Magic of Three (15 page)

“Now that’s a change,” Manny replied, clueless of Julian’s current, happily sexual predicament. “It’s usually the other way around, me owing you. Why don’t we just call it even?”

“Deal,” Julian managed to gasp as Tim leaned over to lick up the side of his neck and blow in his free ear. Heat flooded his body as every ounce of extra blood rushed through him to his rising cock. So hard, so damn hard. Tim would pay for his teasing and he’d love it.

“Now back to bed,” Manny clucked.

Julian smiled down at his playfully grinning lover, pumping into his rough grip. “Already there.”

Manny harrumphed. “Well, for god’s sake, get off the phone before you start anything. I don’t wanna hear it.”

Julian chuckled as the phone slammed down, cutting off the connection. Tim looked askance. “Our friend at the police department may be extremely open-minded for someone in his profession but even he has his limits.”

“Hung up on you?” he asked, wrapping his arms around Julian’s waist.

Julian nodded, pulling him closer and connecting his pelvis with Tim’s. Sweet, hard, engorged flesh dueled with his own.

Tim snickered but his amusement didn’t last long. “What was that about Lisa? Is she all right?”

“Physically yes,” Julian answered, his dream teasing the edges of his mind with a red tinge of anger and fear. It was enough to deflate him. Damn, but he wanted to get his hands on the man who’d dared try to hurt her. Unfortunately he suspected her attacker was more than a man. “But someone scared her, badly.”

“Random violence,” Tim said, disgust filling his words. “All the more energy to open the portal.”

“Or maybe not so random.” Julian pulled Tim closer, clinging to the one thing that made his world safe and sane. He took a deep breath, pulling in Tim’s musky, spicy scent. “In my dream there was a strange aura around her attacker, something not of this dimension.”

Tim pulled back, shock stealing some of the warmth from his body. “You think things are already leaking through?”

“I think we better get Lisa on our side and quickly.”

“So no late-morning snuggles,” Tim grumbled as he scooped up a pillow and shoved it behind his back. “You’ll want to have someone tailing her, making sure she’s okay until she calls.”

Julian rolled out of bed, a half apologetic grimace on his face. He grabbed a pair of jeans out of his side of the dresser, not bothering with boxers. “It’s better if I do it. Less to explain later.”

“Need company?” Tim asked as he started crawling out of his cocoon. Blurry eyes and golden hair shooting out in every direction, Tim warmed Julian’s cold heart.

Mine
.

“No,” Julian answered, grinning as he watched his lover slide and struggle against slick satin sheets, pillows and an overstuffed comforter. “I should do this myself. Like you said, it’s my feelings that are the most in doubt. We don’t have much time and I should spend it on her, by myself.”

Tim pouted, crossing his arms, but didn’t argue. “Okay, you’re right, but I hate being the one left out.”

Julian walked back to the bed as he snapped the top catch of his jeans, grimacing at the tight fit around his still half-aroused cock. He knelt down, reaching out to turn Tim’s face toward him. He leaned forward, softly kissing Tim, trying to convey with actions what he couldn’t with words. He lapped at full lips, begging entrance to the treasure trove of feelings within. Tim pursed his lips for a moment then gave in with a soft exhalation. Julian’s tongue sank deep, gliding over warm, tasty, wet flesh. Home. Tim was home. He needed Lisa home.

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against Tim’s. “You won’t be out of the loop for long. Whatever’s leaking through isn’t going to allow that to happen. We’re all safer if we’re together.”

“Safer and happier,” Tim replied, gripping Julian’s hand.

“For now I’ll be satisfied with the safer,” Julian muttered as he stood and turned back to the dresser.

Chapter Thirteen

Creatures throughout the icy, barren, hellish realm scrambled about, seeking some hidden place for sanctuary or a least a fleeting moment of peace from constant torture. The world trembled with volcanic fury, overpowering the most tormented soul’s anguish. Mograith’s bloodthirsty growls filled the air as everyone sought to avoid being the object that he unleashed his violent displeasure upon.

But for once in nearly a millennium the majority of the underworld was safe. He knew exactly who to blame and punish for his current irritation. One small, moaning demon, wings already bloody and shredded, lay crumpled and cringing on the ground at his lord’s barbed feet.

“Please, Sire. I did what you asked,” it whimpered as it curled into a tight quivering ball.

Mograith’s eyes glowed a deadly crimson as he stared down at the one who dared present him with failure. Not nearly enough of the metallic scent of its blood filled the air. Not nearly enough torment and anguish tinged its features. Yet. “And how exactly do you see that?” he sneered.

“I did not kill,” answered the sniveling, piteous excuse for a demonspawn. “I terrorized. I attacked the Catalyst. It would have been better if I’d succeeded in my attempt but either way she must be traumatized emotionally and wrecked. Soon she will leave the city to seek shelter. The other two won’t be able to complete the ritual alone.”

Mograith smiled, the expression colder than the frozen depths of his realm and prison. The sight of his gleaming shark-like teeth and fangs gleaming in the blazing light didn’t begin to reassure his minion. “And do you know if your plan worked?” he asked, his voice a mild calm before the storm.

The lesser demon trembled, not daring yet to stand. “I haven’t checked yet. I sent one of the others to do so. I wanted to come back and report to you immediately. Keep you informed of our progress in the mortal realm, Sire.”

Mograith’s smile grew as he leaned over the cringing demon. “Well, guess what?”

“What?” the demon whispered, not liking the soft tone of voice its lord used. It boded ill.

“The one you sent reported to me as well. He came moments after you arrived, crowing your victory.” Mograith hauled his foot back, slamming it into his minion’s gut, twisting his toes at the last moment. The purpled claws ripped through the lesser demon’s scaly flesh. “You failed,” he hissed.

The demon gagged as it clutched its stomach. When the wheezing and bubbling subsided it asked, “How? I know she was frightened. I fed off her sweet terror. How could my plan have failed?”

Mograith lashed out again, kicking it to its back, his foot jarring with the impact. He loomed over the smaller figure, eyes filled with disgust and contempt. “Oh, it not only failed, you unmitigated fool. You’ve thrown her at the other two.”

“What?” the lesser demon gasped, its eyes filling with the realization of its precarious circumstances. Failure it might survive. This…this mistake could end his existence.

“Even now one of the mortal realm’s keepers of the peace is sending her to the Visionary for security. It seems they fear another attack and believe she needs a protector,” Mograith spat. “The Visionary works as a personal guard. You let her play right into his hand.”

“I’m sorry, Sire,” the demon whimpered as it crawled forward on his knees through jagged ice in supplication, begging, the only option that was left to it. “I had no idea. I’ll do better. Please let me try again.”

The small demon cowered as Mograith loomed above it. Pus-yellow venom leaked from its ruler’s fangs, steam rising with each drop. His eyes blazed with a reddish light. His body hummed with restrained violence. “I will consider your punishment and redemption,” he growled, the deep rumble chasing away all hope. “For now lie there in your own filth. Think about your mistakes and my response until I return.”

The lesser demon whimpered, green tears of blood leaking from its eyes and tracing sickly trails down its face. Its lord turned heel and left it.

Chapter Fourteen

Lisa gripped her trembling knees as she rocked back and forth on her brown bargain-basement couch. Baggy worn gray sweats and an oversized red and gray college sweatshirt still didn’t feel warm enough to break through the ice pumping in her veins. With a ragged, well-loved Goodwill quilt wrapped around her shoulders she stared blankly as bright sunlight gleamed off sterling-white walls.

The fresh freesias sitting on her glass and fake chrome coffee table added a splash of color, a bit of life, as well as a sweet fragrance but their cheerfulness couldn’t break through her stark fear. With no sleep and no coffee her mind frayed, replaying her attack and the aftermath over and over again. Her heart pounded in her chest nearly to the point of pain as the words of the homicide detective echoed in her mind.
Best be safe
.
Serial killers
.
Stalkers
.
Could attack again
.

At least he’d given her a number to call for help after scaring her half to death. It didn’t do much for peace of mind or sleep but it was better than nothing.

Triad Securities, Inc. It took time and money to set up a system with a security company. That reeked of permanence, something she wasn’t very good at. Actually the word alone was enough to send her into a panic attack. Her ex had her right about that. Every muscle in her body clenched up at the thought. She’d taken the plunge once, risking connection, and what had she gotten for her trouble? A man who didn’t understand her in the least, a man who cheated and hit. Complete freedom seemed the best alternative.

She stared at the two boxes she hadn’t unpacked, stacked under her glass coffee table. A year here without finishing unpacking and she was setting up a security system in her condo? It didn’t feel right, made her itchy. Of course the alternative was more permanent.

Didn’t get more permanent than dead, did it?

The secretary’s reaction when she called Triad Security did little to calm her fears. Hell, Lisa’d chewed her fingernails to stubs waiting for the security guy to show up. She told the secretary about being given the company name by Detective Ramirez hoping to get a quicker appointment. Next thing she knew someone was coming by personally to look over her home and discuss options. No waiting at all.

In a town where she had to make her dentist appointment over a month in advance, not very confidence-inspiring.

Lisa stared down at her jagged, chewed nails and tried not to cry. Now instead of sitting in a massage chair as one person slathered her legs in lotion and painted her toenails and another cover her fingernails with acrylic and paint she was stuck staring at her institutional white walls waiting for someone to come tell her how unsafe she was and quote her an exorbitant price to fix it.

Maybe she’d still have time to shop for a knock-’em-dead date dress and some fuck-me pumps if she pulled herself together. Maybe she’d take Janice’s advice and jump right in. No-holds-barred purely physical sex. A hot fling with two guys would keep her mind off other, less enjoyable aspects of her life. The perfect escape from the images playing in her mind.

A quick, clipped rap sounded at her door. Her heart flipped in her throat before she could stop her panic.
Finally
, she thought as she gained control.

She jerked the door open, fully planning on establishing her role as the person in charge from moment one. Damn male contractors. She would not play the whimpering little victim but a proactive survivor. No way was he going to take advantage of the poor scared single woman. The guy at the custom paint shop was bad enough, shaking his head and clicking his tongue over her paint job.

But one look at the man behind the door knocked all thoughts of control out of her mind.

Julian leaned against the doorjamb, slightly rumpled in jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt with an overstuffed accordion-style briefcase at his feet. Concern furrowed his brow. “When I heard about what happened to you I couldn’t let anyone else come.” He stepped forward, taking her cold hand in his strong warm grip, giving it a brisk rub. “Are you okay? I called Detective Ramirez but he couldn’t tell me everything I wanted to know. What happened?”

“You know Detective Ramirez?” Lisa asked, still standing in the open doorway, blocking his entrance. Her hand felt good in his. Safe. Maybe too good.

Julian raised an eyebrow at her unmoving position but didn’t mention it. He didn’t release her hand either, keeping it in his tender clasp. In a calming voice, one a person used with small children and skittish animals, he explained, “Manny and I go way back. We’ve worked on some cases together before.”