Wicked Release (14 page)

Margo opened the link and filled out the small entry form. Maybe the wild child inside her wasn’t buried quite deep enough.

“No more.”

Thomas hopped over the back of the couch, his agile body moving in a way no human’s could. He landed to sit comfortably, legs crossed on the coffee table as he popped a potato chip into his mouth. “Don’t get your kilt in a twist, Mac, you agreed to this, remember?”

The tall Scotsman snarled as he paced the living room. “I believe you mentioned something about freedom in the anonymity of the Internet. That we’d be lost in the masses, and there would be no true repercussions for baring our proverbial souls.” He stopped to glare at Thomas. “People are following me whenever I show myself, Lyons. Other vampires are split into two camps. They either want to be on the show, or they are planning my demise for allowing you to continue to out us. That sounds like repercussions to me.”

“They’re called fans, Mac Attack. It isn’t like they’re carrying torches and pitchforks.” Thomas chuckled. “Not yet anyway. As for the vampire threats, you can take them. You’re the toughest bloodsucker I know.”

Saint spoke up from his position on the leather recliner without lifting his gaze from his laptop. “The forums are already lighting up like Christmas trees, and the contest post is going viral.”

“Viral?”

Thomas snorted. “That’s a good thing in this case, Mac. Now you just need to let the current residents at Castle Continuously Depressing know we’re having guests.”

Mac crossed his arms. “Only if you remember our deal. After I allow you to turn my home into your own private testing ground, this ends. No more waking to find a camera attached to my headboard. No more deep in depth interviews about the taste of Type A versus Type O positive. I have lived a dozen lifetimes with no more than a family painting to prove my existence. And now I’ve been recorded sleeping merely to answer a random question on your damn site about whether or not a vampire snores. So no more invasions of my privacy, or Saint’s, or you’ll be looking for a new roommate…and we all know who keeps this place in cream and caviar.”

Thomas watched Mac storm out to the balcony and disappear into the night, becoming the mist. He was always envious of that ability. Arrogant bastard. Problem was, Mac was right. He stared at the ceiling morosely. It
had
gotten out of hand. He’d never imagined people would actually pay attention to one small website among so many. Or that he’d enjoy it this much.

He wasn’t sure when it began to bother him, hiding what he was. Maybe it always had. His was a proud species. Cats weren’t known for their humility, after all. He didn’t want to dominate humans, but pretending to be one of them, pretending he wasn’t stronger, faster, more agile and a hell of a lot longer lived…well that sucked.

Clark Kent he wasn’t. The alter ego, play-acting routine had long grown stale. But he’d lived with it for so long. Swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and suffered in silence. Until that one night. He recalled it with great clarity. He’d been penned up for too long, and he felt the desire to unleash his lion for a late night run. He’d shifted back to his human form in an alley behind his favorite nightclub. He was feeling wild, longing for the sexual release the beast within him craved. Before he could enter the club he heard the scream. A young woman had seen him, watched his body morph, watched his fur disappear and clothing come from out of the ether to cover him.

He’d reacted instinctively. Done what he’d done a thousand times before. He’d pulled her into his arms, swamped her with his pheromones, then found her friends and convinced them she was drunk. When she’d rambled on and on about seeing a lion in the alley, about her sudden need to have sex, they’d all chuckled, joking with her about her inability to hold her liquor before they decided to take her home. It was a scenario Thomas had played out before, but this time…it had gotten to him.

He started thinking about the injustice of it all. Why
couldn’t
he shift when he wanted to? Why did Mac have to change locations, “die” and leave his inheritance to himself over and over again? And Saint. Well, Saint was different. He had no desire to leave the house or his computer to explore the world outside. He said the demon half of him didn’t play well with others. At least, not in person. But what about all the other shifters and vampires out there? What about the ghosts? They accepted humans and
their
right to exist, why couldn’t they live out in the open as well?

He’d gotten home that night railing at the Fates, going on and on until Saint had walked out of the room and brought him one of his extra computers. He’d shown him how to use the webcam and how to start a blog. Mainly, Thomas now believed, to get him to shut up.

It was like catnip. He’d begun to talk into the camera and, like a sinner at confession, it had all poured out. All his frustrations, what he was, everything. It had been cathartic. Freeing. Addictive. When people began to comment on his blog, discussing his video posts in the chat room, going with what they considered his fantasy…well, he enjoyed that too. Here he could talk to them, answer questions, get into arguments about myth versus reality. Here he could be himself.

And he’d loved the loyal posters and chat room groupies. He found himself prowling less, staying home just to talk to them. Doing things he wouldn’t normally do, like risking the wrath of his roommates just to please them. Fanglvr353 had been the one to request a camera placed on the sleeping Mac’s headboard. She’d been so grateful she’d sent him virtual flowers. And a picture of herself that made even Thomas blush. It was for Mac, but somehow Thomas didn’t think he’d be appreciative.

“She’s signed in.”

Thomas glanced over at Saint, suddenly alert. “She?”

Saint raised one dark eyebrow. “Kittysnapdragon. Isn’t she your favorite?”

He tried not to let his excitement show. What had she thought of his last video? Had she gotten his not so subtle message to her? Had she entered the contest? He rolled his eyes at Saint. “She’s just a fan of the website, man. Besides, you told me yourself how these things work. She could be a sixty-five-year-old, three hundred pound man for all I know.”

Saint shook his head. “Nope. More like thirty-one, female, long, dark brown hair and an ass you could bounce quarters off for fun.”

Thomas made an effort to stop growling, pulling his lips down over his extending incisors. “It isn’t nice to pry, Saint.” He kept forgetting Saint’s talent. A technophile, Saint traveled through the ether with his mind alone. In a heartbeat he could know everything about anyone linked in. A power Thomas wouldn’t mind borrowing from time to time. “Quarters, you say?”

Saint just smirked and lifted himself off the recliner. “I’m going back to my game. And don’t worry about Mac. He needs to be shaken up from time to time. The man has stick-up-his-ass-itis. A painful ailment that only a shock to the system can cure. I think this contest might be just the thing. He does too, otherwise he wouldn’t let us anywhere near his ancestral home.”

Thomas jumped from the couch and headed for his bedroom as soon as Saint rounded the corner. He’d be playing that game all night. The same way he had since he created the online role-playing game,
Demon Saint
. It was Saint’s way of putting himself out there. He’d made his story, the world he knew, into a game. Reviewers raved about the graphics, and the reclusive visionary who’d created it. It was worth millions, but Saint only kept enough to live on, giving the rest of the money away to charity. Not a very demon-like action, but he was half human after all. And Thomas knew money wasn’t why he did it. He understood that now. It was for the connection. Saint was responsible, in a way, for
Shifting Reality
as well. Maybe he’d known what Thomas had needed, even before Thomas had himself.

He closed his bedroom door, popping open a bottle of beer as he powered up his laptop. She was on, and he found himself impatiently drumming on the brown glass bottle as he waited for a chance to talk to her. To see if she’d entered.

Thomas opened the site, heading immediately to the chat room. He kept himself invisible so he could see what they were saying without distraction. It was full, everyone excited about the contest, about the chance to see Mac’s castle. Mac had no idea how much these women loved vampires. Every movie, every book, even the ones meant for younger adults—they ate it up. Vampires were in. His friend could be the Elvis of the blood sucking world if he’d just relax and enjoy it.

Ah. There she was. He double clicked on her name and opened up a private window.

Tomcat:
Knock Knock

There was a pause, and he held his breath until she responded.

Kittysnapdragon:
Sneaking in again?
The others will be disappointed. They all want to pepper you
with questions about the contest.

Tomcat:
I’m a cat. I excel at sneaking. And other things
.

Kittysnapdragon:
So you keep telling me. I’ll just have to take your word for it.

He smiled when he saw her response. “Maybe I can prove it.” Tom typed swiftly, feeling like a nervous kid. It was foolish, how much he cared what she thought.

Tomcat:
Did you enter the contest? Tell me your real name, I might be able to pull some strings
.

He hit enter and held his breath.

There was another long pause, then a small yellow smiley face popped on screen, shaking its head along with a few words that had him snorting in disbelief. She logged off quickly, and he knew she wouldn’t be back on tonight.

“No cheating?” Her last words stayed with him as he turned off his computer and headed for Saint’s room. “You don’t know me very well, darlin’. But you will.”

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From Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

Chapter One

Boredom was a worm burrowing in his head, playing Perry Como’s greatest hits as it went. Or was that Hell? Saint would have to ask next time he ran into the sperm-donating incubus he liked to call Dad.

The penthouse apartment that had been his haven until now was mocking him with a silence that jarred his spine and set his teeth on edge. No thoughts but his own. No company but his own. As scintillating a conversationalist as he could be, it was saying something that he was at loose ends. But there it was.

It had been like this ever since Thomas had moved into Margo’s place. It seemed he was trying to set new records for how many times a cat shifter could claim his mate without coming up for air. And Mac? He’d made a sudden decision to go on one of his I-live-for-eternity-and-I’m-so-alone walkabouts to God knew where before he had to deal with the repercussions of his decision.

The film. He still couldn’t believe Mac had agreed to do it. It was his gift to Thomas and Margo, he knew. But Saint had to wonder about the fallout for Mac with the elder vampires. No one loved to keep a secret more than an old, thin-skinned blood sucker.

Saint sighed. Putting off Margo’s boss, the conniving Darcy Finch, and the producers who wanted to start filming
Shifting Reality: The Movie
had been easy. He was good at manipulating people. Especially greedy people. But without any new distractions, he was having a harder time restraining his dark side, the part that was restless. The part that wanted to create the kind of havoc his human mother had spent her short, harried life trying to keep him from.

He walked to the windows, looking down at the city below. Hollywood. A demon could get into an endless amount of mischief in this town. Even a half demon. A man with his talents could own it all.

But then, that sounded boring too. He chuckled. His desires didn’t lean toward consumption, just the occasional chaos. It was a craving usually satisfied by the RPG game he’d created,
Demon Saint
. Thousands of minds connecting him to what it meant to be human, even as they chose avatars that were anything but. His creation had taken on a life of its own, but it was a life he had total access to, and total control over. It was where he got to play.

If only it were still enough.

He should go search out Mac and find a way to fuck with him, the same way he’d messed with Thomas. Of course, it might turn out the same way too, with Mac finding a woman to do more than nibble on. Then neither of them would have any time for their roommate. And there would be no one to keep Saint out of the dark.

Despite that possibility, Saint wasn’t sorry. Not that he’d gotten Thomas hooked on vlogging, not that his roommate had decided to tell the world about himself, about shifters and vampires and demons through the online weblog,
Shifting Reality
. Damn fools thought it was a show. An act. The same way they thought his game was just a game, instead of a piece of him.