling noisily. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. “I can’t drive anymore, Cory.” “Tired?” “That and my back and shoulder are really hurting.” “Oh,” he replied and peered out of the dusty window. They’d stopped in a mall parking lot so they were in some sort of fair sized town. “Do you think it’s a good idea to stop at a place like this?” “I don’t know. I’m just hoping we can find some supplies. Those guys didn’t have a lot with them, and we’re both going to get hungry and thirsty when it runs out.” “Good point,” Cory agreed and undid his seat belt. Page 108

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“Think I should just drive into the mall?” Deshawn asked, and called Cory’s attention to the broken doors gaping not far from where they were idling. “Do you think this thing will fit through?” “Might be a tight fit, but I’m pretty sure it will.” Cory glanced around the parking lot. There were a few abandoned cars, most with flattened tires, smashed windshields and the dirt of long neglect coating them. Through dusty, the Hummer was in perfect repair. “Take it inside,” he said. “That way if any of Roderik’s men are around they won’t see it.” “That’s what I was thinking too, so it’s unanimous,” Deshawn replied and put the vehicle in gear. He drove it inside to a wider space, the area formerly some sort of central plaza. Deshawn turned the Hummer around to face the doors and then shut it down. The engine coughed and sputtered which made Deshawn frown. Page 109

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“Yours didn’t do that.” Cory commented. “No it didn’t. I think while we’re here we should think about either switching vehicles to something more fuel efficient, or look up the nearest National Guard Armory to see what we can find.” Cory shoved the door open, using one foot to get it to swing when it stuck. “Either way is probably better than keeping this one. This door doesn’t work right either.” Deshawn peered into the darkened mall and turned the headlights on. “We need to see where we’re going.” “Let me check the back for a flashlight or something.” “Right, good thinking.” Cory paused. “Why don’t you just rest? I can handle searching for food and water.” “If there’s a sporting goods store here, sleeping bags might be good if there are any left. The place has been looted, but not as bad as most I’ve seen,” Deshawn commented. Cory opened the back of the Hummer and Page 110

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climbed in to see what sort of supplies Roderik’s troops had carried. There wasn’t much. Ten MREs, a battered five gallon carboy of water that was only half full, and some blankets in need of laundering. He did find a flashlight in a box that still had working batteries. He got out and went around to Deshawn’s side of the Hummer. “Here,” he said and handed one of the MREs to the former soldier. “Thanks.” Cory smiled and turned to leave, but he was stopped by a big warm hand that closed on his wrist and pulled him around for a startling kiss. A pair of powerful arms wrapped around him, pulling him as close as they could get without Deshawn getting out of the vehicle. “Be careful,” Deshawn told him when he was finally released, breathless and aching, wishing for more than the touch of lips and tongues. A quick check showed him that Deshawn was just as aroused as he’d been by the kiss. He smiled. The man had an impressive cock. A cock he’d like to get a better look at, later. Right now Page 111

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they had other things to think about besides their desire for one another. A soft bed made of sleeping bags topped the list in Cory’s mind. “I will. You eat and try to rest. You were hurt really bad,” Cory told him. “I’m not going to dispute that. My back feels like it was braided and then stomped on by elephants.” “I think it might have been broken from the way you were lying on the road. You rest and I’ll go shop.” Cory grinned, and winked. “I’m a mall rat so this will be like old times.” But it wasn’t. Wandering around a mall with nothing but a flashlight turned out to be creepy. With no other people anywhere— not even the dead which he was thankful for—the place was a dark cavern of echoing silences, and soft indefinable sounds that made him jump. He moved through the empty building, dreading coming across the grisly reminders of the Collapse that he’d seen elsewhere. People who had dropped dead and been left where they fell. The version of Ebola that had hit the world Page 112

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in the greatest pandemic ever known had been a mutant strain that killed half the people who contracted it in a matter of hours. Others lingered for days, spreading the contagion while lost in the grip of fever borne hallucinations. Paul hadn’t lasted a day after the first symptoms had emerged. Cory had never gotten sick. Focusing his mind on the task Cory pushed aside the past. He couldn’t change what had happened so there was no point mourning the life he’d lost. He had a future to try and secure. A new life to weave from the ragged cloth of nightmares that bridged the past and the present. A present in which a glint of hope had sprung to life like a fragile blossom rising through the bitter ashes of a post-Collapse world. They’d escaped Roderik— at least he prayed they had— and now what they needed to think about was getting as far from the insane King of the Lone Star Empire as they could. Page 113

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And after that...? Well he didn’t know, but he was sure Deshawn and he could think of something. Maybe we could go to Canada. I don’t think Roderik will go that far north without hitting resistance he can’t overcome. He found a drugstore and got a shopping cart, shoving it through the discarded items littering the floor, loading it up with things he was sure they’d have a use for. Bandages, canned food, fancy brands of bottled water and a few gallon jugs that had escaped the looters. He located an assortment of batteries, a couple of flashlights and several packages of paper goods and an entire display of hand sanitizer. He gathered up some antibiotic salve because he didn’t know if they could get infections in the cuts they both had or not. He added some other over the counter type items, peroxide, iodine, sunscreen for him because his skin burned easily. He took anything else he though might be helpful to dress their wounds or ease pain. He found warm jackets in a men’s clothing store and some cargo pants that would fit him along with packs of underwear and socks. Page 114

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From the sporting goods store at the far end of the mall he found sleeping bags and a camp stove. He also spotted a display case of guns and used a set of hand weights to smash it open. He didn’t know much about guns, but he supposed Deshawn would like to have some. He gathered up a few handguns and a rifle and was about to load them into the cart when he paused. Cory hadn’t seen the former soldier carrying a handgun when they were at the rest stop. He looked at the deadly things in his hand. Roderik’s men had carried guns and he’d killed them with nothing but the unleashed power of his Immortal Beast. He dropped the guns into the case. They didn’t need guns to fight. He understood that, and he could always come back with Deshawn if the other man wanted weapons. He did take some knives because they might prove useful if either of them needed to cut anything. In another part of the store Cory found hunting boots that would protect their feet—Deshawn’s boots were ruined from the explosion. He took the boots along with some hunters camos since both their clothing had Page 115

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been wrecked by the explosion. He found some camping lanterns that ran off of large six volt batteries and loaded them and about two dozen batteries into the cart which was getting rather full, and heavy. Adding the camp stove and some cooking gear put the cart at near maximum capacity. Cory debated going back with his finds and returning for a second load. Instead he got a second cart and filled it with the lighter things. It was going to make getting back a bit harder, but not making a second trip on his sore feet was worth the extra effort. He tried pulling one cart and pushing the other, but found the going hard with the flashlight balanced on top of a cart. It moved around and didn’t shed light where he needed. “Well crap,” Cory muttered and looked around trying to puzzle out a way he could manage both carts and have enough light to see. He spotted some coils of rope and grinned. Knife met rope. Cutting the tough stuff into manageable lengths he used a few pieces to tie a couple of camp lanterns to the front of the first cart and hung another one on the cart he’d be Page 116

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pulling. Between the three lanterns he had more than enough light. Gripping the two carts he headed back to where Deshawn was, managing to get both carts out of the sporting goods store and into the mall corridor despite sore hands and feet and the ache of bruises from the explosion. He could still hear the soft buzzing sound that was the lingering effect of the RPG hitting them, the noise loud in the relative quiet, but it wasn’t any worse than he might have had after going to a concert with Paul. Tears burned in his eyes. There wouldn’t be any more concerts. No more late night cafes. And the worst part, Paul himself was gone. He swallowed down the choking sense of loss and shoved the cart ahead of him. Nothing could ever return Paul to him. That thought brought his mind to Deshawn. Deshawn who, like him, couldn’t die. We’re both Immortal. If he becomes my lover he’ll be with me forever. He won’t ever die. Page 117

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After a lot of struggling with the carts to get them around debris left by at least one round of looters, Cory arrived to find Deshawn asleep in the driver’s seat of the Hummer. He watched the other man sleep, emotions rising in him. Confusing and exciting emotions that left him in a daze. Gratitude, yes, there was that because Deshawn had done his best to protect him, but more lay beneath how he felt than simple gratitude. Respect formed part of it, but under those feelings were other emotions, deeper than mere respect or thankfulness. Emotions that that made Cory want to lean into the Hummer and claim Deshawn’s mouth in a kiss like those they’d shared earlier. Instead of waking Deshawn, Cory let him sleep. Even the power of an Immortal Beast had its limits—he knew that from personal experience—and sleep would help Deshawn heal. He hoped it would also help the Serpent regain some strength. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his feet he went about the business of setting up their camp, placing lanterns on the floor and moving the carts so their impromptu headlights gave Page 118

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him enough illumination to see what he was doing. He cleared an area of the floor close to the vehicle, moving broken electronics and other junk out of the way. He’d had the foresight to grab a broom when he was at the drug store and it proved very useful for getting small pieces of broken glass and other random debris left behind by looters— food wrappers, discarded clothing and assorted trash— cleaned up. He got the floor as clean as possible, though there were still sticky areas here and there. He put a tarp down and layered two sleeping bags on top to make a soft bed, topping it off with one filled with goose down. Done with that part of his work, Cory pulled a bench over from a mall rest area so they would have somewhere to sit. The thing was heavy, and moving it left his legs shaking. The pain in his hands and feet brought tears to his eyes, but he persevered because there was no one who could help him. Deshawn probably didn’t have the strength and he didn’t want to wake him anyway. He found a folding card table at a bargain store nearby and set up the medicines and some food on it. Another heavy bench became the home of the camp stove. He filled two pots from the Page 119

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carboy of water from the Hummer. He wasn’t too sure it was drinkable, but it was probably fine for bathing. He’d be sure to wash the pots out good prior to heating any food in them. At least they could wash themselves and put on clean clothes before they got into their makeshift bed. Their bed. The thought sent slow burn heat through Cory’s body. His cock stiffened showing how much he wanted Deshawn. From Deshawn’s kisses he knew the desire was mutual, but he wasn’t going to push Deshawn for anything. The arrangement might serve as Deshawn’s bed and Cory could sleep in the truck if the former soldier wasn’t interested in sharing. Cory could hope.... When he was satisfied with the arrangements he gave Deshawn a gentle shake. Deshawn opened his eyes to find Cory smiling at him by the glow of several camping lanterns he could see through the windshield. “Well you’ve found light,” he remarked through a yawn. “Did find anything else?” Page 120

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“Enough for us to get by, at least for a while. I made up a bed for you. There wasn’t any furniture store here, so the best I could manage were some sleeping bags.” He smiled at the other man. Hurt as bad as he is too, he did what he could to help us. I could do a lot worse, but I’m not sure I could do better these days. “That’s fine. We can look for something better later.” Deshawn moved, intending to get out of the vehicle and winced when his entire spine locked into a cramp that made him gasp from the jarring pain. “Are you okay?” “I able to move so I’ll just be happy about that and not complain,” he replied, shoving himself to his feet, wincing at the way his back muscles cramped. “But I think you were right, my back was broken in the explosion. It hurt like hell, still does actually.” “Here, lean on me,” Cory offered. Deshawn accepted Cory’s help, letting the smaller man lead him to a bench. His legs were a mass of pins and needles tingling from his hips to his toes as if they’d fallen asleep. His butt felt Page 121

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numb when he sat down. Moving had helped loosen up the muscles in his back and shoulders which had gone tight while he’d slept. Every step he took sent sparks of intense discomfort down his legs and up his spine to his skull which began to throb, joining everything else in the symphony of hurt singing in his flesh. “I think your body’s healing and that’s why your back is so stiff,” Cory remarked as he offered Deshawn a bottle of water. He took the water, nodding as he removed the cap. “That’s what I think too. The more I move the more inclined I am to suspect it was broken. My legs feel really strange, all pins and needles.” Cory gestured to him pointing at the bloody, torn and half burnt rags he wore. “You feel up to getting out of those?” Deshawn choked on the water, sputtering, struggling to swallow, water going up his nose. He knew what Cory was suggesting wasn’t what his mind had read into the comment. Cory hadn’t propositioned him, but he found it difficult to get the image of Cory on his back, moaning in pleasure out of his mind. The mental picture was just too sweet, too erotic. Page 122

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Too damn desirable. “You okay?” He bobbed his head, motioning with the water in his hand to show what the problem was as he continued to cough. Deshawn glanced at Cory and quickly looked away, staring into a smashed store window, at the group of mannequins inside. A family of them. Woman, man, girl and boy decked out in fall fashions. Time standing still. They’d be there until the clothing aged and rotted, until the plastic they were made of decayed and crumbled to dust. The two of them, Immortal and unaging, would live to see civilization— in whatever form it took— rise again from the remains of their own shattered past. “Deshawn?” A hand on his shoulder, hazel eyes full of concern. “I’m okay,” he managed, the water he’d choked on mostly cleared out of his windpipe and nose. “Do you want to get cleaned up?” Cleaned up, not laid, Deshawn. Keep it in your pants. He’s not ready for that and you sure as hell aren’t, not feeling as if you spent the night in a Page 123

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running cement mixer full of bricks, lead pipe and broken glass. He nodded. “Hell yes, I reek of diesel and blood.” “So do I,” Cory agreed as he pulled a shopping cart closer. “I hope I got the right size clothes for you.” “They look fine,” he told the other man as Cory handed the clothes to him. He put them on the bench and reached for the pan of warm water and soap that Cory offered him next. He could get most of the crud off with a washcloth, at least he hoped he could. He closed his hand around the pan and found himself fumbling with the handle, his hand still not working the way it should have. “I’ll put it down here for you,” Cory told him and set the pan on the bench. “Thanks.” He picked up the soap and wet the washcloth. He washed his face first, glad to get the residue of being blown up off. When it came to getting out of the tattered remains of his clothes he discovered that it wasn’t Page 124

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as easy as he’d thought it would be, his bad arm not up to the task. He sighed and tore at the cloth until Cory came and helped him, the blond’s sore hands almost as clumsy as his own. Neither of them spoke, and together they managed to get the rest of his filthy shirt off. Deshawn reached for the washcloth, but Cory’s hand closed on it. “Let me help, you can’t reach your back anyway.” “Umm... okay,” Deshawn agreed, only hesitating a moment. He didn’t have a reason to object, quite the opposite, he wanted the other man to touch him. He was surprised at the offer. All things considered, he hadn’t expected Cory to move past the horror of his captivity so quickly. Then again, Immortals tended to be more resilient than most people. They had to be or they’d go mad after a few decades of existence. At least that’s what he’d gathered from reading the few books that contained information on the subject. Their kind were pretty rare, and most of Page 125

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them that he’d discovered so far were under one hundred years old. If there were more of their kind in other countries, older Immortals, he had no idea who they were, or where they might be located. With the world gone to hell the way it had, there wasn’t a way to contact them even if he discovered the identity of another Immortal. What he knew came from reading, and discovering his own limits. While he sat there musing Cory was gently washing away the dirt and burned cloth that clung to his skin. He tried not to think about it. Tried to ignore how wonderful the touch of the other man’s hands were as they moved over him. When Cory started to wash his chest, he tried to think about something else. Anything else. How to field strip a rifle, mind calling up each step because if he didn’t, if he focused on the slow almost caressing motion of the washcloth, he was going to get aroused. When the washcloth brushed across a nipple Page 126

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Deshawn felt his cock twitch, at the verge of reacting. Their eyes met, Cory’s hazel eyes wide, his expression gentle, vulnerable, soft lips begging to be kissed. Deshawn wanted to reach out, put his arms around Cory and make love. Instead he fumbled to take the washcloth from Cory, almost dropping it. The blond shook his head and dropped the cloth into the steaming water. He reached for the zipper to Deshawn’s pants, gripping the tab, trying to get them open, the zip damaged or clogged up with muck, remained firmly stuck. Deshawn’s good hand closed over Cory’s, and together they freed the zipper, their lips brushing together gently. Once, twice, then meeting in earnest, Cory’s lips parting under the gentle probing of Deshawn’s tongue. Kissing, tasting, sharing the first glimmerings of passion, Deshawn let Cory remove his pants and the burned remains of his boots. The washcloth swept over him, warm, soapy and so damned erotic he moaned in response, his tongue Page 127

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engaged with Cory’s in a passionate embrace of mouths. This is it, this is the moment we cross the line from potential friends to something more. I can sense it in the beating of my heart, taste it in the sweetness of his mouth, feel it in the touch of his hands on me. This isn’t fuck buddies or lust, this is the real deal. They were lovers with all the implications of the first four letters: love. He could feel it humming through him, sense it as the faded strength of his Feathered Serpent rose inside him, welcoming the touch of the Winged Serpent that was the heart of Cory’s Immortal soul. In the periphery of his vision Deshawn could see the Serpents entwining, their coils glistening in the otherworldly light of the place in which their soul-selves, their Immortal Beasts, dwelled. The two Beasts slid and moved as if they sought to dance, their wings touching—feathers and leathery skin—and Deshawn could feel it along his arms, as if he were being touched. Cory’s surprised expression told him that the Page 128

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blond felt it also, but he continued what he was doing, bathing Deshawn. Each motion of the washcloth a caress as he explored the wet heat of Cory’s mouth. He sucked Cory’s lower lip, let it go and delved deep with his tongue, tasting. Cory moaned, the sound driving a spike of need deep inside Deshawn’s groin, making his cock jump, his body already eager for more of the handsome man. He broke the kiss, stared in amazement at the thick fog swirling around them both. He could see it, could feel it flowing over his body, seeping into him, the touch soothing his pain. “Cory?” “Yes?” “Do you feel it?” “I see it too, Deshawn. I don’t know what they’re doing though, or what it means. Do you?” Deshawn leaned closer to Cory, kissed him and felt a flow of energy, of Immortal power moving from the blond into him, and then back, like a circuit making a connection. He sat Page 129

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back, stunned. “I’m not sure but I think they’re working together to try and help us somehow.” Cory flexed his fingers, “My hands don’t hurt as much, neither do my feet.” Deshawn watched the pair of Beasts as they entwined, the otherworld in which they moved full of mist lit by an internal opalescent rainbow. His Serpent definitely appeared less dimmed, and the scales of Cory’s Serpent were luminescent, glowing as if lit from beneath their surface. Deshawn reached out, discovering his bad arm was working almost normally. He took hold of Cory’s ruined shirt and stripped it away, letting the rag flutter to the floor. “What are you doing?” In answer Deshawn took the washcloth from Cory began to bathe the blond, washing him and then drying him with gentle swipes of the same towel Cory had used on him. Done he dropped cloth and towel and stood, his hand in Cory’s, bringing the blond along to the sleeping bags piled on the floor. Cory made no objection as Deshawn pulled him down, his arms going around Cory as they Page 130

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lay down amid the softness, Deshawn claiming his mouth in a hard kiss. Cory gasped and groaned under the powerful man, the his arms going around Deshawn, body pressing close in a silent demand for the bigger man, for everything Deshawn could give him. Love, please let this be love between us. I want him. Paul, forgive me, I still love you, but I don’t want to be alone anymore. I need Deshawn as much as I needed you when you were alive. Deshawn broke their kiss, lifting up on powerful arms to look down at him. “Are you okay with this? You won’t freak out on me from bad memories, will you?” In answer Cory reached for something he’d put under the top edge of the sleeping bags, just on the hope it would be needed. Smiling he shoved the bottle of massage oil into Deshawn’s hand. “What do you think?” Deshawn’s smile burned like a comet through the darkness that had shrouded Cory’s heart, searing away the last vestiges of doubt, of nightmare remembrances from his captivity. Page 131

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With Deshawn’s ruined clothes off Cory had a good look at every firm arch and curve of muscle, each hard line of bone. Deshawn was masculine perfection and Cory couldn’t help admiring the former soldier. He’d washed every inch of that perfection, and now he wanted to do more. Deshawn’s arousal, the way their Immortal beasts were embracing, the tingle he felt in every nerve of his body burned through him. He could feel how much his Immortal Beast wanted the Feathered Serpent, the desire for Deshawn as powerful a need as the Immortal Beasts experienced. Dark eyes regarded him, the same sexy smile warming him inside and out. Cory felt a blush creep across his cheeks and laughed at the reaction. Deshawn’s mouth closed over his in a kiss that blazed through him and made his cock jump, the flesh pulsing to the beat of his frantic heart. For a moment he felt a twinge of fear, reacting to the aggressive way he was being kissed until he understood it wasn’t about dominating him, it wasn’t owning or possessing. This was a claiming, a promise that no one and nothing Page 132

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would be allowed to harm him because Deshawn, his Immortal lover, would never allow it. He returned the kiss with the same fierce passion sealing their love as equals. The tingling he felt intensified as they kissed, as he touched Deshawn, his hands caressing even as he was being caressed. Everything about this felt good, right, nothing like the pain and humiliation he’d known at the hands of his captors. Nor did it resemble anything he’d shared with Paul beyond the superficial comparisons of lips and skin touching him, the glow of love filling him. Serpent with Serpent they moved as their Beasts slid and twined together, wings opening and enfolding in an embrace as impassioned as the men whose souls they comprised. Their kisses changed, hungry and heated, their caresses ending in the stroking of hard flesh, of soft gasps and groans, Cory arching into the grip of Deshawn’s hand, a wordless entreaty, pleading for more. Deshawn groaned as Cory’s hand pulled his cock, the bigger man shuddering as Page 133

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Cory swept the pad of his thumb over the head of Deshawn’s erection. Cory gave a frustrated cry as Deshawn’s hand released his needy flesh. He opened his eyes to find Deshawn staring at him, eyes alight with desire. Deshawn knelt, the open bottle of oil in his hand, a wicked smile curling his lips. Deshawn gripped his own cock and stroked it, spreading the oil he’d poured over it until it gleamed in the lamplight. Cory watched, his heart racing, need building inside him. He couldn’t have taken his eyes off the sight of the handsome black man if he’d wanted to, mesmerized by the vision of Deshawn stroking himself. Preparing himself for the next stage of lovemaking. Deshawn’s gaze was intense, his expression showing the lust driving him, the love behind the lust showing in the softening of his mouth as he smiled at Cory. “I take it you’re enjoying the view?” “Oh, yeah,” Cory agreed, smiling, mouth gone dry from want. Deshawn stopped what he was doing, moved Page 134

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closer, the bigger man taking hold of Cory and lifting his legs over Deshawn’s broad shoulders. A finger coated in slick oil touched Cory’s anus, pushing in carefully to thrust in a gradual penetration that sent a shudder through Cory. Old memories of Paul flitted through his mind, over-laid with the more recent horror of grasping hands that used and hurt. He’d been used hard by a few of Roderik’s soldiers, ones that preferred men, a few that preferred brutalizing him over terrorizing a woman, getting off on the illusion of power it gave them to rape another man. Deshawn’s gentleness, the way he made sure Cory was ready for penetration was in sharp contrast to bad times among Roderik’s slave. It brought the sting of tears to Cory’s eyes. With Roderik’s men sex had been a brutal thing, something used to prove superiority, dominance. Being fucked by one of them was the same as being taken by rutting animals. Sex with Deshawn would be something meaningful. Something loving. Something good for both of them. Page 135

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His lover leaned down and kissed Cory as his fingers worked slow and easy inside him. Stretching him, making sure he wouldn’t tear from the abrupt intrusion of a hard cock. A cock Cory wanted inside him. A shiver of anticipation tickled along his nerves as the Serpents continued to entwine one around the other. When Deshawn withdrew his fingers Cory was ready for something bigger. He needed Deshawn’s cock inside him. The hard knob of Deshawn’s cock-head pressed against his ass, parting the tight ring of flesh to slid inward, eased by the stretching and the oil. He groaned as a flash of pleasure flooded his mind, Deshawn’s erection putting just enough pressure on his prostate to remind him how good being fucked could be with the right person. He’s so right. We were meant to be together. I know it. The Serpents continued their sinuous dance, wrapping and writhing around one another, wings touching, brushing the way Deshawn Page 136

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touched Cory as his hard rod of flesh slipped back, then nudged deeper. Cory groaned at the sensation. “I guess I’m doing okay so far,” Deshawn murmured then gave him a quick kiss. “Yes, you are,” he agreed, reaching up to grip Deshawn’s biceps, feeling how hard the muscles were, the man powerful, beautiful. Deshawn smiled. “Good.” He kissed Cory, his tongue thrusting into Cory’s mouth, penetrating Cory at two points. The gliding entry and withdrawal of Deshawn’s cock sent bright showers of pleasure-sparks through Cory, glittering waves filling his mind. The sensations seeped outward through his skin as opal colored mist which flowed to blend with the faint rainbow glimmering that spread out from Deshawn. Their powers merging, their Immortal Beasts clasping and coiling, the noses of the two Serpent’s touching, tongues flicking out to taste one another as the two men kissed. Deshawn saw Cory’s eyes take on the slitpupilled aspect of the Serpent at the center of his soul. His Immortal Beast’s true form transforming part of the man in which it dwelled. A patina of Page 137

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glossy opalescent scales appeared across Cory’s cheeks and when Deshawn looked at himself he found downy feathers, edging the backs of his forearms. Cory touched his face, fingers gliding over a manifestation of feathers cresting his skull, fingers trailing along his back, tickling. Groaning at the sensations he thrust harder, the tight heat of Cory’s body fit him so well. They were a perfect match of hard desire and yielding need. He kissed the blond, pushing deep, hearing a moan of pleasure from his lover. My lover. Someone like me that I’ll never lose, that I can be with always. The thought sent a wash of emotion through Deshawn. His lonely days were over. His solitary nights were at an end for all of time. He wrapped one arm under Cory, gripping the man’s shoulder and thrust faster, harder, hearing the answering cries of passion. Scales spread down Cory’s shoulders and chest, rippled across his flat belly. He could feel them on Cory’s thighs, feel the glassy-smooth slide of them over Page 138

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the downy feathers that were manifest over his own skin. He gasped, shuddering at the erotic feel of those cool scales, the shifting of his own feathers as they moved together. The light of the lanterns dimmed, the brilliance of their Immortal Beasts, the Serpents glowing with power, the area of the mall they’d chosen for their camp filled with glowing mist shot through with prismatic orbs of light that gleamed with the color of opals. Deshawn moaned, the passion building, theirs and that of their Beasts as they coupled. Two men, two Serpents sharing their desire, sharing their power. Power that spiraled higher and higher as the pleasure built in their flesh, in their souls, feeding and being fed, giving and taking as Deshawn made love to Cory. The clasp of Cory’s tight heat, the feel of his cock sliding in such a firm embrace drove Deshawn toward orgasm faster and faster. He wanted it to go on, to last longer, but his ability to hold himself in control was crumbling, the desire overtaking reason, erasing thought. Page 139

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“Harder, please,” Cory begged, voice tight with impending orgasm, his slim body rocking with Deshawn’s thrusts. He was trying not to hurt Cory, worried he might cause pain, but Cory grabbed his biceps tighter, moaning wordless entreaties for what he wanted. He picked up the pace, heard Cory groan and hiss, “Yes yes yes,” and he knew it was all right, that his lover was ready. They both were. Deshawn surged into Cory, their bodies moving to the ancient rhythm of love, their Immortal Beasts wrapped coil in coil, swaying above them. He got his hand between them and gripped Cory’s erection, stroking hard and fast, the pace suited to the motion of his cock driving inside the hot embrace of the blond’s body. A rainbow of light burst around them, bright primaries mingling with delicate pastel hues shot through with motes of gold and sparks of silver. Cory’s scream of completion ringing in his ears, Deshawn came amid a roaring wave of sound and chromatic glory, his body pouring out his essence as Cory’s semen spilled over his fingers. Page 140

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Deshawn couldn’t see anything but a blaze of spiritual light so intense it left his physical body blind to the real world. He saw their Immortal souls, their Beasts enwrapped, feathers and scales merged into a single two headed entity with double wings, one set feathered, one pair leathery opalescence. The aura faded, dimming so he could see a bright point at the center of the two Beasts, an ovoid sphere composed of light. He stared, wondering what it might be, what it meant, but it faded away before he had an answer. The merged form of their Immortal Beasts dissolved into two Serpents tightly coiled together with no sign of the odd ball of light remaining. Sighing, content and satiated, Deshawn lay down beside Cory who cuddled against him, the two of them face up and staring at the shimmering pair of Serpents. “They’re beautiful,” Cory murmured. “They’re us, Cory,” he reminded and slipped an arm beneath Cory to pull him closer. “That’s what we really are. Immortal Serpents.”

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“I think I’m in love with you,” Cory admitted in a raw whisper, afraid of how Deshawn might react to the confession. You shouldn’t have said that. Not so soon. Deshawn spooned against Cory, wrapping both arms around him. Cory, content to be with his lover even if the world as they known it was over, sighed and took the embrace as a sign that Deshawn hadn’t minded what he’d said. Please, God, if you’re listening, let us be able to make a future somewhere far away from warlords and killing. “That’s okay,” Deshawn murmured on a sigh that sounded as at ease as Cory felt. “I think I’m in love with you too, even if you are a dumb-ass white boy,” Deshawn replied, his tone teasing as he trailed a hand along Cory’s side. Cory grunted. “Who was the one stupid enough to join the Army?” “You should be glad I did or I might never have ever met you.” Page 142

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“Good point,” Cory agreed as he pressed closer to Deshawn. “So what do we do now?” “Sleep,” Deshawn remarked, yawning and pulling Cory even closer to his broad chest. Cory laughed. “I mean in the morning.” “I guess we’ll keep moving. There’s bound to be some place we can go where people won’t expect us to join their particular gang of killers.” “I hope you’re right. I’m already tired of living on the run.” “We just have to get beyond Roderik’s grasping hands.” “And probably wind up in the territory of some other equally power mad idiot.” “Don’t worry about it, Cory. I’ll keep you safe,” Deshawn replied and kissed the man’s redgold hair. “Yeah, I guess you will won’t you?” “You bet I will,” the man who carried the Winged Serpent in his soul stated. “Promise?” Page 143

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“I promise. Now go to sleep.” A hand slid over his thigh, gripped his cock and Cory grinned, laughing softly. “You want more of that do you?” “Yep.” Cory’s cock hardened as Deshawn rolled him onto his back. His lover grinned at him, fingers stroking along the erection he’d awakened. “All you white boys so insatiable or is it just you?” “It’s what you do to me,” Cory told him as their lips touched. “Evil Serpent.” “Who are you calling evil?” “I was referring to this.” Cory’s grip on Deshawn’s cock tightened. “Evil is it?” “It sure is. I want more of it too.” “Oh, well that’s okay then,” Deshawn murmured as he claimed Cory’s mouth in a passionate kiss. When the kiss ended Cory lay with his head resting on Deshawn’s chest. Deshawn put an Page 144

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arm around him and held him tight. “Isn’t fate a funny thing? The world has to die for me to find you.” “I still miss Paul.” Deshawn felt like an idiot for the remark he’d made. For Cory there’d been so much hardship, so much pain that the last few months were nothing but a long nightmare while for him there’d been little suffering beyond loneliness. And Cory was the cure for that. He hugged the man tight. “I’m sorry, Cory.” The blond rested his arm on Deshawn’s belly, fingers molding to the curve of his hip. “I understand what you meant, Deshawn. It’s all right. I lost Paul, and I’ve found you and that’s okay because I know I loved him as much as he loved me.” A light kiss was placed on his chest and Cory added, “But that’s over and part of the past. What I want is a future. One that includes you because I love you.” “I love you too.” Deshawn was still smiling when he heard the Page 145

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soft, even breathing that told him Cory had fallen asleep. He tightened his hold on the smaller man, closed his own eyes and fell asleep with thoughts of finding them a safe haven. Somewhere Cory could put the nightmare behind him. An idea came to him, drifting through Deshawn’s mind, a memory of majestic mountains capped with snow and draped with stands of pine trees.

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Chapter Six They’d found a gas station with diesel fuel and Deshawn managed to get a generator to start and run long enough for them to top off the Hummer and fill an odd assortment of gas cans with additional fuel. Deshawn was driving again, wanting as much distance between them and Roderik as they could get, neither of them willing to risk facing the Dragon. Cory wouldn’t face Roderik because the older Immortal scared him, and after what he’d gone through, Deshawn couldn’t blame him. He knew better than to even try. He’d been too weakened by the explosion to take on a more powerful Immortal, especially a Dragon. Roderik had grown too powerful, a King with an entire army at his disposal was more than Deshawn wanted to confront. Nor could he see much point in it. As a Feathered Serpent he had no chance of killing a Dragon anyway. Page 147

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Only another Dragon could manage to take Roderik out, and Deshawn had never seen one. Not that it meant much. Until a few days ago he hadn’t known about Roderik being a Dragon, or that Hawk the Fenyx existed. He sure as hell hadn’t known about Cory. Handsome, abused, wonderful, gentle Winged Serpent Cory. My Cory. Warmth flooded his heart, love blazing through his soul and he reached over and to grip Cory’s hand, felt the blond give an answering squeeze, a wordless affirmation of their love. Deshawn stared out into the night beyond the windshield as they bumped along a rutted dirt road. Snowcapped peaks rose to the north and stars glittered in the darkness between drifts of thick cloud. A soft breeze sighed through the pines, a few flakes of late spring snow drifting down. They’d find some isolated ranch, some place they could hide from Roderik high in the Flatirons or perhaps the Rockies. They’d vanish, leave no trace and wait. Page 148

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Wait until they were both stronger. Until they dared to come out of hiding and either take on the Dragon themselves or go searching for a Dragon who could put an end to Roderik and his insane dreams of ruling an empire. “You were right, Deshawn,” Cory said. “About what?” “Fate being weird.” He glanced at Cory. “She’s a real bitch, but I’m glad she brought you to me Cory.” Cory squeezed his hand tighter. “I love you, Deshawn.” Deshawn grinned. “Yeah, I love you too, white boy.” Cory snorted. “White boy. Why do you keep calling me that?” “We’ll what do you want me to call you? Whitesnake?” “Oh dear God, no!” Cory groaned. Deshawn started to laugh over the horrified expression Cory turned on him.

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“Well it fits. Your Serpent is white. So are you for that matter.” “What about Cory? Can’t you just call me Cory? That is my name.” Deshawn laughed even harder, “I’m starting to like Whitesnake.” “Why me? Why’d I have to wind up with a smart-ass?” “Maybe it’s cause you’ve got no sense so someone has to keep you out of trouble.” “Hey, I seem to remember rescuing you!” Deshawn nodded. “That’s true. So I guess we’re going to keep each other out of trouble.” “Fair enough. Um... can I ask you something?” “Yes.” “Where are we going?” “We’re going settle down high in the mountains and wait out the insanity.” Cory smiled. “Sounds good to me if it includes a lot of hot sex with a Feathered Serpent.” “I’m glad you like the idea because that’s Page 150

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my plan. I want to get you to a secluded cabin somewhere we can live in peace and you never have to be afraid.” “That’s a good plan, Deshawn. I like it. Living in peace.” Deshawn gave Cory’s hand another squeeze then let go to change gears as the Hummer started to climb a steep hill. Neither of them knew what tomorrow might bring. Or what lay ahead in their future. So long as they were together tomorrow, and all the tomorrows of their lives would be good days and they wouldn’t worry about the plague dance that had the rest of the world caught in the music of death. End

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About the Author

Michael Barnette grew up in the wilds of Miami, Florida where he enjoyed the nightlife and wide variety of cultures, but not the late night driveby shootings. Deciding on a change of pace, Michael moved to Athens, Georgia where he lived for several years before migrating west. He misses some of the ethnic food in Miami, he doesn’t miss the driveby shootings. The last two years he was in Miami, Michael went from being a poet to writing short stories. One of the short stories he wrote, Zoner, was also the first gay erotica he’d ever written. Set in his cyberpunk world setting--which takes place in a future variant of Miami--and using characters established from an unfinished novel he was working on, he submitted the story to Circlet Press. The story was published and has been well received in the gay community, garnering a Gaylactic Spectrum Award nomination in 2003, while the anthology, Wired Hard #3, was a finalist for the Lamda Literary award that same year. He has since been nominated for the Gaylactic Spectrum Award four more times for novels and short stories.

About the Author

Seeing the popularity of erotica-- and finding it much easier to sell than poetry-- Michael changed his writing focus in 2003 and started researching the types of erotica popular with readers. The rest, as they say, is history. You can visit Michael and find out about his worlds at the following places on the net. Website: http://www.michaelbarnette.com Immortal Heroes: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/immortal_heroes LiveJournal: http://m-barnette.livejournal.com MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/michaelbarnette

Book Excerpts

If you enjoyed this story you might also like Fallen Angels 1-On Death’s Wing by Auburnimp.. Fallen Angel meets Fallen Mortal... Samael, Fallen Angel with the power of life and death discovers a young junkie being beaten in an alleyway. Ever the impulsive creature, he rescues the Daniel from his pimp. From that moment Samael’s life changes. But is it for the better or worse? Daniel, addict and whore, knows his former ‘employers’ will come searching for him. What he’s not suspecting is how useful being befriended by the Angel of Death will be. Can Samael forget his former lover, the Angel Raphael while in the arms of a mere mortal? And what of Daniel, can he accept Samael for what he is? Here is a short excerpt from Fallen Angels 1-On Death’s Wing by Auburnimp.

Book Excerpts

Samael waited only until his charge had settled before going out again. He rarely felt the need to sleep and almost never the desire, tired of the nightmares it always brought with it. And the boy reminded him so much of his lost love that he wanted to bathe himself in death as a way to forget. A vague fluttering caught his senses and he glanced up. There, high above the city was an angel although he couldn’t tell which one from here. A smile came. If the other was here on a mission of mercy he would take great pleasure in thwarting his or her desires. It was just the sort of game he needed. He unfurled his six black-feathered wings and took to the dark sky to take a closer look at this possible adversary. Only the last remaining legend could stand against him. One of the original three, two of whom had chosen to fall rather than live as slaves to a creator they never saw. Blood red hair and wings like a feathered rainbow. He snarled and dove before the other saw him. Damnation! Why did it have to be Raphael? The one archangel he would never

Book Excerpts

again face, not through fear but because he still loved him. He landed on a roof and watched as Raphael flew down to a particular house in Brooklyn. A slender young mortal opened the door and smiled at his visitor. Then the two were in each others arms and kissing before they disappeared into the house. Samael’s hands clenched into fists as the pain ate at him; pain that only millions of years of love followed by ten thousand years of separation could cause. The mortal didn’t bother him. He’d watched Raphael from afar for long enough to know that he sought his forgetfulness in the bodies of pretty mortals. “Whore,” he muttered and turned away to find another figure on the roof gazing at him from amused forest green eyes. “What the fuck do you want, Beliel?” “I just had the feeling that you might be up for some real mischief tonight and I’m bored.” “Your emotions don’t concern me.” “No, but the Son of the Morning hearing about your good deed towards the pretty mortal

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in your apartment might.” Beliel was openly grinning at him as he spoke. He glared at the other fallen one. “Don’t try to blackmail me if you know what’s good for you.” “Then let’s go and have some fun! Hell knows you’re gloomy enough tonight!” Resisting the urge to swat the demon like the bug he was, Samael contented himself with glowering at him. “I warn you now, I’m in the mood to kill and keep on killing.” “Perfect! Shall we get started then?” Beliel was completely unrepentant. He shook his head and sighed. “Okay, I know I’m going to regret this but what do you have in mind?” Beliel skittered about the roof in excitement his pale green hair flowing and his wings also the green of all growing things fluttered. Everything about him was shades of that color, even his skin. “Oh, now you’re talking! I think a little mayhem throughout the city should suit.” He shot Beliel a look of deep suspicion before

Book Excerpts

thinking more carefully about his words. Then he smiled as an idea occurred. Opening his senses he took command of the hurricane approaching the eastern seaboard and changed its direction whilst both strengthening it and speeding it up. Seeing Raphael had hurt him badly so he would use his beloved’s element to wreak havoc on the city and kill several of its inhabitants. “You might want to get off this roof,” he warned Beliel. His companion’s green eyes widened. “Oh! What have you done?” “Look at the sky.” Beliel looked up where the swirling cloud formation of an approaching hurricane had appeared. He cackled in delight and resumed his skittering little dance. “Oh yes! Perfect! Samael, I love your work!” “Well sit back and admire if it suits you. I’m going home.” “Are you going to fuck the pretty mortal?” He turned narrowed eyes on Beliel who had the intelligence to back off a few paces. “Mind

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your own damned business! If you want to ride this storm on a mortal’s carcass, find your own plaything!” Beliel attempted to look contrite and failed miserably, managing only disappointment. “Just because I like to watch,” he muttered. “And with the little one on a drug come down he’ll be in even more pain.” He was wheedling now. “Have your fun watching the mortals suffer through this storm. I promise you there will be anguish enough to sate even your appetites.” Beliel’s time away from Heaven and the company of the earth angel, Uriel, had made him as perverse and twisted as an old tree root. Having had more than enough of the little green demon he spread his wings and headed for his apartment. He stopped in the main foyer only long enough to warn Jackson to batten down the hatches before stepping into the elevator. Once in the sitting room he flicked a switch that closed storm shutters on all the windows before staring at the door to Daniel’s bedroom. A strangled moan from behind the door decided him and he strode towards it as the wind began to howl around the building.

Book Excerpts

Or you might like Dragon & Fenyx 1: Called by Power by Auburnimp and Michael Barnette. Two powerful mages-- one of wind, one of fire-- are drawn together by their powers into passion neither of them expected to find. Flamespirit, a firemage and healer, is a virtual outcast living with a clan he will never be part of, a clan that refuses to accept him as one of their own. While most men have swordbrothers to love them and wives to give them children, Flamespirit has neither lover nor wife. Stormdragon, a powerful windmage and sunstone wielder, has lost any reason to live. His swordbrother, Sandrunner is dead, and his elder brother has ruined his reputation among their clan. Stripped of being Heir to the Chief for an act of cowardice he didn’t commit, he leaves his people rather than become a kinslayer. A chance meeting between the two men changes their lives in ways neither of them expected when they are called by power.

Book Excerpts

Here is a short excerpt from Dragon & Fenyx 1: Called by Power by Auburnimp and Michael Barnette Storm lips touched the nape of Flame’s neck, warm breath tickling his skin. “Do you want the full reason no one ever became your swordbrother in your former clan?” Flame sighed and moved into that soft caress of lips. “Although I’m beginning to think it was fear of me, it would help destroy a few internal demons if I knew the truth.” “None of them had the power to hold a bond with you. Power like ours can kill lesser men without us meaning to do it. We can so overwhelm their own magic that they die, or become little more than a dim reflection of the power we ourselves have.” Storm nuzzled the back of Flame’s neck, and whispered, “And yes, many times yes, I want you.” The hardness pressing Flame’s bottom was unmistakably the man’s erect cock.

Book Excerpts

“I wish I wasn’t so tired,” Storm murmured, his tone full of regret. So it had been fear of him coupled with the instinctive need to survive at all costs. He snuggled back against Storm, much more relaxed and sure of himself now, feeling a lot less foolish. “I think I’ve wanted you since I first saw you,” he admitted. “Seemingly like draws like somehow.” “They say that power calls to power. I believe that. I’d felt the pull from Sandrunner long before we were swordbrothers. Even as a child I watched Sandrunner and he’d watched me almost as if we had unspoken knowledge of what we were to one another. Sandrunner was older than I, but he’d never taken a swordbrother. Not until the day I became a warrior. He came to me and held out his hand without saying a word. I took it and we went off into the wasteland to be alone and make our bond.” “You know, now even more than before, I really want to see this cave,” Flame said with a low chuckle. He surprised himself with how huskily it came out and was glad Storm couldn’t see his heated face in the dark.

Book Excerpts

He’d waited so long for someone to claim him, had been so lonely, and now the waiting was over and he’d never be alone again. He found himself wishing they had been able to get to the cave already as there was an uncomfortable hardness between his legs and his balls were tight as drums. I’m not going to be able to sleep like this. I want. . . But exactly what it was that he wanted he wasn’t sure. He had no reference points apart from his own hand and what Storm had already shown him. A hand slid around Flame to grip his cock, stroking the hardened flesh with firm gentleness. “I’ll give you relief with my hand. I don’t want you to suffer.” Flame swallowed hard, his already heated face becoming even hotter. “Storm…I…” But the feeling was too good for words and he snuggled back against Storm’s warm, hard body. “Pleasure is something I can give you as thanks for all the things you have done for me, Flame,” Storm murmured, his lips brushing over the skin

Book Excerpts

of Flame’s neck in light kisses as Storm’s long fingered hand worked his sensitive flesh. Flame sighed quietly and contentedly and gave in to the pleasure, his balls tightening even more at the feeling of another’s hand on his cock. He was not used to such sensations and knew he wasn’t going to last very long. It was all too new and intense for that. You can buy Fallen Angels 2-Fall from Grace by Auburnimp or Dragon & Fenyx 1: Called by Power by Auburnimp and Michael Barnette along with our m/m erotic romance titles from:

Shadowfire Press Enter the Shadows... Set your imagination on Fire

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