Instinct

AWAKENINGS 2:

INSTINCT

Jessica Freely

www.loose-id.com

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Awakenings 2: Instinct Jessica Freely This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 870 Market St, Suite 1201 San Francisco CA 94102-2907 www.loose-id.com Copyright © July 2009 by Jessica Freely All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN 978-1-59632-946-1 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Vanessa Lillie Cover Artist: Anne Cain

Chapter One Blake paced the confines of the motel room, wishing for the umpteenth time that he hadn't let Joam go back out there alone. Of course, if it had been up to him, they wouldn't have stopped driving in the first place. Two states and a desert still wasn't enough distance between them and all that had gone wrong in Beulah, but after thirtysix hours on the road, even he had to acknowledge that they needed to rest, get some food, and find proper clothes. The room, in a Motel 6 just off the highway, was decorated in shades of seventies orange and green. There were two double beds (they only needed one) covered in desert-motif bedspreads, a dresser, and a laminated wicker table beneath a tulip-shaped rattan chandelier. Blake didn't give a damn about the decor, but he would have been happier if the windows were barred and the door was lined with steel. The better to keep you out, he thought. Blake couldn't shake the feeling that Gregor Walsh was still out there somewhere, hunting them. As if in answer to this thought, someone knocked on the door. Blake nearly jumped out of his torn cutoffs and sweat-soaked T-shirt. His heart hammered, torn between relief if it was Joam and terror of it being anyone else. Get a grip, he

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admonished himself. Four years as a street hustler and now all of a sudden you're falling apart? Well, there were two reasons for that. One, he'd never been involved in magic before, and two, now that he'd found Joam, there was so much more at stake. Blake looked through the peephole. It was Joam, his arms loaded with carryout containers and shopping bags. With a rush of relief, Blake opened the door. “Thank God,” he said. “I was afraid something had happened to you.” Joam, still dressed in the filthy coveralls they'd found in the trunk of his dead boss's car, shook his head. “I just drove a ways out so as not to attract too much attention wearing this. Here, take a look at what I got.” He held the bags out to Blake. Blake took them from him and piled them on the table, then threw himself into Joam's arms. Joam's murmur of pleasure turned to one of concern. “You're shaking.” “I'm okay,” said Blake. “I'm okay now. I just keep thinking that somehow, Walsh is going to find us again.” Joam held him tight. “It's natural for you to think that. After all, you thought you'd escaped him after he killed your friend Randy, and then he showed up in Beulah, where he nearly—” “Raped me and killed both of us. But you stopped him.” “We stopped him,” said Joam. “If you hadn't tricked him, he would have finished me off. But Walsh is a businessman, besides being a varnal and a sorcerer. No matter how pissed he is about losing his virgin sacrifice, he'll have to go back to LA for a few days at least, to see to his interests. That gives us time to disappear.” Wrapped in those long, strong arms, Blake felt safe, and that wasn't a feeling he'd had in a very long time. He unzipped the neck of the coveralls and buried his face in Joam's chest, breathing in the smell of him, soaking in the warmth of his tawny skin. “Everything's going to be all right,” said Joam, stroking Blake's back. “We're together now.”

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Blake felt like a wuss. Here Joam was comforting him even after taking all the risk and going out to get supplies. It should be the other way around, but that didn't stop Blake from relishing the touch of Joam's big, strong hands. “Did you take a shower?” Joam asked. Blake shook his head. “I was afraid that with the water running, I wouldn't be able to hear if anything happened.” Joam hugged him tight. “You can take one now if you want. I'll stand guard.” They both needed to shower, badly, but the delicious aromas wafting from the carryout containers gave Blake's stomach other plans. “Food first?” Joam released him with a lopsided grin. Joam had a long face with a beautiful, prominent nose, high cheekbones, and a wide mouth. His looks were quirky, but nevertheless devastatingly handsome, and when he smiled, his gentle soul shone right through his hazel eyes. “You like Mexican?” Blake swallowed past the sudden dryness in his mouth. The truth was, at this point, he'd eat a squirrel on a stick. “I love Mexican.” Joam moved the bags of clothing—jeans, T-shirts, and underwear—to the bed, and Blake started opening boxes to reveal tamales, rice, beans, chiles rellenos, and nachos. Blake's mouth watered, and his stomach bounced up and down with eagerness. “Mind if I take this off?” asked Joam, tugging at the collar of the dead man's coveralls. “It kind of creeps me out.” The orange and brown drapes were drawn. “No, please,” said Blake. “Besides, it's another chance to see you naked.” Joam blushed at that, and that made Blake grin. Joam had been a virgin until their first night together. He had no concept of how hot he was. Blake was going to enjoy helping him get past his shyness.

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When Joam bent his head and slowly unzipped the coveralls, Blake forgot all about the food and sank to the bed and watched, breathless. Seeing Joam's broadshouldered, slender frame emerge from the oil-stained gray coveralls was like watching a butterfly come out of its cocoon. Joam was half-Native American, half-Caucasian, and a varnal. In his varnal form, he resembled a large, elegant greyhound with brown-and-gold-brindled fur. At the moment, however, he was all human, and his cheeks were pink. He shrugged the coveralls off his broad shoulders and they fell down to his hips, baring his back, chest, and belly. Blake sighed, feasting his eyes on Joam's rose brown nipples and the light dusting of dark hair between his pecs, which ran in a thin line down his belly and below his navel. With a twist of his hips, Joam skimmed the coveralls down over his ass and stepped out of them. The sight of Joam's tight round ass and his big, beautiful cock, now dormant in its nest of dark hair, made Blake's mouth water. Joam was too thin by far, and numerous scars and bruises marked his body, but none of those marks made Joam any less beautiful. Joam's boss, Higgs, had been an evil man who killed Joam's mother, abused Joam, and kept him isolated so he could sell him to Walsh as a virgin sacrifice. He'd worked Joam like a dog and paid him next to nothing. But that was all part of the past, Blake decided. No matter what happened next, he was never going to let anyone mistreat Joam again. Joam glanced up and caught the look on Blake's face. He blushed even more deeply, and his cock swelled a little. For a moment, they just stared at one another, and Blake was about to go to his knees and bury his face in Joam's pubes when Joam turned and sat down at the table and began opening cartons. Blake suddenly felt that he couldn't bear to sit down across from Joam wearing this torn hustler gear he'd been stranded in for the past three days.

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He stripped off, enjoying Joam's wide-eyed look as he paused in spooning refried beans onto a paper plate. The beans fell off the spoon with an audible plop, and they both laughed. Without further ado, Blake sat down and for some time, silence reigned as they dug into the meal. Everything was delicious. Of course, that squirrel on a stick would have been mighty tasty by now too, but Blake sensed that Joam had sussed out one of the many fabulous, hole-in-the-wall Mexican places that dotted the West. “This is really good,” he said around a mouthful of tamale. Joam grinned. “Yeah, and there's a lot of it. All we want. And we can get more too.” Joam nodded to his former boss's cash box, sitting on the floor beside the dresser. “We've got plenty of money.” His unbridled enthusiasm over having enough to eat made Blake's heart hurt. Sure, he'd had some lean times himself, but the times he'd actually gone hungry had been a rarity. He couldn't wait to see what Joam looked like with more meat on his bones. Swallowing, he got up from his seat. “Sit on your lap?” Joam blinked in surprise. “Sure.” Blake sat crosswise on his lap, enjoying the skin-on-skin contact and the secure feeling of Joam's strong arms encircling him. Blake picked up a nacho chip and fed it to Joam, watching the way his lips moved as he chewed. Blake fed him several bites of nacho and then the rest of the tamale Joam had been working on. Joam seemed a bit perplexed at all this, but willing enough to play along. When the tamale was gone, Joam washed it down with a big swig of iced tea and turned to look at Blake. There was that hesitation again, that awkwardness. Blake leaned in and kissed him. Joam's lips were soft and warm. Blake's fear and tension melted away as they moved beneath his. He licked at Joam's lips, and the next moment, all awkwardness, all hesitation, was gone, and they were plundering one another's mouths. Joam cradled his

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face, and Blake slid his hands up Joam's neck and ran them through his hair. The silky strands slipped through his fingers like gossamer. They paused for breath, and Blake leaned his head on Joam's shoulder. “Did you get enough to eat?” Joam nodded. “I don't think I've eaten this much at one time since my ma passed.” Blake wormed one arm between Joam and the back of the chair, and draped the other one around his chest and held him tight. “I want you to always have enough to eat.” Joam gave a little gasp. From this position, Blake couldn't see his face, which was part of the point. He couldn't say something like that with Joam looking at him. For a long time they were both silent, and Blake wondered if this was too much. Then Joam said, “For as long as I live, I'll never forget you giving me those bologna sandwiches.” There was a smile in his voice. Okay. Good. Blake remembered his innocent offer to share his food with the mechanic driving the tow truck to pick up his broken-down car. Joam's overly grateful reaction had been Blake's first clue that something was wrong in the little town of Beulah. Now he marveled at how that one small gesture had changed both of their lives. “I'll always give you sandwiches,” he said. He pressed his face to the side of Joam's neck and kissed him. His eyes focused on a mark on Joam's collarbone, a small, round burn. From a cigarette? “And I'm not going to let anyone hurt you again either.” Joam went still. “That's… I can take care of myself; you know that. I could have killed Higgs at any time.” “If it hadn't been for the emotional blackmail.” “Well, yeah, I guess that's one way of putting it.” He pulled back so he could fix Blake with his gaze. “But don't worry about me. It's you I'm worried about. I don't want you to get in harm's way. If something happened to you…”

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“I know. I just—I'm saying this wrong. I just mean that… I guess I want to make up for your pain, and maybe I can't do that, but…” Joam shook his head. “I didn't know it was possible to be this happy, Blake. And it's because of you. It's all because of you. If you hadn't walked into Higgs's garage that night, I'd be dead by now. Or at the very least still a slave. But you did, and we're free. The past is behind us now.” “We'll take care of each other,” said Blake, and Joam nodded and gave him one of those wonderful smiles. It seemed to pull Blake right to him, and the next thing he knew, they were kissing. Joam had bought cinnamon crisps for dessert. Blake reached for the carton and, when they broke their kiss, popped one in Joam's mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and they kissed again, and Blake tasted cinnamon sugar. Another break, another crisp, another kiss. He liked feeding Joam. “Here, wait, before I eat them all,” said Joam. And he took the carton from Blake's hand and fed him, his head bent close, his beautiful brown-green eyes gazing into Blake's, watching every nuance of his expression. Blake ate the last three crisps from Joam's hand and then grasped him by the wrist and licked his fingers clean. The sight of Joam's eyes fluttering shut in pleasure made Blake's heart pound. He released his hand and dived in for another kiss. Blake was hard, and he felt Joam's erection pushing up against his butt cheeks. He grasped the back of Joam's head, keeping their mouths locked together as he shifted position to straddle Joam's lap. Blake's stout cock bumped against Joam's long, thick one, and Joam gasped into Blake's mouth. They broke their kiss, and Joam pressed his lips to Blake's neck and began to kiss and nibble the tender skin there. Blake reached down and took both their cocks in hand, stroking them. Their hips moved in unison, thrusting together into Blake's warm hand. Joam whimpered and ran his hands down Blake's sides and up between them, petting and playing with Blake's nipples.

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The teasing sent little ripples of electricity running back and forth between Blake's chest and his cock. Both of them were leaking precum now, their hips on automatic. Blake turned his head and captured Joam's mouth with his again, exploring the warm, wet cavern with his tongue as Joam slid his hands under Blake, cupping his ass and pulling their groins even closer together. They moved in harmony, in the allconsuming rhythm of approaching orgasm, sweaty cocks bumping and thrusting together. Blake's balls drew tight against his body. Joam whimpered in the back of his throat and broke their kiss. “Oh! God! Blake!” Blake squeezed his hand, pressing the sensitive heads of their cocks against one another as Joam's hot seed spurted out in a fountain and a second later, Blake's own orgasm took him, his hips doing double time as his cum sprayed over both of them, painting their heaving chests with pearly droplets. For a moment they clung to one another, panting, staring into each other's eyes as the world slowly stopped spinning around them. Then Joam laughed. “Now we really need a shower.”

Joam walked into the bathroom to find Blake bent over the tub, adjusting the water temperature. He was naked, his chest crusted with cum, his tight, round bubble butt sticking up in the air. The sight alone made him stir, despite the fact that he'd just come moments ago. Joam couldn't resist. As one part of his mind marveled at his boldness, he walked up behind Blake, gripped his hips, and rested his quickly swelling cock in the crevice of his ass. Blake chuckled and pushed back, rubbing himself playfully up and down Joam's shaft for a few seconds before standing up, turning on the shower, and stepping in. The steaming water immediately plastered his wavy blond hair to his head and ran in rivulets down his broad forehead, upturned nose, and cleft chin. It turned the blond thicket on his chest to a sodden mat and ran in streams down his washboard abs,

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over his tumescent cock, and down his beautiful, sculpted thighs. Blake blew water out of his face and held out a washcloth. “Wash my back?” Joam took a step forward, then stopped. “Don't you want me to stand guard?” Was it the hot water that made Blake's face flush pink? “No. I'm sorry for being such a worrywart. The door's locked. It'll be fine.” Joam didn't need to be asked again. He stepped into the hot spray. It took all the control he had not to plaster himself to Blake's warm, wet back and hump himself to completion between the man's firm, muscular ass cheeks. He took a deep breath and fought for calm even as his cock twitched. He soaped up the washcloth and ran it over Blake's beautiful, sculpted back. Blake was half a head shorter than him, his body compact and robust, his chest, arms, thighs, all of him, seemed hewn out of oak. There wasn't a trace of fat on him, but he was anything but scrawny. Physically, he was everything Joam could have ever dreamed of, but there was so much more. Blake had had several opportunities to flee the trouble in Beulah. It was none of his affair. He'd just been passing through and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the fact that he barely knew Joam was no deterrent to him. He'd stayed and risked his life to help Joam. Joam had been in love with Blake since the moment Joam had suggested exchanging car repairs for sex, and Blake had described the arrangement as “lovely,” but if he hadn't been, then Blake's generosity as a friend and as a lover would have smitten him anyway. And because of that generosity, Blake had almost been raped by Walsh, had almost been killed by Higgs. It was because of Joam that he was now on the run, fleeing for his life and, most likely, from the law. Joam had not forgotten the fact that Higgs was dead, that his body would be found, and that he and Blake would be the prime suspects.

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They needed to ditch Higgs's Lincoln and find new transportation, but he didn't want to think about that right now. Joam ran his hands up and down Blake's back and leaned forward, kissing him between the shoulder blades. All he really wanted to do was make love to Blake, but there, too, he held back. He knew Blake loved him. When he'd been in varnal form, he'd sensed Blake's feelings as if they were his own. And when he'd made love to Blake as a varnal, he'd unconsciously drained energy from Blake, without even meaning to. He worried about that. From what they'd just done and from their first night together, Joam knew that he couldn't drain Blake so long as he was in human form. But Joam really didn't know anything about his varnal abilities. Could he change accidentally? Was he putting Blake at risk just by being with him? Blake turned and took the washcloth from him. “Your turn,” he said, making no effort to avoid contact as he switched positions with Joam. Now Joam stood under the warm spray. The water pressure was fantastic compared to the crappy little shower he'd used in the back of Higgs's garage. How long had it been since he'd had the luxury of hot water and lots of it? Too long, and no point dwelling on it. Especially when Blake was rubbing the soapy washcloth over his chest, circling his nipples, and thrusting his hips forward so that their cocks touched. God! Sparks of delight ran from his nipples to his cock and back again, coalescing in the pit of his stomach. Blake ran the sudsy cloth down Joam's chest and over his belly. He swirled it around Joam's navel and then moved down farther. The texture of the rough terrycloth and the slippery soap on the sensitive skin of Joam's cock and balls made him gasp and grow instantly erect. Blake abandoned the washcloth, running his slick, soapy fingers up and down the shaft. Water ran over Joam's face and into his mouth as he threw his head back in ecstasy. He grabbed the side of the stall for balance as Blake stroked him over and over again. And then the hand was gone, and Blake turned him so the water rinsed off the soap.

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Disoriented, Joam reached for Blake, seeking more contact—a hug, a kiss, anything—but Blake was turning him again and getting to his knees. The next thing Joam knew, his cock was enveloped in the hot wetness of Blake's mouth, his lips and tongue working his cock into a frenzy. Joam leaned back against the tile under the showerhead and watched the water stream over Blake's head and down his back. He remembered leaning against the cold metal of the little shower stall in the back of Higgs's garage, the tepid water trickling over his body as he jerked off to a fantasy in his mind. So much had changed in such a short time. Joam reached down and ran his fingers through Blake's hair as he thrust his hips, driving forward into the heat and the suction. Blake was his fantasy boy come to life. Joam was a varnal; there was no changing that. Somehow, he'd find a way to stay with Blake and keep him safe at the same time. Blake swallowed Joam to the root, and Joam's fingers dug into his hair as instinct took over and he fucked Blake's mouth. His whole world became heat and wet, and he was thrusting, pumping, driving toward that ultimate destination. Blake cradled his balls with one hand and then slid one soapy finger between Joam's ass cheeks. Joam gasped and spread his legs wider. The finger slipped into his hole with no resistance. Joam loved the feel of it there. He was going to come any second now. As soon as Blake crooked his finger and hit that magic spot inside. Blake must have known it, because he pulled off Joam's cock as he turned his finger and stroked it up the wall of Joam's channel. When he made contact with that spot, white fire raced up Joam's spine and outward. His cock, so certain of its destination a moment before, now bobbed helplessly, its oversensitized flesh throbbing with arousal. All Joam could do was hang on and pant, trusting that Blake knew what he was doing. A second finger joined the first, turning, twisting, and scissoring, gently

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stretching and relaxing tight muscles, preparing him. Now Joam was glad Blake had stopped sucking him. He wanted to come with Blake inside him. Before long, Blake stood and turned Joam so that he faced the showerhead. “You're too tall for me standing. Here.” He reached outside the shower and grabbed some towels and laid them down on the bottom of the tub. “Kneel on your hands and knees on those.” Joam's whole body thrummed with the need to be taken. He did as Blake said. The hot spray of the shower pelting his back was like a thousand kisses on his skin. An empty condom packet floated past him on the currents moving around the towels, and a moment later, Joam felt lube-coated fingers stroking his entrance, followed by the blunt head of Blake's cock. This was only the second time Joam had been penetrated by a man. A little thread of fear snaked through him, but his desire was stronger. He pushed back and felt the tip of Blake's penis enter him, opening him up. Blake rested one hand on Joam's hip; the other stroked his back. “Easy. It's okay.” Joam nodded. “Please,” he managed to choke out past the desire filling his throat. “I want you to.” Slowly, Blake pushed forward, sliding into Joam by increments. He was so big, he stretched Joam wide open, wider than Joam would have thought possible. The feeling was scary, exciting, painful, and unbearably erotic, and it just kept going on and on, seemingly without end. But finally Blake's balls brushed Joam's, and he paused. Joam relished the feeling of fullness. He was stuffed to the brim with Blake's cock, filled so completely he felt like he couldn't move, like he could barely breathe. His own cock was so hard, it bumped against his belly. Already they were both panting, a sound barely audible over the spray of the shower. “Joam,” Blake breathed, running a soothing hand up and down his back. “I want to fuck you now.”

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“Yes! Do it!” Blake grabbed Joam's hips and pulled out in one long, smooth stroke. Then he reversed direction and plunged back in, sliding right over that special spot. Joam curled his toes, opened his mouth, and let out a high-pitched, keening sound that would have humiliated him at any other time. But right now, he didn't care about anything but the hot cock marauding in his ass. Blake pulled out again and pounded in again, faster this time, and again, harder. Joam pushed back to meet him. Their pace accelerated. Soon Blake was making noises too, a low, guttural “huh,” every time he buried himself in Joam's body. The fear, the discomfort were things of the past for Joam. He felt like this was what he was born to do—take Blake's cock and ride it. He never wanted it to end, but at the same time, he could feel his orgasm building like a storm amassing on the horizon, and every stroke brought him closer to it. His belly quivered, and his balls drew up tight to his body. His cock throbbed, begging for attention. “Bl-blake!” “Huh, uh, uh!” Blake himself was beyond all reason now, his thrusts frantic and uncontrolled. He lay across Joam's back, hips pistoning. “Joam!” Just as Joam thought he couldn't hold out any longer, that he'd have to try to reach down and bring himself off and hope that the move didn't bring them both crashing down onto the floor of the tub, he felt Blake's hand close around his needy shaft and squeeze. With a flash of ecstasy like a lightning bolt, Joam's orgasm cracked him wide open and poured out of him in a torrent of cum. He humped into Blake's hand, gasping and spurting. Meanwhile, Blake thrust deep into him and stayed there, shouting his release. “Joam!” In the wake of the storm, they both slid to the bottom of the tub and lay there, curled around one another, the water pelting them.

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When they finally got out and turned off the shower, the bathroom was dripping with steam. It fogged the mirror and the little window beside the sink and rolled in droplets down the tile. “I guess we forgot to turn on the fan,” said Blake. “And we used up all the towels,” noted Joam, nodding from the sodden mass of towels in the bottom of the tub to the towel bar, bare except for a couple of washcloths and hand towels. “We'll have to use these.” Blake opened the door to let the steam out, and they dried themselves off as best they could with the hand towels. Joam laughed. “We look pretty silly,” he said. Blake paused, the washcloth he was using to dry his pubes already soaked through. He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.” They abandoned their drying effort and dashed back into the room, diving beneath the bedcovers, shivering from the cool air on their damp bodies. “Here,” said Joam, holding up the covers between them. “Snuggle in and get warm.” Blake scooted forward until their bodies pressed against one another. Joam wrapped his arms around Blake's shoulders. Blake snaked his arms around Joam's waist. For a while they just lay together, soaking up the warmth and the closeness. For Blake it was a real novelty, sharing intimacy with someone for a purpose other than getting him off. He gave a deep sigh and let his eyes drift closed. A few moments later, he heard Joam snore, and then there was nothing but the warmth and the dark.

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Chapter Two Joam dreamed he was running through the woods near the house he grew up in. His body was that of a large dog built to run. Long and lean, with a deeply curved chest that drew plenty of air to fuel his powerful muscles. He raced across the forest floor, leaping over dead branches and brush. He ran for the sheer joy of it. It was night, and a full moon grinned down at him from above. Suddenly, Joam caught a scent of something indescribably alluring. The smell commanded him. He ran toward it. The little white clapboard house belonging to his mother came into view. The smell, something like a combination of vanilla, lilac, and sex, came from someone inside it. As he got closer, as the scent got stronger, thoughts of just what he wanted to do to its source flitted through his mind like jagged teeth. He was hungry, so hungry. And whoever it was smelled so good. He just wanted to devour— He tried to turn from the house, but there was no holding back. He burst through the door. Even as his human self cried out in protest within, he leaped at the figure standing by the sink. Just as he was about to land, the person turned. It wasn't his mother after all. That's right, his human part remembered. He hadn't killed her. Higgs had manipulated

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him into thinking he had, but he hadn't. No. It was Blake, looking at him in fear and horror. So much the better, thought the beast, and he sank his teeth into Blake's throat. Blake's scream became a wail of sirens, and Joam opened his eyes to the dark motel room, illuminated by flashing red and blue lights. Someone pounded on the door. “Open up; it's the police!” Joam struggled to get his bearings. Beside him, Blake pushed himself upright and threw off the covers. For a split second, they stared at one another, and then they both ran to the window in the bathroom. It was not the kind of window that was designed to open. Blake lifted the lid off the back of the toilet and threw it through the doublepaned glass. Joam took one of the sodden towels from the bottom of the tub and draped it over the jagged shards of glass poking up from the frame. “You first,” he said, and Blake hesitated for a second. “Come on, no time for arguments.” Blake squeezed through the window. Despite the towel, fragments of glass scratched his hip, leaving streaks of blood on his golden skin. Joam flashed on jagged teeth and more blood, then forced himself back to the present, wriggling through the window and landing on a narrow berm of grass between the motel and a drainage ditch. He expected Blake to already be running, but he was standing there waiting for him. The night air was cold, and a drizzle misted their naked skin. Joam grabbed his hand, and together they pelted down the slope of the ditch, leaped the thin trickle of water at the bottom, and ran up the opposite slope, where a cyclone fence separated them from the parking lot of a strip mall. “Hurry,” whispered Joam, shoving Blake toward the fence. Blake started to climb, and Joam went up after him. Both of them topped the fence, hung from their hands, and dropped to the asphalt parking lot below. The landing stung in Joam's feet and ankles.

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He heard more sirens, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw flashing lights coming down the street toward the parking lot of the shopping center. “Shift,” said Blake. Joam realized he must still be disoriented from his dream. He shook his head to clear it and grabbed Blake's hand. “Come on.” He started for the back of the nearest shop, a Big Lots. “Shift, Joam,” said Blake. “What? No!” “You'll be able get away.” “And leave you? Fuck that. Come on.” They ran down the alley behind the strip mall. The sirens got louder. It sounded like at least two patrol cars had turned into the parking lot of the strip mall and were heading for the alley. As Joam fled with Blake beside him, blue and red lights reflected off the damp pavement and the cinder block walls of the buildings. No. They'd almost had everything they'd ever wanted, and it wasn't that much, just each other and the freedom to make a life together. Now, it was all going to end before it even had a chance to start. Two more squad cars screeched to a halt at the end of the alley ahead of them, blocking that exit. They were midway down the alley and just coming to a break in the buildings, where a drive led to the back from the parking lot in front. On their left, the brick wall was punctuated by a wire mesh gate—chained and locked, of course. Running into the parking lot would only prolong the chase. There were bound to be more squad cars blocking that exit by now. Blake tried a door to one of the businesses, but it was locked. Over the gate was their only option, but it was too tall. By the time they got to the top, the cops would be out of the cars, shooting at them. They were trapped. “Freeze, or we'll shoot!” came a voice over a megaphone behind them.

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A Jeep barreled through the gap between the buildings and skidded to a halt in front of them. The door flew open. “Hurry up. Get in!” someone shouted. There was no time to think. They piled into the Jeep and slammed the door shut. Shots rang out as the Jeep's tires spun for a moment on the damp pavement and then gripped, propelling them straight through the chain-link aluminum gate.

The gate gave with a snap and a crunch. For a moment it clung to the hood of the Jeep, and Blake thought it was going to crash through the windshield, but then it slid to the side, and he felt the rear tires roll over it. Now they were on the streets of a residential area. The Jeep sped past houses and parked cars to the next major street and straight through the intersection. It was a miracle they didn't hit anyone. The driver had long hair, but in the dim light, Blake couldn't make out much more—not the hair color, not the person's gender. Nothing was said as they plummeted down another side street, taking turns at a tire-squealing pace. Less than five minutes later, they were skidding to a halt in a driveway. “Come on. Let's go.” The driver's contralto offered no clues in the gender department, but once out of the car, Blake saw that he was a tall, slender man with blond hair. He hustled them out of the Jeep and into the backseat of a Honda Accord parked on the street. Blake glanced around at the houses. The windows were dark, their inhabitants asleep. No one would witness this bizarre scene of two naked men scrambling from one car to another. “There's clothes for you in that bag on the floor,” said their rescuer. Joam and Blake explored the contents of a brown paper shopping bag and pulled on sweatpants, sweaters, socks, and dollar-store tennis shoes as the man drove at a brisk but lawful pace down the street, around several turns, and out onto another major road, where they joined the flow of traffic.

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Squad cars with flashing lights sped toward them in the oncoming lane, and Blake tensed, but the police rushed right past them, taking no notice of the Honda in the stream of other cars. Blake glanced at Joam, who sat stiff in the seat beside him, his skin pale in contrast to the navy blue nubby sweater he now wore. Blake took his hand, and Joam gripped it bruisingly hard. Sweat trickled down the side of his face, silver in the intermittent light of the streetlights. “That was really stupid,” said the driver. “You should have ditched the Lincoln as soon as possible. They'll always find a car.” “Who are you?” asked Blake. They came to a stoplight, and the driver turned around. “I'm Vic, and I'm a member of an outreach group helping varnals and humans understand one another. Needless to say, we're friends of the enemies of Gregor Walsh.” “We're not Walsh's enemies,” said Blake. Vic laughed. “You are now.” “How do you even know about us?” “We've been tracking Gregor Walsh's activities for some time. We're sorry we were unable to intervene back in Beulah, but the time wasn't right.” “Are you a cop?” asked Joam. Vic smiled. “No. We operate in what you could call an unofficial capacity.” There was a pause. “We're varnals.” “Varnals,” said Joam. “But you're against Walsh.” “Walsh is the kind of varnal that makes assimilating into human society next to impossible for the rest of us. We want him brought to justice, but it's not easy. He has contacts everywhere. That's another reason we couldn't help you sooner than we did. We needed to know for sure that you weren't on his side.” “After he nearly did us in?”

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“Before. He's been known to turn on close associates in the past. But people still get involved with him because he's so powerful. Then they're afraid to leave. We had to be certain that wasn't the case with either of you.” “And what convinced you?” demanded Blake. “Walsh was the one who called in the report on you.” There was a pause as Joam and Blake looked at one another, absorbing this. They were out of the city now, driving through the northern Texas countryside. It was dark and quiet, and the rhythmic ticking of the tires across the pavement was like a lullaby. All of a sudden, Blake was exhausted, and he remembered that he and Joam had barely slept in three days. He was dehydrated, the backs of his eyeballs were sore, and despite the recent shower, he felt sticky and sweaty from their chase. Joam squeezed his hand, and they huddled together. Still, he couldn't relax. “What happens now?” he asked. “We take you to a safe house. There, Joam will have the opportunity to learn more about what it means to be a varnal, and you will be educated as to the consequences of getting romantically involved with a varnal.” “Consequences?” asked Joam. “What consequences?” “We'll discuss all of that later. Right now, just relax. We'll be there soon.”

***** Twenty minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of a farmhouse. Vic escorted them up the walk. The screen door creaked as he opened it. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Go on in. Saffron will be in the kitchen. She'll help you get settled. I'm going to ditch the car, just in case.” They walked into a short hallway where boots and shoes lay scattered on the muddy floor, along with a much-beleaguered doormat. A closet door stood partway open, revealing coats and jackets. The landing opened onto a living room with bare, cream-colored walls.

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A man and a woman, both about Blake's age, sat on a couch watching television. The boy, who had reddish brown hair and freckles, stared blankly at the screen and leaned back against the girl, an oval-faced blonde, her skin so pale it looked like cream. She had her arms and legs wrapped around the boy, and she stared at Joam and Blake with cornflower blue eyes, an uncertain expression on her face. “Hi.” “Hi,” said Blake. “We…uh… Vic said to find Saffron? In the kitchen?” The girl nodded. “Through that hallway there.” She pointed over her shoulder. Blake noticed that the boy had not moved or even glanced at them. He still stared at the television, seemingly unaware of anything else. “Did that scrawny vagabond Vic just drop you two off to fend for yourselves?” said a woman wiping her hands on a dishtowel as she entered the living room. She was tall and ample, her bosom, belly, and hips stretching the fabric of her purple hippie dress. Her hair was red, long, and curly, and she had a beautiful face—plump cheeks and lips and a warm, friendly expression. “I'm Saffron. You must be Walsh's latest victims.” “I'm Blake, and this is Joam.” Saffron shook her head and clucked. “The two of you look dead on your feet. You've been on the run for what, two days now, three? And that's not counting the shenanigans in Beulah, is it?” Blake felt the tension that had been keeping him awake and active over the past thirty-six hours unraveling in the presence of this warm, kindly woman. “Yes, ma'am,” said Joam, who, by the way his shoulders drooped, felt the same way. “Well, come on into the kitchen. I'll fix you both a nice glass of my cinnamon tea while Enid and Jimmy get your room ready. Enid, hon?” “We're on it, Saff.” Enid untangled herself from the boy—Jimmy, presumably— and led him down the hallway.

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Saffron showed them into a large, warm kitchen. A round wooden table sat in the middle of the room, and beyond it was a fridge that looked like it dated from the 1950s. Beside it stood a big white-enamel stove that looked even older. “I expect you're both pretty dehydrated, what with the run and all. Have you eaten?” Blake and Joam exchanged a smile. “Yes, ma'am,” said Joam. She clucked. “So formal. Aren't you sweet? It's Saffron, or Saff, as you like. Have a seat, boys.” She ambled over to the refrigerator, where she pulled out a large pitcher. She took two glasses down from a cupboard over the sink and plunked one each down in front of Joam and Blake. “This tea is my special recipe,” she said. “Lots of electrolytes, plus the cinnamon will soothe your jagged nerves. Not to mention it's yummy.” She poured them each a large glassful of the reddish amber liquid. Blake sipped it. It was delicious. Cinnamon, just as she'd said, and maybe a touch of honey. He didn't realize how thirsty he was. He drank the whole glass down. When he finished, he looked over and saw that Joam, too, had drained his. Saffron poured them some more and sat down across from them, leaning on the table with her arms. “I'm so glad Vic got to you in time.” Joam took another swallow of tea, and Blake asked, “How did you know about us?” Saffron was about to answer, when Enid appeared in the doorway, Jimmy trailing behind her. “The room's ready for you,” she said, glancing at them and then away. She was a little shy. “Thank you, dear,” said Saffron, and then to Joam and Blake, “I'll take you up soon as you're ready.” In unison, they finished their tea and stood. Joam started toward the sink, and Saffron took the glasses from them and set them on the counter. “Don't bother with that. I'll get it later.”

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She led them down the hallway to a stairway that creaked beneath her as she made her majestic way up it. “Right this way.” They followed her to the second floor, which seemed to have at least six bedrooms. Saffron led them to a room at the back of the house. “Bathroom's right there.” She pointed to a door at the end of the hallway. “You just make yourselves comfortable, and if there's anything you need, just holler. Oh, one other thing. You're a mixed couple, right? I think I remember Vic saying one of you is human?” Blake stepped closer to Joam, who put a protective arm around him. “That's right,” said Blake. She nodded. “Which one of you is the varnal?” “I am,” said Joam. “Blake, why don't you go inside and get comfortable? I need to talk to Joam for a moment in private.” They exchanged glances. “It's okay,” said Joam. “It'll just be a minute. I'll be right in.” Saffron smiled and nodded. Blake didn't like the idea of them separating, even for a few minutes. “We'll be right out here, Blake. Nothing is going to happen.” Suddenly, he felt silly. They needed to talk varnal stuff, probably. Why was he being such a nervous Nellie about it? He wanted Joam to learn more about his varnal nature. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. He went into the room and shut the door behind him.

Saffron led Joam a little ways down the hallway, out of earshot of the room where Blake was waiting for him. She stood close. She was almost as tall as he was. She put a hand to his cheek in a motherly fashion. It was warm. “I probably don't need to tell you this, son, but you do know you have to be careful with your human lovers, right?”

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Joam's stomach twisted. “Careful?” “You don't want him to end up like Jimmy downstairs, do you? Enid's puppy? She played too hard with him, I'm afraid. Didn't mean to, of course, but these things happen. Ours is a passionate breed, and we can get carried away. The risk is even greater when both parties are tired.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and stepped back. “Well, good night.”

Blake stood at the door, which he'd left open a crack, and listened to Joam and Saffron's conversation. “Ours is a passionate breed, and we can get carried away. The risk is even greater when both parties are tired. Well, good night.” Blake watched Joam watch Saffron walk down the hallway. He was pale, his jaw rigid. He swallowed and seemed to force himself to stir. He looked at Blake, his dark eyes fathomless. “Come on,” said Blake. Joam came inside, and Blake turned to examine the rest of the room. It was small but neat. A double bed sat in one corner, with a nightstand beside it supporting a lamp and an old-fashioned windup alarm clock. There was a chest of drawers on the wall facing the bed, and a chifforobe hulking against the wall next to the door. A window looked out onto the backyard of the farmhouse, and Blake crossed to it, gazing down at the yard. The moon was just past full, and it lit the trees and a rusted, derelict swing set with silver light. Beyond the dilapidated picket fence were fields. Blake wondered what grew there and who tended it. How had this colony of varnals found this place, and how long had they been here? Vic had called it a “safe house.” Was it? It was dark in the room. Blake hadn't turned on the bedside lamp. But even in the dim light from the windows, he could see how exhausted Joam was by the slump of his

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shoulders and the careful way he shut the door behind him. Blake left the window and put his arms around Joam. “Let's get some rest, babe.” Joam nodded, placing a kiss on top of his head. As Blake pulled back the covers of the double bed, he marveled at what he'd just done. He'd called Joam “babe”—without thought or hesitation. It had just come out, naturally. And from Joam's lack of reaction, it had felt natural for him too. Funny. A week ago, they'd never even met. Blake felt like he'd known Joam his whole life, but the feeling was deceptive. The truth was, they hardly knew one another at all. Blake sat down on the edge of the bed and took off his shoes. He looked up in time to catch Joam pulling his sweater over his head. His lean, sculpted torso was a work of art in the moonlight, all hard planes and subtle shadows. Tired as he was, the sight made Blake's cock twitch with interest. Blake stripped off his sweatpants and his sweater and crawled into bed, holding the covers up for Joam, who was bending down to step out of his sweats, showing off that fine, tight ass of his.

Blake's compact, muscular body was almost as intoxicating as his words. “Babe.” He'd called Joam “babe,” seemingly without thinking twice about it. The casual endearment meant even more to Joam because it had come so naturally, without discussion or decision. It was just right. And it felt right. Even though they'd only just met, Joam felt like he'd known Blake all his life. That was deceptive, though. He couldn't afford to make assumptions. Blake had lived a whole life before he met Joam, one Joam knew next to nothing about. “Get in, hurry. These old farmhouses are cold.” It was true. The air of the room was on the chilly side. Sliding between the sheets, with Blake's warm body just inches away from his, was sheer heaven. He was exhausted. Blake must be too. Still, Blake's proximity and his obvious arousal had Joam's cock intent on something other than sleep.

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Blake scooted across the short distance between them and kissed Joam on the lips. It was soft and sweet, and it made every nerve in Joam's body pulse with desire. But from what Saffron had told him, this was exactly the type of situation in which Blake could get hurt. Joam was tired. His defenses were down. Joam wanted to cry from frustration. He broke the kiss. Blake reached between them, and his fingers grazed Joam's hard cock before Joam could pull his hips back to avoid the contact. He took Blake by the shoulders, preventing him from coming in for another kiss. “What's wrong?” asked Blake. Joam sighed. “We're both really tired, Blake. Maybe we should just get some sleep.” “I heard what Saffron said, but she was talking about what could happen when you're in varnal form. Not this. I'm not afraid, Joam. I know you'd never hurt me.” Suddenly, his dream came back to him in vivid detail. “Don't be so sure. You don't know what it's like. How strong the feelings are.” He paused. “Did you see that guy?” Blake nodded. “I know. But that's not going to happen to me. You're going to learn all about what it means to be a varnal. I'm sure there are ways to prevent anything bad from happening, and in the meantime”—he stole in for another kiss—“we'll just stick to your human form.” Joam swallowed. “But what if I lose control? What if I shift without meaning to?” Blake's laugh was carefree. “That can't happen.” He paused. “Can it?” Joam ran his hand through Blake's hair, his other hand on Blake's shoulder, preventing any more contact. His cock raged in frustration, but he was not going to give in. “I'm not going to take the chance.” Blake stared at him, blinking. “Oh,” he said at last, an encyclopedia's worth of confusion, doubt, and unhappiness in that syllable. He took a deep breath and nodded,

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then forced a smile. “Um, well, good night, then.” He rolled onto his other side, away from Joam. “Good night,” Joam said to Blake's back.

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Chapter Three Blake awoke early. Dawn was just beginning to peep through the curtains on the window. He'd rolled over in his sleep, instinctively seeking Joam's warm body. Now he lay half on top of him, his morning woody plastered to Joam's hip and Joam's own erection solid under his hand. He smiled and began to stroke Joam. A tiny whimper escaped Joam's lips, and he thrust into Blake's hand. He was still asleep; the anxious mind that had pushed Blake away last night was out of the picture for the moment. Joam's body knew what it wanted, and Blake ducked under the covers before its owner could wake up and worry himself out of lovemaking again. Blake relished the musky taste of Joam's cock, the little pearl of precum at the top, so slick and sweet. He lapped it up, then swirled his tongue around the head while he pumped the base of Joam's shaft with his hand. Blake wondered about Joam's fear of accidentally changing. He'd never heard of anything like that happening with varnals. Was it true, or did Joam have another reason for pushing him away? One he maybe didn't want to acknowledge, even to himself. Blake tried to ignore the thought, concentrating on what he was best at. He sucked Joam's cock down, deep throating him. That's right, said the voice in his head that

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sneaked up on him sometimes, when he was alone and feeling vulnerable. Do your job, whore. It's all you're good for. No wonder he pushed you away. He knows. He's being nice to you, but he knows what you are. Did you forget? “Blake?” Strong hands reached down, running fingers through his hair and stroking the sides of his face. No, Blake told the voice. This is different. “God! Blake!” Joam bucked against him, and seconds later, hot cum filled his mouth. Blake drank it all down. He surged up out of the blankets and threw himself over Joam's chest, letting his rock-hard erection press against Joam's thigh. Hint, hint. One look at the expression on Joam's face wiped the smile from Blake's face. “What?” “Don't ever do anything like that again,” said Joam, his voice harsh. Anger came to Blake's defense. “What, wake you up with a blowjob? I'm so sorry. How awful for you.” Joam shook his head. “You don't understand. It's dangerous.” Blake rolled his eyes. “Oh please.” “I'm serious! What if I changed? What if I drained you again? I was asleep, dreaming… I had no control.” Blake pushed himself off Joam and sat with his back to the wall, his erection fading fast. He looked out the window, at the bedspread, the clock on the table, anywhere but Joam's accusing eyes. Just what is he accusing you of? The only sound in the room was the ticking of that clock. Blake didn't know what to say, what to do. Last night, Joam had said it was dangerous because he was tired. This morning it was dangerous because he was asleep. Maybe he thought it was dangerous for some other reason. Blake got off the bed and started pulling on the sweatpants he'd had on last night. He felt Joam's eyes on him, but he couldn't look at him, not now. “I got tested one month ago,” he said, pulling on the sweater Vic had given him. “I'm negative. I get

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tested every three months.” The words came out in a monotone and wouldn't stop. “I don't bareback. But I don't always use a condom for oral. A lot of tricks hate it. I'll use one on you, if you want. I should have. I'm sorry.” “Blake! That's not what I—” A knock on the door interrupted him. “You boys decent?” A second later, the door opened and Saffron stuck her head in. With her came the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon. Despite everything, Blake's stomach rumbled. “How do you boys like your eggs?”

***** Saffron had prepared a real farmhouse breakfast, with eggs over easy, bacon, flapjacks with maple syrup, and hot, fresh coffee. There was very little conversation around the table as he and Joam, Saffron, Enid, and Vic dug in. The only one who wasn't eating was Jimmy. He sat beside Enid and listlessly chewed on pieces of toast that she fed him by hand. It was creepy. Blake wanted to ask what was wrong with him, but it seemed rude somehow. Anyway, he wasn't the only one unnerved by the guy. More than once he noticed Joam staring and then catching himself and forcing his gaze back to his plate. “So, Vic, you have any trouble ditching the car?” asked Saffron when they were all done with the food and were down to sipping their coffee. Blake's stomach felt like it was going to burst. He'd better watch himself. At the rate he was going, he'd be putting on the pounds. What if he didn't have to worry about that? From the way Joam had talked about “settling down,” it sounded like he meant for them to stay together for the long term. But did he mean it? And would his squeamishness about Blake's past prevent it, no matter what his intentions?

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“No problem,” Vic was saying. “I sank it in Lake Broken Wing. Bit of a long trip back, even houndclad. I'm beat. Saff, you mind getting Joam started this morning? I'd like to take a nap.” “Sure,” said Saffron, and she looked at Joam. “I think I can handle Varnal 101.” “We really appreciate everything you're doing for us,” said Joam. He glanced at Blake. “If you hadn't shown up when you did last night…” Blake blushed as he remembered what a close call they'd had. And here he was getting all wrapped up in his own insecurities. “No need to thank us, hon,” said Saffron. “That's what we're here for. Right, Vic?” “That's right. As long as there are people out there like Gregor Walsh giving varnals a bad name, we'll be here, helping his victims and educating varnals and the humans who care for them about our true nature.” “You make it sound like being a varnal isn't a bad thing,” said Joam. “It isn't. It's only misuse of our powers and ignorance on the part of society that leads to destructive behavior.” The girl, Enid, nodded. “If I'd known all that Saff and Vic have taught me before taking Jimmy as my lifemate, this wouldn't have happened to him.” Silence settled over the table for a minute. Jimmy swallowed a bite of toast, and drool ran down his chin. Enid clucked and wiped it up with a napkin, then patted him on the back. “Is there… Can… Will he ever get better?” asked Joam, looking pale. Tears stood in Enid's eyes as she shook her head. “He's too far gone.” She looked down at her hands. “I lost control. I was new to my powers, had no education, never knew any other varnals or understood anything about what I was. I love him. I never would have done anything to hurt him. It just… The feelings can be so overwhelming, you know?”

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Joam swallowed and nodded. Blake could see how disturbed he was. He was thinking that the same thing could happen to them. Blake leaned forward. “Then how does a varnal protect their human lover?” Saffron stood up. “That's what we're going to teach Joam, in detail, after breakfast. In other words, right now. Come with me. Vic, you go get some rest. Blake, would you mind helping Enid with the cleaning up?” “Sure,” said Blake. He gave Joam an encouraging smile. Joam smiled back, but it never touched the haunted look in his eyes.

Joam didn't like the idea of parting from Blake, but Saffron had her hand on his arm and was very firmly leading him out of the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder, and Blake, standing next to his chair, looked back at him. Joam had a funny feeling, and suddenly the fear that he wouldn't see Blake again washed over him. “What's wrong, dear?” asked Saffron, who paused to find him looking back at Blake. “Oh. Don't worry. Enid's not going to harm him. Come along now. You want to learn so you won't either, don't you?” Joam nodded. “Then we'd best get started.” Joam sighed. He was being silly, of course. They were among friends here. Nothing was going to happen to Blake. He turned and followed Saffron down the hallway. She opened a door that led to a set of steps going down. The stairs were wood, painted gray, and the damp smell of an old-fashioned basement greeted him, as well as cool air. He followed her down the steps. The basement, more of a cellar, really, was painted white. The first room they entered appeared to be an office. There was a desk and chair, with a computer and a file

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cabinet and a phone. A big corkboard hung on the wall over the desk and was covered with photos and scraps of paper. A generator hummed in one corner. The next room was the laundry room. A set of steps led up to a door to the outside. At the far end of the room, beyond the washer and dryer, the ironing board, and a utility sink, stood another door. Unlike the others in the house, which had all been painted wood, this one appeared to be stainless steel, and instead of a doorknob, it had a turn wheel. “This,” said Saffron, unsealing the door and holding it open, “is the training room.” Joam stepped through the doorway to a large room, lined floor, wall, and ceiling with hard foam rubber. The stuff was gray and appeared to be blown on—there were no seams. The floor sloped gently to a drain in the middle. The room was lit by recessed spots in the ceiling. Otherwise, the fifty-by-fifty-foot space was featureless. Saffron shut the door and turned the crank. It sealed with a hiss. A shiver of trepidation danced up Joam's spine. Saffron smiled and flounced past him, sitting down on the floor. “Relax. I know it seems a bit cell-like, but the idea is that you can do anything in here without fear of harming another person. The padding and the door have come in handy for a few behavior cases we've had, but that's not our concern with you, Joam. For the purposes of your training, this is just a safe, private space. You can ask me anything, and it won't go outside this room. I won't even tell Vic. And later, when he's working with you, the same goes. Anything you tell either of us in confidence will not leave this room.” Joam nodded understanding. “Is there anything you'd like to ask me before we take our full varnal forms?” Suddenly, his mouth was dry. “We're going to…shift?” She nodded. “Of course. How else can you learn about your varnal abilities and how to master them? Unfortunately, in full varnal form we lack speech, but I think

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you'll find that other senses more than compensate for the fact. Still, certain things, like abstract concepts, are easier to handle with language.” “Full varnal form?” She nodded. “Oh. Do you not know? Varnals can take three different forms. This one”—she gestured at herself—“where you appear completely human; the full form, where you take on the body of the hound and manifest your full varnal capabilities; and middle form, which is kind of in between.” She took in his expression. “Have you ever manifested middle form, Joam?” He shook his head. “I didn't even know it existed.” “It can be handy,” she said. “Here, I'll show you.” She stood and drew her dress up over her head. Beneath it she was naked. She took a deep breath, and Joam saw her transform before his eyes. Fur sprouted all over her body, and the distribution of her body mass shifted, her ample belly flowing into powerful flanks, and her breasts shrinking as her shoulders and arms bulked out. Long ears sprouted from the sides of her face, and a bushy tail grew from the end of her tailbone. Her face changed too: her mouth and nose elongated into a blunt snout, and her forehead sloped back. “We can still talk in middle form,” she said thickly, “though it takes a bit of practice. And we can walk upright. Our sensual powers are not as strong as they are when we're houndclad, but we still have them.” She shifted back to her human form and threw her dress on again. “But for today, since you're so new to all this, we'll just focus on full form.” “Houndclad.” She smiled. “That's right. Shall we get started?” “Wait, I have another question,” said Joam. “I'm worried about Blake. I don't want him to wind up like Jimmy.” “Of course not. No one wants that.” “But…how can I protect him and still be his lover?”

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Saffron took a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling a moment. “Ah, of course. You're already withdrawing from him, aren't you?” “Not withdrawing! Just…I'm afraid of what will happen if I lose control.” She nodded. “This is the reason we do not encourage cross-species love affairs. Humans are better off with other humans, and varnals are infinitely better off with other varnals, who can match them in erotic intensity and skill. Perhaps… Have you considered letting him go?” Joam gasped. “No! I can't do that! We're lifemates.” She drew her brows together. “Are you sure?” Joam nodded. “When we were captured by Higgs and Walsh and the others, and I was in varnal form, I could feel everything that Blake felt. And I knew when he was deceiving Walsh. He pretended to reject me and to want Walsh. It fooled Walsh, but not me. I knew the feelings he was projecting were for me.” Saffron gave a sad nod. “You're lifemates. There's no undoing that, except by means of sorcery.” “I don't want to undo it. I love Blake.” “Yes.” “Can I shift into varnal form by accident?” “It can happen, but it's a lot less likely if you practice shifting back and forth and get a lot of experience being in your varnal forms.” “But he's safe if I'm in human form, right?” “As long as you do remain in human form, yes. Varnal powers of energy manipulation are only active when in middle form or houndclad. But don't you see? If you don't shift, you're denying your own nature, making less of yourself. This is why we counsel unattached varnals to seek their own kind.” Joam didn't want to listen to what she was saying. “Can I seal off my varnal self? Is there a way to make it so that I never change?”

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Saffron looked sad. “I'm sorry your experiences so far have made that seem like an acceptable option to you. Even if it could be done, it would require sorcery, and it would be extremely dangerous, almost as dangerous as simply repressing your varnal nature. You are as nature made you, Joam. You're a varnal. The sooner you embrace that fact, the easier it will be for you and for Blake. Suppressing your varnal side will only increase the likelihood of an unplanned, accidental shift.” That was the last thing he wanted to happen. “Please, teach me.” “We will. Starting now. Joam, I want you to change into your full varnal form, pay attention to your thoughts, emotions, and sensations, during the change and after, and then shift back to human form again.” Joam stood and removed his clothing. Unlike the rest of the basement, it was warm in this room. Probably for this very reason. He felt shy about disrobing in front of Saffron, and she seemed to sense it. She stood and turned her back to him, shrugging off her dress again. “I'm shifting with you, so you can have the experience of being with another varnal,” she explained. Joam piled his clothes in one corner and then closed his eyes, doing that thing where he sought inside himself for the beast and invited it out. There was the familiar heightening of sensation: the feel of the rubber matting under his feet, the warm air of the room against his skin, and Saffron's smell, a heady mix of patchouli and human female that sharpened to a high, musky note with her change. Just as he noticed it, he felt himself flow and shift, and then he was on all fours, his body now in the form of a large greyhound. The bare room offered little to his sharpened vision, though he could now make out the faint mottling in the rubber padding in exquisite detail. He turned to find Saffron standing facing him—a beautiful reddish gold hound. It was a surprise to see that her varnal form was just as sleek and slender as his or Gregor Walsh's. They all had the same narrow abdomen and deep rib cage of a canine

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built to run, and the same delicate front paws, with toes so slender and articulated that they were nearly as functional as hands. The pads of those toes were intensely sensitive, and he could feel every bump and dip in the texture of the rubber matting beneath him. The air, which before had seemed odorless here, now carried traces of black coffee and bacon from their breakfast. Stronger than that were Saffron's smell and his own, two different notes off the same musky base. That smell was intoxicating. It was a physical pleasure to breathe it. There were fewer differences between female and male varnal bodies in this form than in the others. She had a vulva; he had testicles and a short, penile sheath from which, when he was aroused, a long bright red penis would emerge. The nipples that ran in rows along her belly were more prominent than his own vestigial ones, but beyond that, they both had the same basic build. Her smell, on the other hand, was undeniably female in a way that he could not quite define. He was relieved. He thought that if Vic were here with him in varnal form right now, the smell of another male would be highly arousing, no matter how he felt about Blake. It was a sensual thrill just to be in this body. Joam paced the room once, twice, noting how light he felt and how his muscles rippled and flexed. He longed to run across open fields and through woods in search of prey…or mates. He felt more alive than he'd thought possible, and that made him restless, impatient to try out this new body's capabilities. His hearing, too, was sharper than it was in human form. He could hear Saffron's heart beating and her breath, and upstairs, the clatter of plates and splash of water as Blake and Enid did the dishes. Still farther away, distant but distinct, he heard the steady breath of Vic sleeping. This was the first time Joam had been in varnal form without any specific agenda since the first time he shifted. He had not taken it to fight or to rescue Blake or to attack Walsh. He could just have it, and he found that he liked it very much. So much that he did not wish to return to human form so soon.

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His heart rebelled against the thought, until he thought of Blake. He could catch a whiff of Blake's scent, even down here. That aroused him, and at the same time made him sad because he could not share this experience with his lover. With a sigh that came out as a doglike whine, he gathered his breath, focused his mind, and shifted back into human form. It was like entering a tiny, dim room after having been outside on a spring day. Everything now seemed muted, diminished. In a way, Joam wished he'd never taken varnal form. He couldn't help but feel disappointed now that he was back to “normal.” Saffron was already in her dress again. Joam put on his clothes and turned to face her. “Well,” she said. “How was it?” Joam sat down on the floor cross-legged. “It felt good. Too good. I didn't want to change back. I wanted to run and hunt and…” “And make love.” He nodded. Saffron sat down across from him, a smile dimpling her plump cheeks. “Those are all perfectly natural things to feel, Joam. And we will run and hunt, later, when the sun is down. You may even want to consort with Vic. He's ambisexual, as most of us are, and I know he finds you attractive.” “No,” said Joam. “No, we're not ambisexual, or no, you're not attracted to—” “No, I don't want to make love with anyone but Blake.” Saffron was silent a moment. “How many sexual partners have you had, Joam?” He sighed. “One.” “Blake.” Joam nodded. “Beulah's a really, really small town. I think I was the only gay guy there. And even if I wasn't, I didn't dare risk being found out. It was bad enough I was a

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varnal, and Higgs never wasted an opportunity to point out how lucky I was that he gave me a job and a place to sleep.” A line formed between Saffron's eyebrows. “And that was your life up until— what—four days ago?” “When I met Blake.” She seemed to make up her mind about something. “So basically, Blake is the first gay man you've ever met, and your first lover, your first love, and your first friend.” “I had friends,” Joam protested, then added, “Before my ma passed. After that, I guess people kind of stayed away.” “And how long ago did your ma pass on?” “Three years ago.” She made a little noise, a small sigh of sympathy. “You've been pretty isolated.” He shrugged. “I guess so.” “And now things are changing very rapidly.” “Yeah.” “Well, no wonder you want to cling to Blake. He's the one who rescued you, in a way.” “Not in a way. He did. He did rescue me.” Saffron nodded understanding. “No wonder your feelings for him are so intense.” Joam stared at her, a question forming in his mind. “Do I feel this way for him because we're destined to be lifemates, or is it the other way around? Is it the intensity of the feelings that somehow made us lifemates?” “That's an interesting question, hon. And when you figure it out, you let the rest of us know, 'kay?”

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Blake couldn't keep from glancing over at Jimmy every few minutes. He washed while Enid dried, and Jimmy…Jimmy sat in a chair in the corner and drooled. It was really freaking him out. Enid seemed nice enough. Blake kept on trying to find the varnal in her. Trying to see past the veneer of nice girl to the beast within that had drained her own lover to the point of making him an imbecile. But he couldn't. It made him wonder. Could something like that happen to him? He knew Joam would never purposely hurt him, but what if it happened by accident? He was so new to his varnal powers. Hell, he was new to sex, period, in any form. Blake realized that Joam's reaction to the surprise blowjob this morning probably had nothing to do with Blake's past. He was worried about hurting him; that was all. Blake felt like a jerk. Jimmy made a low moaning noise and rocked back and forth. Enid caught Blake staring. “He was really intelligent, you know, and kind. He was going to become a veterinarian. We were high school sweethearts. He was the only one who knew what I really was, but he never held it against me. In fact, he was always pushing me to find out more about being a varnal. I didn't want to. I felt bad about it. Like I was dirty. But when we were together, his love made me feel pure.” She swallowed and turned to the sink, now empty. She pulled the plug on the drain. “Now I wish I'd found out all I could about my powers, before it was too late.” “How did you—I'm sorry. You probably don't want to talk about it.” “No, it's okay.” She forced a smile. “If our story can help you and Joam avoid a similar fate, then at least that's something.” She wiped her hands on a dish towel and sat down at the table. “We were fooling around in the woods in the back of the school. Jimmy was always curious about my varnal form and my capabilities. He used to beg me to shift and do it with him houndclad. I'd done it with him in midform a bunch of times—you know, the one that looks kind of like the wolf-man from the old movies? Anyway, he'd been asking me for days to take my full varnal form while we were…you

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know. So I gave in. I'd never made love in full varnal form before, and I was totally unprepared for how powerful an experience it would be. I…” Her cheeks turned pink, and she scratched at a nick in the table with her thumbnail, giving it minute attention. “I had a rolling orgasm,” she said. “And when I finally came out of it, Jimmy was unconscious. I thought he was dying. I rushed him to the hospital. He was in a coma for a month. When he came out of it, he was like this. “I was racked with guilt. I told his parents what had happened. I told them what I was. They were horrified, both at me and their son, for being such a pervert as to find a varnal attractive. They…they said they wouldn't care for a tail chaser.” The epithet was bitter on her lips. “I didn't know much, but I knew we were lifemates. I knew when we made love that last time. That made me Jimmy's next of kin, as far as I was concerned, and I took him.” Blake didn't know what to say. He was ashamed of the fact that he felt relief because in all the heartbreak she'd just related, the phrase “shifted by accident” never occurred. “I'm so sorry,” he managed at last. She gave him a sad, lopsided smile. “At least we're still together,” she said. She went over to Jimmy and ran her hands lovingly through his hair. He goggled up at her, his mouth gaping. “I sometimes wonder if I knew then about the severing ritual, if I'd have done it, and if I'd regret that more or less than what did happen.” Footsteps sounded in the archway from the kitchen to the hall. “Severing ritual?” It was Joam, with Saffron behind him. Enid turned to see him. Her nose was red, her eyes bright. “To sever the life bond.” Joam looked from her to Blake and back again. His next words made a cold fist tighten in the pit of Blake's stomach. “Can that be done?” “It can, but it's not recommended,” said Saffron. “Besides, it's sorcery.” Blake stared at Joam. What was he thinking? Did severing their bond seem like an attractive option to him?

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“And with the progress Joam's making, there won't be any need,” said Saffron, pouring a large glass of cinnamon tea and handing it to Joam. “You boys are going to be fine. Now, how about lunch?”

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Chapter Four That night when they went to bed, Blake crawled into the circle of warmth that was Joam's arms. The feel of Joam's warm, lithe body against his was making him hard, and he could feel Joam's growing erection too, poking at his hip, getting him even more excited. He reached up and drew Joam down for a warm, languorous kiss. Joam's hips flexed, pushing his erection even harder against Blake's hip. Blake shifted just slightly, and their cocks rubbed together. This made Joam gasp, but just as Blake was about to reach down and stroke them both together, Joam scooted away and rolled onto his back. “We'd better not,” he said, running one hand through his hair. “What?” Blake blinked at him in surprise. Their eyes met, and then Blake's gaze traveled down to the tent Joam's cock made in the blankets. His own erection felt like it was ready to explode. “But…” he began, and then fell silent. “It's not safe, Blake. I'm sorry. I think we should just wait until we both know more about how this whole varnal thing works.” Blake clenched his jaw. “But Saffron said you did fine today.” “I know, but…” Joam turned and looked at Blake. In the moonlight, his eyes gleamed silver. “Just now I felt…I felt the animal inside me, Blake. It wants out.”

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Blake wanted to say, Then let it out, but that would be the wrong thing. Suddenly, he felt angry at having to argue about this. “I think you're overreacting,” he said. “You don't know how it feels,” said Joam, a pleading note in his voice. That plaintive tone made Blake feel like the bad guy for being angry with Joam. And that just made him more angry. He rolled onto his side, his back to Joam. “I guess not.” He shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep, which did not happen for quite some time. In the morning, Joam was up before Blake, washed and dressed and everything. “I had a nightmare,” said Joam. “I'm sorry,” said Blake, knowing he should try to comfort Joam. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too angry and hurt. It was another day of training for Joam, and hanging out with Enid and Jimmy for Blake. They watched truTV. That night, Blake didn't even try to make a move on Joam. He just lay there on his side of the bed, as far from that tantalizing body as he could get, his thoughts running in circles. Joam's fear of accidentally changing seemed so unreasonable. Nothing in what the other varnals had told them so far indicated that it was a common occurrence. Why was he so convinced that the moment they made love he'd turn into a raging beast? Maybe Joam was really afraid of something else, and he didn't want to say it. Maybe he was afraid of getting sick. Blake remembered how he'd reacted to the surprise blowjob. He could get tested again, of course, and he would. But the thought of offering up his test results as some sort of certificate of fuckworthiness just pissed him off even more. Bitter resentment toward Joam's recent virgin status made his mouth taste sour. Not everybody had the option of only having sex with people they cared about. Sex had been survival for him. And now he was paying the price.

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He woke in the predawn, scarcely aware of having slept at all. His cock was like a steel pipe, demanding attention. In defeat, he reached down and as quick as he could, before Joam awoke, brought himself to silent, bitter completion.

Joam awoke to a telltale jiggling beside him. He blinked and focused on Blake's back, turned to him. Blake's arm moved in a rhythmic fashion that was instantly familiar to Joam. Blake was jerking off, right beside him, in the same bed. The smell of his arousal only piqued Joam's own. But the mix of feelings that accompanied the situation was complex and confusing. Blake had needs just like anyone else, and at least this way, there was no chance of Joam hurting him. Despite that, and the fact that it was because of him that they hadn't had sex for the past couple of days, he felt hurt, left out. He was being childish. His cock, ever the id-driven four-year-old, didn't care. It twitched impatiently, demanding at the very least the same kind of attention Blake's was getting. Joam lay still, not wanting to exacerbate the already tense situation between him and Blake by letting Blake know that he knew what Blake was doing. He feigned sleep until Blake's jack-off session subsided in a stifled moan. Then after another five minutes or so he stretched, pretending to wake up. He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom, where he took care of his own needs in a similar fashion. When he got back it was to find Blake fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. As Joam entered, Blake quickly looked away, pretending to be absorbed in picking at a thread on one of the buttons of his shirt. “I'm sick of wearing these sweatpants,” he said with little inflection. “All those clothes you bought got left behind in the motel room. I guess we're fated to wear the same stuff over and over again.” “We'll get more when we settle down. It won't be like this forever.” Blake looked up suddenly, his glare belying his earlier, neutral tone. “Won't it?” Joam came and sat down next to him. “No. We're going to get through this, and…something else… It's important for you to understand that—”

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A sudden knock on the door brought Joam's words to a halt. Vic opened the door and said, “Come on, you guys. Time to get going. We've got a big day today.”

***** That morning and afternoon, Joam did more shifting drills with Saffron and Vic, moving from human to full varnal form again and again until he was familiar with every nuance of the change. He even took midform once, an experience that offered a comfortable middle ground between the intense sensations and feelings of being houndclad and the safe familiarity of his human form. If it wasn't for the trouble between him and Blake, the day would have been great. By the time they were done, it was six o'clock, and smells of venison stew taunted him as he completed his last transition. He felt tired but good. Maybe he'd been overcautious before, avoiding sex with Blake. He'd hurt his feelings over it, that much he couldn't be more certain of. Well, he seemed to have a handle on the shifting. The troubling dreams he'd been having had abated too. That had to be a good sign. Tonight, he'd talk with Blake, make sure he understood that the period of abstinence had nothing to do with him. And then he could show Blake just how much he'd missed him. Just the thought of it made his cock pulse. He gave Saffron a smile, and she beamed at him. “Feeling better about things?” He nodded. “You're right. Practicing like this makes it seem less scary. I can feel what's going on.” “Good. Now let's call it a day. I'm starving.” Joam found Blake in the living room with Enid and Jimmy. “Hey,” he said. Blake jumped off the couch and came toward him. Joam thought he was going to hug him, but then he stopped short, his arms hanging at his sides. “How was your afternoon?” His voice had the same level, reserved quality he'd adopted over the last couple of days.

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“Come on. Let's eat,” said Vic from the kitchen. Blake went past Joam and took a seat. Joam snagged the chair next to his, reached under the table, and took his hand. Blake looked at him, a question in his eyes. Joam gave him a smile that he hoped was reassuring, and squeezed his hand. “So, Joam,” said Vic, ladling venison stew into his bowl. “Are you ready for your first hunt tonight?” “Tonight?” Joam had been looking forward to some quiet time with Blake, just the two of them. Inside him, he felt the hound pacing. All morning long, and this afternoon too, when he wasn't preoccupied with Blake's hurt, all he'd thought about when in varnal form was running across the open countryside. “Yeah, tonight,” said Saffron. “You're a quick learner, Joam. You're ready.” Joam looked to Blake. “I don't know. I was kind of hoping we could spend some time together tonight.” “No,” said Blake. “You should go with them. It'll be good for you.” There was a funny look in his eyes. Joam was tempted to shift right then, just for the sake of getting a better read on Blake's emotional state. But he didn't. He remembered the conversation he and Saffron had walked in on the other day at lunchtime. Blake had been talking to Enid about severing the life bond. Maybe Joam had been misreading things, thinking Blake was upset about their abstinence. Maybe he was having second thoughts about being with Joam. Maybe all this was too much for Blake. Maybe he needed some space to think things over. “Are you sure?” “Yes. I don't need a babysitter. Go.” Joam blinked. There was no mistaking Blake's frustration. Clearly he felt pressed, maybe overwhelmed by this new relationship—smothered. Okay. “Okay.”

“Are you sure you don't mind?” asked Joam after dinner.

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Saffron and Vic were doing the dishes, and Enid and Jimmy were in the living room watching television. That left Blake and Joam in the hallway, discussing Joam going off with the varnals and leaving Blake behind with Jimmy. Again. Blake couldn't help but wonder when his training was going to begin, or if it just consisted of hanging out with Jimmy and Enid. He looked at Joam. At least he was getting a chance to discover more about being a varnal. Loath as Blake was to babysit Jimmy, who brought back unpleasant memories of what Gregor Walsh had done to his friend Randy, he couldn't deny Joam this opportunity. Besides, what can you offer him that a varnal mate couldn't do a thousand times better? “Of course,” he said. “Go. I'll be fine.” Joam looked at him a moment more, as if trying to see if he really meant it. That crooked smile sprang to life on his face. “I should shift, so I can tell if you're just saying that for my sake.” Blake shook his head. “You need this.” “It'll only be for a couple of hours. And we'll talk when I get back, okay? I…I know something's bothering you, Blake. I want to work it out with you, whatever it is.” Blake's breath caught in his throat. What was wrong with him? Why was he so determined to find rejection in Joam's actions, despite the persistent evidence that Joam really cared about him? Was he too damaged to even have a relationship? Maybe Joam being a varnal and his being a human were the least of their problems. Blake took Joam in his arms and held him tight. “Okay. You're right. We'll talk when you get back.” Joam seemed to sense the change in him. “I could stay.” He couldn't deny Joam the opportunity to embrace his whole self with others of his kind. “No. It's not a big deal. It can wait.” “Okay.” Joam bounced a little on the balls of his feet. Just then, Saffron and Vic came into the hallway. “Ready?” Vic asked Joam.

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They all shifted in the living room. Blake had braced himself for it, but nothing could prepare him for suddenly being surrounded by four varnals. He hoped he didn't show how terrified he was, and then realized that he could hide nothing from Joam when he was in varnal form. Joam padded up to him and bumped his head gently against Blake's hip, whining reassurance. Blake ran his fingers through the short, velvety-soft fur. “I'm okay,” he tried to reassure the beast. “I'll be fine.” Joam circled him, rubbing his shoulders and flank against Blake's legs, then joined the others near the door. Each one was different. Vic was silver-gray, like Walsh had been. Saffron was copper-colored. Enid was the smallest of the four, a pale yellow and white. Vic sat on his haunches, reached up with one of those handlike paws they had, and turned the doorknob. They all filed out, and the door shut behind them with a click. Blake stood a moment, looking at the door. Behind him, he could practically feel Jimmy drooling. He shook his head. He was being selfish. He didn't want to deal with Jimmy, because Jimmy represented what could happen to him, and what had happened to Randy, none of which was Jimmy's fault. Where was his compassion? What would he have done, if Randy had not died that night that Walsh drained him, but had lived on, as Jimmy did? Didn't Blake owe it to Randy's memory to do for Jimmy what he would have wanted to do for Randy? Blake took a deep breath and turned around. He went back into the living room. Jimmy sat on the far end of the couch, within the circle of light cast by the lamp on the side table. He had his feet up on the couch, his knees close to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and he rocked slightly. Self-stimulation, Blake had heard it called during a brief stint in a local LGBT community-outreach program. Sure. Jimmy was probably freaking out with Enid gone. Near as he could tell, they were never apart. For the first time, Blake forced himself to really look at Jimmy, to see beyond the varnal victim to what remained of the person he had been before. Jimmy had a rounded, youthful face, but on closer inspection, Blake guessed he was probably in his midtwenties at least. He had reddish brown hair and fair skin, with freckles across his

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nose. He was slight of build, with long, tapering fingers and narrow lips. His chin was blunt, his eyes wide-spaced. His eyes were brown with flecks of green, and they looked right through Blake as if he weren't even there. Blake sighed, switched on the television, and sat down next to Jimmy, who neither flinched nor relaxed. “Hey,” said Blake. “Do you like to watch Monk?” Jimmy seemed to relax a bit at the sound of another human voice, so Blake kept it up. “That used to be my favorite. There was this one time when a bunch of guys I hung out with all chipped in on an apartment. We had a television with cable, and I used to watch it every chance I got. I love the way he gets when he's solving a crime of sorcery. I think it would be cool to be able to do that. To notice details and figure things out. What about you?” Jimmy didn't answer. “Oh, this is a great episode,” said Blake as the opening scene played out on the screen. “It's the one where he's been thrown out of the temple, and the Zen master is trying to get him reinstated. I've seen it before, but that's okay. I won't tell you how it comes out.” “Hhhhhhh,” Jimmy sighed. Blake glanced at him. He'd stopped rocking. It turned out that the station was showing a Monk marathon. Partway through the second episode, Jimmy made another utterance in response to some inane comment of Blake's. This time, Jimmy's eyes actually tracked to Blake's, though his gaze soon wandered back to the television screen. And then came the episode with the dog. Bhikkhu Adrian had brewed a cup of tea with great mindfulness and precision, and the Zen master's dog came into the Buddhist monk's cell while he wasn't looking. Just as Adrian was raising the cup to his lips, and the dog was about to jump on him, Jimmy went ballistic. The couch squeaked as he rocked back and forth, one hand extended to point at the screen. His breath came in

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rapid gasps, and his face was pale, his eyes wide and staring. “N-n-no! No! NO! NONONONONONONONO!” Blake switched off the television, but that didn't calm Jimmy down at all. In fact, he turned and grabbed Blake by the shoulders, shaking him hard. “Hey, easy there. Jimmy! Jimmy! It's okay. It's just a television show. See? I turned it off.” Jimmy shook his head. “No! Bad! Don't!” His eyes locked on Blake's, and his mouth worked silently for a moment as he seemed to become a bit more aware of his surroundings than Blake had noticed before. “Jimmy?” Abruptly, his eyes closed and he slumped back on the sofa, fast asleep.

The night air ruffling through Joam's fur was perfumed with a myriad of scents. Pine and birch, hay and diesel fuel, owl and mouse and deer. His muscles rippled as he ran full out, the other members of the pack around him. They scudded across the fields and woods like shadows, unseen in the night. Up in the sky, the quarter moon grinned down on them, casting everything in a magical, silvery light. At first, they ran for the sake of running, but before long, Vic had scented a hare and they were after it, paws tearing up sod and soil. They ran the rabbit down beside an old, abandoned barn, and Vic snatched it up in his jaws and, with one quick shake, broke its neck. As the others tore the body to pieces, Joam hung back. It had never occurred to him that varnals hunted and ate prey like this. He supposed it made sense—they were canines, after all. Still, much as he had enjoyed the chase, its sudden conclusion left him uncomfortable, and somehow, the idea of actually eating the raw, bleeding flesh seemed to cross a line he was not at all certain he wanted to be on the other side of. The rabbit was devoured all but for a haunch. Saffron, Vic, and Enid stood in a half circle around it, staring, waiting for him to take his share. He sat and shook his head from side to side.

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With a lopsided grin that clearly expressed the thought, your loss, Saffron devoured the haunch. They ran on, no longer hunting or, at least, not for rabbits. At length they came to a clearing in a wood. The trees around them were pine, and their needles covered the ground, forming a soft, springy, fragrant blanket. Saffron lay down and rolled onto her back, wriggling this way and that, rubbing her face against the needles. Vic trotted over to her and dipped his nose between her legs. She wriggled some more. Joam became aware of a scent emanating from both of them, a musk whose very odor had him hardening with arousal. Saffron rolled back onto all fours, and Vic mounted her. They made soft huffing, grunting noises. Enid went to Saffron and started licking her face while Vic fucked her. Joam found he wanted nothing more than to get up on Vic and mount him while he thrust into Saffron. But what about Blake? Was it cheating if it was with other varnals, while Blake was human? As much as his heightened varnal libido urged him to take a liberal view of the matter, his conscience would not be swayed. If he were married to a woman and had sex with a man, it would be cheating, no matter that what he could have with his male lover was something his wife could not give him. It wasn't Blake's fault that he wasn't a varnal, and no matter what the circumstances, fucking Vic would hurt Blake's feelings, and nothing was worth that. Vic looked over his shoulder to where Joam sat at the edge of the circle, erection raging. Vic grinned. Clearly he thought Joam a fool. Or perhaps at war with his own nature. The latter was certainly true. As the trio shifted positions, so that Saffron was licking Enid's pussy while Enid licked and slurped at Vic's bright red varnal penis, the musk and the sexual energy rolling off the group was all but overpowering. Joam reached down with one forehand and stroked himself. Now Vic was fucking Enid while Saffron finger fucked his asshole. Joam felt as if it were all happening to him. In a sense, whether he acted or not, he was having sex

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with all of them. Caught within the field of their sexual energy, he experienced everything they did with one another. He found he couldn't break away. The force of three varnals driving each other to climax was too powerful to evade. Joam's legs refused his efforts to direct them away from the clearing and back to the farmhouse. All he could do was writhe in eversharpening pleasure, stroking himself as Enid, Saffron, and Vic licked, fucked, and sucked one another, and the moon overhead grinned down upon them all. Enid, her pussy stuffed full of Vic's cock and her face buried in Saffron's snatch, came first. Her orgasm hit Joam like a shock wave. The burst of sexual energy triggered Saffron's release, then Vic's. Joam found himself in the eye of a storm, the waves of sexual ecstasy buffeting him about like a ship tossed on the ocean, wringing his own shattering, white-hot climax from him in a burst that obliterated everything in its wake. Joam came to himself a moment later. He lay on the ground, his hand sticky, his cock tumescent and rapidly retreating into its sheath. He drew in a deep breath redolent with sex and got to all fours. The others were grooming one another, and when they saw Joam recovered, they came to him. Their touch was no longer sensual, but instead merely kind, stroking and gentling his shattered senses with delicate hands, smoothing ruffled fur with soft tongues. It felt wonderful to be accepted by them like this. Joam let go of his doubts and inhibitions for the moment and accepted their ministrations.

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Chapter Five Once they were all cleaned up, the pack headed back to the farmhouse. Vic opened the door, and they all piled in, returning to their human forms in the foyer. Back in his human body, with senses more moderate and controllable, Joam felt shame for what he'd done. No, he hadn't actually had sex with any of them…or had he? He'd think about that later. Without bothering to dress first, he went into the living room in search of Blake. But the living room was empty. “Blake?” He heard the steps to the second floor creak. Joam went into the hallway to find Blake halfway down the stairs, his face hidden in shadow. “I was putting Jimmy to bed. He was tired.” There was something odd about Blake's voice. He sounded oddly detached. “Is everything okay?” “Of course,” Blake said, but the words sounded remote, mechanical. He took another step, and his face came into the light. For a moment, it looked pinched, suspicious. Then Blake smiled and hastened the rest of the way down the stairs and into Joam's arms. “How was it? What did you do?” “It was fun,” said Joam, not knowing what else to say. No way was he answering that second question. Instead, he just hugged Blake tight, savoring the man's warmth.

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By now the others had dressed and were making their way past them to the kitchen. All but for Enid, who wormed around them to go upstairs. As she passed them, she gave Joam a little smile and trailed the fingertips of one hand across his flank. He shifted. Had Blake noticed? “What about you? How was your evening?” “Fine,” said Blake, in that too-level tone. “Jimmy and I had a fine old time. There was a Monk marathon on TV.” “Monk… I think I saw that once on the tube in Sam's bar. He's a demon hunter or something, right?” “Onmiogi,” Blake corrected. “A Buddhist monk who uses magic powers to fight sorcerers and eldritch creatures,” Blake corrected. It came to Joam how out of touch he was with the world. The human world. Any world. The thought made him feel lonely, and he hugged Blake again, resting his face against the side of his neck. “Hey, you okay?” “Yeah,” said Joam. “Let's go upstairs.”

Blake sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes fixed on the moon outside the window. Joam sat down next to him and took his hand. “You've been upset. I can feel it every time I take varnal form. What's wrong? Is it the abstinence?” After the weird night he'd just had, the last thing Blake wanted to do was expose his personal insecurities. This is what it will be like, he realized. Their bond meant that he couldn't hide his feelings from Joam. Unless of course Joam decided to sever that bond. “I don't really want to talk about it,” said Blake. “Oh,” Joam said, his voice small. “Okay.” Now Blake felt bad. He knew Joam well enough already to know that he'd be blaming himself for Blake's mood. “It's not your fault.” “No?”

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Well, yes. But admitting to Joam how devastating his withdrawal had been would just add salt to the wound. Joam sighed and stroked the top of Blake's hand with his long fingers. “You know, what you said the other night in the motel goes both ways. I'm not the only one who's had a rough time of it.” He leaned sideways, pressing his shoulder against Blake's. “I don't know much about being a hustler, but it seems like a hard life. I'd make that better for you too, if I could.” The minute the word “hustler” came out of Joam's mouth, Blake reacted. He pulled his hand away from Joam's and turned on him. “Is that why you won't have sex with me?” “What?” “Just tell me. I have to know.” Joam stared at him, mouth open. He wasn't answering. Blake was rapidly reconsidering his statement. Maybe he didn't have to know. Maybe he didn't want to know. He stood and paced, his arms wrapped tight around his rib cage. Joam wasn't denying it. This hurt almost as bad as when he was first kicked out of his parents' house. Suddenly, he wished he could die. Suddenly, it seemed to him that maybe Jimmy didn't have it so bad after all. Mindless. That meant he couldn't be hurt anymore, right? “You think I've been staying away from you because of your past? No, Blake. No. I love you.” Oh God. He wasn't making this any easier. All Blake wanted to do was sink into Joam's arms and dissolve into tears, but instead he kept his distance. “That doesn't stop you from—” He stopped short. He couldn't say the words. Joam looked mystified. “From what?” He was giving Blake that lost, puppy-dog look that melted Blake's heart every time. Blake glanced at the foot of the bed, where his memory of this morning's lonely,

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unsatisfying jerk-off session strengthened his resolve. “But you don't want to touch me.” “That's not true,” said Joam. “I can't help being what I am,” said Blake. “If you can't accept that, then…well… Just because we're lifemates, that doesn't mean you have to be stuck with me. I mean…I don't know how it all works, but… If you'd rather have someone else, a varnal, or at least someone who's not a—” He broke off again and turned to the window. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he just say the words? Since when had he held any illusions about himself? Why was he suddenly so…? “What? Blake—” Blake heard the floorboards creak, and a warm hand rested on his shoulder. The gentleness of the touch ignited Blake's temper. He spun around. “Stop touching me if you don't want to fuck me!” Joam blinked and backed up a step. “Blake?” “Come on, Joam! You've been avoiding me since we got here. So you're having second thoughts about taking a used-up street whore for your lover. Who can blame you? Especially when there are all these tempting varnals around who can do so much more for you. But I can't change who I am. If you can't get past that then…then we'd better talk to Saffron and Vic about severing the life bond.” Joam knitted his brow. “Blake, what are you talking about?” “I saw how you reacted when the subject came up. You were interested. It's all right. I understand.” “No, you don't. Blake—” “Stop it!” The view of the yard wavered. Shit. That was just what he needed now. Tears. “Blake, please. Will you come here and sit next to me?” Blake wanted to say no. He wanted to say yes. “Please, Blake. Please come here.”

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Blake's chin quivered, and he realized he was going to cry. Shit. No. He mustered anger to keep the tears at bay. He strode over to the bed and plopped down in it, his back to Joam. “I don't want to sever our bond. And I don't give a shit that you've been a hustler, except that it seems to make you feel bad about yourself. I was avoiding sex with you because I couldn't stand it if you got hurt again.” Blake fought for control. “You keep saying that, but you can't drain me if you're in human form.” “I know. But I've been having these dreams…” He trailed off, and then, just as Blake thought he wouldn't say any more, added, “You know, the first time I shifted, it was by accident.” Blake's anger left him. He turned to look at Joam. “The night your mother died.” “Yeah. I've been dreaming about that night. The first time was the night the cops came for us. In the dream, I shift accidentally, just like the very first time, and I run and I run. And then, I catch this scent, and it draws me to it. I'm hungry. I know I'm going to devour whoever that scent is emanating from. Soak up all their energy, drain them until there's nothing left. And I follow the scent, and it leads to my mother's house, only it's not her in there. It's you. And I kill you.” It was Blake's turn to stare. Speechless, he saw the truth in Joam's eyes, saw the worry in the line between his brows and the tension at the corners of his eyes and mouth. And the dark circles under his eyes. He was trembling, and he kept leaning forward a little and then pulling back, like he wanted Blake to touch him and he didn't dare ask. Blake felt like an asshole. “Oh my God, Joam.” He pulled him close and held him tight. “How horrible! I'm so sorry. It's just a dream. All that's over now. You didn't kill her, and you're not going to kill me. It's all right.”

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Joam clung to him, breathing hard. At length, his trembling stopped and he seemed to relax. “So that's why you're so afraid,” said Blake. “It's not because of what I used to do for a living.” Joam's voice was thick. “Of course. What do you think I am?” He was a varnal. A mechanic. An almost virgin. And a kind and gentle soul. Exactly the kind of person who would not give a damn what Blake's past was like. How could he have let his own insecurities blind him so completely? “I—” “Do you believe me?” asked Joam. Blake slid across the bed and let Joam take him in his arms and hold him, his head cradled against Joam's broad, bony chest. He nodded. “I'm sorry. How stupid of me. I wish I'd known you were having bad dreams. But I should have known you wouldn't judge me like that. I just—You're so pure, and I'm—” “Innocent,” said Joam. “You're innocent. And I don't know about pure, babe. Maybe I was ignorant of a man's touch until three days ago, but I don't think that made me pure, if pure means better than you or anyone else. And I don't care how many men you've had sex with for money. That has nothing to do with the fact that if it weren't for you, I'd be dead by now. You risked your own life for me. Don't you dare put yourself down, or think that anything you did out of necessity could be more important than that.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Blake's head. “Do you understand?” Blake nodded, his face hot. He clung to Joam as his tears overwhelmed him. All his lonely days and nights washed over him. Joam held Blake and rocked him as the first sobs broke free from his attempts to control them. “Okay,” he said. “It's okay now.” Blake shook with the force of his emotions. Joam stroked his back, and they rode the storm out together. When he'd calmed a little bit, Joam rested his cheek against Blake's soft blond hair and said, “I'm sorry if I did anything to make you think I thought low of you.”

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Blake shook his head. “No,” he said, his voice thick. “No, you didn't. It was me. It's all my fault.” “Not your fault.” “Yes. I—” He searched for the words. “I let my own insecurity blind me to what was really going on. And because of that, I wasn't there for you. Just because I wish I'd never turned a trick. Oh, Joam. Can you forgive me?” Joam hugged him tighter. “Of course. I should have told you about the dream.” Blake closed his eyes, resting against Joam and letting the wonderful, warm feeling of Joam's unconditional love wash over him. He listened to the soft whisper of Joam's breath and felt his chest rise and fall. The thud of Joam's heartbeat against his cheek was a repeated reminder. This is real; this is real; this is real. He sighed. From somewhere deep inside him, words came. “When I was a kid, I was going to be an astronomer. Then, when I was fourteen, my mom caught me with Jimmy Lowenstein and kicked me out of the house,” he said. “Overnight, I went from being a spoiled suburban kid to a homeless runaway.” Joam hugged him closer but said nothing. “I used what was left of my allowance to buy a bus ticket to the big city. By the time I got there I was hungry, but I had no money for food. This guy offered me ten bucks if I would blow him. I was so hungry, I did it.” Joam whispered a wordless murmur of comfort and rocked him slightly. “After that, I met some other hustlers, and I learned to charge more. My friend Randy found me after a bad trick and took care of me. I learned to pay attention to my instincts. I learned to turn off certain parts of myself—thoughts and feelings that just made life harder. I thought I'd lost the ability to feel those things. Until I met you.” Joam sighed and kissed the back of his neck. “It's a lucky thing we found each other then.” Blake nodded. “I was only half-alive. You brought me back to myself.”

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“Everything is going to be okay, Blake. So long as we're together, the rest will work itself out.” Blake still had his doubts, but he didn't voice them. For now it was enough to know that Joam loved him and accepted him for who he was. They sat together in silence, accepting comfort from one another as outside, the moon sank behind the trees.

Joam didn't dream, but he awoke in the predawn with a pounding erection and a warm, tousled Blake in his arms. Blake was right. He was being overcautious. He'd never shifted by accident except for that first time, and from what Vic had told him, that was a typical first shift experience. Truth was, he missed Blake terribly, all the more for his troubling experience with the other varnals. Making up his mind, Joam snuggled up to him under the covers and planted a kiss on the side of his neck. This seemed to please Blake, who sighed and turned toward him, eyelids fluttering. A sleepy smile curved his lips. “Mmm. Morning.” Their lips met, and Joam realized that for all the fireworks he'd experienced with Vic, Saffron, and Enid, what he shared with Blake was even better. As intense as that ecstasy had been, it couldn't hold a candle to the deep connection he felt with his human lover, his lifemate. Kissing Blake was like sinking into a deep vat of warm chocolate pudding: sweet, seductive, and soothing. While the feelings that Blake's mobile lips elicited from Joam's body were, in their own way, as overwhelming as the things he'd felt with the varnals, here he felt safe, secure…loved. Blake broke the kiss and turned his head to lick and nip at Joam's neck, quickly zeroing in on the juncture of neck and shoulder. Joam groaned. “You hold tension here,” murmured Blake. “Mmmnuh.” “Roll onto your stomach.”

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Joam did as he was told, and Blake straddled his hips, his ass settling onto the tops of Joam's thighs. He could feel Blake's erection against the cleft of his ass. He flexed his hips. “Easy, boy,” Blake said with a soft chuckle. “All in good time.” As Joam lay prostrate beneath him, Blake massaged his neck and shoulders, strong, sensitive fingers locating and unraveling every knot of tension he had. Joam had no idea he'd been so tense. Blake's warm hands manipulating and stroking his sore muscles made ripples of delight dance up and down his spine. Joam closed his eyes and gave himself over to the wonderful sensations as Blake turned his neck and shoulders to jelly and then moved down to his back. “Your skin is so beautiful,” said Blake, stroking Joam's back up and down with featherlight touches. Joam was past speech. He gave a grunt, facedown and drooling into his pillow. Blake kneaded the overworked muscles of Joam's back, pressing his knuckles into the knots at the base of his spine. Firmly, methodically, he ground the stiffness out of Joam's flesh and moved on, to Joam's buttocks and thighs. Now it was impossible not to respond. Blake's strong hands kneading Joam's buttocks reminded him of their first night together, and he flexed his hips, lifting his ass in invitation. Blake just chuckled and moved on to Joam's thighs. By the time Blake reached Joam's feet, massaging his arches, Joam was a boneless puddle of need. “Please,” he muttered into the pillow, arching his back and wriggling his backside like a puppy begging for attention. He felt the bed move as Blake shifted. Then a warm hand stroked Joam's flank. “Want something?” Joam whimpered. “Blake, please.” Blake shifted again, so he was kneeling between Joam's legs. He gripped Joam's hips, and Joam felt the hot, blunt tip of his cock graze the crack of his ass. “God! Blake!”

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Blake leaned forward more, dipping his head to brush his soft hair over Joam's back. “Hang on,” he said. He got off the bed and snagged the bottle of lotion from the bedside table, opened the drawer, and grabbed a condom. Joam turned his head to watch. Blake's thick, blunt erection was right at eye level, jutting out from his hips in a proud curve. He licked his lips as he watched Blake ease the condom over the flared, purplish head and down his veined shaft. He grinned at Joam and slicked his cock with lotion. He got back on the bed, where he spread Joam's ass cheeks and petted and stroked his rosebud asshole. He worked one lotion-slathered finger into the tight aperture. The feeling of being penetrated made Joam gasp, and a knot of desire sprang to life in the pit of his stomach. He sank back, impaling himself on Blake's finger. Blake inserted a second finger and scissored them. It felt like butterflies dancing inside him, awakening his most hidden, sensitive places. Joam keened. If Blake didn't fuck him soon, it would be too late. His cock was rock hard and leaking copious amounts of precum. “B-b-blake!” Blake pulled his fingers out of Joam with an audible pop. Joam held his breath, waiting for the hot, slick thickness of Blake's cock to breach him. Instead, Blake nipped and bit Joam's buttocks while he reached around and fondled Joam's balls. “Are you trying to kill me?” Joam grated. “Just drive you mad,” said Blake. He encircled Joam's balls and penis with his forefinger and thumb, creating a living vise. Joam's cock and balls pulsed with trapped blood. At long last, Blake splayed Joam's ass cheeks with the fingers of his other hand and slowly pressed his cock against Joam's entrance. Joam panted, savoring every moment as Blake's slick, flared head gently pried him open. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the realization that this was only the third time Blake had fucked him. Blake's cockhead slipped inside Joam with a popping sensation, and he slid the rest of the way home. Home. That was exactly how Joam felt with Blake's cock filling

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every nook and cranny inside him. He felt like he was home at last, cherished and claimed. And then Blake began to move.

At last, Blake was where he wanted to be—inside Joam, caressed by his tight velvet heat, bathed by his intoxicating moans. Blake fought for control. After all this time, it was hard not to just let loose and fuck the living daylights out of him. Blake had been waiting for so long. But at the same time, and for the same reason, he wanted to draw it out as long as possible. He forced himself to go slow, keeping a firm grip on the base of Joam's cock and balls with one hand while balancing himself with the other braced on Joam's hip. He leaned forward, savoring the long, smooth glide as he penetrated Joam to the root. His testicles brushed against Joam's, and then Blake withdrew again, taking his time, remembering to breathe. “Please,” Joam whimpered. “Blake. I need to…” Blake grinned. Joam was the exact opposite of the jaded tricks Blake was used to having sex with. Everything was new and wonderful to Joam. Even him. Blake's worry of the past few days that Joam was rejecting him because of his past seemed so silly now. They faced their fair share of challenges, no doubt, but one thing Blake could be certain of: Joam loved him. And Blake loved driving Joam to the heights of ecstasy. He pulled out until just the tip of his cock rested inside his lover's hole, and paused. Joam panted and squirmed, trying to push back and get more of Blake's cock inside him again, but Blake's fingers around his cock and balls prevented it. His breathing was ragged. Sweat stood out on his back. Blake relented and pushed back in again, slowly, wondering how long he could keep this up. His cock felt like it was on fire, and his balls were tight against his body now. Already he felt the storm clouds of imminent orgasm gathering in the pit of his stomach.

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His pace increased with each stroke until he was slamming into Joam, his chest heaving like a bellows. He was just about to release his stranglehold on Joam's erection and bring him off, when suddenly, everything changed. The body beneath him changed. The feeling was beyond description as Joam transmuted into his varnal form in midfuck. Joam's ass continued to hug him tight, but everything else shifted and re-formed—the sweat-beaded skin beneath his hand became soft, silky fur, the broad back became narrow, the thighs became haunches, and Joam's human pants and moans became a howl. And the genitals Blake had been clutching changed too. The balls became furry, the penis longer and more slippery, its bulging head traded for a long, tapering tip. The sudden shift might have put him off his game except for the fact that as a varnal, Joam was now bestowed with the ability to give and receive sensual pleasures beyond the realm of ordinary human experience. Blake felt as if he made love to Joam now with every nerve ending he had. It wasn't just that his cock was about to explode with a delight almost painful in its intensity. It was all of him, from the tips of his tingling toes to the top of his reeling head. His hands on Joam's pelt reverberated with the varnal's pleasure. Blake felt everything Joam felt. He felt himself in Joam's ass as if it were him getting fucked. He felt two orgasms mounting. His heart hammered as Joam's did, and when Joam let loose a primal howl, it seemed to come from his own throat. He could no longer tell where he began and Joam ended, as an explosion of argent light ripped through their bodies and the two of them tumbled together into the void. Blake drifted in a place of utter peace and calm. He'd never felt so relaxed in his life, as if he had no nerves at all, no bones or muscles. He was nothing more than a vague cloud of contentment. After some time, he became aware of the aroma of coffee and the distant murmur of voices. He paid them no mind.

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Joam had never felt anything like what Blake did to him, fucking him with such ruthless gentleness, all the while keeping the pressure up on the base of his balls and cock so that he couldn't come, even if he wanted to. The pleasure just got more and more intense with every thrust. Blake touched him everywhere inside, pounding his prostate over and over again. He didn't know he could feel this much pleasure and still not climax. At length, he was reduced to a gibbering, drooling pile of need, the sensations so overwhelming he just…lost control. He didn't even know it had happened. All he was aware of was that suddenly, Blake no longer held his erection in a vise, and at the same time, as his orgasm gathered momentum, he could feel Blake. That is, he could feel everything Blake was feeling. Somewhere in his ecstasy-addled mind, he realized something was different, but there was no time. He and Blake were coming together in an orgasm so powerful, it carried them both along in a shock wave of obliteration. Afterward, Joam expected to find the two of them at the center of a crater. Instead what he discovered was that he had fur and a tail. And Blake lay beside him on the bed, unmoving.

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Chapter Six Even as panic gripped him, there was a knock on the door. “Joam, Blake, are you boys okay?” It was Saffron. Not bothering to change form, Joam bounded to the door and unlocked it. As if in a dream, he realized it was the first time he'd used his varnal hands for such a task. Saffron, in human guise, stepped in, took one look at him and one look at Blake's prone form, and frowned. “Oh dear.” Joam jumped back up on the bed and curled around Blake. He sniffed him. He was alive. His breathing was shallow. He was in a deep sleep, brought on by low energy reserves. This was his fault. He'd drained Blake. Joam shifted. “Help him,” he said to Saffron. “Please.”

Blake awoke from a deep, refreshing sleep. He sighed and stretched and rolled over onto his side, to find Joam asleep in a chair beside the bed. Sunlight streamed through the windows. “Joam?” Joam's eyes flew open. There were dark circles under them, and his face looked pale and blotchy, like he'd been crying and hadn't been sleeping enough. “Blake!” He

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rushed to the bed. He reached out to hug Blake but stopped short and stood there, his arms at his sides. “How do you feel?” “Incredible,” said Blake. “I can't remember the last time I slept like that. How late is it anyway?” Joam took a step back and sat down in the chair again, shoulders drooping. “Do you remember what happened?” Blake thought about that. Oh. Oh yeah, he remembered. “How could I forget? We were making love and you…shifted. Oh.” “I nearly killed you.” “What?” “I drained your energy, and you almost didn't come back.” Blake tried to lighten the mood. He sat up, grinning. “Well, all I can say is, what a way to go.” It was the wrong thing to say. Joam stared at him a moment, mouth open, and then a new expression warped his features. Anger. “Fuck you!” “Joam, I—” He leaped from the chair. “This is a game to you? What, do you have some kind of death wish or something? Are you so disgusted with yourself that you don't care if you live or die?” “No! I—” Blake stood up and reached for him. Joam stepped back. “Don't touch me. And don't you dare use me like that.” Use him? What was he talking about? The accusation, and the implication that Blake was suicidal, made his own anger stir in his belly. “What are you talking about?” “I'm not going to let you make me your murderer. I carried that guilt for my mother's death for too long. You want to be reckless with your life, do it on your own time.”

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Those words sent a chill through him. Did Joam want to sever their bond? For a moment, Blake's insecurities threatened to take the fore again, but no, he realized. This wasn't about him. “You're afraid of hurting me.” Joam looked at him in astonishment. “Afraid of? I did. I did hurt you, Blake. You've been out for a whole day! I thought you'd never wake up again, or that you would and you'd be like Jimmy.” Blake ran a hand through his hair. He did feel a little light-headed; it was true. And now that he was standing and the languor of sleep was receding, he felt horribly thirsty and hungry. He sat down again on the edge of the bed. “I'm okay, Joam. Don't worry.” Joam shook his head. “This time, but it was close. We can't ever risk that again.” “Well, okay, but as long as you remain in human form, there's no danger.” He stood up and crossed to Joam, reached out for him, but Joam skittered across the room away from him. “I said don't touch me!” Frustration and rejection joined forces with the anger that had barely subsided in the pit of Blake's stomach. “Oh for crying out loud, stop overreacting!” “Overreacting?” “If you're going to use this as another excuse why we can't have sex, then—” “Excuse? Are you crazy? Are you stupid? Do you want to become a vegetable?” Until now, Blake would not have believed Joam capable of speaking to him like this, of looking at him like this, with such contempt. It was impossible to reconcile with the gentle man who had comforted him just the night before. Well, two nights before, apparently. Blake shook his head. “But…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. Joam turned from him, and it was almost a relief, but the flat tone of his voice as he stared out the window sent new chills racing down Blake's spine. “How do you

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know I won't shift again? I didn't mean to shift this last time. It just happened. It can happen again at any time. There's only one way for you to be safe from me, Blake.” Uneasiness joined the mix in Blake's empty stomach, making him queasy. “What do you mean?” Joam turned to look at him. His eyes were dull, dead-looking. It was as if someone had taken Joam away and replaced him with a mannequin. “We have to break the life bond.” Terror and revulsion swept through Blake. “Oh, now hold on. We can't do that!” Joam nodded, and a dark fire came to light in the depths of his eyes that frightened Blake worse than anything he'd ever witnessed, including Walsh draining his friend Randy of all life. “Yes we can. There's a way. Enid mentioned it that first day we were here, remember?” “But she said it was dangerous. And besides, Joam, it's sorcery.” “I don't care!” “Well, I do! And a bond like ours can only be severed if both partners are willing. And I'm not. I won't consent to it, do you understand? It's not going to happen.” What was he doing? Why was he so dead set on staying with a man who was afraid to even touch him? Was he really this desperate for love? Joam stared at him, nostrils flaring. “Fine. But don't you even think about coming near me again.” Stung to the quick, Blake turned for the door. “Don't worry,” he said over his shoulder as he went out. “I won't.”

***** “Well, look who's up and around again,” said Saffron as Blake entered the kitchen. It was midafternoon, and she was just putting the finishing touches on a pot roast in the Crock-Pot. The smell should have made Blake's stomach do a pole dance around his backbone, but he couldn't feel anything around the pain that seemed to fill him from

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head to toe. He made a beeline for the refrigerator, but only so he could hide his face, red from barely restrained tears. “You must be hungry,” she said. “Dinner's not for another couple of hours, but help yourself to some sandwich stuff.” Moving as if by remote control, Blake fixed himself a ham and swiss sandwich. “Be sure to get plenty of fluids,” said Saffron. “To replace what you lost, sleeping all that time.” “Joam changed by accident,” said Blake. She sighed. “Yes.” “I thought you guys were supposed to be teaching him how to control his abilities.” “It takes time and…Joam has a lifetime of repression to overcome. Uncontrolled shifting is rare, but it's more common among the inexperienced. It's why we encourage varnals to partner with other varnals. It's safer.” Fresh anger conquered Blake's tears, and he turned to face her. “That's not the only reason.” She smiled. “Well, it's true we feel that all varnals should achieve their full potential. Having a human partner tends to make them pull back from that.” Blake took his sandwich to the table and glared at her. “You put him up to this idea about breaking the bond between us, didn't you?” Her eyes went wide. “What? No!” She dropped her ladle and hurried to the table, where she sat down, leaning toward him. “Did Joam talk to you about trying to break the bond?” Blake nodded. “But I told him it's too dangerous. It's sorcery. We had a big fight.” The ticking of the kitchen clock filled the silence as she stared at the tablecloth. “You're right, of course. Sorcery is wrong no matter how dire the consequences of letting nature take its course. But I can understand why Joam feels the way he does. You

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didn't see him while you were unconscious. He was beside himself. I felt so sorry for him.” “I'm fine now,” said Blake. Saffron nodded and gave him a smile. “This time. But what if it happens again? What if the next time, you don't wake up?” “Isn't that why we're here? So he can learn to control his abilities?” “Like I said before, nothing is one hundred percent foolproof. In a way, all of this is much easier on you than it is on him.” “Really. You think this is easy on me.” “If you die, you'll go peacefully, knowing bliss, and after that, you won't know anything. But Joam will still be here to deal with the consequences. If you were hurt because of a slip on Joam's part, he'd never forgive himself.” “I'm not sure he forgives himself now.” Blake hesitated. Could he trust Saffron? “He won't let me touch him.” Saying it out loud made the hurt even worse. She gave him a sympathetic look. “Well, I think he is overreacting a bit. But it's because he loves you so much. I don't doubt that he'd give up being a varnal if he could, just for you. I don't think there's anything he wouldn't give up for your happiness.” “I don't know,” he said. “The way he looked at me. The things he said. I think he hates me.” His face got hot, and he turned it to hide his tears. Saffron put her hand over his. “Blake, put yourself in Joam's shoes. How would you feel, if he were the one at risk from you?” Blake took deep breaths, letting her words soak in. She was right. If it were the other way around, he would do anything to protect Joam, even if it meant breaking his heart. “What are we going to do?” “Only you can decide that,” she said.

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Blake looked at her, trying to read her expression. Was he being selfish? Should he agree to the spell that would sunder their bond? Should he give Joam up for Joam's own good? That night, he took a different room at the opposite end of the hall so Joam wouldn't have to worry about Blake touching him while he slept.

Joam lay awake for a long time. Already he'd become accustomed to Blake's warm body beside his in the bed. It felt wrong, banishing Blake, cutting off contact, but how else could he protect him? Still, what kind of future could they have if they couldn't even touch each other? Joam wondered how he could live with this ache inside, and what was worse was that he was certain Blake felt this way too. How could something that had seemed so simple and good become so complicated and painful overnight? The next morning, Joam trained in the basement with Vic. “You're fighting your own nature.” “What do you mean?” asked Joam. “I'm doing everything you tell me to.” They'd been doing drills, shifting back and forth from human to varnal form in increasingly rapid intervals, all morning long, and he was tired. He hadn't slept well the night before, alone in the room he was supposed to be sharing with Blake. “Yes, but only because I'm telling you to. You take no joy in your varnal form.” “And why should I?” Joam snapped. He hadn't asked for this. He'd finally found someone to love, and now he had to give him up because of what he was. For that matter, his being a varnal had lost his mother her life too. True, Joam hadn't killed her as Higgs made him believe all those years, but just the same, if Joam had been a normal human being, then Higgs never would have taken any interest in him or his ma. “If you have to ask me that, then you still don't know what it truly means to be a varnal.”

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Anxiety, grief, and exhaustion drove Joam past the breaking point. “I know fucking well what it means, Vic. It means losing everyone you've ever loved. It means that no matter how hard you try to be a good person, deep down, you're just an animal, mindless, driven by need, and sooner or later, you'll destroy everything you ever wanted.” Vic sighed. “You're right.” That surprised Joam. Vic saw his shock and smiled. “What you just described is the fate of many varnals in this world. But it doesn't have to be that way. There's nothing wrong with you, Joam. You are as nature made you, and you deserve happiness.” Joam folded his arms tight across his chest. “How's that supposed to happen?” “You have to let go of your preconceived ideas. Let go and let yourself be who you truly are.” “No matter who gets hurt in the process.” It was an accusation, not a question. “The more you fight it, the more danger Blake will be in.” Joam swallowed the bitter retort he was about to make. “What?” “Come on, Joam. Use your head. Do you really think you would have lost control with Blake if you'd let yourself play with us the night before?” Joam stared at him. “So, if I want to protect Blake, I have to be unfaithful to him?” “Unfaithful? Ah. I see the problem now.” “What. What do you mean?” “You're trying to translate a very specific human moral code and apply it to yourself. But you're not simply human, Joam. You're a varnal. Until you accept that, and accept that the rules are different for us, you're just going to keep putting yourself and Blake in jeopardy.” “I don't want to do that.” Joam wasn't even sure which he was talking about, giving up monogamy with Blake or putting Blake in jeopardy.

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Vic sat down next to him and nudged him with his shoulder. “Give yourself a break, Joam. Most humans don't really adhere to monogamy, even when they say they do. And varnals… It's different for us. No reasonable person could expect you to limit yourself to one human lover. That would be like taking a racehorse and making it draw a buggy for the rest of its life. It's wrong. It's as much a crime against nature as any sorcery.” Joam looked at him. “That's a bit extreme, don't you think?” Vic looked back at him, his crystalline blue eyes clear and unflinching. “Only if you believe that varnals are of lesser worth than humans.” There was no doubt that Joam found Vic attractive. In fact, the swelling in his groin right now proved it. Vic glanced down and smiled. “Come on. Let's shift again.” If he did, Joam knew it would be even harder to resist Vic's charms. He hadn't spoken with Blake since their argument, but he knew he'd hurt him bad. He wasn't even sure if they had a future together anymore, but the last thing he wanted to do was make things even worse by fooling around with Vic. On the other hand, if what Vic said was true, it offered an alternative to severing their bond. If he could get Blake to forgive him for pushing him away. If the suggestion of an open relationship didn't ruin everything. “I need a break now, Vic. I'll think about what you said. I promise. First, I need to talk to Blake.”

Blake lay in bed until he heard Joam get up and go downstairs. When he heard him and Vic going into the basement, he got up, got dressed, and came down to the kitchen, where he got himself a cup of coffee. He wandered into the living room and found Enid and Jimmy. “Blake, hey,” said Enid. “I heard about your fight with Joam. I'm sorry you guys are having such a hard time.” Blake shrugged and sat down next to her on the couch. Yesterday's anger had become a dull ache of sorrow. The anger had been better. “I don't know what's going to

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happen,” he said. “Joam is convinced that if he even touches me, he'll drain the life out of me. And the worst thing is, if it were the other way around, I'd probably be acting exactly the same way.” “Well, if you two do work it out, there's some things you'll need to know about being the human lover of a varnal.” Blake sipped his coffee and stared at her. “Yeah, like what?” She nodded and turned the volume down on the television. “Get used to missing a lot of work,” she said. “Because even if Joam gets the accidental shifting under control, the two of you are going to want to do it while he's in varnal form, and inevitably, there'll be some energy exchange. Most of the time, you'll just be weak for a couple of hours afterward. The two of you must have been really going at it.” She grinned. Blake shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He didn't find her observations funny. And Jimmy was rocking in the chair by the television set. The sound, a rhythmic creak, creak, creak, was driving him nuts. It was a constant reminder of what almost happened to him. Of what could still happen to him if he wasn't careful. “You'll need to come up with a cover story. One that explains frequent bouts of weakness on your part and ensures privacy for Joam when he needs to change. My recommendation is you find yourselves a place in the country. It's much easier for a varnal to shift and get the exercise he needs when there's a lot of open country around.” “How often does he need to shift?” “As often as possible,” said Enid. “The longer he goes in human form, the more likely an accidental shift is to occur, and that can be a total disaster.” “I know.” “Oh, it's not just that. Think about what would happen if Joam lost control in public. He could be killed.” Blake hadn't thought of that. “Is that likely?”

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“Only if he tries to repress his true nature. You need to make sure he understands that you love all of him, not just his human part. If you make his varnal form seem like something he should be ashamed of, then I'm afraid he might avoid taking it. It's already a problem for him.” “Oh.” Was Blake sending unspoken signals to Joam that he was not all right with Joam being a varnal? “And what are your views on monogamy?” “What?” She shrugged. “I noticed that the other night when Joam was out with us, he didn't join in our sex play.” Blake stared at her. Sex play? “It's not normal for a varnal to be monogamous. Have the two of you made any promises to one another along those lines?” Blake blew out his breath. “Promises? Not exactly. I guess we both just assumed we'd stick to each other.” She nodded. “Yeah, that's not going to work for Joam. In fact, it's probably the reason why the accident happened the other night.” Was the “accident” his fault? He hadn't known. Enid's information put a whole new light on things, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. “So what you're saying is that even if we do patch things up between us, I'm going to have to live out in the middle of nowhere, I won't be able to keep a regular job, and I'm going to have to share Joam with a rotating cast of other lovers.” Enid nodded. “Pretty much.” He sighed. “I wish there was a human partnered with a varnal who I could talk to,” he said. Enid gave him a sad smile and glanced over to Jimmy. “Me too.”

*****

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Blake went out in the backyard to get some air, to get away from Saffron's motherly concern, Enid's sympathetic looks, and Jimmy's constant rocking. The yard was ill kept, with tall grass and weeds. An overgrown honeysuckle bush lent the air a sweet aroma, and a mulberry tree near the rusting fence dripped berry-laden branches nearly to the ground. Blake's foot slid on something hidden under the grass, and he looked down to see a partially buried kid's sand pail. He glanced back at the house. Somebody needed to clean up back here. He supposed Saffron was busy with the cooking, and Enid had her hands full with Jimmy. That left Vic, and he was working with Joam. Blake made a decision and went back into the kitchen and fetched a garbage bag. He went around the yard, picking up old broken toys and other odd bits of trash. When that was done, he'd trim the bushes and the mulberry tree, and then he'd see if they had a lawn mower. He needed something to do, and he might as well make himself useful to somebody. The work seemed to help focus the thoughts that were swirling around in his brain. What Enid had told him about being a human partnered with a varnal had been another blow to the fantasy he'd been painting for himself of what life with Joam would be like once they got settled. The way it had gone in his mind, Joam would get a job as a mechanic at a good, honest, well-run shop. They'd get a little apartment. Nothing fancy. Blake would do the chores and work part-time, and they'd scrimp and save so that he could go to school and become an astronomer. They'd work hard, both of them, but at night, they'd be in each other's arms, making love until they both fell asleep. It was a selfish dream, he'd realized all along. He couldn't just assume that Joam would be willing to put him through school. And what if Joam wanted to be something besides a mechanic? But now, Blake realized it was selfish and unrealistic in ways he'd never even imagined. For one thing, there were no other lovers in this fantasy. No other varnals, no place for Joam to become houndclad and hunt in the night. Blake didn't really give a

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damn where he lived, as long as it was with Joam. No, the real question—provided he could convince Joam to ever touch him again—was whether he could share Joam.

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Chapter Seven “Joam, I need to talk to you,” said Blake, standing at the top of the stairs to the basement, his arms folded across his chest. Joam looked to Vic, then wished he hadn't when he saw Blake's frown deepen. Why did he feel he needed permission to speak with his own lifemate? He nodded to Blake and followed him up two flights of stairs to the room that, until last night, they'd shared. Blake shut the door behind him and stood with his back to it. “I can't take this. I can't stand being shut out anymore.” Was Blake breaking up with him? Was that what this was? Was the pain of separation so bad that he'd reconsidered severing their bond and was ready to end it now? “I don't want to keep you at a distance. I hate it too.” Joam blushed at the pleading in his voice. He was begging Blake to understand. He straightened his spine. Blake also needed to understand that his safety was the one thing Joam would not compromise on. “But I can't let another mistake like that happen.” “I know. I understand how frightening that was for you. It's worse for you than it is for me. I understand that now, and I'm sorry I didn't take it more seriously before. But just cutting off all contact between us… It's…”

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“Unbearable,” Joam admitted. Even now, Blake's warmth called to him. All he wanted to do was take him in his arms and kiss him senseless. But that was the problem. “Do you still want me?” asked Blake, his voice small. Joam stared at him, dumbfounded. “Of course I do! How could I not? I love you, Blake.” He paused. “Do you still want me?” “Yes!” “So this isn't about severing our bond?” Blake's eyes were wide. “What? No! That's… The whole idea of sorcery is repellent to me, in the first place. And I want to be with you, Joam. I'm not giving up without a fight. If severing our bond was the only way that you could be healthy and happy, then I'd do it. But it's the last thing I'd ever want.” Both of them spoke in unison. “There might be another way.” “I was talking to Enid—” “Vic said—” They laughed, a welcome respite to the tension of the last day. “You first,” said Joam. “Enid says that the reason you shifted accidentally was that earlier, when you were with the others, in varnal form, you…” He swallowed. “You didn't let yourself engage in sex with them.” They stared at one another. Finally Joam said, “She told you about that.” “Yes, and I don't care. You're a varnal, Joam. It would be crazy for me to expect you to act like a human. Hell, most humans can't stick with one partner.” He gave a wry laugh. “I should know. I love you, Joam. All of you, not just the human part. And if sharing you means we can be together, who am I to complain?” Joam sighed and paced the room. “Vic said the same thing. I don't—It's not—” He stopped and turned to face Blake. “It's a two-way street, and I don't want to share you.”

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Blake smiled. “Believe me, I've had enough sexual partners to last me the rest of my life. And with the way it is between us… You're everything I want and need. There isn't going to be anyone else for me, Joam. Just you.” Joam felt like his heart was in his mouth. He could barely restrain himself from taking Blake into his arms. “But I don't want anyone else besides you either!” he cried out. Blake opened his arms and stepped closer. Joam flinched back. “Come on. A hug isn't going to hurt anyone.” Blake's nearness, the love in his eyes, it was overwhelming. What Vic and Enid said had better be true, he thought, because when it came to Blake, he couldn't stay away. Joam sank into his arms, and together they rocked side to side. Blake stroked his hand up and down Joam's back in slow, soothing strokes, easing the tension in those taut muscles. Just feeling Blake's hand on his back made him want to do more. Joam took a deep breath and stepped back. The flash of hurt in Blake's eyes stabbed Joam. But he nodded. Was there any limit to Blake's understanding and tolerance? “This…this isn't how I'd choose things to be,” said Joam. “I know.” Blake sat down on the bed. Joam sat a little distance from him. He kept leaning in and catching himself and then pulling back. He was so relieved that Blake didn't want to end it between them, that there was still hope for them. He hadn't slept well, and the release of tension now made him even more tired. “Look at it this way, babe,” said Blake. “A week ago you were a virgin. A little experimentation would be good for you. I won't pretend that if I had everything my way, I'd have you all to myself, but this is the real world, and even if you weren't a varnal, I wouldn't hold you back from doing your own experimentation—safely, of course.”

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Joam was thunderstruck. “How can you be so generous? If it were the other way around, I don't think I'd—And just what constitutes safe varnal sex, anyway?” Blake laughed, and this time Joam joined in. “You'll have to ask Vic or Saffron about that,” he said.

Seeing Joam laugh and smile again was such a relief. Blake wanted to throw his arms around him and give him a big kiss, but he held back. Joam leaned in toward him, then seemed to catch himself and pulled back. Blake noted the dark circles under his eyes and the slight tremor in his hands. “Babe, have you slept at all?” “A little.” Blake nodded, stood up, and pulled the covers down on the bed. “Get in. Get some sleep, hon. Now.” Joam opened his mouth to protest, then sighed and nodded his head. He stood up and undressed. Blake restrained the impulse to help him. “I promise I won't come and snuggle up against you while you sleep. Okay? You don't have to worry. I won't touch you.” The words were bitter in his mouth, but Blake knew it was the only way Joam would get any rest. Clothed just in his boxers, Joam climbed into bed, and Blake pulled the covers up over him. He bent over and kissed Joam on the forehead and went to the door. “Are you sure about this?” Joam asked, just as Blake was about to leave. “This nonmonogamy thing?” Blake nodded. “If it means I can make love to you again, I'm all for it.”

***** His resolve was tested that evening when, around a pot of stew at the dinner table, Vic said, “We're going out again tonight. Joam, will you join us?”

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Joam looked at Blake. Blake couldn't tell precisely what was in Joam's eyes in that moment. Did he want him to say yes or no? It didn't matter. Blake knew what was right. He nodded his head. Saffron smiled and fetched Joam another glass of iced tea.

***** This time when the others had gone and Blake was left alone with Jimmy, he sat closer to him. He felt bad about how he'd reacted to him before. It wasn't Jimmy's fault he freaked Blake out. They watched Monk again, and midway through the second episode, Blake reached out and put a hand on Jimmy's shoulder. The boy didn't pull away. In fact, he leaned into the touch, and the next thing Blake knew, he had his arm around Jimmy, who rested against his side. There was nothing sexual in the touch. But it was good to be close to someone. It helped him not think about what Joam was up to right now.

Vic, Saffron, and Enid trotted into the clearing and stopped. They all turned and looked at him where he stood, still at the edge of the trees. Without taking their eyes off him, Vic mounted Saffron, and Enid stroked his ears with her forehands. The sexual energy rolled off them and struck Joam in the chest. He staggered with the force of it. Their smells filled his nose, their cries—low, panting moans and whimpers—filled his ears. And he filled in response. He wanted to share these things with Blake, and only Blake, but the world demonstrated its indifference to what he wanted on a daily basis. If this would protect Blake, make a life with him possible, then it was more than worth it. He trotted over to them and began stroking Enid's body, head to haunch.

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With a doggy grin, she turned, abandoning her attentions to Vic, and licked at his muzzle. She bumped her head against his shoulder and then did it again. Joam got the hint and lay down on his side, exposing his bright red erection. Enid reached down and cupped his balls in one handlike paw, rolling them. Joam got even harder. Then she leaned over and ran her silky, hot varnal tongue up and down the length of his unsheathed penis. He flexed his hips, and she took him in her mouth, his rigid cock sliding over her tongue. She trapped him between the roof of her mouth and her tongue. The friction drove him mad, and he thrust harder, faster. The next thing he knew, Saffron was nuzzling and licking at his face, sending little ripples of pleasure cascading down his body to meet with the raging surf of his pounding cock. And then a pair of paws came down on his shoulders. Vic's musk combined with the others, a heady swirl that made Joam's mind swim. The warm, wet tip of Vic's penis brushed against his asshole. Joam's opening pulsed in response, but at the same time, the erotic haze in his mind cleared momentarily, and he realized that he was about to cross yet another line. Once he allowed another male inside him, there was no going back. There would be nothing of him that was for Blake and Blake alone. He did not want anyone but Blake to penetrate him. With a groan, he broke away from Saffron's licks and kisses, from Enid's intoxicating mouth, and Vic's commanding weight. He turned and grabbed Vic by the scruff of the neck with his teeth. Drunk with the smell of another aroused male, he put his forehands on Vic's shoulders. Vic signaled his willingness by widening his stance and raising his tail. Joam's cock, devoid of Enid's mouth, pulsed with need. Heat rolled off Vic's body, drawing him like a beacon.

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The first touch of the tip of his penis against Vic's opening seared him with delight. Joam rocked his hips forward and slid the rest of the way inside the other varnal's body. Tight, wet heat enveloped him, and instinct took over. Joam gripped the loose skin at the base of Vic's neck in his jaws, clamped his forehands over his shoulders, and fucked him hard and fast. He plunged in and out of Vic's hole, pounding him relentlessly. Vic howled in ecstasy, and Joam realized that the deep, guttural sounds he heard came from him. Before them, the females, having abandoned them, twined about one another, licking and stroking each other into a frenzy. The smell of their musk only drove Joam higher, and he slammed into Vic again and again, burying himself to the root in the other male's body. In human form, he would not have been able to keep up such a pace for long, but as a varnal, things were different. He could sense his orgasm, and Vic's, like a storm cloud hovering on the horizon, but unlike a human, helpless in the face of nature, Joam himself became the guiding wind that dictated where and when the storm broke. He chose to prolong their pleasure, reaching around Vic with one hand to run teasing fingers up and down the slick, rigid wetness of the other varnal's rampant erection. Vic whimpered and flexed his hips, striving for more contact, but Joam refused him, continuing to tease and tickle, working his way down Vic's shaft to his balls. They were drawn tight in their sac, further proof that Vic was every bit as close to coming as Joam. He traced featherlight touches across the pebbled skin and basked in the frantic, pleading tones of Vic's cries. So this was how Blake felt when he tormented Joam with prolonged arousal. He felt powerful. It felt good. He continued to fuck the living daylights out of Vic, pumping into his tight, needy hole until the other varnal's moans grew ragged with exhaustion and Joam's cock began to sting from the friction.

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He wrapped his fingers around Vic's slippery pole and shifted the angle of his hips so that as he thrust into him, he drove right over the spongy gland inside. Vic screamed as he came, pumping hot seed over Joam's hand. The convulsions of his orgasm rippled around Joam's cock, squeezing it almost painfully. The sensation, combined with the tidal wave of sexual energy rolling off Vic, swept Joam away into oblivion. He came to lying on his side, Vic curled in a ball beside him, cradled in his arms. Nearby, Saffron and Enid lounged against one another, lazy and sated in the aftermath of their own climaxes. Dawn turned the sky a pale blue, and birdsong sweetened the air. The four of them roused themselves and padded back toward the farmhouse.

Blake awoke in the predawn hours, his neck stiff. He'd fallen asleep on the couch. The television was airing the farm report, and beside him, Jimmy rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Some babysitter Blake was, letting him stay up all night. “Sorry, Jimmy. I guess I nodded off.” The look Jimmy gave him now was different from the vacant expression Blake was used to seeing. “Jimmy?” said Blake. Jimmy seemed to really see him now. For the first time, Blake saw intelligence in those eyes. “The tea,” he said. Blake opened his mouth to ask what about the tea, but just then the latch to the front door clicked. Jimmy glanced at it, his expression suddenly fearful and then, in the next instant, vacant. He went back to rocking. Blake got up as the varnals filed in. He was about to announce Jimmy's breakthrough, but he caught Jimmy looking at him from the corner of his eye, and something made him keep silent.

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***** The varnals piled through the doorway, and instantly, Joam transformed. Naked, he hurried to Blake and took him in his arms. The heat of his body seeped through Blake's clothing. Instinctively, Blake relaxed in his embrace. And then Joam shifted his hips, and Blake felt his hot, hard cock press into his hip. “Let's go upstairs,” he whispered in Blake's ear. Over Joam's shoulder, Blake saw the other varnals shifting, and Jimmy, still sitting on the couch, face blank, humming and rocking. He wanted to talk to Joam about what had happened just now, but somehow, he didn't want to do that with the others here. He nodded and let Joam lead him upstairs. “So how was it?” asked Blake once Joam shut the door to their room. “Did you do anything?” Joam kissed Blake on the lips. “I fucked Vic,” he said. “He wanted to fuck me, but I wouldn't let him.” Joam turned, pressing his ass against Blake's groin. “That's just for you.” Blake laughed. “Well, it doesn't seem to have slowed you down any.” “No.” Joam turned within the circle of Blake's arms and flexed his hips again, sliding his big, hard cock up and down Blake's belly. “If anything, I just want you more. I want to share everything I felt with you. I want you to feel it too. And now, finally, it'll be safe for you.” Joam's arousal fueled Blake's own. His cock stiffened, and he ran his hands down Joam's muscular back to cup his tight, round ass, pulling him closer, pressing their engorged erections together.

The feel of Blake's cock inside him was so right, Joam gave thanks to whatever instinct had prompted him to stop Vic from fucking him earlier. After such strenuous sport with the other varnals, he'd expected to be exhausted. On the way home, all he'd

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hoped for was to curl up beside Blake in bed, cuddling and kissing before dropping off to sleep. But that's not how it worked out at all. The moment he came in the door, still in varnal form, and caught a whiff of Blake, he was on fire again, as if he'd never had sex before in his life. Fortunately for him, Blake had really meant it when he'd said he supported Joam's extracurricular activities, and he responded to Joam just as if they were still monogamous. Now, Blake's cock in his ass was Joam's entire world. His concerns about Blake's feelings, their relationship, his varnal powers, and whether he could control them all vanished from his mind as he relished the sensation of being completely filled, completely loved. Blake pulled out and slid back in again, driving right over Joam's prostate. Joam curled his toes and whimpered. His cock was so hard, it felt like it was going explode at any moment. Blake gripped Joam's hips tighter and quickened his pace. There was no teasing tonight, no holding at bay the union they both seemed to need so desperately. “That's right,” Blake panted. “Come for me.” Joam's balls drew tight against his body, and the now-familiar tingling gathered in his belly. Joam pushed back against Blake's driving cock, relishing the feel of it stretching him wide open. “Yes,” breathed Blake, and he placed a kiss between Joam's shoulder blades. And suddenly, Joam felt every fiber in the weave of the bedspread beneath him. He smelled Blake's sweat, his arousal, and the cinnamon tea he'd drunk after dinner tonight. He heard Blake's heartbeat and his own and the whispered tones of a conversation taking place downstairs in the living room. No. No, this couldn't be happening. Not again. Joam fought for control. He fought to maintain his human form but felt it slipping away from him even as his own orgasm ripped through him, carrying away every shred of willpower he possessed.

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He and Blake tumbled into the whirling maelstrom together. Blake's energy poured into him, and his own release poured over Blake's hand. He tried to stop, but he might as well have tried to stop a hurricane. The force of their ecstasy carried them with it, and when it was over, Blake lay still, unconscious.

***** “Won't you at least eat something?” asked Saffron, standing in the doorway. Joam shook his head. Refusing to take his eyes away from Blake's still form to look at her. “No.” “You haven't eaten or slept or bathed in two days. This isn't doing anyone any good, Joam.” He took a deep breath. She wanted him to do something. All right, then. Joam stood and turned to face her. Saffron flinched back at the look in his eyes. He walked slowly toward her as she backed up into the hallway. “You said screwing around with you would help. You said you'd teach me to control my powers. You said you'd teach Blake how to live with a varnal. What have you done? Nothing!” Vic appeared at the top of the stairs and came to Saffron's side. “You're not being fair, Joam.” “We understand that you're upset,” added Saffron. “Upset? Of course I'm upset! Nothing you've shown me has done a damn bit of good!” He pointed at the room where Blake lay. “That shouldn't have happened! Why did that happen?” Vic and Saffron exchanged a glance. “We don't know,” said Saffron. “You don't know? But you're supposed to be teachers. What good is any of this if you don't even know what you're talking about?” “That's enough,” said Vic. “Calm down.” Joam crossed the hallway in quick strides. “Why should I?”

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Vic pulled himself up to his full height, stared Joam down. “Because if you don't, I'll make you. We're all upset about what happened to Blake, Joam, and we'll figure this out, as soon as you stop acting like a child.” They stared at one another for long seconds. At last, Joam considered what Blake would want him to do, and he was pretty sure it wasn't throw a temper tantrum at the only people who had ever helped them. He took a deep breath and a step back. “Okay,” said Vic. “I've been doing some research. Why don't you freshen up and meet us downstairs in the kitchen, and we can go over what I've found?”

***** “The problem may be that you are still holding your varnal nature at arm's length,” said Vic. He, Enid, and Joam sat around the kitchen table. Saffron pressed a tall glass of cinnamon tea in his hands and sat down next to him. In the middle of the table sat an enormous tome, at least six inches thick and bound in leather that was cracking with age. The gold leaf that embossed the cover was faded to illegibility, not that it would have mattered to Joam. The language the book was written in was not English or any other human language. Vic turned a page of the volume and read, “The varnal who denies her nature is doomed to be ruled by it.” “But I did what you said. We had sex. I've been practicing shifting. What else am I supposed to do?” The others all exchanged looks. Finally, Enid said, “You haven't practiced tapping Blake's energy.” Joam's stomach knotted. “What?” Enid looked nervous, but Vic gave her an encouraging nod. “I made the same mistake. I thought that by avoiding drawing from him at all, I was protecting him. But…”

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Silence reigned as Enid trailed off. Joam shook his head in confusion. “I don't understand. You're telling me that in order to protect Blake from being drained, I have to drain him?” “Just a little bit at a time, so that you can learn how to control it.” Joam stood up, not bothering to push his chair back first. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter. “And you've done such a good job of teaching me control so far.” Vic and Saffron looked at each other helplessly. “We've never had a case like yours before,” Saffron admitted. “Most varnals start experimenting sexually a lot earlier than you did,” said Enid, a note of apology in her voice. Joam fought for calm, but the thought of deliberately draining Blake was so repugnant, his stomach churned. “Why didn't you tell me this sooner?” he asked, suppressed anger suffusing his voice. “We knew you'd have a hard time with it,” said Saffron. “We didn't want you to reject everything we said. I thought if we built up to it, you might be able to accept the truth better, but now—” “Now, we can't put it off any longer,” said Vic. Joam swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. They were right. If the first thing they'd told him was to practice drawing energy from Blake, he would have left that very day. Even now, with everything he'd been through, the compromises he'd already made, he couldn't accept it. He shook his head. “I can't.” “Can't what?” The voice came from the doorway. Joam looked up to see Blake leaning against the frame, bleary-eyed and sporting a terrific case of bedhead. He ran to him. “Babe!” Blake, warm and wonderfully alive, let Joam take him in his arms and hugged him back. Joam breathed deep, taking comfort in Blake's smell, his warmth, his love.

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“So, uh, I guess it happened again?” asked Blake. “How long was I out this time?” Joam held him tighter. He tried to answer him, but his throat closed up. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he closed them. “Two days this time,” said Saffron, behind him. “Wow. No wonder I'm thirsty,” he said. Joam got a grip on himself and guided Blake to a chair. “Here, I'll get you some water.” But Saffron was already at the fridge, pouring a tall glass of cinnamon tea from the pitcher. “Give him this. It'll help him replenish his electrolytes.” The rest of them stared at Blake as he drank down the tea. He looked up and saw them all looking at him. He laughed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I'll get you more,” said Saffron, taking the glass from him and returning to the fridge. She paused in midstride, pointing at Joam. “And you drink yours.” Joam swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded. “You gave us quite a scare,” Vic said to Blake. Blake nodded. “I guess so. The last thing I remember was… Never mind. Anyway, sorry.” “You don't have anything to be sorry for,” said Joam. “It was my fault. Again.” Blake shrugged. The look he gave Joam was clear-eyed and full of love. “You didn't do it on purpose. It's not your fault either.” Joam's tears returned. This was impossible. Blake loved him, trusted him. He couldn't keep putting him in jeopardy. At the same time, he knew that severing their bond would hurt Blake terribly. Break his heart as much as Joam's. Still, it was better than the alternative. “Blake. It's time we looked into severing the life bond.” With those words, the happiness drained from Blake's face as if Joam himself had drunk it up. “The severing ritual? I don't—” “That might not be necessary,” said Saffron.

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Joam wanted to choke her. “We don't need any more false hope.” Bewildered, Blake looked from Joam to Saffron. “If there's any alternative to severing our bond—” “There is, but it's not without its own risks,” said Vic. Blake nodded. “Okay.” “No,” said Joam. Blake turned to him. “How can you say that?” “You've taken enough risks already. I couldn't live with myself if you died… or ended up like Jimmy.” Blake tilted his head to one side. “But they're my risks to take. Shouldn't I have some say in the matter?” Joam stared at him, speechless. Blake went on. “So far, this has all been about you, Joam. Oh yeah, when I get knocked out everyone's very concerned, and I know how troubled you are by it, but the emphasis all along has been on your challenges and your feelings should anything happen to me. What about me? It's my life, my body. And as for our bond, that's just as much a part of me as it is of you.” Joam didn't know what to say. “We think that if Joam practiced drawing off small amounts of your energy, he could learn to control the process, so that in the heat of the moment, he could refrain from sapping all your reserves,” said Vic. Blake nodded. “That makes sense. Let's try it.” “No!” “Joam!” Blake barked. Startled, Joam paused with his mouth open. Blake glanced at the others. “I need to talk to Joam alone,” he said. They nodded and filed out of the room.

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Blake drew his chair closer to Joam's and rested one hand on his knee. “Let me explain something to you. Look at me.” Reluctantly, Joam met his eyes. “I've been a street hustler since I was fourteen,” said Blake. “Sex was business. Sometimes I enjoyed it, and sometimes I didn't, but there was never anything like love in it for me. Until you. That first night, when you came to the hotel room dressed in that ridiculous suit and presented me with a deck of playing cards because you don't give a guy flowers but you wanted to give me something, like I was someone to be courted and not a common street whore—” He broke off and shook his head. “You touched something inside me I thought had died the night my folks kicked me out of the house. And after we made love for the first time, I remembered what it had been like, before I was forced to fend for myself on the streets. I remembered dreams and aspirations I'd forgotten about until then. Your love brought me back to myself, Joam. I won't go back to the way I was before I met you, and I won't give up the hope of a life together. Not without a fight.” Joam took Blake's hand and squeezed it tight. “I don't want to lose you either.” Blake nodded. “And I know how scared you are of hurting me. But look at it this way. I've survived two uncontrolled drains so far. And this will be under more controlled circumstances. We've already risked so much, and there's so much at stake. Isn't it worth one more try? Aren't we worth it?” The need to protect Blake by severing their bond and the need to protect him by saving their bond pulled Joam's heart in two opposite directions, but when Blake put it this way, he couldn't refuse.

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Chapter Eight “Okay, now, keep breathing, nice and slow,” coached Vic. They were in the safe room in the basement. Joam was in varnal midform. Blake lay flat on the padded floor, looking up at Joam with trust in his eyes. He wasn't afraid. Joam supposed he was terrified enough for the both of them, which didn't prevent him from being incredibly turned on. Having a spectator made no difference either, apparently. It seemed that Joam could not be in varnal form around his lifemate without sprouting a rock-hard erection. Blake just smelled so good. And the heat that rolled off his body was so enticing. Already Joam felt the urge to draw in all that wonderful, warm sex, and he wasn't even touching Blake yet. “It's okay, you can touch him,” said Vic. “I won't let anything bad happen.” Joam nodded, breathed deeply, and placed his hands on Blake's shoulders. “Mmmm,” Blake moaned, a lazy smile playing across his lips. “That feels good.” “Keep breathing, and notice the boundary between your energy and Blake's,” said Vic. Joam did as he said, taking long, slow breaths and observing. At first all he was aware of was the tantalizing sensation of Blake's arousal feeding his own. It seemed as if

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they were one body, and he wondered how he could stop from absorbing all that Blake had to give when it already felt like it was a part of him. But then he detected something else. Not a boundary exactly, but movement. He could feel Blake's energy as it washed over him, and that meant Blake's energy was separate from his own. He focused on that awareness until he could visualize Blake's energy as a stream. “Stay focused. Just nod your head when you feel it.” Joam nodded. The more he focused on it, the more clear it became. Blake's energy was like a river, and even now, with just the touch on his shoulders, it was flowing into him. He was about to break the contact and shift back into human form, but then Vic said, “Once you've identified the flow, you can control it. Try it now. Try slowing the flow down.” Joam imagined Blake's energy as a river, and he focused on the image of the river narrowing to a tiny stream. He felt the flow of energy abate. It worked! Only a rivulet of Blake's energy trickled into him now. The surprise of it made him gasp and lift his hands from Blake, breaking the contact. “That's great,” said Vic. “Change back. We'll take a break.” They had lunch, and Joam ate with newfound relish, washing down the chicken salad sandwich with a big glass of Saffron's cinnamon tea. In the afternoon, Vic worked with them some more. By the end of the day, Joam had better control over his abilities and renewed hope for his future with Blake.

***** After dinner, Joam helped Vic with the dishes while Saffron, Enid, and Jimmy retired to the living room to watch television, and Blake went upstairs to take a nap. When the last plate was dried, Vic said, “We're going out again tonight. Want to join us?”

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Joam shook his head. “No. I think I'll stay behind. I'd really just like some time alone with Blake.” Vic smiled. “Sure. I understand.” After the varnals left and Jimmy was settled on the couch, Joam went upstairs to check on Blake. Halfway down the hallway, he put one foot down and felt every fiber of his sock against the sole of his foot, and the creak of the floorboards beneath him sounded like a symphony. He could smell the lingering odor of dish soap on his hands and up ahead, on the other side of that door, Blake. He was about to change into varnal form, without willing it. Again. But hadn't he learned to control it? What about all those drills? Had he learned nothing? Joam focused on his breathing and his body, his mind clinging to his human form, trying to keep the change at bay. But somehow the image slipped away, and he felt the now-familiar tug and flow of the shift. And once he was in varnal form, the smell of Blake on the other side of their bedroom door was overwhelming. It awakened something deep inside him, an unreasoning, animal hunger. Oh God, he was so hungry. He was instantly hard, every pore of his body crying out for stimulation, for heat and sex. The desire was so intense, it was painful. But the answer to his pain was right on the other side of that door. Why not just take it? It was his, wasn't it? All his concerns about harming Blake seemed inconsequential now. Nothing was more important than making this agony end. He was a varnal. This was what he did. Joam sprang at the door. It gave with a loud snap, and he was inside, turning to where Blake sat up blearily in the bed. “Joam?” he said, surprise in his voice. His smell—God, that smell—washed over Joam like liquid sex, sharpening his desire to even more painful extremes. Joam jumped up onto the bed and wrested the covers aside. He grabbed Blake's pajama bottoms with his teeth and ripped them from his body.

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“Joam!” protested Blake, half laughing. “Easy, boy!” Then he caught a glimpse of the look in Joam's eyes and sobered. “Joam? What are you—” Joam didn't give him a chance to finish the question. He grabbed Blake's ankles with his forehands and pulled them up, sending Blake onto his back. Blake's eyes were wide, his breath rapid. “Joam, wait.” Joam pushed Blake's ankles over his head, exposing his ass. Joam's cock throbbed at the sight of the little brown bud, and the smell of fear coming off Blake was no deterrent either. He could just imagine how it would be in another second when he slammed into Blake and fucked him senseless. He inched his hind legs closer to Blake's ass and took aim. Something hard and unforgiving struck Joam across the back of his head. The blow knocked him sideways, and he fell off the bed. He lay there, stunned. What…what was he doing? Horror at what had almost happened flooded him. He sat up, shook his head, and looked to where Jimmy stood at the foot of the bed, one of Saffron's frying pans in his hand. The blow would have killed him if he'd been in human form. Seeing the fear in Blake's face as he scrambled into the corner and pulled the covers over himself made Joam wish it had. He ran past Jimmy, and down the stairs and out of the house.

Blake forced his hands, gripping the bedspread to his chest, to unclench. He stared at Jimmy, his mind a blank. What had just happened? Was that Joam just now? He knew it was. The question was just an attempt to avoid the truth. Because of their life bond, he knew it was Joam. And because of their life bond, he knew what Joam had been feeling. He was trembling, he realized. He couldn't get his mind around any of it. The way Joam had knocked the door down, attacked him, what was in his mind as he was about to plunge into Blake's body with no preparation, no love or consideration, just hunger, and the brutal determination to satisfy his hunger no matter what the cost.

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Blake looked at Jimmy, who still stood at the foot of the bed, the frying pan in his hand. Joam would have killed him if Jimmy hadn't come in when he did. That was just another one of the impossible truths the last two minutes had forced on him. “Th-thank you,” said Blake, and then he burst into tears. Jimmy sighed. “We don't have time for that. We've got to go.” Blake took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. Jimmy still clutched the frying pan in one hand, and he stared at Blake with impatience in his intelligent hazel eyes. “They said you were brain-dead,” said Blake. “They made it seem like your condition was permanent.” “They want Joam to think that so he'll be even more freaked out about the possibility of hurting you.” Jimmy crossed to the dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a shirt. He handed them to Blake. “Enid's been systematically draining me. The only reason I've been able to recover now is that with you here she's had to wait until the middle of the night to do it, and she can only do it once a day. I've been able to shorten the sessions by seeming more out of it than I really am. And the last couple of days, she's been distracted, what with the ritual coming up and all.” Blake pulled on the jeans.

“You mean the severing ritual? But we haven't

agreed—” “Hurry up. We've got to get out of here before they get back.” “But what about Joam?” “He can take care of himself.” Blake wasn't so sure. “What you're saying—Saffron, Vic, and Enid… They're not activists promoting cross-species education and welfare, are they?” Jimmy laughed. “An outreach group in the middle of nowhere? Are you that naive? No, they're not. I first encountered them while I was investigating a rash of murders in LA. There was suspected gang activity, but the deaths were clearly caused by varnals. The trail led to their pack, but they were working for someone else. I never

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found out who it was. My cover was blown, and as you can see, they made me their plaything.” “You're a cop,” said Blake, buttoning his shirt. Jimmy tilted his head to one side. “Not exactly. I'm an onmiogi. A very weakened, out-of-practice onmiogi.” Blake froze in midbutton. “A good sorcerer,” he said, trying to keep the judgment out of his voice. It was one thing to watch one on TV, but another to be face-to-face with one in real life. Jimmy laughed out loud. “No. Not a good sorcerer. There's no such thing. Even if you start out with the best of intentions, sorcery will corrupt you. It's inherently evil because it perverts the natural order. I'm a Buddhist priest trained to fight sorcery. Do you consider Catholic priests who do exorcisms to be sorcerers?” Blake shook his head. “Well, it's the same principle in a different tradition. Now come on. We have to go.” Blake followed Jimmy down the stairs and into the hallway, but there he stopped. “I won't leave Joam behind.” Jimmy gave a pained sigh. “Joam can take care of himself.” Blake shook his head. “You don't know him. I don't know why he did that just now. Joam would die rather than hurt me. If Vic and Saffron are bad…they must have done something to him.” Jimmy nodded. “Oh, they've been doing something to him, all right. I've been trying to tell you, but I couldn't get it together enough in time. Come here.” He led Blake into the kitchen, where he opened up the refrigerator and pulled out the jug of iced tea. “She uses cinnamon to hide the flavor of the houndsbane.” He opened a cupboard and pulled a jar down from the top shelf. “See?” He shook it. Twigs with tiny, gray, fuzzy leaves rattled inside. “It only affects varnals. It suppresses certain higher

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brain functions that control their impulses. What you get is basically a totally id-driven varnal. Very dangerous.” “Oh my God!” “Yeah. This pack isn't fucking around. I'm pretty sure what went down upstairs just now was supposed to be the final act in their preparations. We better hurry if we want to get out of here before they come back.” “But what about Joam?” “First of all, you're assuming he's coming back. Even if he does, he's still better equipped to deal with them than you are. Once we get to civilization, I can contact my organization. They'll try to help him.” Another supposed organization. Blake wasn't about to trust Joam's survival to anything as murky as that. But he followed Jimmy out of the kitchen and into the living room anyway. From the look in Joam's eyes the second before he fled, he knew what he'd done and was heartbroken about it. Maybe he wouldn't return here. Maybe Blake could use the bond between them to find him. As they reached the foyer, the door clicked open. For one wild moment Blake thought it was Joam returning, and then the door swung wide and Saffron and Vic, in full varnal form, stood there staring at them. Jimmy grabbed Blake by the collar and shoved him behind him. “Run. Try to get help,” he said, raising his other hand palm outward, with the two middle fingers folded against his palm and his index and pinkie fingers pointing toward the sky. White light surrounded his hand and then expanded outward, causing the varnals to take a step back. Blake turned and ran for the back door. As he plunged through it and onto the porch, furry arms wrapped around him from behind. He struggled to free himself but was overcome by dizziness. The last thing he was aware of was his knees buckling as his consciousness faded into gray static like an out-of-tune radio station.

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Joam ran as if his tail were on fire. In his heart, where, he realized, his link with Blake was centered, he could feel his lover's fear and confusion, and despite it all, his longing for Joam to return. Joam tried to ignore it and ran on. It was the only thing he could think to do, put as much distance between them as possible to protect Blake. Even if doing so hurt Blake. He still didn't understand what had happened back there. It was as if he'd been out of his mind, totally out of control of his actions. One thing was certain—he could never put Blake at risk from another slip like that again. He sucked in the cool air as his paws ate up the ground, and he dodged around trees and fallen logs. He didn't know where he was going, or what he would do once he got there. He was at the far edge of the woods when sudden terror from Blake overrode his efforts to ignore their link. It seared his heart, and the sudden emptiness that followed made Joam stop in his tracks, his own panic seeping through his body like cold rain. What had happened to Blake? Joam turned around and ran back toward the house as fast as his legs could carry him.

Blake floated in a gray fog. Distantly he could hear voices but only caught snatches of their conversation. “…will be here soon…” “…bastard got away…” “…is ready, the time is right…” “What if he doesn't return?” He struggled against the fog and felt it recede a little bit. He became aware that he was lying on a padded rubber mat. People were talking nearby. He could make out more of their conversation now.

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“Hey, I said I'm sorry, all right?” Enid sounded defensive. “Sorry won't bring our pet onmiogi back,” said Saffron. “Or mend the damage he did before he got away. If he hadn't interfered, Blake would be dead now and Joam would be primed for the sacrifice,” said Vic, sounding nastier than Blake had ever heard him. Sacrifice? Oh no, not again. “This ritual is just as good as the other one we had planned,” said Saffron. “Walsh won't care as long as he gets what he wants.”

When Joam got back to the house, Saffron and Enid met him at the door, their faces tight with worry. “Thank God you came back,” said Saffron. “He doesn't have much time left.” Joam shifted, the fluid stretch emphasizing the churning fear in his stomach. “What happened to him?” The women exchanged a glance. “We were hoping you could tell us that,” said Enid. “Why did you leave? You must have gone pretty far…” In breathless gasps, Joam told them about how he lost control and what he almost did. Seeing the shock and pain in their faces made his guilt twist in his guts like a knife. “I don't understand,” said Saffron. “After everything we've taught you…” Joam couldn't bear her recrimination. “But he was alive and well when I left here. It wasn't until I made it to the other side of the forest that I felt something happen to him. He lost consciousness or something. What happened? Where is he?” “We came back and found him collapsed in your room,” Enid told him. “We feared you might have had a relapse and drained him.” She said it as if that was what had happened.

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“But I didn't. I was going to; I was out of control, but Jimmy came in and found us. He hit me on the head with a frying pan, and that snapped me out of it. Where is Jimmy, anyway? I want to thank him.” “He's resting,” said Enid. Saffron gave her a funny look before turning to face Joam again. “You must have drained him without realizing it. In the shock of being hit by Jimmy, you probably missed it.” “But Blake was awake when I fled.” “A delayed reaction,” said Enid. “It happens sometimes.” “Why don't you come inside, and we'll talk about that? Vic is with him right now. He may be able to tell us something helpful.” Something was wrong. What they were saying didn't quite make sense, and the way Saffron had looked when he mentioned Jimmy… “But why would—” “Do you want to see him?” “Yes, please!” Saffron gave him her warmest smile. “Follow me.” Just as they entered the kitchen, Vic came in from downstairs. “He's stable, for now, but if we can't—Oh, Joam, thank God.” He came over and gave Joam a hug. Desperate to hang on to something, anything, Joam hugged him back. “From what Joam says, it's a delayed reaction,” said Saffron. Vic's eyes widened. “That's bad. He's in a coma already; if it gets worse…” They all looked grave. “What?” demanded Joam. “We know how adamant Blake was about not severing your bond,” said Vic, “but I'm afraid it's the only way to save him now.” Was? “Is. Blake is. He's not dead.” “Not yet,” said Vic.

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“You mean this could kill him?” “If we don't act soon, it probably will. What you did set up a permanent drain link. You're drawing off him all the time now, without even knowing it. The only way to stop it is to sever the connection between you.” Panic made his trembling worse. “But you said we need a sorcerer.” He felt like his heart was being stretched. Anything was worth it if it meant Blake would live. But to have the solution, painful as it may be, so close, and yet— “Well, after your second slip, we thought it might become necessary to sever the bond, despite Blake's objections, so we…ah…” “We tracked down an onmiogi,” said Enid. “A what?” “A good sorcerer. One who manipulates the forces of nature for good, not evil. We told him of your difficulty in controlling your abilities and of Blake's plight, and he agreed to help us when the time was right. It's a full moon tonight. The perfect time for this ritual. He said he'd hold this night for us if we need him. He's just a phone call away.” Joam swallowed. “Call him. Call him now.”

***** While Vic called the onmiogi, Saffron laid a hand on his shoulder. “Would you like to see Blake now?” “Yes. Please.” She nodded and led him to the basement steps. “We didn't know exactly what was going on when we found him like this, so we put him in the training room, where he'd be protected, no matter what happened next.” It wasn't lost on Joam what she really meant. Protected from him, was what she was too kind to say.

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“I know you won't do anything now to put Blake at further risk,” said Saffron, “and I have to help Vic and Enid prepare for the ritual. I'll give you some time alone with him.” Joam looked over his shoulder at her. “Thank you, for everything.” She gave him a sad smile. “That's what we're here for.” She unlocked the door and opened it. It was dark inside, but Joam could just make out the outline of a figure lying curled on the floor. Blake! He went in and heard the door swinging shut behind him. As the lock clicked, he realized what had been wrong about what she'd said. “I have to help Vic and Enid prepare for the ritual.” But Saffron, Vic, and Enid weren't sorcerers…were they? He reached over to the light switch and flicked it on. The entire room was covered, floor, walls, and ceiling, in arcane symbols drawn in chalk. Three circles dominated the floor, two in opposite corners, with the third circle between them, linking them. Blake lay curled on his side in the middle of the circle in the northeast corner of the room. “Blake!” Forgetting the danger he posed to his lover, Joam rushed to his side, shaking him urgently. “Wake up!” Blake moaned softly, and his eyelids fluttered. Joam stroked his face, running his other hand over his golden hair. “Babe, please, wake up.” Blake took a deep breath. “Mmmmn?” he murmured. “It's me. It's Joam. Come on. Wake up.” Joam got the clear impression that Blake was trying to cooperate, but that his energy was just too low. In the meantime, a few pieces were falling into place, creating a very ugly picture. Anyone who could create a diagram this elaborate was not just drawing off a book or following instructions. Saffron, Vic, and Enid were sorcerers, and they'd lied about it. Which meant they had no need to summon an onmiogi. Which meant that the person they were summoning was someone or something else. And— Joam's heart clutched at the frail hope—it was possible that Blake's current state was not down to him after all. At least, not this time.

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“Cssiiinnammm,” Blake muttered. “That's it,” encouraged Joam. “Come back to me.” “Doonn drriiinn da cinnnnaa…” “I'm right here, Blake. Wake up, please.” Blake's face contorted as he tried to shake himself free of his lethargy. “Deh cinnnaammun!” “The cinnamon? The cinnamon tea? What about it?” Blake's eyes opened, closed again, and then opened once more. Joam cursed inwardly at the agony he saw there. This was all his fault; if he could have controlled his powers better, sooner, they wouldn't still be here. “Joam.” Blake's voice was barely a whisper. He leaned down, putting his ear to Blake's mouth. Blake's breath was warm and gentle on his skin. “Saffron's been drugging you. The reason you've been losing control, it's the cinnamon tea.” An odd mixture of feelings coursed through Joam at those words. If Saffron, Vic, and Enid were sorcerers who'd been keeping them here for reasons unknown, and they were now locked in a room prepped for a ritual, then they were in deep shit. But if the reason Joam had been behaving the way he had, his unexpected changes, draining Blake uncontrollably, even—God, please—the attempted rape, were because he'd been drugged, then there was hope that he and Blake could still have a life together. Maybe. If they got out of this alive. “I need to wake up, Joam. Help me.” Joam gathered Blake's limp form in his arms and held him tight. “What can I do?” Blake didn't answer. Joam knew that they didn't have much time. If the other varnals came in while Blake was still immobile, they were screwed. Joam couldn't fight them and defend Blake at the same time. He had to do something, now. He remembered his lessons in controlling the energy drain with Vic. They'd gone well, and then after lunch—and, he realized, a big glass of cinnamon tea—he'd lost it.

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But he'd been good at it when not under the influence. Something he'd wondered about even then came back to him now. If he could drain energy from Blake, could he reverse the flow and give Blake some of his own? Even trying it was a big risk. He tried to sense the presence of whatever Saffron had put in that damned tea to make him lose it, but he'd never been aware of it before, so there was no telling if it was still in his system now. At least he'd had a long run. He told Blake about his idea. “Yes, try it.” “But it could backfire. It could—” He couldn't even speak the possibility of the worst that might happen. “What other choice do we have?” Joam nodded. Blake was right. He laid him down on the floor again, gently, and went to the far corner of the room. That way, if he was still under the influence, he'd have some hope of detecting it in time and shifting back to human form. Maybe. He changed into midform, hoping that this intermediate state might afford him more control. Blake's enticing smell mingled with the acrid stink of sorcery in the room. As always, Joam was aroused by the smell and presence of his lover, but he found he could refrain from approaching him if he willed it. That was a good sign. But there was no more time for delay. The other varnals could be down here any minute. He padded over to where Blake lay. Before touching him, Joam spent a few breaths familiarizing himself with the feel of his own energy. He imagined himself to be a water tank, his fingers the hose leading into the empty reservoir that was Blake. And his mind was the spigot. When he had the image firmly in place, he turned, reached out, and placed his hands on Blake's shoulders, and he mentally turned the spigot on. He felt his energy seeping into Blake, but the process was slow. Too slow. He had an idea what might speed things up. Bolstered by this moderate success, he leaned over

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and kissed Blake, gathering his arousal and pouring it into Blake as his tongue plundered the warm, wet cavern of Blake's mouth. More energy flowed from him, and Blake stirred. “Mmmmmm,” he murmured and returned the kiss. Joam broke their kiss, afraid of what reciprocal activity on Blake's part might do. He turned his attention to Blake's neck, licking and kissing and nipping at the tender skin, and all the time holding in his mind the image of water flowing from him into Blake. He heard Blake sigh and felt the slightest brush of a finger against his arm. “Don't,” said Joam. “Let me. Just…take it in.” With a sigh of regret, Blake whispered his acquiescence. As he bestowed energy on Blake with every kiss, every caress, Joam felt himself redeemed. If he could do this, then there was no more reason to be afraid of what he was. Of what he could do. He could use his abilities to help people, instead of prey on them. Of course, he wouldn't help everyone the way he was helping Blake now. Joam couldn't suppress a smile as he came to the waistband of Blake's jeans. He undid them. What he was doing must have been working, because Blake, though not rock hard by any estimation, was nevertheless tumescent. A remarkable feat given the circumstances. Joam took the half-hard cock into his mouth and was rewarded by a sharp cry from Blake. While he sucked and worked his tongue up and down the slowly filling shaft, he reached down and cupped Blake's balls, kneading them gently in his hand and feeling the warm flow of the gift of his sexual energy. He was so hard, but he didn't want to come. He wanted to take all of his arousal and pour it into Blake. He wanted to make Blake feel everything he felt. Blake's cock hardened, and Joam was thrilled to feel his hips flexing beneath him. Joam opened himself to Blake's cock and let him slowly fuck his face. The sensation of Blake's cock filling his mouth, the velvet skin on his tongue and the sweet musk in his nose, made him groan and flex his own hips, his inflamed cock seeking some kind of

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contact. He concentrated on pouring all those feelings into Blake, sharing them with him, making him feel them too. “God! Joam! I…I never!” Blake was stronger, but still far from where he'd need to be to contend with the varnals. As enjoyable as this was, it was taking too long. “Blake,” rasped Joam. “I think I need to fuck you.” “Yes!” Joam pulled Blake's pants off and raised his knees. They flopped back down again the moment he let go of them. With an inward cringe, he remembered what he'd done upstairs, in their room, when he wasn't about to wait around for a little thing like consent, and he took Blake's ankles in his hands and raised them toward his shoulders. This put him in the perfect position to penetrate Blake. Even in middle form, the varnal penis was different from a human one. For one thing, it was prehensile, and for another, it made its own lube. On his knees, Joam scooted closer to Blake's ass and tilted his hips. His cock, already seeking the heat of Blake's tight hole, dripped with thick, viscous precum. It brushed against Blake's asshole, painting the rim with lubricant. The tip was thin, tapered. He eased it inside Blake, distributing precum as he went, gently working him open. “Oh! Oh God, Joam! I-I've never felt—” He eased himself inside Blake's hot channel and went in search of his prostate. When he found the spongy gland, Joam curled the tip of his penis around it and stroked, focusing on pouring his arousal into the sensitive spot. “Oh God!” Blake's full-throated shout echoed in Joam's ears, and he was grateful that the room was soundproof. All of a sudden, strong arms clutched at his back, fingers digging into his muscles. Joam drew his hips back and thrust in again and again, each time bestowing a special kiss upon Blake's prostate and eliciting another scream of ecstasy. He released Blake's legs, and Blake wrapped them around his hips with almost painful strength. The

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two of them moved together now, breathing in rhythm as the energy between them built and built. Joam became concerned. This might be more than a human body could take. It was clear that Blake was back to full strength (if not a bit more), and Joam himself was unsure if he could handle the excess. But it had to go somewhere. Blake was on the same wavelength with him. “The…door…” he panted. Joam nodded. His balls were tight against his body, and the sensation in the pit of his stomach was like a hand opening. And Blake's frantic bucking beneath him told him that he was just as close. “Together,” he breathed. Blake nodded. “Now!” Their orgasms exploded together. Blake's cum shot all over Joam's furry midform chest, and the convulsions of his body sent ripples all around Joam's cock at the same time that Joam's seed poured into him. The power of their release shot out from between them and struck the door like an invisible cannonball. An enormous clang reverberated through the room and, most likely, the entire house. All Joam wanted to do was collapse in a heap and hug Blake to him for the next two days, but this was no time to bask in the afterglow. He swept Blake up in a brief hug before releasing him to stand, swaying slightly, staring at what remained of the door to their prison. It hung off its hinges, the metal warped and twisted, smoking a little on the inside. Joam's head swam. “Come on,” said Blake, bounding through the door in a single, impressive leap. Joam ran behind him, trying to catch his breath.

Blake had never felt like this before. Joam had done more than just restore his energy and provide him with the most powerfully erotic experience of his life. From the energy that seemed to burst from every cell of his body, Blake suspected that Joam had gone a bit overboard, lending him more power than had been his to start with.

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Blake sprang for the door and was shocked to find himself standing outside it, in the little office area of the basement. Footsteps on the stairs were louder in his ears than they would normally be, and he turned to see four figures descending the stairs. The three varnals, all in midform now, and another figure, wrapped in white robes.

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Chapter Nine The three varnals stood at the foot of the stairs, staring at them. For an instant, Joam hoped the robed figure was Jimmy the onmiogi, but then he caught the scent, and everything fell into place. Gregor Walsh threw back the hood of his robe and uttered a word in another language. A wall of force slapped into Joam and Blake, forcing them back into the room. Caught unprepared, Joam skittered backward, frantically scrabbling at the carpet for purchase, and Blake put his shoulder against the invisible barrier and tried to push back, but it was no use. The force, whatever it was, rolled inexorably on, pushing them back into the room. As they crossed the threshold, the symbols on the walls came alive, glowing blue and…moving. It was as if the room itself writhed. Joam took Blake's hand. Walsh and the three varnals, moving with unnatural speed, followed them into the room. Walsh gestured at the door, uttered another unintelligible word, and the door unwarped itself and slammed shut. “You will not escape me this time!” Joam looked at Vic. “You've been working for him all along, haven't you? Even that night when you quote unquote saved us from the cops.”

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Walsh laughed. “I called the cops on you, Joam. To flush you and your little whore out. To make you trust my servants, believe everything they told you. It nearly worked perfectly.” He glared at Enid, who shrank back from the door. “But someone got careless with a certain pet onmiogi I was foolish enough to let her keep.” Enid shook her head, her eyes wide. Joam smelled the fear on her, rolling off her in waves of acrid funk. “Please, Your Excellency, I beg your forgiveness!” “She did recapture the whore,” said Saffron. Walsh directed his glare at her. “Do you want to accept punishment in her stead?” Saffron shook her head and said no more. Walsh's cold gray eyes pierced the gloom, reflecting the light of the sigils like twin blue flames. “It is always possible that in the escape attempt, some of the workings in the room have been disturbed. It would be best to test the diagram before we proceed. We don't want anything else to go wrong.” “No!” protested Enid. Walsh looked at Vic and Saffron. “This is your opportunity to prove your loyalty to me.” They went to Enid's side, each taking one of her arms. “No. Vic, please, don't! Saffron!” Her cries were heartbreaking, even after Joam remembered that she'd kept Jimmy in a state of catatonia for years. Saffron and Vic forced her toward one of the circles drawn in the floor. The one in the far right corner where Blake had been. As they did, Walsh positioned himself in the middle circle. “She has no life bond to sever,” said Joam, hoping to keep Walsh talking. Walsh laughed. “You really fell for that severing ritual idea, didn't you? There's no way to sever a life bond once it's forged, except to kill one or both of the partners. I suppose you could say that what we've arranged here is a severing ritual, if it makes you feel better. Watch.”

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Saffron and Vic shoved Enid inside the circle. Immediately, she began to writhe and scream as the symbols transformed into small, glowing blue creatures with wings and large jaws full of teeth. They leaped from their stations and flew at her, attacking her. Each time one bit her, it was as if it devoured a chunk of her corporeal form, leaving nothing but a ghostly white outline of her body in its place. Her screams got louder. Joam and Blake rushed to the circle, both intent on pulling her out, but when they reached it, they found an impermeable wall prevented them from reaching her. Within moments, she was gone, and all that remained was a ghostly wraith. “All that's left of her soul now is pain,” said Walsh. “Now see what happens when that pain is unleashed on a living subject.” Without warning, he, Saffron, and Vic surrounded Joam, moving at a supernatural speed. They grabbed him and forced him toward the other circle. Joam struggled against them, but he was weakened from the energy exchange with Blake. Meanwhile, Blake grabbed Vic by the neck and threw him across the room. “Get off my boyfriend!” Vic careened into the wall and came back running. By now, Blake had turned his attention to Walsh. “Blake, don't,” shouted Joam, even as Blake sprang. Walsh took one hand from Joam's shoulder and waved it at Blake, who slammed into an invisible wall and slid to the floor. “Drain him, would you?” he said to Vic. Joam couldn't see what happened next because Walsh and Saffron shoved him inside the other circle. This one had symbols on the outside. Instantly Joam reverted to his human form, and the symbols sprang to life as the others had. When they did, the circle around him became visible as a dome of blue light. The symbols merged with the dome and then flared bright white before vanishing. Joam blinked to clear the dazzle from his eyes. What was happening to Blake?

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“They're going to rape him, and it's your fault.” Joam swung around, looking for the source of the voice, but it was as if it came from everywhere at once. He was surrounded by a white haze. Feelings of rage and despair settled over him like a heavy blanket. He felt weak. “You are weak. Weak and stupid. Too bad Blake must pay the price.” Joam tried to clear away the white fog so he could see what was happening in the rest of the room, but it was no use. The stuff was thick. He tried to listen. He shouted. “Blake! What's happening? I can't see!” And in his human form, he couldn't feel Blake either. Then the mist attacked him. It started with little pinpricks all over his skin. He squirmed, trying to get away from them, but there was no escape. “Why didn't you just leave him alone? It's your fault he's in this mess. You got him involved with Higgs and Freemont back in Beulah, and now you got him involved with this. You don't have the strength to give him up.” “I do!” Joam protested. “I would if I could. Even if it cost my life. Anything! Enid! I know it's you, Enid. Help me!” A scornful laugh pierced his ears like a lance. The pinpricks became burns, like from a cigarette, thousands of them, all over his body. Joam fell to the floor, gasping. “Soon, what happened to me will happen to Blake. Soon, it will be his soul that torments you. And you'll beg for death. The two of you will be damned together, doomed to inflict unimaginable pain on one another for all eternity. And the promise of the life you could have had, all the joy and the love—His Excellency will soak up all that wasted happiness and use it to make himself even stronger. The power of thwarting your love will take him to the next level, where he can manifest all his varnal powers while still in human form. He'll be able to claim his victims whenever he pleases, never having to fear exposure as an eldritch creature.” Joam fought for breath over the agony racking his body. The fire was on the inside now, lancing up and down his bones. “If he's such a powerful sorcerer, why does he need to manifest his varnal abilities in human form? Why not just cast spells?”

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“Spells take time, you fool, and they're too easily disrupted.” “Walsh used you, Enid. Just like he's using me and Blake. He's not your friend. Help us, and we'll try to find someone to set your soul at rest. Please.” A momentary abatement in the agony told Joam she was thinking about it. Then the pain returned threefold, each manifestation he'd experienced so far now hitting him at once. He screamed.

Blake sprang to his feet just as Vic came at him in full varnal form. He dodged Vic's first thrust, but the creature moved with inhuman speed. Teeth sank into Blake's calf. He reached down, prying the jaws off his leg. Vic dodged away, and Blake tried to get past him to help Joam. Vic lunged at him again, and this time Blake caught him by the scruff of the neck. He threw him, aiming at Saffron and Walsh as they shoved Joam toward the circle. Vic struck Saffron in the back, and she staggered, but it was too late. They'd already shuffled Joam over the line. White mist filled the circle, and he couldn't see anything. Walsh, Saffron, and Vic all faced him now. “Seems your boyfriend gave you a little something extra,” said Walsh. “Too bad. He's going to need it.” Joam's scream rang through the room. Blake rushed the three of them. “Let him out of there!” A gesture from Walsh sent Blake flat on his back. Before he could get up again, another gesture transformed the sigils at his wrists into manacles, which snapped shut, pinning him in place. Sigils on the ceiling unfurled and became chains. Joam screamed again, his cry even more anguished than the last one. The sound shredded Blake's nerves. No. This wasn't going to happen. They weren't going to get away with this. No. The chains reached for his ankles, slithering across the floor like snakes. Blake tried to keep his feet away from them, but they seemed to anticipate every move he

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made. Cold metal wrapped around his ankles and pulled, raising his feet up and apart. Vic stepped forward, his bright red erection bobbing. Over Vic's shoulder, Blake saw that the mist in the circle that held Joam had cleared. He lay on the floor, limp and drenched in sweat. Their eyes met. Blake willed Joam to look away. He knew this would be the worst torture of all, having to watch him be violated while he was helpless to prevent it. But Joam didn't look away, of course. He just held Blake's gaze. It was as if in this one way, the sorcerers could not separate them. Whatever else they did to them, they still had a connection. The thought reminded Blake of how Joam had revived him, and even given him some of his own energy. It wasn't Joam alone who had done that. Blake, too, had taken part. Joam had given energy, and Blake had taken it. It gave him an idea. As Vic positioned himself between Blake's spread legs, Blake pretended to panic. “No! Please, don't! Don't do this, Vic. I beg you!” The varnal grinned and morphed into middle form. He grasped Blake's hips in his hands. Blake braced himself for the pain. He couldn't let it distract him from what he had to do. If this was going to work at all, it had to be done in the very first moments of contact. He closed his eyes, gathering his energy and concentrating on how it had felt when he'd absorbed it from Joam. In one brutal thrust, Vic entered him. Blake felt the drain begin, and he used all his energy to reverse the flow. He couldn't have done it at all without the extra power Joam had given him. It acted like a ballast, allowing him to tip the balance and draw Vic's energy in. Vic gasped in surprise. He tried to withdraw, but it was too late. Blake's concentrated energy was like a gravitational field, sucking Vic in, drawing off his energy faster and faster. “N-no-no!” the varnal screamed, panicking. “Now you know how it feels,” said Blake, finding it difficult to speak over the flood of energy filling every part of his body. As it did, he felt differences in what was

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coming into him. This was the energy Vic had drawn from various victims over the years. Blake concentrated on drawing it all in. Vic slumped against him, but Blake didn't stop. Truth was, he didn't know how to stop. He just kept drawing and drawing as Saffron looked on in horror and Walsh tried several gestures in succession, all to no avail. The symbols just got absorbed along with Vic's energy. “Stop this!” he shouted to Saffron. “Pull him off!” Saffron tried, but the moment she touched Vic, she too became a part of the energy transfer. In the end, there was nothing left of either of them but a thin coating of dust on the floor.

Joam wished Enid had taken him with her to hell if it meant he didn't have to witness what Vic was about to do to Blake. But he was here. He couldn't move, or he'd be beating on the walls of his confinement, futile as it might be. But his already weakened condition was no match for Enid's torture, and when she'd finished and evaporated, he fell, boneless, to the floor. Now, the only thing he could do for Blake was hold his gaze as Vic approached. If only Blake could take all that extra energy Joam had given him and use it to draw off Vic's energy instead of letting him drain him. Blake's eyes gleamed, and suddenly the suppressed fear he saw in them became something else. The tiniest ember of hope sparked to life inside Joam, growing brighter as he saw Vic first panic and then slump over Blake, unconscious. Perhaps, even though he was in human form and all these warped forces were arrayed against it, something of their bond remained functioning. Or maybe Blake had the idea all on his own.

By the time Vic and Saffron disintegrated, Blake was so pumped up with energy, he felt like he might explode at any moment. A glance down confirmed his suspicions. He was glowing. He flexed his arms and his legs, and the manacles shackling him shattered. Before he even got up, he shot a beam of energy at the circle that held Joam,

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blasting it open and destroying the framework for the whole ritual. Then he turned and found Walsh staring at him, slowly backing up toward the door. Walsh turned to flee, but even his accelerated responses were no match for Blake with the energy of a hundred victims coursing through his body. He got to the door before Walsh and blocked the way, levitating a good foot off the ground. “You want power?” he asked. “Then take it!” He thrust his hands outward and released all the energy he had taken from Vic and Saffron and Joam. It poured out of his hands in a torrent of golden light and plowed into Walsh. The energy surrounded Walsh, and he writhed within it. Inside the golden glow, Blake could make out smaller concentrations of energy. They looked similar to the little blue things that had devoured Enid. The souls of Vic and Saffron's victims, he realized. And then, something astonishing happened. From Walsh's mouth, which was spread wide in a soundless scream, poured more of those gold lights—thousands of them.

Joam tried to crawl to where Blake floated, facing Walsh. Walsh was being devoured by the souls of his victims. That seemed like karmic justice, but Joam was worried about what would happen once Walsh's soul was freed from his body. He knew firsthand just what an angry ghost could do. Blake saw him, dropped to the floor, and hurried to his side. “Joam!” “Good job. Only, with no circle to contain his soul…” Blake's eyes widened. “Oh shit!” In the next breath, he gathered Joam in his arms and ran for the door. Just as they got there, it swung open. What now? Jimmy, dressed in white robes and accompanied by a tall blonde woman in jeans and a T-shirt and a dark-skinned man in a clerical collar, stood in the doorway. They took one look around the room, and at Walsh, and their eyes grew wide. “The chalice,” said Jimmy.

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The priest nodded, opened up the case he carried, and withdrew a silver goblet, which he placed on the floor near Walsh's feet. Meanwhile, the woman positioned herself on the other side of Walsh, took a deep breath, and shifted into varnal middle form. Jimmy and the priest also stood facing Walsh, each evenly spaced around him in a triad. Jimmy began to chant, and the others joined in. White light emanated from them and then formed a circle around Walsh. At least, what was left of him. The little golden things had nearly devoured him by now, and as they watched, the last few scraps of corporeal flesh were consumed, and the golden droplets spun in a circle around his milky form before dropping, one by one, into the chalice, where they disappeared. Walsh's spirit flew right at Blake but hit the wall of protection that Jimmy and his colleagues had created. For a moment or two, the ghost battered itself against the confines of its enclosure, and then one of the golden droplets still on its way to the goblet doubled back, grabbed Walsh's ghost by the scruff of the neck, and dragged him along with it. A thin wail echoed outward as he vanished.

***** Blake held Joam tight as he watched Jimmy and the others dissolve the circle. The chalice, to all appearances empty, went back into its case, and then the three of them stood looking at Joam and Blake. Blake sat on the floor, Joam half sitting, half lying in his lap. Jimmy came and knelt beside them. “That was a remarkable thing you did.” He glanced at Joam. “Both of you.” “We've been trying to get Walsh for years,” said the woman. “Thank you.” “And thank you for helping our partner escape,” said the priest. Jimmy cringed. “It wasn't supposed to work out that way. You were supposed to escape,” he said to Blake.

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Blake nodded, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, he felt very tired, and he was glad that he was sitting down, because he might have fallen otherwise. “So, what are you guys?” “We fight sorcery, and we try to help its victims—” “And we help paranormal beings learn how to use their powers safely,” said the varnal woman. “We'd like to help you,” said the priest. Blake and Joam looked at one another. “No offense, Jimmy, but…we've been fooled before, and…” “What you did just now looked an awful lot like sorcery,” said Joam, his voice hoarse. Joam hadn't seen Jimmy in action earlier like Blake had. He didn't know why, but he just knew this wasn't sorcery. “Sorcery perverts the natural order. What we did was magic, but the kind that works with and enhances natural processes. Just like what you did, Blake. Oh, and my name's not Jimmy. I'm Do-Chun.” “And I'm Father Magoro.” “Jane Baldridge.” Jimmy—Do-Chun, clapped his hands together and said, “Well, shall we get out of here? Our car is outside, we can drop you off wherever you want to go.” He held a hand out to Joam, who took it, and Father Magoro took Joam by the arm, and together, they got him upright. Blake didn't like it. He wanted to carry him, but…he could barely stand himself. He let Jane lend him a steadying arm. They got out of the house and started down the driveway toward a blue minivan parked at the end of the drive. “Wait,” said Blake. They stopped and looked at him. “What you said… Just like what I did? I'm not… I can't do magic.”

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All of them, including Joam, started to laugh. Joam pushed off from Do-Chun and staggered toward him. “Babe,” he said, leaning against Blake and wrapping his arms around him, “you so can.”

***** Their room in the Motel 6 outside of St. Louis was a dead ringer for the one they'd stayed in after fleeing Beulah, but so many other things had changed. Blake lay stretched out on the bed, hands behind his head, just enjoying staring up at the ceiling while Joam napped beside him. It was late afternoon of the day after they'd left the farmhouse, and the sun against the drawn orange and red drapes lit the room with a warm glow. Do-Chun, Jane Baldridge, and Father Magoro all had rooms here too. They were on their way back to their base of operations and more than happy to give Blake and Joam a ride and a little money to tide them over. While Blake relished this time alone with Joam, it was comforting knowing that Jimmy—Do-Chun, he kept having to remind himself—and his associates were nearby. And the fact that Father Magoro had examined Joam and declared that the houndsbane was completely gone from his system was especially reassuring. Beside him, Joam stirred. Blake turned and watched him, the golden light turning his skin to bronze. Joam's eyelids fluttered open. He smiled when he saw Blake, and reached out to touch him. No hesitation now. No fear. Blake leaned into the hand caressing the side of his face. He scooted closer to Joam and wrapped one leg over Joam's hips. “Hi.” Joam's smile was as warm and lazy as a long summer's day. “Hi.” “Did you have a nice nap?” Joam leaned over and pressed his lips to the crook of Blake's neck. “Mmm hmm.” Blake ran his hand up Joam's flank and over his back, slowly stroking his silken skin. Joam lifted his head, and their mouths met, lips melding together in a deep kiss.

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Blake savored it. There was no hurry. For the first time, they weren't looking over their shoulders, worried about being caught by Higgs or the cops or their own inner demons. Joam brought his arms around Blake and pulled him close, and Blake relaxed into his embrace, relishing every timeless moment. The more they kissed, the harder Blake got. He reached down and cupped Joam's ass and drew him closer, fitting their groins together so that his cock nestled against Joam's own erection. Blake flexed his hips, dragging his cock up and down Joam's shaft. The friction made every nerve in Blake's body sizzle, and Joam made that little whimpering noise in the back of his throat that never failed to drive him wild. On impulse, Blake pushed Joam onto his back and straddled his hips. Joam looked up at him, a question in his eyes. His chest rose and fell, his skin glimmering with a thin sheen of sweat. “I want to try something,” said Blake. Joam nodded warily. “I'm…I'm not ready to do anything houndclad, or even in midform. Not until I get more training from Jane. I know she said that a lot of what Vic and Saffron and Enid told us was bullshit, but until we know which parts were lies…” “I know. And I agree with you. This is something different.” Blake sat back and let Joam's cock nestle into the crack of his ass. “First, I want you inside me.” Joam swallowed. “I want that too, but…is it too soon? Blake, I-I'm sorry I couldn't stop Vic.” The pain of Vic's forced entry had all but faded from Blake's memory. He leaned forward and caressed Joam's face, trying to ease the worried expression he saw there. “It was rape; there's no denying that,” he said, “but if it hadn't happened, things would have turned out very differently, and we might not be here now.” “Yes. I know that,” said Joam, “but that doesn't mean it wasn't traumatic for you.” Blake thought about that. “It's a funny thing,” he said. “I've been through that before. This time, I turned the tables on the one attacking me. It hurt, but…I don't feel

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helpless like I did those other times. In fact, what happened gave me the power to defeat Walsh.” Joam said nothing. Just ran his hands up and down Blake's arms and nodded, listening. “I want to try giving and exchanging energy with you while we make love. While you're in human form. If I can do that, then I don't think we'll need to worry about you draining me anymore.” Joam nodded understanding. His hands came to rest on the tops of Blake's thighs. “But you could take me,” he said. That was true. Blake kissed Joam, then worked his way down along his long, beautiful jaw to the tender curve of his neck. “Yeah, but it bothers me that Vic was the last one to enter me. Doing this with you…” He sighed. “I know it doesn't make any real sense, but—to me—you'll cancel him out.” Joam wrapped his arms around Blake and hugged him tight. “If it helps you.” “It will. I know it.” The light in the room was like liquid gold, and it reflected in Joam's eyes as he looked up at Blake. He drew Blake's head down and kissed him tenderly, thoroughly. “I love you.” Blake reveled in Joam's warm embrace. “I know. I love you too.” Joam rolled Blake over onto his back and kissed his way down his body. Blake was rock hard by now, and his cock leaped as Joam's exploring mouth neared it. But Joam dismissed it with an affectionate stroke or two that only inflamed Blake's desire. When Joam fondled Blake's balls but lowered his head to run his tongue over the little patch of skin behind them, Blake knew what he was up to, and he lifted his knees to his chest. Joam ran his tongue over the tight pucker of Blake's asshole. The heat and the wet made it pulse open, begging for more, and Joam didn't disappoint him. He pointed his

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tongue and ran it in circles around the perimeter of the opening, swirling around and around. “Oh, Joam!” Blake cried out, and then, when Joam pushed his tongue inside Blake's hungry body, the molten sensation made Blake shout, “Oh my God!” Joam plunged his tongue inside Blake, teasing and tantalizing his tight muscles, relaxing him, making him forget that anything bad had ever happened to him. Blake felt like he was awash in a sea of wonderful feelings. His cock was rock hard, leaking and begging for attention, but that just made everything Joam did to prepare him even more delicious. When Joam had licked and sucked and kissed Blake's asshole into a state of total bliss, he withdrew and went to work on him with his fingers, slicked up with some hand lotion Blake had the foresight to pick up when they stopped at a 7-Eleven for coffee during their drive, along with a pack of condoms. “I've never done this before,” said Joam, working one finger inside Blake. Blake pushed up against the slick intruder, moaning as Joam moved his finger around, exploring. “Where's that spot…?” Joam's finger brushed over Blake's prostate, and every nerve in Blake's body lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. “God! Joam!” Blake screamed. “Ha, there it is!” By the time Joam was finished, Blake's body was a liquid pool of desire, and he'd produced so much precum, there was a puddle of it on his belly, slowly seeping into his navel. As Joam began to insert a third finger, Blake sat up. “Enough. I can't take it anymore. I want you now.” Joam grinned with such innocent delight, it made Blake's heart swell. Not just his heart. His cock was getting very demanding. Blake pushed Joam down onto his back and climbed on top of him. With one hand splayed over Joam's chest, he reached back with the other and slicked Joam's rigid shaft with lotion. Joam's breath caught and his head fell back. “Oh, babe, you're so hard,” said Blake, already imagining how it would feel to have Joam's big cock inside him.

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All this time Joam had been sporting that erection, Blake realized, not doing a thing about it as he meticulously prepared his lover with nothing to guide him but his own limited experience of what Blake had done for him their few times together. Blake was awed all over again by Joam's patience and generosity. Blake rose up and guided Joam's shaft between his cheeks. He lowered himself onto the flared head, letting it slip inside and gently open him for the rest. Blake gasped, then nodded his head in reassurance to Joam, who was watching him carefully. “Yeah,” Blake whispered, “yeah.” Slowly, Blake sank down onto Joam's cock, savoring every inch of it until, finally, it filled him completely. They rested there, Blake savoring the feeling of Joam inside him. Already, their chests heaved with pent-up desire. Joam's eyelids fluttered, his face and neck and chest pink with the sex blush. “Now, let's see…” Blake said, bracing his hands on Joam's chest. He closed his eyes and tried to feel the energy the way he had before. He could sense it, a shifting tide of sex and heat generated between the two of them. Blake focused on the part of it that was inside him, and he pushed, just a little, to send some to Joam. Joam gasped, and his eyes flew open. He stared at Blake in disbelief. “Did you feel that?” Blake grinned. “Yeah. That was me feeding you energy. I wonder. You're not houndclad or even in midform, but if I can do it…” Joam seemed to understand immediately. He closed his eyes, and his face became peaceful in concentration. Suddenly, a warm wave washed through Blake, leaving tingling sensations in its wake. “Yes! You did it.” Joam gazed at him with unadulterated joy. Relief and hope etched every line of his face and body. “That means…” “It means you don't have to worry about draining me, because anything you take, you can give.”

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Joam pushed himself up onto his elbows, and Blake leaned forward, and they kissed. Blake flexed his hips and rolled the energy back to Joam, who pushed up into him and sent another intoxicating wave of energy through Blake. Back and forth they went, over and over again, tossing the energy between them like a beach ball. Blake felt his balls draw up to his body, felt the tightening in the pit of his stomach. “Joam. Touch me. I'm gonna come.” Joam, sweat-soaked hair in his eyes, his mouth open, reached down and grasped Blake's cock in his hand. At his touch, Blake felt the energy between them peak. “Now,” he said. Joam gasped and shuddered, and the knot in Blake's belly exploded like a wave crashing against the shore. As Blake's cum shot up between them, as Joam's cock swelled inside him and released its load, the energy too broke free. Bubbles of golden light rose up all around them. Joam stared, wide-eyed, and then looked up at Blake. “Do you see that?” Mesmerized, Blake nodded. “Yeah. Wow.” The lights floated up toward the ceiling and vanished. Blake sank down beside Joam, letting his lover's softening cock slip from his body. For a long time they just lay there, staring at one another, awed by what had just happened. “I wonder what else we can do,” said Joam. Blake grinned. “I can't wait to find out.”

THE END

Jessica Freely Jessica Freely writes m/m erotic romance. Check out her website at http://www.friskbiskit.com, or feel free to drop her a line at [email protected]. She loves to hear from readers.