Manfred's Curse

MANFRED ’S CURSE

…Conrad couldn’t believe what was about to happen. Was he crazy? Maybe. But he’d seen Manfred change to a cat and back to a man with his own eyes. He might be hallucinating…or not. But there was no denying when he looked into Manfred’s golden eyes something in his chest shifted. And definitely something in his groin. It was entirely possible this cat-man had intentions of harming him, but he didn’t think so. He’d been wrong before, though. He wasn’t always the best judge of men. Manfred tossed him on the queen-sized bed and immediately started yanking at his jeans. He hadn’t bothered putting on shoes after his shower so at least they didn’t have that problem to deal with. Conrad unsnapped his jeans, which made Manfred’s tugging on them a lot easier. Just like that, Manfred had shed him of his jeans and briefs, freeing his hard-as-nails cock to spring free and slap against his belly. Before he could do anything else, Manfred crushed Conrad underneath him, holding his arms above his head with one strong grip. The man’s other hand closed over Conrad’s cock, jerking it. “Oh…oh…my God.” Manfred kissed him, devouring his lips, nibbling them as he kissed, and sending shockwaves through Conrad. It was like being attacked by an animal. Well, hell, Manfred was, wasn’t he? The other man let go of Conrad’s arms and reached for his black T-shirt. Conrad immediately saw the intent. “No, wait, I’ll—” Manfred ripped his black shirt down the middle and tore off the shreds, tossing them aside. “Sorry,” he murmured against Conrad’s lips, not sounding sincere at all…

ALSO BY S HAWN LANE At Long Last The Beach House The Best Gift Car Wash His One And Only It’s Only Make-Believe Jake’s Regret A Knight For All Lawyers In Love Most Likely To Succeed Only For Him Only Forever Only His Heart Only In His Dreams The Other Side Pieces Pulling Away Sorcerer’s Lover Sorcerer’s Lover II The Squire Still The One Sweet Reunion Ticket To Ride Twice In A Lifetime Until The End Of Time

MANFRED’S CURSE BY SHAWN LANE

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

MANFRED’S CURSE AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2010 by Shawn Lane ISBN 978-1-61124-014-6 Cover Art © 2010 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

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CHAPTER 1 “A storm is headed to the southland and it promises to be a doozy,” the weather forecaster said from the television. Conrad Jones snorted. If there was one thing the news programs did it was exaggerate the weather. Storm Watch was written in large letters across the screen. “Sure, whatever.” He turned the power off and stretched. It had been a tough day at work. The store had been having a sale, which meant constant customers. He wanted nothing more than to soak in a tub of hot water and bubbles. After he had dinner, of course. He took out the frozen dinner he’d planned to eat and stuck it in the microwave. Looking out his kitchen window, he noticed the rain had started falling. “Well, at least they got that much right.” 1

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When the microwave beeped, he removed his dinner and sat by himself at the dining room table, trying not to feel too pathetic. It might be a Friday night, but he was tired from working all day. So what if he didn’t go out? After finishing, he tossed the container in the trash and was about to go upstairs for his bath when he noticed how hard it was raining. Okay, so maybe this was going to be quite the storm after all. The lights flickered and Conrad held his breath, but they stayed on. Now the rain pounded so loud he could hear it on the roof and the wind had really picked up, too. Biting his lip, he picked up his ereader and plopped down in his easy chair, deciding maybe the book he was reading would distract him. But when he heard a clap of thunder, he tossed the book on the end table and stood. Conrad had never before been bothered by storms in his twenty-two years, but something about this particular storm left him increasingly uneasy. Standing at the front window of his two-story bungalow-style house, Conrad pulled aside the faded yellow curtain, a throw-back to when his gran had owned the house, and tried to see through the slash of heavy rain battering the glass. The trees in the front yard swayed with the severe wind, and in the not too distant sky another loud rumble of thunder caught his ears. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he let the curtain fall, and turned to glance nervously at his lights. Storms like this just didn’t happen here. This was Southern California where thunder and lightning storms were a rarity and even then not very severe. Not in a beachside city like Ventura. Conrad moved to the couch and reached for the television remote. Maybe the news could at least give him an idea when the 2

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storm might end. Fortunately, he didn’t have anywhere to go so he didn’t need to drive in it or anything. But when he pressed the power button the screen came up white and fuzzy. “Damn cable,” he muttered. In the corner of the couch slept his cat, Manfred. The black cat had arrived on his doorstep a few weeks earlier with an injured leg. He’d worn a little metal tag indicating his name but nothing else. Conrad had posted signs in the neighborhood about a lost cat, but no one had come forward to claim him. He supposed Manfred had claimed him since he didn’t seem inclined to leave. Manfred didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the storm, so perhaps the storm was really nothing to worry about after all. He leaned back against the couch, willing his hammering heart to slow to a normal beat. A bolt of lightning crackled, sounding like it was just outside his house. He jumped at the booming thunder that quickly followed. “Holy shit!” The lights went out. Great. Where the hell did he have his flashlights? And why the hell hadn’t he thought of that before the damn lights went out? He waited a moment to allow his eyes to somewhat adjust to the dark and then rose to search. He thought he had one in his kitchen. Fumbling around for his “everything” drawer, he slid it open and felt for the flashlight. There! But when he thumbed the switch nothing happened. “Fuck.” He unscrewed it. No batteries. What kind of doofus kept an empty flashlight? The kind who also kept his damn batteries in a cabinet in the garage. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Conrad prayed, “Please just come back on, please?” 3

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He waited five minutes. Nothing. He should have known. Unfortunately his gran’s house didn’t have an attached garage, but rather it was located back behind the house and to the side a bit. Which meant going out into the storm. He fumbled his way out to the front hall closet and withdrew his heaviest raincoat and shrugged into it. He’d noticed that the street light outside seemed to be still lit, so obviously the entire block hadn’t lost their electricity. Figured, he’d be so lucky. Deciding he’d go out the kitchen door to the backyard, he closed the closet and turned just as movement in the front yard caught his eye. There was a small, narrow, uncovered window next to the door. Conrad peeked through the glass but couldn’t make out anything. His imagination probably. The storm just playing tricks on him. Blowing out a breath, he turned back to leave the hall when he caught the movement again. “Fuck.” He eyed the closet and opened the door, searching quickly for some sort of weapon. Conrad had no idea what was out there, but he wouldn’t relax until he investigated it. His hand closed around the handle of a tennis racket. He never used the damn thing to play tennis, so he may as well get some use out of it. Conrad couldn’t help thinking that if he hadn’t broken up with Stewart a couple of months ago, he could have had the big fireman go out to see what it was. At least Stewart had arms built like Paul Bunyan’s. Conrad was a skinny department store clerk. But, really, was having to put up with a cheating, asshole like Stewart for an additional two months worth it? Nah. “You’re stalling, Con,” he told himself, not caring at all that he’d spoken it aloud. Who would care anyway? The only other occupant of the house, Manfred, slept soundly on the couch. “You 4

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can do this.” He nodded and slowly opened the front door. The rain poured down harder than he could remember in recent years. He hiked up the hood of his jacket to cover his head, when he sensed movement behind him just as a flash of lightning lit up the house. “Manfred, God, you scared me.” The cat sat on the hardwood floor at the edge of the hall staring intently at Conrad. His tail twitched and he cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, I saw something out there, so I’m going to check it out. I won’t be long.” Shaking his head at himself for talking to his cat, Conrad held the tennis racket out in front of him and stepped onto his front porch. A short overhang covered the porch and prevented him from being immediately soaked. He looked back inside his home and decided he’d leave the door open. That way if he needed to run like hell back inside he could. He had visions of a masked maniac like the one from Scream out here waiting for him. His stomach flipped. Did he really want to do this? “A-anyone out here?” Conrad croaked. Of course no one responded. What had he expected? If a serial killer did lurk he wasn’t likely to announce his presence. Gritting his teeth against his own cowardice, Conrad stepped off the porch and into the yard…and the storm. The rain slashed down on him, blurring his vision, and the wind picked up with a violent shaking of the branches of the trees in his yard. As though waiting for him to appear, lightning scorched across the sky followed by the thunderous answering boom. It took every ounce of willpower not to run back inside that 5

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very instant. Swallowing what surely was unnatural fear, he walked toward the trees in his yard, over to the spot he’d thought he’d seen…whatever it was he saw. “Hello?” Under the trees was a row of hedges. Conrad actually despised them because they were ugly, and bugs, especially spiders, seemed to thrive. He bent down to look into them, his teeth chattering from the cold wind and rain. The hair on the back of his neck bristled just as a gust of wind whooshed through his yard. He looked up at the crack of a branch in the tree above him. Filled with dread, Conrad realized the branch was going to fall right on him. “Move!” He blinked. “What—” The branch came down on him and darkness covered him. * * * Manfred brushed aside the leafy branch and touched Conrad’s wet face. The man’s eyes fluttered. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly. “I’ll get you inside.” Conrad’s eyes blinked open but they weren’t exactly focused. “Who—” He touched his index finger to the man’s lips. “It’s me. Manfred.” “Manfred? What—” He laughed and shook his head. “I’ll explain later. Close your eyes. I’ll take care of you.”

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CHAPTER 2 Conrad woke to the worst headache. Had he gone drinking? No. Who would he have gone drinking with even if he had wanted to? Most of his friends were married or attached and didn’t want to drag him along anywhere. Then why did his head feel as though someone had bashed him with…oh. The tree. Holy shit. He struggled to sit up but the movement sent his pain-wracked head spinning. With a moan he dropped down to his pillow. Pillow? Wasn’t he still lying in his yard soaked to the bone? No, he wasn’t. He was in his bed, his head cushioned by his own pillow, blankets drawn up around his naked body. Naked? 7

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All right he’d been hit on the head, but surely not hard enough to forget coming back into the house, coming up the stairs, getting undressed and crawling into bed. Hell, if he had done all that, did he remember to close his front door? Was even now Manfred running around outside? Manfred. What was it about Manfred that he should remember? He turned his head toward the window in his bedroom. Still raining. How long had he been asleep and should he have gone to the hospital? The ceiling fan light in his room suddenly came on. He had electricity! Wait. He hadn’t left the light on, had he? “You’re awake.” Conrad jerked in the direction of the masculine voice. Standing in the doorway of his bedroom was a tall, dark-haired man. Tall, dark and handsome was the saying and it certainly fit the guy invading his bedroom. Though he had no measuring stick, Conrad figured the guy was easily over six foot by a couple inches and very broad in the shoulders. Looked sort of like a quarterback on a football team. Drool-worthy or not, he was some strange dude in his home and he scared the shit out of Conrad. Clearly he didn’t have his cell phone on him while naked and he didn’t have a landline phone in his bedroom. Not that he figured the maniac would let him call for help. Apparently this guy, the serial killer he had been only halfjoking about, must have been what he’d see outside his window. He had to remain calm. Didn’t he? “Who the fuck are you?” All right, not so calm. He scrambled up from his prone position to back himself against the headboard of his bed. Some protection. Ah, hell. A pain shot through his head. “Don’t do that,” the stranger said. He shook his head. “I’ll bet 8

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that hurt.” Conrad detected the traces of a British accent, though the sort of faint accent one might hear from a transplant who’d been in the United States for a number of years. “I don’t have any money or drugs,” he blurted out. The man’s lips curved. “I know that.” Dread gripped his belly. “You’ve already been through my stuff?” He laughed, showing twin dimples. He really was gorgeous. Dressed all in black, too, from his black jeans to his black turtleneck sweater. The man stepped away from the doorway and farther into Conrad’s room. His movements were graceful, lithe. “No, I have not been through your stuff, Conrad.” His smile was impish. “Not today anyway.” “How do you know my name?” Instead of answering, the man sat on the edge of Conrad’s bed. “You should be more careful. That branch really left a bump on your head. You seem to be okay otherwise.” Bump on the head. Right. He was delusional. There was no strange, sexy man in black in his room who must have taken off his clothes. Or, did he do that himself? “What?” the man asked. “My clothes.” The strange guy made a low rumbling sound from his chest. “Yes, removing them was quite the catnip.” Conrad frowned. “What?” “I mean it excited me. You are beautiful.” The man’s hand closed over Conrad’s blanket-covered leg. His eyes were a strange golden color. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not here to harm you, Conrad.” “No? How do you know my name? Are you a stalker?” 9

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“I’ve stalked birds and mice before, but seldom men.” So his illusion or delusion was a few rocks short of a pile. If this guy was real, he was going to have to find some way to get out of the house and over to the neighbor’s or find his cell phone and call. “Are you hungry?” Conrad shook his head. “I had a frozen dinner.” The man wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know how you eat those things. The chicken one you had tonight smelled terrible.” His heart hammering hard, Conrad asked, “Have you been through my trash?” “No, not that today either. A couple of days ago when you were at work I poked in there when I was bored.” “Oh, my God, you’ve been in my house?” He gave him a quizzical smile. “You let me in yourself.” “What? I did not. Are you…is there a mental hospital around here or something?” “I wouldn’t know; I haven’t been in the area long.” The man’s eyebrows furrowed. “Are you feeling like you need to go to one?” “Me? No. Well, maybe. I don’t know.” Good, now he was babbling. “Please, I don’t want any trouble. You can take whatever I do have. My credit cards, the twenty bucks I have in my wallet, even the television.” He shook his head, looking vaguely amused. “I’m not here to rob you.” “Then, why are you here? To murder me?” Conrad’s hands went to his throat, thinking of it. “No, of course not.” His strange golden eyes widened. “A sex fiend?” That made sense. The guy had taken off his clothes. 10

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The dark head tilted. “Well, perhaps, but I don’t think the way you mean it.” His head pounded almost as hard as his heart. To think this night had started so normally. Just got home from a day of drudgery at the store…and now? “It’s going to be all right,” the strange guy said. “Don’t you know who I am?” “Haven’t I been asking that?” He could tell by the high pitch of his voice he was on the verge of hysteria. “Manfred.” Now he remembered. This guy had leaned over him outside after the branch hit him and said something about being Manfred. Conrad shook his head. The guy smiled and reached up toward his neck. He reached into his turtleneck and pulled out a necklace with a little round metal tag on it. He jingled it. Conrad blinked. Okay, that necklace did look a lot like Manfred’s collar. But that wasn’t fucking possible. No way. Just a trick of the eyes…the mind…or a trick of some psycho. “It’s really me, Conrad,” the man said, dropping the collar from his grasp. “I know it will take some getting used to, you probably didn’t even know we existed.” “We?” he asked, faintly. “Cat shifters.” He spoke as though such a thing wasn’t pure lunacy. If only Conrad could get to the phone he could call someone to send out the guys in white coats. “It’s not like every cat you see is one of us,” the lunatic continued. “Most are just normal housecats.” “That’s…uh…reassuring.” Hadn’t he heard once that it was 11

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best to humor crazy people? “You’re probably wondering why I’ve been with you for these weeks and not shifted before.” Conrad swallowed. “Okay, sure.” “Mostly because I was cursed.” “Oh, certainly, makes perfect sense,” he said, sounding a bit like a lunatic himself. He glanced toward the doorway of his bedroom. Could he make a break for it? Sure, he was naked and it was raining, but maybe if he could make it out of the room before cat-man knew what his intentions were…what? What was he going to do? Knock on the front door of the old lady next door in his birthday suit? “The best thing I can figure,” the guy said, “is that you going out into the storm and getting hurt released my ability to shift again.” He wrinkled his nose. “I’m not really sure about that. The curse was a strange one anyway. I’m sure we can talk about that later.” The cat…er, man reached for his hand and gripped it in his. The hand holding his was surprisingly warm and comforting. “You look a little pale. Maybe you should rest some more. Why don’t you lie back down?” He stood and gently maneuvered Conrad to scoot down on the bed and lay his head on the big plush pillow. His hand gently caressed Conrad’s cheek, sending delicious shivers through him. “There. Do you want me to get you some aspirin?” “No.” He did feel really tired, worn out. And no wonder. If he awoke perhaps this whole matter would be a dream from hitting his head. It had to be, didn’t it? He yawned. The man smiled. “Sleep. We can talk more when you feel better.” He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on Conrad’s lips. 12

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His eyes drifted closed and the world went dark again.

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CHAPTER 3 Manfred went downstairs and made sure everything was turned off, closed up, and locked as it should be. The earlier storm, which had surprised him a bit, had blown off into the distance to bother some other city. Now the rain outside was light, the breeze still. He walked back upstairs, not needing any light to find his way. His feline vision worked well for darkness. Though the storm had clearly bothered Conrad, Manfred was grateful for it—it seemed to have broken the curse. At the top of the stairs he turned toward the hallway bathroom and flicked on the light. He wrinkled his nose at the sight of the litter box Con had purchased for him. Now that he could shift again that little box would be history. Turning off the light, he went back to Con’s bedroom. The man was sound asleep. 14

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For a moment, Manfred just stood next to his bed staring down at him. From the moment he’d seen Con getting out of his little practical Honda sedan, Manfred knew he wanted him. With his always messy blond curls and crystal blue eyes, he had an almost ethereal beauty. Slender and probably not much over five-six, he was a compact package of adorableness Manfred could not resist. Under normal circumstances he would have found a way to meet Con, at his store perhaps, but since he was stuck in kitty form he’d been unable, so he’d found a different way to introduce himself to the man. The weeks in cat form spent with him had been frustrating emotionally and physically. Manfred had begun to despair he would ever find a way to break the bloody curse. Turning away finally, he went into the master bathroom and turned on the standing shower. It had been far too long since he’d actually had a shower. He removed his clothes and frowned. Definitely needed washing. Now that he was here, actually, he needed to go shopping for some more clothes. Maybe he could get a discount at the department store where Con worked, he thought with a grin. When he emerged from the shower wrapped in a big fluffy ivory bath towel, Con still slept. He sat on the edge of the bed, being careful not to jar it enough to wake his sleeping beauty. He had a bit of a trial ahead of him to try and convince Con of the truth. He could simply shift back to cat form, but part of Manfred worried that would mean he’d be stuck again. The idea sat in his gut like a hard lump. He couldn’t have that. Discarding the towel, Manfred crawled underneath the covers with Con. He always slept with the man, and he had no intention of changing his ways now. * * * 15

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Manfred stretched awake, a loud purr escaping his lips at the feel of the warm male body beside him. He opened his eyes to see he was still a man. Sighing in relief, he turned around to face Con. To his surprise the crystal blue eyes were open and staring at him. He could see by the sun streaming through the window it was daylight and the rain over. Smiling, he said, “Good morning.” Con didn’t say anything, just stared, his expression quite shocked, which flipped Manfred’s stomach. Ah, hell. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Con. “Okay, listen, a few weeks ago, not sure of the exact timing or how many weeks I’ve been like this, but I picked this guy up in a bar and we had sex. One-night stand kind of thing. Well, turned out this guy had a wife.” Manfred winced at the memory. “I didn’t know that but she didn’t care. As it turned out, she wasn’t any more an ordinary person than I was. She…cursed me.” “You mentioned a curse last night.” At least Con was speaking. That was a good thing, right? “Yeah, she called me an alley cat or some such thing and I don’t know if she was a witch exactly but she said I would be stuck in cat form until I fell in love and that person needed me.” He eyed Con to see how the man was taking it. His stare had gone rather blank, and Manfred thought that probably couldn’t be good. He guessed he could understand. Most humans had no clue supernatural creatures were real. Manfred came across things he hadn’t known existed himself all the time. Like vindictive bitches…witches. “I’m going to have to show you, aren’t I?” He nodded and swung his legs out of the bed. When he stood he realized he had morning wood by the incredulous look that came over Con’s face and his gaze riveted on Manfred’s crotch. “Ah, geez. Can we deal 16

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with one thing at a time, Con?” “What?” Manfred took a deep breath. God, could he take the chance of shifting? His stomach churned “Don’t be afraid.” Was that for him or Con? He shifted into the kitty cat and leaped up onto the bed. His tail twitched. Conrad gasped. “Oh, my God.” Manfred walked close to Con, rubbing his black fur against him. His mouth agape, Conrad stroked his hand down Manfred’s back. God, that felt heavenly. “I…I can’t believe it.” Please, please let me be able to shift back to man form. Manfred shifted, once again a man, lying on the bed next to Conrad. He closed his eyes, near giddy with relief. The witch’s curse really was broken. Conrad’s Adam’s apple bopped in his throat. He reached a tentative hand out to touch Manfred’s shoulder. “Manfred?” “Yes.” “How is this possible?” Manfred covered Conrad’s exploring hand with his and held them both over his heart. “It’s amazing what’s possible in this world. I don’t know all the answers, Con, but I came from a family of cat shifters. My full name is Manfred Brooke. I’m originally from Britain, but I came here years ago. I’m a novelist. Before my curse I lived in an apartment off Main Street in downtown Ventura. I’m not even sure how I got to your street, but the minute I saw you, I knew.” “Knew what?” Conrad whispered. “That you were so beautiful I had to claim you as my own. And 17

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last night during the storm, you needed me. It must have been you needing me, Con. You broke the curse.” Conrad blinked. “This is so unreal, I don’t know what to think.” Manfred’s throat clogged. “I know. I’m sure it will take some time to process it.” With the hand not holding Con’s in a tight grip, he brushed a lock of blond hair off Con’s forehead. “How’s your head feel?” “Not bad. A little achy, but better than last night.” He frowned. “What was it I saw last night?” Manfred shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe an animal? I never saw anything when I went to get you. That was a big storm last night.” Conrad nodded. “Yeah. I’m glad it’s over. And even gladder I don’t have to work at the store today.” “Hungry?” “Not yet. But I feel like I need a shower. And coffee.” He smiled. “Why don’t you take one then and I’ll make a pot.” Manfred decided it was probably a good idea to put some distance between him and the incredibly lickable Con. He certainly didn’t want to push too fast. But it also occurred to him he didn’t have anything to wear downstairs making coffee. “Do you think I can borrow your robe?” “Oh, sure. It’s on the back of the bathroom door.” He nodded and stood. After grabbing the terry cloth robe from the door he shrugged into it, glad for the fact it was rather too big for Con, which meant it fit Manfred reasonably well. “I’ll be downstairs making coffee.” He hesitated in the doorway, part of him still worried that when his back was turned Con would leave. Or still want to report Manfred to the cops. Sure, 18

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he’d shown him the shifting, but maybe Con still thought he was hallucinating or something. “Do you need anything?” Con, who still lay under the covers in bed, shook his head. “No, I can manage.” Having no other excuse to linger, he made his way down the hall, listening on the landing. When the shower turned on, Manfred walked down the stairs. In the kitchen, he filled the carafe and proceeded to make the coffee. It was entirely possible Con wouldn’t even feel the same way as him. He’d been drooling over the man for a while now, but he hadn’t noticed any sexual interest in Con’s panicked gaze. Still he knew from his interactions with the blond that he was gay. So that was at least promising. Or at least he hoped so. After pouring himself a cup of coffee from the finished pot, Manfred went outside to inspect the storm damage. Sure he wore only a terry cloth robe, but it was still barely seven on a Saturday, so he suspected there wouldn’t be many neighbors out gawking. Other than the branch that had conked Con on the noggin he didn’t see much of anything but damp ground. The rest of the neighborhood appeared to be untouched as well. He picked up Con’s discarded tennis racket from the night before and went back inside. Con was in the kitchen. Tossing the racket on the couch, Manfred approached him. He had dressed himself in faded jeans and a black T-shirt. Manfred wanted to lick him up like he was cream. He smiled instead. “Feel better?” “Um, well, still weird.” “Your head?” He frowned, touching the spot on Con’s head. The branch had left a bump. “No, but ouch, stop that.” Con smacked his hand away. “I 19

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mean you being a hot guy is still weird.” He blushed. Okay, that was a lot more encouraging. “You think I’m hot?” Con cleared his throat and hid his face behind his coffee mug. “I-I guess.” “I think you’re scorching.” “What?” Con lowered the mug and stared at him, his mouth agape. Feeling bolder now, Manfred took the mug out of his hands and set it on the counter next to his own. Wrapping an arm around Con’s waist, he pulled him against him and covered the man’s soft parted lips with his own. The rumbling purr he couldn’t suppress immediately came from his chest as Con’s mouth softened under his assault. Con whimpered as his arms encircled Manfred’s neck. Oh, fuck. His cock rose and pushed against the robe, wanting to break free and claim the ass of the man now clinging so sweetly to him. He lowered his hands to cup that ass and raise him slightly so their cocks rubbed together, Con’s erection clear in his tight jeans. But it was too soon, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he give Con more time? He broke the kiss to trail his lips along the column of Con’s throat. “God, baby, I want you. If this isn’t want you want…yet,” he added quickly, not wanting to think Con would never want it, “you’d better say so. Otherwise we’re going back upstairs where I’m going to rip these clothes from you and we’re going to fuck ourselves senseless.” Con pulled back and stared, his blue eyes luminous, his cheeks flushed, and his lips swollen from Manfred’s devouring kiss. His heart clenched waiting for Con’s response. “I—” He stopped his words with a finger to Con’s lips. “It’s okay, 20

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baby. We don’t have to.” Con shook his head and then, with a little whine, launched himself at Manfred, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “Take me to bed,” he begged, just as his mouth crushed itself to Manfred’s.

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CHAPTER 4 Conrad couldn’t believe what was about to happen. Was he crazy? Maybe. But he’d seen Manfred change to a cat and back to a man with his own eyes. He might be hallucinating…or not. But there was no denying when he looked into Manfred’s golden eyes something in his chest shifted. And definitely something in his groin. It was entirely possible this cat-man had intentions of harming him, but he didn’t think so. He’d been wrong before, though. He wasn’t always the best judge of men. Manfred tossed him on the queen-sized bed and immediately started yanking at his jeans. He hadn’t bothered putting on shoes after his shower so at least they didn’t have that problem to deal with. Conrad unsnapped his jeans, which made Manfred’s tugging on them a lot easier. 22

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Just like that, Manfred had shed him of his jeans and briefs, freeing his hard-as-nails cock to spring free and slap against his belly. Before he could do anything else, Manfred crushed Conrad underneath him, holding his arms above his head with one strong grip. The man’s other hand closed over Conrad’s cock, jerking it. “Oh…oh…my God.” Manfred kissed him, devouring his lips, nibbling them as he kissed, and sending shockwaves through Conrad. It was like being attacked by an animal. Well, hell, Manfred was, wasn’t he? The other man let go of Conrad’s arms and reached for his black T-shirt. Conrad immediately saw the intent. “No, wait, I’ll— ” Manfred ripped his black shirt down the middle and tore off the shreds, tossing them aside. “Sorry,” he murmured against Conrad’s lips, not sounding sincere at all. Having dropped the robe from his perfect naked body before pouncing on Conrad, Manfred’s biceps were sleek and tanned, and begging for Conrad’s touch now that his arms were free. He skated his fingers down the massive muscles, his own skin burning at the contact, his desire ratcheting with each stroke across the skin. And speaking of stroking, Manfred pumped Conrad’s dick hard and fast, stopping for just a few seconds each time that expert hand brought him to the edge. “You’re driving me crazy.” Conrad moaned. His mouth hovering over Conrad’s, Manfred smiled. “You’ve been driving me crazy for weeks, baby. Lube and condoms?” His eyes threatening to drift closed, his body blazing from the sensations, Conrad managed to say, “Under the bathroom sink.” While his soon-to-be lover disappeared to the bathroom, Con lay back and tried to get his thoughts together. Almost fucking 23

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impossible considering the state of his aching cock. But this was a really big step for him. He wasn’t one for random sex encounters, although he couldn’t say he’d never had one. Hell, he wasn’t dead. This, however, had the possibility of being more than just a onetime thing. Manfred lived with him. As a cat, yeah, but still… Speaking of the kitty, the man in question knelt on the bed, holding a foil packet and a small bottle of lube. The burning lust in his gaze mesmerized Conrad. He reached for the condom and when Manfred placed it in his hand, he brought it up to his mouth and tore it with his teeth. With sudden bravado, he said coyly, “You know this may be the first time I can say I want a pussy.” Manfred looked startled for a second, but then burst out laughing, lunging at him and covering his face in little kisses. “You’re a brat, Con.” He grinned and shook his head. “Give me that.” He pointed at Manfred’s large, hard dick. “Oh, you’re going to get it.” Manfred rose up onto his knees, his erection pointing prominently in Conrad’s direction. Licking his lips, he grasped the engorged organ and ran his tongue up and down the length. The low rumbling from Manfred’s chest began again. A purr, Conrad supposed, laughter nearly bursting from his own chest. “Mmm, your taste is addictive,” he murmured just before swallowing the tip. “Oh, Christ.” Manfred’s long fingers tangled in his curls and he watched intently as Conrad sucked more of his length inside. He closed his eyes, letting the man fuck his mouth, even as he slipped his hand down to his own prick, pumping in similar rhythm to the cock invading his mouth. 24

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“Enough.” Manfred gasped, pulling out. “I want to come in your tight ass.” Nodding, unable to form coherent words, he rolled the latex over Manfred’s rod. “On your stomach, babe,” Manfred ordered. Whimpering, Conrad flipped over, his hand still working his own cock. The sound of lube squished out had him shaking all over in anticipation. Letting out a groan, he buried his face in the pillow when two fingers slicked with cool lube pushed inside him. “Oh, yeah, you’re as tight as I hoped.” Manfred thrust his fingers past the muscle, stretching him beyond the initial burn of the intrusion. Conrad spread his legs wider, opening himself. With his cock already ready to burst and the fingers probing his ass, he doubted he’d last long. “You…you’d better fuck me. I’m getting close.” The fingers slipped out, more lube squirted out, and he felt the blunt tip of Manfred’s cock pushing against his hole. With a sigh of relief, he pushed back, welcoming the feel of the man stretching him as he entered him. “Fuck.” Manfred wasted no time with slow, easy strokes, but instead thrust long, quick and hard, riding him better than he’d ever been. Conrad gripped the pillow with his free hand and allowed his cries to break free. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” His balls drew tight, tingles shot up his spine and through his aching dick. Hell, he saw stars as his cock exploded all over his hand. “Con, oh, damn!” Manfred shouted, jerking and stiffening within him. A moment later he collapsed on Conrad, but didn’t pull out. Instead, he lay on the bed and drew Conrad to him, 25

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wrapping his arms snugly around his waist, their bodies still joined. “That was…I don’t know what that was.” Conrad panted heavily. “Spectacular?” “Yeah, that.” Manfred laughed. “I need clothes.” “What?” “The only clothes I have, I think, are the ones I have here. It’s been weeks since I’ve been home. I suppose my stuff might still be in the apartment, but it’s also possible my landlord chucked the whole lot when I disappeared.” Conrad frowned. “Won’t the police be looking for you?” “Maybe. We’ll have to straighten all that out. But, in the meantime, your clothes won’t fit me. Could we go to your store and get a few things?” He nodded. It made sense, he supposed, as much as anything did the last twenty-four hours. “Sure. I even get a discount.” Manfred slid out of him, and tossed the condom Heaven knew where, and then pulled Conrad into his arms. Their mouths mere inches from each other, he whispered, “How much of a discount?” Melting under that intense sexual look, Conrad sighed. “Twenty percent.” Just before his lips met Conrad’s, he thought he heard Manfred say, “Purrfect.”

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SHAWN LANE Shawn Lane believes love and passion know no boundaries. Shawn writes both erotic love stories involving men in historical or contemporary settings and interracial romances between men and women. Shawn is always looking for new stories and new characters to create while holding down life in California. *

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Don’t miss Sorcerer’s Lover by Shawn Lane, available at AmberAllure.com! When Warin, a sorcerer, needs a large amount of coins to rescue his sister from her abductor, he chooses to abduct someone himself. And he selects the man he has been lusting after ever since sharing a secret, sensual moment at court months earlier— Benedict, the beautiful and illegitimate son of the king. At first, Benedict is reluctant to give into forbidden desires, but he cannot resist the enigmatic sorcerer’s pull. Yet when he surrenders to his lust, he’s also not sure whether it’s of his own free will or because of a spell Warin cast on him. As the men grow closer, however, they realize that when the ransom is paid, Benedict must be released and Warin must flee from punishment. Will they be able to end their passionate affair and separate, or will they fight to stay together, even if it means facing the king’s wrath?

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