Trapped in Beauty

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

Trapped in Beauty Supernatural Alliances 2 Copyright © 2009 Michael Barnette Cover art by Coyote & Michael Barnette Edited by Helen Revell Book layout and Design by Coyote All rights reserved. Except for brief excerpts for the purpose of reviews, the reproduction of this book by any means known or devised in the future, are prohibited. Scanning, uploading, posting to the internet on any download or sharing site, making available via peer-to-peer sharing, creating print, audio or electronic versions of the book, or offering this book for distribution by any other means is illegal and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. If you obtained this book from a source other than a book seller he author did not receive payment for the book. Our authors deserve to be paid for their work. You wouldn’t work for free and our authors should not be expected to work for free either. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and all characters are the creation of the author’s imagination. Any similarities to actual events, or persons living or dead are purely coincidental. The mention of, or reference to any product or service within this book is not intended to be a challenge to the trademarks or copyrights of those products or services.

Supernatural Alliances 2

Trapped in Beauty By Michael Barnette

Supernatural Alliances 2: Trapped in Beauty

Chapter One Bright sunlight cascaded through the thick foliage of a century old oak tree and the younger trees that had taken root near the forest giant. Birds flitted from branch to branch vying for attention with the gem-bright wings of the flutterbugs as they moved from flower to flower in the shadowed beds. The man beneath the tree stood motionless watching the activity of the small creatures as they moved around him. He turned his face upward, feeling the warmth of Tiara’s yellow-white sun on his skin. It felt good to be outside, the kiss of the sun a joy after living in the perpetual twilight of an aging red sun for the last half solar year. A dying star around which the chill twilight world of Blood spun through the blackness of space. He’d found the place dismal and depressing, but the residents thrived in the dark while his kind loved the sun. Tygons, gloried in the feel of heat on their skin, reveled in the tropic warmth of their chosen world. Tiara orbiting Tyger’s Eye, star of their home Page 1

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world, created the perfect climate for such creatures. Shapeshifters, a supernatural cross of lion and tiger bred in the vastness of cold space from a select group of survivors of both species following the Purge. He closed his eyes, breathed deep of the perfume from the riot of greenery around him. The plants of Old Earth mingled with native species created the lush growth which surrounded him. The smell of rich dirt, the cries of birds, and a riot of plant life filled his senses. Home. It felt good just to think the word, and here he was on the planet of his birth able to relax and revitalize himself. The sweet fragrance of flowers on the breeze felt like a welcoming caress. Chirping cries of birds, the soft whirring of the wings of the iridescent bumbles as they made their rounds gathering nectar filled his hearing in a song of welcome. Such a beautiful day. Smiling he turned and moved deeper into the forested park that surrounded the compound, housing and offices for the military here on Tiara. Page 2

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His dwelling and job together in a single place, much of the complex underground as a way of preserving as much unspoiled semi-wilderness around the base as possible. The datacomm in his pocket buzzed, alerting him to an incoming message. Frowning he stopped jogging and pulled the small device from his pocket, slid the protective cover off the screen and keyed the communications suite that would send the message right into his mind as an audio signal. The visual aspect appeared on the small screen of the datacomm. The emblem of the Protectorate appeared, accompanied by a soft chiming that let him know it was an official communication, not an informal greeting. The image on the screen resolved into that of a dark haired man, his Asian heritage evident in the shape of his eyes, and their dark color. “Captain Trevor Graham,” the grey haired man said, offering a slight smile. “I’m terribly sorry, I know you’ve just gotten home, but I’m afraid your services are needed already.” Page 3

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Duty. Just one of those infamous four letter words that cropped up in life. And when you were part of the military you couldn’t make excuses or make an escape, you had to do what was expected. He’d never complained about his assignments, and he always carried them out with the proper respect and serious consideration any officer of the Guard would focus on an assignment. “That’s all right sir, I understand that the ranks are stretched rather thin because of the war. How can I be of service?” “Unfortunately we’ve received a call from an Alliance Council family. One of our own, Captain Kelton has been killed in the line of duty.” Kelton. He graduated from the same class at the Academy as I did. Damn. “How did it happen sir?” “At this time we are uncertain what occurred. It may have been a malfunction of the ships engines, but in any event no one on board survived.” “A malfunction?” Page 4

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“We don’t think so, but the investigation is ongoing. The cause of the ship exploding hasn’t been determined as yet.” “I see.” “I’ll get to the point, Captain Graham. Prince Alfonse Maxmilian the Second, de facto father of the Maxmillian bloodline, was on board.” That got Trevor’s attention. “The Father of a vampire Family is dead?” “Yes. And since he was also a member of the Council, he must be replaced.” “So where do I come in here?” “You’ll be the Protector assigned to guard the person of the replacement Councilor, Prince Alfonse Maxmillian the Third and keep him safe from harm.” Trevor frowned as he realized the assignment the Commander was discussing would be his second long term duty in a row. But there was no way he could escape. “When do I leave?” he asked. “The ship to Nevanar leaves in two hours.” Page 5

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“Yes sir.” “Good luck Captain Graham.” “Thank you sir.” The message ended with the same emblem of the guard as had been displayed at the beginning of the communication, a wolf ’s head above crossed wings. Grey and silver on a red field. The end transmission button was blinking, as was the acknowledgement key beside it. Even though he’d spoken directly to Commander Renshu and accepted the assignment a formal agreement wasn’t logged in the system. That could only be done with the touch of his index finger on the blinking keys. Trevor sighed. It had been a beautiful day. Now, not only was his day ruined, his life for the next duty cycle--an entire half a solar year-was ruined as well. This assignment wasn’t going to be one he enjoyed. Trevor stared at the datapad in his hand, frowning. Page 6

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He had to accept the assignment whether he wanted to or not because as a military Protector he didn’t have a choice in the matter. But by all that was holy, he sure wished he did because the idea of protecting a spoiled brat raised as a Prince of the Blood was beyond annoying. In his estimation, there wasn’t a Prince of the Blood born since the Purge who wasn’t a petty, childish brat. He had to admit his contact with the breed was limited--he’d only met three of the younger Princes--but the examples he’d met were temperamental, self centered hedonists that didn’t take their own duties with half the seriousness their positions on the Council warranted. And he was about to be stuck protecting one of the petty little tyrants. Trevor pushed the button that acknowledged his acceptance of the assignment and slid the protective cover into place over the screen and dropped it into his pocket. Well, there isn’t anything else for me to do now but get ready and go meet this Alfonse Page 7

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Maxmillian, he thought as he turned to head to his room. He had some packing to do, and arrangements to make. He stopped jogging and ran faster, the flower beds and trees flashing by as he raced along. He ran as fast as his body was able to in his current form, and reached the building within a few moments. He took the lift to the floor where his seldom used residence was located and palmed the entry lock open. Taking a shower didn’t take long and when he finished he tossed the wet towels into the cleaner. He wouldn’t need them until he returned, whenever that might be. The sunlight streaming into the window drew his gaze, and he walked over to take a final look at the beautiful day. He’d been looking forward to relaxing. To a few weeks of doing nothing but lazing around in the sun, letting the tropical heat drive away the memories of his months on Blood. Too bad he wouldn’t get the chance to enjoy himself. Trevor turned from the window and headed for his closet to put on a uniform--a formal slate Page 8

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grey fabric adorned with the silver piping of a Protector and the two silver comets of a captain adorning the breast. In a matter of moments he’d clothed himself, covering the lean lines of his body but not really hiding them under the uniform. The fit of the military garment served to enhance the length of his legs, the broad span of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips, revealing more than it hid. Finished he touched the keypad of his locker with his thumb, opened it and took out his sidearm, a pistol in dull grey. At first glance it appeared no different than the common sidearm of most officers. A closer inspection showed that, instead of a cheap slugthrower of the sort used for generations, it was one of the much more expensive energy pistols common to the elite branches of the military. Elite groups like the Protectors. Trevor checked the pistol’s energy reading, more from routine than any worry the weapon wasn’t fully charged, slipped it into the holster and buckled it around his hips. Done he gathered up his datapad, stuck it in Page 9

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the case on the opposite side of his belt from the pistol, picked up his small duffle bag of extra clothing and an assortment of smaller less visible weapons and left his room. He headed for the lift and his rendezvous with the ship that would take him to his meeting with Prince of the Blood, Alfonse Maxmillian. He just hoped that food served by the Prince’s staff would at least be good, because he suspected the assignment itself was going to irritate the hell out of him.

Y ``` Z “I don’t need a bodyguard,” Alfonse muttered, irritated with his advisor and the insistence that he needed to be protected from some nebulous ‘enemy action’ that might endanger him. The explosion of his father’s ship had already been deemed an unfortunate accident, yet his advisor continued to act as if some nefarious plot lay behind Alfonse the Second’s death. Page 10

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He stalked across the room, boot heels clicking on the polished snowstone floor as he used the movement to help alleviate his agitation. Not that it was helping. Running miles across the barren landscape of Blood wouldn’t have helped him ease his annoyance. Younger than most members of the Council, Alfonse had the build typical of his kind. Of medium height and a slim build most would describe as aristocratic or graceful, he paced the parlor where he was to meet with Trevor Graham tomorrow evening the way a caged feline would. He stalked back and forth as if he could find some way out of the cage closing around him. A cage made of too much caution and too many political requirements. His advisor, grey haired and half a hand taller than the Prince, waited with a patient expression on his weathered face while Alfonse fumed over the turn of events which had taken his brother, the Father of their Family, from him and shoved him into a life he’d never wanted. He shouldn’t have to deal with the situation as their kind lived forever: unless they were killed. “Highness, rumors often have a basis in fact. Page 11

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We cannot be too cautious when it comes to your safety.” In response to that the Prince snorted, the sound derisive, irritated. “And should I hide from every shadow, Henri? Would you like it better if I just stepped into a cryochamber and went into hiding that way? You could tuck me off somewhere out of harm’s way and the family would never need to worry about losing the last of our True Father’s line.” The older man sighed. “Highness that’s not what I meant to imply--” “Then why are you trying to treat me like a helpless babe!” Alfonse demanded and smacked his hand down on a table, the wood creaking at the impact, the vase and picture on it shaking. The vase toppled but it didn’t hit the floor, the young Prince catching it and returning it to where it had stood. “Highness, please, calm down,” the man urged. “Then stop treating me like I’m an infant! For the Dark Lady’s sake, Henri, I’m a graduate of the military academy on Blood, not some pampered Page 12

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brat!” Though, listening to himself he knew he sounded very much the spoiled brat he’d just denied being. But the idea of needing anyone to protect him rankled. He wasn’t like the majority of his generation, a hedonistic half-wit without the common sense of a roach that at least knew to run away when the lights were turned on. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and took a few slow breaths, trying to get his temper under control. As a boy he’d gone on rampages, his anger almost impossible for him to rein in, his heritage difficult to overcome until he’d reached maturity. Most of the families were seducers, manipulators, masters of the art of political maneuvering and mind games on a grand scale. But the Maxmillians were warriors. First and foremost among the vampire families they had produced the greatest number of militarily gifted minds of their kind. And it was almost entirely due to their clan that any of the Families had survived the horrors of the Purge, the time when Humans had hunted them down and almost exterminated every supernatural being on Old Earth. Page 13

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It had been his own bloodsire, the First Father of their Family that had convinced the bloodparents of the Vampire Families to team up with the Shifters and flee into the safety of space, leaving the Humans and their hatred behind. And it had been Alfonse the First that had stayed behind to protect the fleeing ships from the Human fighter craft that would have destroyed the spacecraft of the Supernaturals. He hadn’t even been born yet, but he’d heard the story so many times he felt as if he’d lived through those horrible days. “Highness you seem tired. Perhaps some rest?” “No, I’m all right,” he replied, mind racing, looking for an escape from the inevitable jaws of the trap that had closed around him the day his father died. He let his hand drop to his side and glanced at the clock. An hour until dawn. He gave his advisor a wan smile, “I see that you’re right, Henri, as always.” “Are you in need of nourishment, Highness?” Alfonse considered the question. He didn’t feel hunger. “No, Henri.” Page 14

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“Very well, Highness.” The old bloodkin stood waiting in silence, the hard line of his mouth showing a trace of bitterness. Henri had been his companion for four decades. growing old while Alfonse remained unchanged by the years. He clung to Henri, his feeder, refusing to give him what he wanted most: to become vampire, to stop being simple bloodkin and become one of the Blood instead. But he didn’t want to let Henri go. And that was the sign of a selfish brat. “Come,” he urged, holding his hand out to the man. Henri crossed the room, moved into the circle of his arms, tipping his head to one side so he’d have access to his throat. He held the elderly man, head lowered, eyes closed. “Let’s go to my bed.” “Highness, I’m an old man, I--” Alfonse silenced him with an index finger, touching Henri’s lips gently. “Shhh, Henri. Come with me.” He led the man to his bedroom, stopping Page 15

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just inside the door to press a kiss to aged lips. “You’ve been faithful to me for many years.” “Highness I--” Alfonse gave the bloodkin a tender smile, led him to the bed, took Henri into his arms and kissed him before laying him down on the bed. He kissed his way down the wrinkled neck, remembering smooth youthful skin. The sweet taste of a younger man’s blood. So long ago for Henri. But a brief span of his own youth for Alfonse. Alfonse wasn’t an adolescent anymore. Four decades had taken him from the last stages of callow youth to young adulthood. Henri had gotten old waiting for this. He wrapped his arms around Henri, held him close, a lover’s embrace. Like their first three decades together. Before Henri grew too old. Too embarrassed by the failings of a mortal’s body. “Highness?” He kissed his way over age spotted skin. Page 16

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Pressed his mouth to the pulse point. Heartbeat making the arteries throb under his lips. Fast. Nervous. A bit of fear changing the pulse rate, tingeing Henri’s scent, reminding him of the very first time he’d taken Henri into his arms, the first taste of the bloodkin’s sweetness as he’d fed from him. Alfonse sucked skin gone thin, fragile, bit gently, swallowed life, the sharp tang of age, of encroaching mortality flavoring his former lover’s blood. Memories of other nights filled his mind. Henri gasping and clutching at him as they made love. The silken feel of the bloodkin’s skin, the tickle of hair dark as sin, the feel of a hard erection in his mouth. The feel of his stiff cock sinking deep into Henri’s body as he took him, made Henri his and his alone for life. Life. Henri’s fading away, year by year. And him selfishly clinging to the first man he’d ever possessed, loved in the way of vampires for those who fed them, loved them. The first Page 17

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one from the final years of his own departed adolescence. He drank, feeding deeply, feeling Henri’s arms around him. Thin. Old. The bloom of youth long faded. Alfonse stopped feeding, rose up to look into Henri’s eyes. Glazed with the power of a vampire’s feeding, they were the same eyes, shining with love, adoration as they looked at him. Filling with tears. “I love you, Alfonse.” He smiled, kissed the man’s trembling lips. “I know, Henri. I know.” He lowered his head and fed, draining the man, bringing him right to the edge of death. Cradling the dying man in his arms, Alfonse sat up, tore his wrist open, held it to Henri, shuddered as the lips closed on the wound, Henri sucking, the pull weak but there. “I should have done this years ago,” he murmured into the man’s ear. “I’m so sorry, Henri. I’ve been selfish.” Page 18

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The lips on his wrist latched on tighter. Bloodkin to vampire. The gift granted to every feeder, but most born vampires didn’t wait as long as Alfonse had with Henri. But once Henri became vampire he would no longer be suitable as a feeder for Alfonse. Born vampires needed the sweet freshness of living blood to survive. The dead blood of another vampire had no real vibrancy, no life. Like a bloodkin eating candy, it tasted good but didn’t provide nutrition. Vampire junk food. Tasty but unhealthy. They’d find him a new feeder. One that would love him as deeply as Henri did from that first night he’d tasted the bloodkin’s life. Henri stopped sucking, turned loving eyes on him, a wan smile. Alfonse leaned in and gently licked a droplet of blood away blood from Henri’s lips, kissed the mortal tenderly knowing it was the last time. Sad at the realization, full of guilt for keeping this from the man who loved him so long. Page 19

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“I worried that you hated me. That you’d never give this precious gift to me,” Henri murmured. “No, Henri,” he replied, brushing a hand over the transforming vampire’s cheek. “I don’t hate you. Never think I do.” He smiled. “I’m very attached to you. So much so that I never wanted to let go.” “Then why now?” “Because I realized how selfish I’ve been. Because I noticed how old you’d gotten, Henri. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have made you wait the way I did.” Henri caressed his face, brushed a thumb over his mouth. Alphonse opened his lips, gently sucked the digit. Henri smiled. “I loved you from the first night we met.” Alfonse let go of the man’s thumb, kissed his hand. “That’s how it should be, Henri.” The man lowered his gaze, “I know. I always hoped that you’d kept me so long because you loved me too, but deep inside, I always worried you felt nothing but contempt or hatred for me. Page 20

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Stupid, I know. Love is reserved for a True Mate, and no one in our family has had a True Mate since before we left Old Earth.” “The bloodsire of our family was the last.” Henri nodded. “Your own father, Alfonse the First. You were still nestled inside your mother’s womb when he was killed.” Alfonse nodded. He could feel Henri dying, could smell him changing, leaving his mortal form behind as the vampire blood replaced the last vestiges of his mortality with preternatural life. Not undead, as Humans called them, but a different sort of life that didn’t end except through violence. Henri began to visibly change. The years melted away, skin returning to the smoothness of youth, the age spots vanishing as he left his mortal life behind. His hair which had already gone grey took on a silvery cast, the mark of the Maxmillian blood, one of the visible characteristics that identified their Family. All the Trueborn, and the changed bloodkin bore Page 21

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the unnatural silvery hair that was unique to their breed. “Thank you, Highness.” Alfonse kissed the newly born vampire. “No, Henri, you have my thanks for serving me so faithfully all these years.” He lay down, pulled Henri close and held him as the first rays of the sun washed across the capitol of Nevanar.

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Chapter Two Trevor stepped out of the transport into the fading sunlight of a cool, Nevanar evening. He scanned the landing area, looking for anyone that might be a representative for the Maxmillian family--the Prince himself wouldn’t come out during daylight hours, or to meet a bodyguard. A few of the people getting off the transport met families, some with small children. Bitterness welled up in Trevor. He’s always wanted a family. Still did. But in the cold hard world of practicality in which he lived there wasn’t room for a family. Not when he moved from world to world, assignment to assignment with no provisions made for a family following him around. And his one mating hadn’t gone well. The physical scars were long healed, but the emotional ones remained to mar the experience and remind him that the wrong mate was worse than having none. But she had been quite the beauty. Page 23

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A wry smile curling his lips, he hefted his duffle and headed for the building beyond the landing zone. Daylight painted the area in long shadows, the sun lowering in the sky toward sunset. From what he knew of Nevanar it would be a bit more than two standard solar hours before the sun sank to the rim of the horizon. “I wonder if that’s why no one is here to meet me. Vampires and such a bright sun don’t mix.” During the hours of daylight on Nevanar no vampire would venture out, unless they wanted to risk bursting into flame. While the sun of Old Earth had been left behind, it hadn’t taken long for the vampires to discover any sun that put out significant ultraviolet radiation had the capacity to char them into ash. Only on the twilight world of Blood with its aging sun and almost perpetual clouds and mist could vampires walk free at every hour of the day or night. He’d been there all too recently and the Page 24

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constant twilight had been depressing for a creature that loved the feel of the sun. He entered the building, felt the warmth of the daylight fade as the first of three sets of automatic doors slid closed behind him. Intended to block the lethal solar rays, the doors were a precaution to protect the preternatural creatures from being harmed accidentally. Vampires were, if nothing else, careful. There were always multiple fail safes just in case something went wrong or some madman, jealous lover--or Human terrorist-shattered the first set of doors before anyone could stop them. Optimistic about finding someone inside waiting for him, Trevor passed through the last of the doors and stopped to search the crowd of Supernaturals--bloodkin of the vampire Families and other Shifters--coming and going through the spaceport terminal. He was the only tygon present. He drew a few curious glances but not a single person came toward him. Well that’s about what I should have expected from a spoiled brat of a Prince. He can’t even be bothered to send a staff member to come and escort me to his home. Page 25

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He glanced around searching for a call station that would let him send a message to the Maxmillian family’s residence. He had the contact number, but no real clue about where the Family lived planetside on Nevanar. A young vampire--there was no mistaking him for anything else, he was too graceful and pale to be bloodkin--in the stiff formality of a Blood military captain’s dress uniform strode toward him. An indefinable scent, like the tang of some rare and unnamed spice, reached his nostrils. Unaccountably Trevor felt his heart rate increase, his pulse thrumming through his veins in a way he’d felt only once in his life: on the day he’d mated. His balls tightened, cock twitching inside his trousers, his body reacting to the vampire in ways that both confused and embarrassed him. Trevor ignored the sensation and the hardening of his cock, keeping his face impassive. If the vampire saw his erection, he gave no sign, his eyes didn’t even move from Trevor’s face as the vampire came to a stop a few steps from him. “Are you Trevor Graham?” he asked, words clipped, direct and to the point. But under Page 26

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the bitten off words lurked a melodic quality. The famed hypnotic sound found in the oldest aristocratic bloodlines of vampire kind. Trevor would have thought the vampire to be rude for not offering his palm to touch in greeting if he hadn’t been in the military himself. Civilians offered such personal greetings, those in the military did not. If they’d been in the same branch of service they’d have offered polite nods, or he’d have waited for a salute as he outranked a mere captain, but they were attached to different branches which made any acknowledgment of rank or personal accomplishments unnecessary. “I am,” Trevor agreed, his own words just as clipped. He looked the slim male up and down, taking the vampire’s self-confidence and lack of fear as signs he probably had some sort of actual military training. Many vampires reacted with undisguised fear when facing a tygon, even one that had no intention of ripping their former rivals limb from limb. The vampire barely came up to Trevor’s chin, but no trace of unease showed in the other Supernatural’s eyes. More Page 27

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telling, Trevor couldn’t smell the terror of being near a tygon rising from his pale skin. Like the majority of the True Born, this vampire’s eyes were a fiery red. No one could ever mistake a True Born for a Human or one born bloodkin. The eyes always gave the breed away. The vampire’s longish silvery hair had been pulled back in a neat braid that kept it out of his eyes, though a few wisps had escaped to curl around his face, giving his visage an ethereal, delicate look that would have been suitable for a porcelain doll. Firm lips and high cheekbones showed his kind came from some long forgotten country in Europe as lost to them as the rest of Old Earth. He certainly doesn’t look like much, but vampires are so damn deceptive. You never know what they can or cannot do by looking at them. And that was all too true. With shifter kind you knew their abilities by their breed, but with vampires... well unless you were very knowledgeable about every single Family and every branch--and who could keep up with that much information short of using a datacomp?--you never knew exactly Page 28

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what you were dealing with. And as far as his military training goes, he might be an excellent fighter, or he might have paid for his commission and not know which end of a pistol to aim at the enemy. It wouldn’t be the first time Trevor had encountered someone undeserving of their rank. Or their uniform. But that was probably why he had the assignment to guard Alfonse the Third, because no one around the vampire princeling was of any use in a pitched battle. Vampires had come to rely on their mental powers too much before they’d left Old Earth, and as they’d discovered, mental tricks didn’t work on properly conditioned Humans. And when bloodkin turned traitor, which had been the downfall of many a vampire Family during the Purge, it left their entire Family vulnerable. Yet, studying this vampire the way he’d watch a potential enemy, he saw a few things in his way of moving, of standing, that said this particular bloodsucker might be an exception to the usual shifter joke that vampires couldn’t fight their way out of a saturated plasboard container. To the young vampire’s credit, he seemed to be Page 29

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studying Trevor with the same sort of calculating gaze. Or was it the gaze of a fellow predator sizing up competition? “Good. Let’s go. I’ll show you to your rooms.” The vampire spun around without so much as an introduction and headed off at a ground eating walk. Trevor, burdened with his duffle, followed along easily in his wake. If the little shit is testing me he’s going to need to come up with something more rigorous than this stroll. I wonder if the Prince’s retainers resent the fact I’ve been brought in to protect him? I guess I might be a bit annoyed under those circumstances. He followed the vampire through the terminal, down a winding stairway that took them past several levels of shops and a variety of restaurants catering to the needs of vampire, bloodkin and shifters alike to a subterranean maglev transport. He paused, casting a questioning glance at Trevor. “You’ve ridden these before?” he questioned. “A time or two on other worlds,” Trevor agreed as he stepped closer to the vampire. “Good,” was the clipped reply, the vampire Page 30

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stepping aboard and taking a seat in the otherwise empty car. “The train will take us to our destination.” The sound of the vampire’s voice wrapped around his mind the way a catchy tune might invade his thoughts. Vampiric power. As a tygon warrior he was immune to such mental games. Frowning, Trevor followed him into the car, setting his duffel on a nearby seat and taking the one beside his guide. The fragrance of the vampire reached him, close proximity making it more evident. Spice. Sweet and enticing, the scent a powerful attractant that had lured Humans to their doom for thousands of years. long ages ago before any of the living vampire Families came into existence. Sitting near the vampire he discovered that even a tygon trained to war wasn’t immune to the power of the scent. Desire washed through him, and he shuddered, shocked that he could be affected by the scent of a vampire despite his training. This shouldn’t be happening to me. I’ve been trained to resist even the most insidious mental Page 31

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tampering of the oldest vampires, yet the mere scent of this young captain is arousing me in ways I’ve never experienced. I’ll have to let the trainers at HQ know that there are some Families our training doesn’t seem to properly protect us from. Uneasy about the failing of the training he’d received, Trevor got up and changed seats, moving to a place across the car from the vampire captain. A tiny smirk curled the vampire’s lips, the expression quickly gone, though, from the look of the hardened flesh he couldn’t help noticing, the vampire seemed to find his own presence as enticing. He coughed, glanced around the deserted car. “How much longer until we depart?” The vampire shrugged, his too keen gaze sweeping along his body, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his sensual lips. “Any time now I’d think.” What is wrong with me? I’m here on an assignment to take care of a vampire Prince, not to get friendly with his staff. But the attraction, strange as it might be, Page 32

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couldn’t be denied. He wanted nothing more than to grab the vampire who sat there smirking his superiority and kiss him into submission. Oddly, he was sure that would be the end result of any sexual encounter between them. The vampire could lure him in with his scent and the almost teasing smiles, but in the end he’d take the vampire and show him why tygons weren’t creatures to be idly toyed with. The thought sent a thrum of lust through him and he felt the ripple of a desire born shift trying to erupt, his skin tingled. A shiver rippled along his spine as fur tried to grow down his back and across both shoulders. It’s definitely time to think about something else. Anything else. The car lurched into motion and Trevor glanced out of the window to see the walls of the tunnel flying past, the maglevtrain already flying along at considerable speed. When he returned his gaze to the vampire he found the captain sitting there, watching him. Hunger warmed his gaze, the tiny smirk gracing his mouth once more. Page 33

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Knowing. Wanting. He took a shuddering breath. Get hold of yourself. You aren’t an untrained cub eager for mating, you’re a grown male tygon. But those hell-coal red eyes were watching him. Disarming him. Making him think of silken, spice-flavored skin and the taste of cool vampiric blood flowing over his tongue, filling him with lust and strength. Fueling his desire to take the sleek creature into his arms and use him as he pleased. Crazy, foolish thoughts of things he’d never done, never actually experienced. But somehow he knew what it would be like to have that slim body in his grasp, to sink fangs and cock into yielding flesh. By all that’s holy! What the hell is happening to me? He decided that talking might take his mind off of the roiling lust heating his blood not to mention the uncomfortable tightness of his pants. “I take it the Prince isn’t living here in the city?” Trevor asked, curious to find out anything Page 34

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more than just the name of the Prince he would be guarding and just as desperate to distract himself from the ache which emanated from his groin. “He lives in the capitol, yes, but it’s too far to walk from here.” He regarded the vampire for a moment, then asked, “Are you one of the Prince’s guards?” A tiny smile curled the vampire’s mouth, eyes glimmering with restrained amusement that Trevor couldn’t quite understand. “In a manner of speaking.” “Is that a yes or no?” But the vampire didn’t give him an answer, he just sat there, smiling his secretive smile.

Y ``` Z He couldn’t help himself. From the moment he’d set eyes on the big tygon shifter he’d known Page 35

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he wanted him. Wanted him in the way he’d never wanted anyone in his existence. Not even his first fumbling days with Henri had fueled this sort of lust, this sort of passion in him. He watched the big shifter, the play of the lights on his golden hair, the way his mouth moved as he spoke. The strong line of cheek bones, the hard edge of his jaw, so masculine. And his eyes. Such a deep, unusual shade of green. The verdant shade of a forest by moonlight. He must have the tygon shifter for his own. For his feeder, his lover. The thought of that powerful body, those arms around him, made him ache for the shifter’s touch. The why of it he didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend, puzzled by the intensity of the attraction. But he knew he wouldn’t give up, wouldn’t allow the proud warrior to slip from his fingers. He wanted the tygon for all that and, perhaps, something more. The tygon’s scent had done something to him, warmed him, sent tingles of raging need through every part of his body. The air vibrated with the Page 36

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tension, the lust rising between them the way mist rose from warm water in the evening chill of a Nevanar night. He would have this tygon for his own. Have him and keep him no matter what it took. “Have you known the Prince long?” “My whole life,” he replied, continuing to play the game, unable to stop himself from pretending to be nothing more than a member of his own household. He wasn’t sure why he kept up the charade, though his reason for starting it had been rather simple. He’d wanted to see what the tygon was like, how he acted when not in the presence of the Prince he’d be protecting. Now he knew, and he should end the game, but he found he wasn’t ready, didn’t want to stop. More to the point he wanted to take the game a farther. Much farther. He stood, crossed the car to stand before the tygon, aware of his imposing size--a full head taller than himself and much broader through the shoulder. Page 37

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Imposing. Exciting. Enticing. Delectable as the taste of virgin blood with the heady qualities of forbidden drugs or too much alcohol in the veins of a bloodkin. He had to have the tygon. Wanted him as he’d never wanted anyone in his existence. He needed to possess the shifter and wanted to be possessed by him. Possessed and... what? Obeyed? Adored? Loved? He licked his lips, moved forward and set his hands on the wall one to each side of the tygon’s head, leaned in until their breath mingled, until the scent of lust-- beast musk and vampire spice-rose to surround them. The tygon didn’t move, even his breath stilled, their bodies almost touching, the warmth of the shifter feeling hot as the touch of the sun on his skin. Branding him, burning him to the core of his being. He trembled, drew in a shuddering breath, Page 38

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the scent of the beast overwhelming him, pulling him in, emboldening him. Predator and prey. But exactly who was the predator and who was the prey remained to be discovered. “I want you,” he murmured, saw the echo of his words shining in the lust hot green gaze as the tygon leaned back to regard him. The tygon was handsome, virile enough to be some primeval god, a wild and untamed lord of the forest. A Prince among the Beasts. Alfonse drew in the scent of the creature, of the animal beneath the outward shell of the seeming Human before him, shivering delicately at the need that flowed through him. At the sense of danger being so close to such a powerful shifter engendered. He could hear the answering beat of the tygon’s pulse, watched it throbbing in the tygon’s throat. He licked his lips wanting a taste of the shifter’s lifesblood. His. This tygon must be his, the desire he felt a powerful siren call that hummed through his blood, sang through his flesh. Wouldn’t be denied. Page 39

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He leaned in closer, lowering his head so that his cheek brushed the tygon’s cheek. He drew in the scent of the beast, sighed, trembling at the nearness of such a deadly being. “You smell dangerous,” he murmured, daring to trail the tip of his tongue along the outer edge of the male’s ear, exhaling, sensing that the tygon was almost his in the gasping rasp of the shifter’s breathing, right on the edge of a contented purr. “I am,” came the rumbling reply, the tygon made no attempt to move, to avoid his closeness, or the touch of his damp tongue on his ear. He turned his head, trailed his tongue lower, down the side of the tygon’s neck, felt the leap of Trevor’s beating heart in the corded flesh of his throat. Hands closed on his waist, pulled him tight to the powerful body. Hungry lips pressed his, Alfonse going from predator to prey in the blink of an eye. The shifter stood, and Alfonse groaned as powerful arms encircled him, pinning him to the broad chest, the flat belly. The jutting hardness of an erect cock pressed to his pelvis, grinding against his own erection, drawing a cry of helpless need from him. Page 40

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Teeth grazed his lip, stinging, drawing blood and he moaned as the tygon sucked his bottom lip. The blood was taken without permission, the life of a Prince, his very essence being tasted without being asked. A denial he’d not have given, he willingly shared what he was with the tygon, willingly gave the taste of himself to the shifter. He wound his arms around the tygon’s neck, rose up on his toes to nip the man’s lower lip, tasting the heady bonfire life that marked any supernatural being, made them so much more satisfying than a simple Human or even the special blood of a vampire’s kin. Centuries beyond living vampire memory, their kind had sought out shifters to make them into feeder slaves, caged and milked of their savory, powerful blood the way humans kept cattle. But those days, like their days on Old Earth, were long over. Part of the dim past no living Supernatural remembered. Shifters and vampires were allied against a greater foe: the Humans that wanted all Supernaturals dead. But the desire for such heady blood, for the taste of power that came with it, remained in his Page 41

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breed just as the desire to rend and tear the flesh of vampires existed in most of shifter kind. The tingle he’d felt from simply being near the tygon increased to a current, his blood heating at the taste of the shifter’s blood. He groaned, pulled himself up the shifter’s body and clung to him, legs around the tygon’s hips as their tongues danced, as they shared life and unlife, blood mingling. The car lurched, the maglev train slowing sharply, the tygon’s powerful body compensating for the abrupt change. From the way this Trevor continued to explore his mouth, the way his hands wandered over his back and ass, he doubted the big creature even noticed they’d come to a stop. A hiss and sudden draft told him the door of the car had been opened but the tygon remained heedless of the situation, and he had to admit it wasn’t of much concern to him either. Not when he was in the grip of such a possessive, attentive lover. A soft cough preceded the words, “Excuse us, Highness, but this might be better taken somewhere more private.” The recently made Page 42

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vampire stared at them, his brows drawn downward in a concerned frown. Abruptly the shifter became aware of his surroundings and Alphonse found himself hurled away from the big tygon. A low growl of warning rumbled in the massive chest, anger lit the green gaze. Alphonse landed seated on the other side of the car, and he sat there watching the tygon. “Yes, you are probably correct, Henri, but I think that should wait until a more opportune time. Right now my bodyguard,” he stressed the word deliberately, “needs to be shown to his room so he can unpack and become familiar with my household.” Understanding filled the tygon’s eyes, a trace of anger replacing the lust that had suffused his face. “You’re the Prince! You?” “Yes.” Anger became rage, the tygon grabbing his duffle from the floor and stalking out of the maglevtrain’s car. “Well you’ve just confirmed every one of my expectations!” he snarled as he stepped down from the car. Page 43

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Alfonse followed, the guards of his household closing around him. Henri’s scowl at the tygon was dark enough to have sent lesser creatures running for cover. The tygon seemed impervious to the newly made vampire’s powers--and Alfonse suspected that was the case, the tygon was a Protector, after all--standing there returning the angry look with his own glower. He felt the bestial rage simmering beneath the tygon’s exterior, noted the scent of fear sweat that burst forth from the bodies of his household guard. Bloodkin and vampires from a minor branch of his own Family, none of them could have stood and fought the tygon if he changed to his Half form and offered them a pitched battle. Few vampires could have withstood the attack of such a beast. Meeting that fury-fraught stare, Alfonse knew he could have met Trevor in battle. But whether he could win such a contest he wasn’t sure. The beast beneath the Human seeming exterior was powerful, the beat beat beat of its power washing across him, sending his own heart racing. But it wasn’t fear or the desire to fight that caused Page 44

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his heart to race, it was the bright heat of lust answering the beast’s call. Mouth twisted into an angry, unhappy snarl, Trevor said, “I’ll be living and sleeping in the same room as the Prince,” the title came out with the same vitriol as a curse, “so separate accommodations won’t be required. I do however, suggest the Prince learn a modicum of decorum between now and our arrival at his home.” Henri coughed, “I...umm... see. Ahh.... well shall we go then?” Alfonse could hear the nervousness in his former lover’s voice, see the uneasiness he felt under the lash of anger coming from the tygon. He bowed his head slightly to Trevor. “I won’t ask you to forgive my impulsiveness, Protector Graham. Unfortunate or enraging as it might be to you, I assure you I find you quite desirable and, given the opportunity, I’ll prove just how much I actually want you in the location of your choice.” “That, Prince Alfonse, will not happen. As your Protector I’m forbidden to become involved with you by the Protectorate’s Code of Military Page 45

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Ethics. Doing so would end my career and could result in immediate court martial by a board of my peers. Now, if you don’t mind, let’s just move on from here as if the incident on the train never happened.” He stepped closer to the tygon, met his hard glower with a calm stare, a cool smile. “Protector Graham you may hide behind military protocol, but in the end there will be no denying what we both felt on the train. An attraction that strong is rooted in more than mere physical want, it’s centered in our very beings. Deny what you felt if you like, but don’t expect me to do so.” Having said what he wanted to say, Alfonse gave the tygon a measuring appraisal, his own desire alive in his blood at the close proximity of the Protector. An answering response from the tygon, the hardening of his cock, gave the shifter away just as it had in the spaceport. “Deny that,” he snapped, gesturing to the evidence of the tygon’s desire. Spinning on his toes he headed across the train terminal at a pace no Human could have attained, his guards racing to catch up around him, Henri hurrying along on his right. Page 46

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Muttering curses the tygon ran after them. “Highness, you shouldn’t bait him this way. Even a well trained tygon might lash out if enraged.” “I’m not baiting him, Henri, I’m in the process of seducing him.” “Is that wise, Highness?” “Wise? I have no answer for that. But I know our blood sings when we’re close to one another, Henri. Odd as it seems, he may be my Truemate.” His former lover gasped, choked and stumbled, Alfonse reached out to steady him. “You... what?” “Isn’t fate a strange thing? I’d never thought to find a Truemate, Henri. None of our blood has done so since the first Alfonse. And here I discover mine and not only is my Truemate a tygon, it’s a male tygon. How can anyone make sense of such a peculiar occurrence? But the fact remains that I feel a powerful attraction, as if I’ve become a fly and he is the spider I cannot resist.”

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Chapter Three He’d followed them to the building that housed the Maxmillian Family, the structure built in the old ‘castle’ pattern so many of the older families were fond of replicating both here on Nevanar and on the twilight locked world of Blood. Places duplicated from native stone to mimic the ancient ancestral homes of their Families, but created with all the modern conveniences such places never contained, like sun blocking windows and gravlifts to carry people from floor to floor. The rooms the Prince occupied could have housed an entire wolf pack, or a full pride of lygers, yet, other than the Prince himself, the only people living there were his guards and a few trusted servants. As for the private suite the Prince had, it gave Trevor a sour stomach thinking of how many ways someone intent on killing him could gain entry. Windows, doors, balconies, his head ached just considering how difficult it would be to keep Page 48

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a concerted multi-person attack away from the Prince. Especially when the Prince in question refused to listen to his advice and have some of the windows and doors sealed against entry or put up barriers against attacks from distance weapons like snipers or, gods forbid, missiles if the possible enemy had access to such hardware. And, if his predecessor’s ship had been blown to bits, ruling that out wasn’t a wise idea. He rubbed his face and wondered how, in all the fiery hells the Humans believed in, could he convince the stubborn Prince that his life could very well be in serious danger? Everything he’d suggested had already been dismissed in the first few minutes after they’d arrived and he’d already given up trying to make them aware of the potential dangers the entire suite of rooms posed. His shoulders ached, as did his jaw. Then there was that other ache. Low down in his body that came with an awakening of lust, of desire greater than any he’d ever known in his life. He wasn’t a callow cub that could mistake lust for something more meaningful, and this Page 49

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desire went well beyond a simple case of sexual attraction. He wanted the wretched sneaking little brat of a vampire Prince the way not even the mating drive had made him want that tygon female he’d mated. Even now he felt it, knew exactly where the prince stood, felt his eyes on his back, experienced the pull of the attraction the way iron responded to the pull of a magnetic force. He turned, saw the Prince standing just as he’d left him, motionless as only a vampire could be, head back to stare at the myriad of stars glittering in dark sky. His groin went tight and he forced himself to turn away from the chiseled perfection of the Prince’s upturned face. Breathtaking. And that’s what this Alfonse Maxmillian had done from the moment he’d set eyes on him: stolen his breath and his ability to reason. Turning him into a creature of passions, of needs he’d prefer never to have known or experienced. Page 50

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Not when such emotions put his entire career at risk. Getting involved with the person he was protecting went against everything Trevor believed in, and it went against the Code of Ethics as defined by the Protectorate. No personal attachments were allowed between a Protector and the person he or she was assigned to keep safe. But standing there beneath the moonlight, the pale glow turning the vampire’s hair a faint shade of blue, washing his skin with pallid light and the soft caress of shadow Trevor lost himself. Alfonse was the most alluring creature he’d ever beheld. He couldn’t help but look at the terrible beauty of the vampire. Trevor trembled with pent up desire. Alfonse was too perfect, his features beautiful as if a master sculptor had carved them from snowstone. Eyes the color of the most costly bloodstars caught the moon’s glow and reflected it with a captivating sparkle. The entirety of the alluring picture that Alfonse presented left him dazed, unable to think, to do more than feel. The powerful Page 51

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attraction that tried to overrule his common sense threatened to destroy his self-control. He had to fight with himself, to rein in the uproar of need burning through him or he would cross the distance between them and crush those lips beneath his, kiss the vampire until he yielded as he had on the train. Remembering their illicit kiss, the hot passion that ignited between them, the flavor of the vampire’s sweet blood, stiffened his cock. He was losing the battle to keep his unruly body in check, to prevent himself from reaching out and embracing the slim form of the vampire, crushing him to his body for another blood flavored kiss of unleashed passions. The tygon could almost taste the sweetness of the vampire’s mouth, the memory so strong his hands turned to fists and his nails gouged into his palms, drawing blood. The deep flame of Alfonse’s gaze turned to regard him, the delicate curves of the vampire’s nostrils distending as he took a breath. A tiny smile curled his lips, the sensual nature of his breed showing in the sexy half smile on his lips. Unintentional or deliberate, Trevor didn’t Page 52

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know. What he knew was he had to retreat, to get distance between them. And he didn’t dare because he couldn’t walk away, didn’t dare leave Alfonse because it was his duty to protect him. To keep him safe. “Sometimes rules should be ignored,” Alfonse murmured, taking a step closer, a hand coming up to touch his face. Trevor jumped away as if the touch had scalded him, moving so he wasn’t within reach of the Prince, fighting his primal urges to take what he wanted, make it his. He shook himself, took a few more steps back, but the wind was carrying the vampire’s scent to him. And that scent was laden with the spicy odor of arousal, a vampire lusting for his prey. Alfonse held out his hand, fingers beckoning, the gesture old as his breed. A Prince of the Blood calling to the object of his desire. “Come to me, Trevor. Stop running. Stop fighting and come to me.” Trevor shuddered under the power of the Page 53

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urging, his own desire and that of the vampire becoming one and the same thing. Lust. Need. He groaned and instead of obeying the pull, he took another step away, fighting, struggling against the urges that had nothing to do with the vampire’s innate allure and everything to do with his own traitorous body. His cock throbbed, his balls ached with need. The vampire’s voice, his innate mesmerizing power ensnared him the way a spider’s web captured hapless insects. A tingle passed through him as his body started to shift, fur rippling over his arms and back, muscles twitching, threatening to transform to his half-shifted form. Tygon warrior, and he found himself retreating, running from the vampire as he would never flee from an enemy. Shaking his head he fought the power of the vampire. Not a single time had any vampire’s compulsion affected him. Not once in forty years had Page 54

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anything made his control slip. Until now, when this Prince of the Maxmillian bloodline reached out with his vampiric power right into his soul. “Stop. What you want can’t happen between us.” Alfonse moved closer, the moonlight turning the vampire’s long hair into spun silver that the wind caught, and lifted like a banner. Trevor swallowed, caught in the trap of a vampire’s beauty. “Don’t you feel it, Trevor? Can’t you feel my soul calling to yours?” The tygon shifter lunged away from Alfonse, moving fast, but not fast enough to escape the preternatural creature. Young but powerful. More powerful than any Prince he’d ever met, and he had to resist, had to overcome the pull of the vampire’s power. He evaded Alfonse’s grasping hand, gently knocked aside the next attempt. “Highness, this can’t happen. Not now, not ever. I’m a Protector, sworn to keep you safe. It’s against the code of conduct for me to become your lover. No matter how much Page 55

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you might desire me, I can’t give you what you want.” Fingers brushed his cheek, the touch a plea. A final wordless request. Fire burned through his body, his blood singing, humming in his ears, ripping at him with talons of lust that didn’t want to be denied. To surrender was to face court martial. Not surrendering meant an agony of desire he couldn’t sate, couldn’t put aside. Lust screamed through him. He wanted nothing more than to grab the slender form of the vampire and bend him over the nearest flat surface. Trevor wanted to fuck him until they both cried out with the completion of the need tearing at them. Steeling himself against the vampire’s power, against his body’s desire for the stunning creature that had ensnared him in a trap of beauty he might never escape, he fought the desire. Fighting the hardest battle he’d ever engaged in, he turned away. Walked away. He heard the vampire following him. Soft steps, slow, inexorable as the Page 56

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hand of death. Unrelenting as the fire burning through him, trying to consume him. “Fate is a cruel mistress. She creates the perfect creature for my love, but denies me at the same time.” Trevor snorted, refuting the pretty words. This wasn’t love that he felt, it was the power of the vampire brat trying to ensnare him in his power, nothing more. “I’ve never had a male lover nor have I wanted one. I’ve mated with one female and she rejected me.” Trevor sighed, turned to face his tormentor, leveled his gaze on the vampire, saw the glitter of crystal tears in the fire bright eyes. Those tears startled him, but he quickly overcame the surprise. I’ve either hurt him or he’s using this as a lever to try and soften my resolve, but by all that’s holy, I never considered a man or a vampire as something I could love. What is wrong with me? Why do I feel this attraction to him? But he knew the answer to that already. This was a Prince of the Blood, and apparently the Maxmillian bloodline was one his training Page 57

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didn’t supply proper immunities to. He didn’t even know if any tygon had immunity to the call of this line’s power. Considering the way he felt, he suspected he, at least, wasn’t protected. Alfonse gave a sad smile, shrugged, the gesture, like everything else about this Prince, a study in graceful beauty. “I thought from your reaction to me that you felt an attraction for me as strong as that which I feel for you. From the moment we met I felt the pull of your sexuality, your virility and I thought you’d felt something for me too. You were hard and wanting when we met at the spaceport, or will you say I imagined that? I think not. I could smell the lust burning in you, the musk of need rising from your skin. And on the maglevtrain there was no mistaking that you wanted me. No denials now will change what happened. You kissed me, held me so tightly my ribs creaked with the strength of your embrace. You tasted my blood and I tasted yours. Tell me you don’t feel it, the pull of our very souls trying to entwine, to merge.” Trevor wanted to say he was sorry, wanted to take the slim vampire into his arms and kiss Page 58

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him, hold him, make love to him. Wanted to admit he’d wanted Alfonse with more passion than he’d ever known his body could experience. Instead he said, “I’m not interested in what you’re offering. I don’t take male lovers and I don’t feel anything for you beyond the allure of what you are, a vampire.” A partial lie. And no other answer the situation could permit. Alfonse was under his protection, and there couldn’t be anything between them. But that didn’t lessen the fact that he did want the vampire Prince. The vampire closed his eyes, lowered his head, turned away. “I see. I’ve made a terrible mistake.” The symphony of his voice broke, shattering on a heart broken sob. Trevor saw the pain evinced in every line of Alfonse’s body, the way he hung his head, shoulders slumping. The way Alfonse turned away from him, Trevor’s own heart aching as the vampire tried to control the soul tearing sobs that slipped free of his clenched teeth. He wanted to reach out, pull the vampire into the circle of his Page 59

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embrace, tell him he’d lied, that he hadn’t meant it But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Protector’s didn’t love the people they guarded, it was forbidden, and it was wrong to become personally involved with the person they were duty-bound to protect. It made the protector too careless. Put them off their guard. Gave any potential enemy an opening, a weakness that could be exploited. He didn’t dare risk the vampire’s life for the sake of... what? Sex? That’s all it was. Carnal pleasure. The satiation of primal urges best not indulged in with a vampire. That too was a lie. What he felt, the passions the vampire arose in him went beyond the merely physical, it was a reaching out of their very essences, the preternatural powers of a vampire seeking to blend with those of another creature, a kindred spirit in the form of a tygon warrior. But the want, the need lay inside of him, like a seed waiting for the touch of blessed moisture to burst forth and grow. And it couldn’t happen. Page 60

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Not when a court martial would end in his execution.

Y ``` Z The rejection bit at Alfonse with all the pain of a sungun’s burning light. The hurt coiled in his psyche, twisted in his guts worse than any wound. Worse than a stake to the heart. The verbal refusal of this tygon warrior that his body craved hurt worse than anything he’d ever known. The ache of unfulfilled hunger, unrequited desire--or love, yes, it could become that-- ate at him. His soul reached for Trevor, and he felt the tygon’s own essence answering, but the refutation of that attraction couldn’t be ignored. Truemate or not, Trevor Graham didn’t want him. Desired him, yes. Even Trevor couldn’t deny his reaction. The way Trevor had held him, kissed him, his cock hard as steel pressing against his belly. Alfonse had ached with the desire to sink fangs and flesh into the powerful body of the tygon. He was even willing to let Trevor Page 61

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bury his cock inside his own flesh, whatever it took to get the tygon to accept him, to admit something more powerful than lust lay between them. But Trevor’s damn code of ethics stood in the way. An impenetrable wall Alfonse would gladly tear down if he could find a chink in the tygon’s emotional armor. The tygon fool refused to even consider it. Stung by the rejection, hurting with the need to attain what he couldn’t have, namely the love of the tygon, Alfonse retreated into his suite of rooms in a blur of speed the tygon couldn’t hope to match. Tygons were stronger, better fighters, but they couldn’t hope to match the speed of his kind. A Maxmillian line vampire had powers unlike those of the other vampire breeds. They’d been warriors, Princes who’d once led armies. Long ago on Old Earth. The door slammed closed in his wake, barring his Protector from the rooms they now shared. He entered his bed chamber, and that door too slammed closed, a gesture assuring his privacy, isolating him behind a locked door that only he could open. He lay down on the bed, arms folded beneath his head and stared at the canopy Page 62

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arching above him. Red damask patterned with the old emblem of their family. A fire breathing dragon standing on its hind legs as if ready to do battle. Alfonse closed his eyes against the sting of tears filling them. His chest felt as if it might be filled with lead, his guts twisting in Gordian knots, the ache in his groin pulsing to the slow beat of his heart. Heavy fists pounded on the wood. “Open the damn door, Alfonse!” “Prince Maxmillian to you, Major Graham!” he snarled in reply, making no move to open the door. Anger at the rejection was replacing the pain. “I said open this Lord’s forsaken door!” The pounding intensified, a hinge creaking from the violence of the impacts. The beast unleashed, Trevor in his Half changed form raging on the far side of the door. Let him rage. I want him nowhere near me. He turned over to lie on his belly, but that put pressure on his throbbing erection only served to make things worse. The sensation was one of Page 63

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pure torment without the promise of a lover--his Truemate--to ease the desire. Bastard, how can he deny this between us? He felt it, I know he did. From the instant we met we wanted one another. I wanted him, he wanted me. I saw his erection, felt his kiss sear my soul. He touched his lips at the memory of the tygon’s mouth crushing his, the kiss full of passion, desire that sought an outlet. The wood boomed as Trevor continued his efforts to breech the door. Nothing short of shattering the walls would work, not with the power of magic holding the portal shut. A roar of frustrated anger battered his ears in much the same way the tygon’s fists were battering the door. “Miserable brat! Stop sulking and come out of there!” He frowned at that. Brat? Sulking? Hardly! I can’t bear the thought of him being close to me and not being able to show him my love. He’s rejected me, lied to me too if that hard-on at the spaceport and in the train were any indication of what he wants. Page 64

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If he’d just forget the damn rules and surrender to what we both feel! Alfonse slammed his own fist into the pillow under his cheek as his own anger and hurt rose inside him. Surrender.... the word danced in his mind, like the echo of a voice, the whisper of a memory. Tygons were the most dominant of shifters, both males and females battling for supremacy, neither willing to surrender until beaten. Perhaps that was the chink in the tygon’s defenses. If you surrender he will have no choice but to react the way nature has created his breed to respond. Submit to him and see how long he can resist the desire. He left the bed, shed his clothing in a whirlwind of abandon, the garments fluttering to the floor like the banners of a conquered army. Alfonse opened the door in a burst of speed that left the partially changed shifter standing there Page 65

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arms raised to slam his fists on a door that was no longer there. Neither of them moved his gaze meeting the green fire of the tygon’s fury-filled eyes. Magnificent. Broad shoulders sheathed in rich golden fur, lightly streaked with grey-black stripes. A thick leonine mane crowned his head and surrounded his face, forming a thick ruff along his spine down to mid-back. Thick muscles clad his heavy bones, the breed grown stronger under the heavier gravity of their chosen world. Tiara, the crowning achievement of their people. A world wholly theirs. Alfonse licked his lips, took a deep breath, taking in the scent of the beast. Anger and arousal mingled to form a perfume that drew him closer, his own cock hard, aching, balls pulsing with the beat of his heart, the fast hammering of lust. He moaned, but he remained still, letting the tygon make the first move. Hands big enough to encircle his biceps closed on his arms, the maned head lowering, broad nostrils sniffing, taking in his scent. Page 66

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A low rumbling growl, a dangerous sound filled the silence that had fallen. The sound left Alfonse feeling weak, vulnerable. Vampire or not, the tygon could kill him, send him into the embrace of the Dark Lady and even his kind were unable to return from that dread place. Damp and delicate as the touch of a butterfly’s wing, the tip of the tygon’s tongue touched his throat, tasting. He shuddered, unable to control the reaction, his head falling back and to the side, granting the tygon full access to his tender flesh. Warm breath flowed over his skin and he shivered. The rasp of the whole tongue as it swept across the side of his neck, followed the warm breath. The powerful arms encircling him tightened, possessive. Alfonse should have been afraid. Should have felt the terror of being half crushed in the arms of a powerful tygon warrior. Instead he felt nothing but desire and a deep sense of safety. Of being protected, wanted... and loved. “Mine,” another growl that vibrated through Alfonse’s chest, pulsed through his veins, made his erection twitch. His mouth watered at the Page 67

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thought of sinking his fangs into the hard flesh of Trevor’s shoulder, the rich blood flooding his mouth and feeding him. “Yours,” he agreed, yielding to the bigger male, the beast that he wanted as his lover, his Truemate. He let his head drop farther backward to totally expose his throat, felt the rough tongue lave his skin, the warm tickle of Trevor’s breath sent a chill through him and he shivered. “Mine,” the word repeated as a final affirmation of dominance. “Yes,” he agreed willingly, ready to surrender, to give himself to his Truemate on terms the tygon could accept. That had been his mistake all along, being the aggressor, being the one to make the first move. To catch a tygon didn’t require aggression, it required submission. A shudder passed through the tygon’s massive frame and in the blink of an eye he reverted to his outwardly Human form. Turning his head away, Trevor pushed Alfonse aside, took a few stumbling steps away from the door, his breath ragged, almost a sob. Page 68

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“Damn you!” he grated out. Alfonse stood there confused and adrift, lost between what had almost happened and this new, even more painful rejection of his offered love. “But...” He was grabbed, slammed painfully against the wall, a large hand around his throat, pinning him, choking him. “You stupid bloodsucking bastard! Stop using your power on me!” the last was roared in his face, his ears ringing from the force behind the shout. Tygon’s roar, and he shuddered in reaction, a thrill of fear biting through the need he felt, etching his heart with the greatest pain he knew. His Truemate, yet.... the tygon resisted, refuted what he was positive they both felt. The hand closed tighter, fingers biting into his flesh, hurting. He touched Trevor’s hand, and the shifter let him go. He sagged to the floor, tears blurring his vision, confusion and misery fogging his thoughts. Page 69

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“Please...” he whispered. “Shut up!” Trevor growled in reply. “I’ll protect you but I’m letting the Protectorate know that I can’t stay here. I’ll tell them you’re set on seducing me. They’ll send a replacement, and I’ll leave!” Leave.... he’s going to leave... A sob broke free and Alfonse pushed himself up the wall. He stood there unable to look at Trevor. “Just go. Go now. I absolve you of all responsibility. Get out.” He raised his tear stained face to the tygon who’d come to protect him and instead had broken his heart. “I can’t do that. I’m duty bound to protect you and...” “And you’ve killed me yourself so just leave! Go! Forget me, forget you ever saw me, met me, kissed me...” “Highness, you have to understand--” a hand touched him. Need bit into his flesh, burned like acid into his soul. He struck the hand aside. “I understand all too well. You are my Truemate, yet you don’t Page 70

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care. You refuse what is painfully apparent not only to me, but to you as well. What you’ve done is condemn me to a slow painful death and for what? Your career! That’s what!” Alfonse raised his tear streaked face to the tygon. “So be it then! Leave! Go and have your life! Have this career you are so enamored of ! Do as you please and to hell with me!” The tygon flinched away from his anger, paled at what he’d said. “Go! Get out! Get out of my sight!” He was shouting, the tone of his voice shrill from the tears choking his throat. The acid burn of the pain etching into his heart, biting into his soul. “It’s not just my damn career!” Trevor retorted angrily, grabbing him by the arms and shaking him so violently his teeth grated. “If I do this it’s a court martial and a sentence of death for breaking the Code!” Alfonse blinked, lips parting to speak, yet unable to make any sound come out. “Don’t you understand, so long as I’m your Guard I can’t give you what you want! What we both need.” Page 71

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Trevor released him, took a few steps away, stumbling the way a dying man would, the tygon sinking to his knees midway into the parlor. “Please, Trevor. I’m a Prince, part of the Council. I’m sure given the circumstances they’ll waive the death penalty.” He dared to go closer, risked everything by laying his hand on the warm shoulder of the shifter. The tygon shuddered beneath his hand, sucked in a gasping breath that came out as a soft moan of sound and he could see that Trevor was as confused as he, and in as much pain. “I.... just don’t know, Alfonse. I...” He walked around the tygon, knelt in front of him and took the handsome face between his hands. He pulled Trevor forward for a gentle kiss. “If you die, I die. If I die the last Father of the Maxmillian Family is gone. The laws of the Supernatural Alliance supercede those of any branch of the military. Given the crimes involved, your dereliction of duty or killing a Father of a Family, the worst crime would be my death as it ends our Family. That’s what your execution would bring about, the end of a Family Page 72

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because you are my Truemate and I won’t, I can’t live, without you.” A glimmer of hope lit the tygon’s gaze. “Do you think so?” Alfonse nodded. “I do.” “Am I really your Truemate?” “Yes, Trevor, you are,” he replied and kissed the tygon.

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Chapter Four Soft lips explored Trevor’s mouth, instantly parting when he touched the tip of his tongue to them. Trevor deepened the kiss, their tongues sliding, entwining in a dance old as time and love itself. He was breathless and aching with the desire to sink his cock into Alfonse when he broke the kiss. Panting for breath Trevor held the vampire in his arms, looked into the desire warmed garnet fire of his lover’s gaze. “Do you believe me yet?” He couldn’t deny the attraction. Couldn’t refute the unmistakable pull of their souls touching, joining. The Truemate’s bond something beyond his ability to control. Beyond his desire to control. His career was at stake. Perhaps his life too. And yet there were the very real truths Alfonse had spoken: the existence of a Father to a vampire Family was sacrosanct. Page 74

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If they were Truemates-- and he still wasn’t wholly convinced of that, worried that he had somehow fallen victim to a vampire’s hypnotic power-- then there was no way he could resist the attraction. Not and perform his duty as a Guard and Protector because by denying what they felt he was hurting the vampire he’d been sent to keep safe. He wanted Alfonse, and the vampire wanted him with soul-deep need. “I... don’t know.” Alfonse touched his face, cool hand caressing his cheek. “Believe,” he murmured and closed his mouth over Trevor’s in a hungry kiss. Something bright and wonderful as sunlight after months in space seeped into him from the contact of their mouths. The feeling warmed him. Filled him with a glow that he could feel from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. But it wasn’t light. It wasn’t the touch of the sun. The feeling came from the vampire he was kissing, a creature to whom the sun’s touch was anathema. And, he realized, it came from within his own soul. Page 75

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Deep from within them both energy arose, touched, merged in much the same way as their bodies merged with the kiss. The touch gentle, a little hesitant as if the power arising between them was as unsure of the bond as Trevor was, his mind full of doubt. Tygon and vampire, it seemed so unlikely. But a dual species bond wasn’t unheard of, there had been other instances. But a bond between two males? Such a serious misfiring of the Truemate bond was hard for Trevor to fathom. How could a vampire’s Truemate be another male? It would create a dead end for the Family’s line. The purpose of such a bond was to create children, to make progeny to carry the Maxmillian Family into the future, it was something a pair of males could never manage. Yet, there it was, the warm love-glow filling him, sinking into the dark corners of his own soul, bringing light and love into his lonely existence. And he had been lonely. So very alone and unhappy, hiding his sorrows behind his career, beneath the crisp cloth of his uniform, behind the wall of his accomplishments. Page 76

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Done with his own mental debate he pressed his lips to Alfonse’s mouth in a quick kiss. “I want you, Alfonse, Prince of the Maxmillian Family.” Alfonse smiled. “It’s good to hear you admit it, Trevor.” The vampire reached up to caress his face, stroking the fur, touching his lips. The tip of his index finger slipped between his lips, brushed across the point of a fang. The spicy tang of vampire blood burst across his senses. The taste was all it took to send him over the edge. He growled and swept the slim body into his arms and headed for the bed. He wanted. And he intended to have. The Prince wrapped his arms around Trevor, the vampire seeking his lips for a heated kiss that turned Trevor’s blood to fire. He lay Alfonse down on the bed, returning the kiss, his passion slipping the leash of his control completely. He gripped Alfonse’s wrists, held them over his head, pinning him to the bed. “Mine,” he said, voice a throaty growl. Beneath him the vampire moaned, legs Page 77

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wrapping around Trevor’s hips, holding him tight. He let Alfonse’s wrists go, gazed down on the perfection of the alabaster body beneath him. Touched a pale cheek, leaned down to kiss lips soft as the petals of a rose. “So beautiful,” he breathed, lips brushing across the vampire’s, tasting the honeyed sweetness of spice, the vampiric lure he should have been immune to, but wasn’t. “Beautiful and mine.” “Yes, yours. Always yours,” the vampire murmured then caught his lip between sharp fangs, drawing a trace of blood that Alfonse lapped away with the tip of his tongue. Eyes alight with desire he wrapped his arms around Trevor’s neck and pulled, trying to draw him down, rising up when Trevor resisted. Their lips met, the faint tang of his own blood mingling with the tempting flavor of the vampire. He shuddered in reaction, his body tingling as if charged by a mild electric current. Alfonse trembled beneath him. His eyes-half hidden behind his partly closed lids-- were Page 78

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like living flame. “Trevor, make love to me. Please,” he begged, the sound pouring through Trevor, igniting his desire to bonfire intensity. His skin felt on fire, the fur rippling, appearing and vanishing under the lash of the power of the Truemate bond surging through him. He laughed, watched as goosebumps rose on the vampire’s skin at the sound of his voice. He bent down, the tip of his tongue sliding over the vampire’s spicy skin. “What do you think I’m doing?” he asked. “Torturing me,” Alfonse groaned, another shudder of need dancing through his body as he clung to Trevor’s broad shoulders. Trevor chuckled, amused and amazed by the feelings, the emotions that the vampire could elicit from him. “If you think this is torture, just wait,” he murmured, his tongue teasing over the soft skin of his lover’s throat. He began kissing and licking his way down the vampire’s body, each soft cry his touches and kisses drew from Alfonse sent a thrill through him. Warmth, the energies of the Truemate’s bond flowed through him, adding to the wild excitement of the sexual passions racing through Page 79

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his flesh. Each tiny sound, every gasp, whimper, or sigh that came from Alfonse further fueled the desire raging through Trevor. Tygon warrior, it took every iota of his control not to plunge his aching flesh into the body beneath him. To restrain himself from sinking fangs into the cool skin and taking the blood of his sexual prey, this writhing wanton creature who cried out for everything he wanted to give and take. He kissed and licked his way lower, nibbling at a nipple, sweeping his tongue around the other nipple before he traveled even lower, following the trail of nicely defined abs to the thin line of hair beneath the vampire’s navel. Soft and gold as sunlight spun into thread. His gaze moved to the hard rod of Alfonse’s flesh, a droplet of pinkish fluid glistening at the tip. He breathed in the spicy musk of vampiric arousal, a half-growl, half-purr coming from him as he reached out with the tip of his tongue and swept the droplet of precum off of the satin flesh.

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“Oh by all the gods,” Alfonse gasped, hips bucking with the urge to fuck, or be fucked. “Tell me what you want,” Trevor urged, his breath flowing across the vampire’s aching flesh. Hands clutched at his shoulders, moved to grip his hair, trying to force his head down, to make him take the throbbing cock into his mouth. He smiled wickedly. “Words, Alphie, tell me in words.” “Alphie?” the vampire asked, the tone of his question almost annoyed. “Alphie,” Trevor repeated, leaning down to lap at another faintly pink bead of precum. “Ohhhhahhh!” the cry one of desperate need. “Please! Gods, Trevor, don’t torture me this way.” Trevor couldn’t help himself, he grinned. “Want it do you?” he teased. “Yes!” Alfonse growled, still trying to force Trevor to lower his head, to engulf the eager cock in the heat of his mouth. He sniffed the powerful scent of his lover’s arousal, closed his eyes and let the desire sweep Page 81

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through him in a rush. Hunger. Pure, undiluted hunger filled him. He took the hard flesh into his mouth, sucking the head, tasting the sweet spice of precum, the pure lust-flavor of the vampire’s tender flesh. He shuddered, growled. Beneath him the vampire writhed, hips bucking, body lifting to try and force more of his cock into Trevor’s mouth. He wanted to continue his torment of the vampire but decided that Alfonse had suffered enough. He let the rest of the sweet tasting erection slide into his mouth, sucking and tonguing the head as it moved deeper. He sucked harder, lapping at the flesh as the vampire let his hips drop, cock slipping almost totally free. He let it go, heard an answering groan of loss and grinned. “Is that all you want from me, or would you prefer to have my cock inside you, giving you real pleasure?” Eyes that burned bright as the flames of the Pit gazed at him from a face twisted by frustrated desire. “Fuck me tygon. Fuck me like you mean it.” Page 82

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Trevor grinned. “Oh I’ll mean it all right.” The vampire turned slightly, fumbling for the drawer of the nightstand. “Something in there we’re going to need?” he questioned as the drawer opened and Alfonse pulled out a bottle that he pressed into Trevor’s hand. Still grinning Trevor opened it started to pour some of the slick substance into his hand then stopped. “I think I would rather have you do this, Alphie.” The vampire’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me Alphie.” Trevor leaned in closer, gazed into the burning eyes of his lover, “Are you mine?” The vampire Prince turned his head aside, not meeting his gaze. “Yes,” he murmured. “Then I’ll call you Alphie if I like.” “Not in public. It’s... demeaning.” Trevor put a hand under Alfonse’s chin. “It’s a lover’s name. It’s not for public use,” he murmured and kissed the petal soft lips, his tongue invading the willing mouth. Page 83

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Alfonse took the bottle and poured some of the oily substance into his palm, his hand wrapping around Trevor’s cock. The vampire smoothed the slick fluid over Trevor’s erection. Pleasure filled him, threatened to shatter the control Trevor was exerting on himself. He pressed his lover down on the bed, knelt there, gazing into his eyes, searching his face for any trace of concern or fear. All he found was desire. “I want this,” Alfonse murmured. “I’m yours, Trevor. Yours forever.” He pulled Alfonse’s legs over his shoulders, lifted him up and pressed the head of his cock to the puckered ring of muscle. “Do it, fuck me.” He thrust, his cock sliding into the tight entry, a groan coming from both of them as he breeched the vampire’s virgin ass. Crying out, teeth gritted, hands fisting the sheets Alfonse shuddered. “Fuck me! Fuck me my beautiful warrior!” He drove his cock home, sinking himself to Page 84

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the root in the vampire’s cool flesh. A groan of ecstasy fell from his parted lips becoming a purring growl as he began a slow assault of the Prince’s body. Thrust and gasp, slow outward slide, soft cry of loss. Groaning need, whispering desire they moved together as one creature, the bright sparkling glow of the bond forming, their souls becoming bright motes of dim light that spun and danced around them as if moving to music Trevor couldn’t hear. Or perhaps the glittering lights moved to the beat of their hearts, the pulse of their blood, the rhythm of a primordial force he couldn’t understand. Tygon and vampire. Lovers. United by a bond greater than anything tygon’s themselves experienced. Truemates.

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Alfonse clung to the tygon’s broad shoulders as the rigid flesh of Trevor’s cock moved in and out of his body. Star-dazzle pleasure shot sparks through his mind as the hard flesh struck a cluster of nerves inside his body. He’d never felt this before. Never experienced this before. Always the top until now, he understood finally how his feeder, Henri had learned to crave this experience. He knew he would want it again and again with the same insatiable intensity he needed to feel thick blood sliding over his tongue, down his throat. He groaned, arching into the thrusts, whimpering with the need to reach fulfillment. To attain the orgasm building within his tormented flesh. Another lunge of Trevor’s hips and he gasped, shuddering as the hard cock struck the sweetest place inside his body, a spot that made the pleasure he’d been feeling fade to a distant memory that could not compare. “Oh by the Dark Lady, Trevor,” he gasped, body going tense but feeling as if he’d melted, or slipped into the mythical realm beyond death the Humans believed existed. Page 86

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He got a deep growl as a reply, the shifter thrusting, his legs still over the broad shoulders, the softness of fur tickling his legs, adding a teasing feel to the erotic sensations tearing through his helpless flesh. Helpless. Held in the grip of a tygon, his body driven to the heights of passion he’d never known until now. Never dreamed that such intense pleasure could exist. Climbing higher and higher he wondered if he could survive the sensations rocking his body, filling his mind with light brighter than that emitted by any mere sun. Torn apart by the magic of his bond to his Truemate, his flesh strained, his mind blanking out as the power of orgasm and the magic of his Truemate’s bond consumed him. Alfonse came back to himself wrapped in the strong arms of his Truemate. A tygon warrior who loved him despite Trevor’s previous doubts and his initial resistance to the truth of their bond. There could be no denials now. Not after Page 87

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the things they’d just experienced together. The bond of Truemates and the most exquisite pleasure he’d ever known. Alfonse gave a contented sigh as the big tygon pulled him close, cradling him in his arms, the covers pulled over them both though he had no memory of how they’d gotten beneath them, nor how he’d wound up lying down with the Trevor beside him. He felt safe. He felt wonderful, as if something had filled a void at the center of his being. Most of all he felt loved. And maybe that was the reason he felt filled. Or maybe he felt that way because he’d shared part of himself he’d never given to anyone else. He smiled and snuggled closer to the powerful shifter. He wasn’t a weakling by any standard, but held in the embrace of the bigger man, he felt-- safer somehow. Silly as it might be, Alfonse did feel as if nothing and no one could ever hurt him so long as he had the tygon warrior at his side. Page 88

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He felt a kiss on top of his head. He had just started to drift off to sleep when he felt his lover’s entire body tense. “What--?” A hand clamped over his mouth. Trevor’s soft lips brushed the curve of his ear as he whispered, “We’re not alone. There are people in your parlor.” He focused his awareness, felt the presence of others. About a dozen of them. The gentle thrum of response through his veins told him everything was fine. He smiled beneath the restraining hand. “They’re kinblood,” he murmured against his lover’s palm. A palm that changed to the heavy pad of the tygon’s bipedal mid-form. Soft fur tickled his nose, the tips of razor sharp claws brushed the side of his neck. He shuddered at the thought of what those claws could do to his skin, taking a macabre pleasure in the thought of having such a dangerous creature as his Truemate. Alfonse pulled at his lover’s hand but it didn’t move until he delicately pressed his fangs to it in a display of annoyance that drew no blood. Page 89

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Frowning the tygon moved his hand aside. “Why would so many of them be in your parlor?” Trevor asked, voice a tense, growling whisper. “A dozen is hardly a large number. They’re probably doing some cleaning, moving the furniture to slay the dreaded dust wolves or something. It’s nothing to worry about, really. They’re from a minor branch of my own bloodline. Most of them are servants or guards of the Maxmillian Family. They do things like this when I’m gone or resting for the day.” The tygon looked less than relieved at his revelation. “One, you’re not gone. Two, it’s the middle of the night so you’d normally be awake now, not resting. Three, why schedule anything like cleaning behind furniture when you’re supposed to be here?” Trevor demanded in the same harsh whisper. “Henri would know,” he replied reaching for the bedside comm-unit. “Do not call him,” Trevor growled and shook his maned head. “This doesn’t feel right to me.” He felt the people outside his room. Nothing Page 90

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appeared out of the ordinary. Nothing. They seemed to be going about their normal routine of moving things and cleaning. He focused his mind, reaching out to Trevor across their newly formed Truemate bond to try and communicate telepathically as vampires would. To try and ease Trevor’s mind by touching the minds of the men in his parlor and showing him they had no harmful intent. Emotion avalanched into his mind across the link. Fear etched into his mind from Trevor. Fear that the men coming would get past Trevor and kill him. Anger that the memories of their first lovemaking would be forever marred by a fight. Rage that anyone would dare come here to kill his love. The emotions boiled over into his own mind, making him angry, ready to fight. But his own mind, his own senses told him it was foolish, that readiness to do battle. These were his own kin, part of his own blood, his own Family. He finally shoved at the tygon pressing him to Page 91

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the bed. “It’s okay” he insisted gently. “They’re not here to murder me.” The other man’s expression was dubious, and Alfonse was sure Trevor didn’t believe him from the look in his beautiful green eyes. “You’re sure they’re okay?” the tygon asked, tone full of doubt. Alfonse sighed. “Oh for the love of--” he tugged at Trevor’s arm, “come on, let’s go talk to them then. I’m telling you they’re my own kinblood, an offshoot of my own Family, just like the Maxmillians are offshoots of the Morreaux Family.” “I don’t like it.” “Stop being so paranoid. My people don’t want to hurt me.” The tygon’s eyes narrowed and Trevor opened his mouth to speak but what he would have said was lost in a deafening roar, and a flash of bluewhite flame that blazed across his sight brighter than a supernova. Strong arms pulled him close, a large body rolling atop his, sheltering him, protecting him as debris pelted the entire room. His ringing ears were recovered enough that he Page 92

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heard the sharp cracking sounds of shattering breakables. Other hunks of debris peppered his lover’s massive body with fist sized chunks of plascrete. He felt every painful impact through their mental contact, a vibration that had nothing to do with the explosion rolling through Trevor’s flesh and he held onto Alfonse. Trevor was beyond angry. The killing fury of a tygon aroused to a murderous rage washed through Trevor, burning through his mind in a red tide. His Truemate leapt from the bed, a bellow of rage tearing the air almost as loud as the recent roar of the bomb. Alfonse sat up, gaze taking in the ruined wall to his bedchamber. With the wards in place over the doors and windows, the only way to get in was the one they’d used: blasting a hole in the wall. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Couldn’t comprehend that kin to his own Family had done this. Kinblood, the Human appearing and mortal members of a branch of his own Family poured through the break in the wall. It didn’t seem possible, and yet, that was the way Page 93

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most vampire Families fell during the Purge on Old Earth. Their own kin turning against them. Tears welled up in his eyes. The threat that Henri had warned him against, that Trevor had come to protect him from was very real. He’d been a fool to think the death of his brother had been nothing but an accident. Ships didn’t just come apart the way his had. But an explosion. A bomb planted in the right place.... The smoke rising from the ruined wall and the men streaming into the room through the breech weren’t figments of his imagination. They were real. As were the guns in the hands of the intruders. Acrid smoke swirled through the room as Trevor leapt off the bed with a roar, his lover not hesitating even a second. He caromed headlong into the men coming into his room. Screams rose through the smoke, sounding like a chorus of the damned. Not about to let his lover face the people Page 94

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come to kill him alone, Alfonse reached under the pillows for the pistol he kept there. The deceptively small weapon was one of the most powerful blastguns available. It cost a small fortune, but now he was very glad Henri had insisted he purchase it and keep it in his bed. Alfonse rose to his knees and fired at the attackers coming in through the breech in the wall, not bothering to take aim on any of the smoke shrouded forms. An answering scream twisted his mouth in macabre satisfaction. He and Trevor might die, but they wouldn’t die without a fight. A body flew past him, trailing something wet and dark that spattered the wall when it hit. He glanced at the unmoving form, puzzled because his quick glimpse told him something had appeared odd about the shape of the corpse. A better look revealed a combat suit of the type meant for toxic environments. He glanced at the smoke. Is it more than burning plascrete and furniture? Beyond the shattered wall he could see dim forms moving. A lot of them. As a Protector, Trevor had to be an incredible Page 95

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warrior, but against so many armed men even a tygon couldn’t win. He reached out with his mind, seeking anyone of his own Family within the house that could come to their aid while he sought a target for his pistol amid the cloud of smoke. Worry and fear that his own Family had abandoned him to his fate tore at him as he searched. They were out there, scattered around the house. He tried to reach Henri, but got only a sense of outrage and frantic movement. Fighting. Everyone in the house engaged in the battle. The roiling smoke reached Alfonse and he coughed, the stuff a mix of burned plascrete and who knew what else that the explosion had melted within the wall. He choked, the smell of the smoke dizzying him, a wave of disorientation rolling through his mind. More of the assailants had gotten into the room. He’d only sensed a dozen people, but that many had already poured into the room. How could he have mistaken so many men for so few? Taking careful aim through the swirling smoke he fired off another shot, heard another scream. Page 96

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His lover came racing through the smoke. “Save the charges,” Trevor warned, “and keep down!” A big paw-hand shoved Alfonse backward just as a ray of light so bright it hurt his eyes cut across the room. The beam searched for him. For his tender flesh. “Sungun!” Trevor said, stating something that was already obvious. Trevor tossed a blanket over him. It protected him from the searching ray, but it also rendered him unable to see anything. What his lover didn’t seem to understand was that with so much smoke in the room, the beam of the sungun would be diffused, cause less damage. Not that he was willing to stand even in a smoke weakened beam from a sungun. He didn’t want to find out what it was like to be burned. Alfonse tried to push the blanket aside, but before he could get free he was shoved off the side of the bed with a snarled, “Stay down you idiot!” “I’m not helpless!” he retorted, angry at being treated like a child, his words lost in a roar of outrage and a trio of terrified screams. Page 97

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Alfonse freed himself from the confines of the blanket and rose to a fighting crouch, pistol gripped tightly in his fist, ready to pick off a few of the kinblood who’d come to kill him. Bodies lay amid the swirling smoke that cloaked the room, the smell of blood thick in the air. The blood of his kin. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t comprehend why they would turn on him. And he couldn’t figure out where his own people were. They should have been there, should have come running to their rescue the instant the explosion happened. A few figures came toward him through the obscuring smoke, a pair of men carrying blades instead of guns. He didn’t waste time trying to identify them, he opened fire taking one of them out an instant before a huge clawed hand slammed through the second man’s chest. “I said stay down!” Trevor roared at him as he spun to take more of the invading force. Alfonse took a deep breath to shout a retort Page 98

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at the tygon and started coughing, another sickening attack of dizziness threatening to overcome him. He shook his head to clear it and ceased breathing. As a vampire he didn’t need to breathe as often as living creatures did, but even a vampire couldn’t hold their breath forever. Trevor’s roar, anger and pain, filled his ears along with the sound of guns being fired. At least, from what he could hear, the guns were mostly of the projectile throwing variety rather than the powerful energy weapons some Families used, the Maxmillian’s included. But there were just too many men intent on killing him pouring into the room. Alfonse couldn’t see how Trevor could battle them alone. Not with only the natural weapons of a tygon. The men he faced were all armed with guns and swords. The question of how so many of them had gained entrance to his home without him sensing anything remained to dog his thoughts. Somewhere in the depths of the house came a deep rumbling that could only be an explosion. It wasn’t simply an attempt on his life then, it Page 99

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had to be a full scale attack on his entire Family. The revelation left him cold inside. A prickling at the back of his neck warned him that something else was going on. He reached out with his preternatural senses to discover a magical barrier protecting the doors and windows was under attack. Powerful energies tried to overcome the wards holding the main doors, windows and the balcony doors closed. He felt the wards starting to weaken, the ones over the balcony doors crumbling beneath the assault of a powerful vampire’s magic. Glass shattered and Alfonse saw another batch of troops coming through from the direction of the balcony. He glanced at his pistol, found it carried only seven more charges. Snarling he opened fire on the new arrivals, downing three of them with an equal number of shots. His action kept the other troops pinned down outside. They returned fire, the bright beam of a sungun sweeping into the room, but the smoke filling his bedchamber rendered the beam harmless. He squinted as the light played across the surface of the nightstand beside his bed. He had a second charge clip in Page 100

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the drawer, if he could reach it. Lips pulled back into a grimace of anger, Alfonse fired at the dark form carrying the sungun. The beam blinked out, a shriek telling him he’d hit his mark. He grabbed the drawer of his nightstand and yanked it out, sending the contents skittering across the polished floor. He grabbed the charge clip as it slid and scrambled to his feet, heading for other cover. He kept low and raced for the other side of his bedroom where a heavy oak and marble dresser stood. Shoving the dresser out from the wall he got behind the massive piece of furniture, and peered over the top. A body crunched against wall a few feet from where he crouched, the sound of breaking bones telling him that, whoever it had been, they wouldn’t be much threat. The boneless sprawl the body landed in confirmed his suspicions. He heard gunfire, and an enraged yell that raised the hairs on his forearms and along the nape of his neck. Through the smoke he saw a creature leap taking down a few of the people coming in through the shattered balcony doors. Terrified cries, the sound of rending flesh, Page 101

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screams of agony told him that Trevor, now in his four-footed tygon form, had done his best to discourage the newest combatants. He saw his lover streak past, the massive muscles in his shoulders rippling, lean haunches propelling the shifter back toward the damaged wall. How long could his lover keep up such a onesided battle? He gripped the pistol tighter and peered through the smoke searching for a target. He had thirteen more shots including the second charge clip and he would use every one of them to help Trevor any way he could. Trevor his lover. His Truemate. He’d found the love of his eternity. And now he might very well lose him. Are we to die here with me cowering behind the furniture and him trying valiantly to save my worthless hide? He stood up, fired at a group of moving Page 102

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shadows that instinct told him were more of their enemies. How many are there? Who’s leading them? He reached out with his vampiric senses, searching, seeking the source of the power that had resumed the attack on the wards protecting the entrances to his room. If more of the wards fell there would be no stopping the men coming to kill them. A sungun splashed light across the top of the dresser and he winced at the pain, the smoke protecting him from a lethal burn. He ducked behind the dresser and continued his search, disconcerted by his inability to find the source of the power seeking to destroy what remained of his wards. Angry that he couldn’t find the vampire that wanted his whole Family dead. Somewhere in his home he heard another loud boom, another explosion rocking the floor under his feet and vibrating through the wall at his back. Dark Lady please let Henri be all right. Page 103

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“Kill him you fools!” he heard someone shout from the room beyond his bedchamber. The voice was familiar, but another looming form coming through the smoke distracted him from the identity of the speaker. He shot and watched the shadowy shape crumple to the floor. Alfonse glanced at his pistol and frowned. So many attackers and only twelve shots remaining. Alfonse wanted to reach out, contact his Trevor’s mind, but he hesitated to distract Trevor from the fighting, worried he might cause his lover to be injured, or worse. “Fools will you kill him so we can get to Alfonse!” the same voice shouted. Alfonse frowned. Yes, he did know that voice. But it made no sense? The voice belonged to one of his cousins. Why would Neville want him dead? A group of dimly seen forms raced in, coming right for him.

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Chapter Five They never reached him. Trevor, back in his half-shifted form, rampaged through the men leaving nothing alive in his wake. “Damn it! Stay down!” he shouted at Alfonse as a line of fire burned across his back, bullets tearing his flesh. His lips curled into an enraged rictus, baring his teeth as he turned to deal with the new threat, the two gunmen falling beneath his onslaught. So many of them, but none were real warriors. They had guns, a few of them carried sunguns. But nothing in their possession--so far--would be lethal to a tygon. “Will you idiots just kill him!” The same voice that had shouted orders before. More booms shook the floor and out in the other room a loud crash told of a chandelier that had fallen to ruin. “Kill him! Kill them both!” Page 105

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The attackers, like the smoke, were thinning. Another rolling boom, like the sound of distant thunder, tore through the air drowning out the sounds of the carnage surrounding him. A pair of men, white faces filled with terror, raised their guns to fire, and died for their temerity. Breathing hard, Trevor scanned the darkened room, seeing the destruction that was the result of the battle, the bodies that were the result of his actions. The dozen that Alfonse had risked his life to shoot. “Useless! All of you, useless! Fine, I’ll take care of this myself !” A tall, slender True Born vampire--there was no mistaking the blood-fire of his eyes--came stalking into the room, stepping over bodies. He carried a sword in his right hand, a old heavily ornamented lazpistol filled his left fist, the gold and gems glinting dully in the dim light. Trevor’s eyes narrowed. Antiquated weapons or not, both of them had the ability to badly Page 106

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wound, or even kill him unlike the projectile throwers the man’s erstwhile soldiers had carried. He faced off with the unknown man. “Who are you? What do you want?” “What I want should be obvious, even to an animal like you,” the vampire replied. He was given a smile sharp as a knife, “As to who I am, well, I’m sure Alfonse, wherever he’s cowering, can tell you the answer to that.” He laughed, “Unless he’s already dead, of course.” “I’m alive you wretched traitor!” Alfonse said from the back of the room. You’d better be hiding, Trevor thought. “Ah, there you are, cowering behind the dresser. Typical,” the vampire who’d apparently led the attack remarked. “But what can you expect from a creature like yourself but cowardice.” “I’m no coward, unlike you, Neville,” Alfonse replied, his voice calmer than Trevor expected considering the circumstances. “What did you do to them? Enspell them? Break them and bind them to your will?” Page 107

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The vampire laughed, the sound chilling Trevor to the bone. Even by vampire standards the laugh sounded unhinged. Insane. He crouched, ready to spring, to fight. “Nothing so dramatic, cousin. I simply promised them money. It’s getting to the point where even our own kin value that over loyalty to our own bloodlines. But hasn’t that always been the way with some of them? It’s how so many of us died in the Purge, is it not?” “What do you want, Neville?” Alfonse asked. His lover sounded tired. Or perhaps he’d been wounded by one of the sunguns. Trevor hoped not. Damage from a sungun was different, and the wounds often didn’t heal fast or cleanly. “Are you all right?” he asked. “I’m fine, no thanks to my kinsman,” Alfonse answered, from hiding. “Well this has been interesting, but it’s time to bring our little chat to an end,” Neville said and launched himself at Trevor. The sword missed him by such a narrow margin the very tip grazed his furred belly. Page 108

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He dodged the next sweep of the blade, dove and rolled to evade the energy bolt of the lazpistol, the released energy cutting across the wall and leaving a blackened line across the marble. Trevor rose, spun, foot lashing out almost knocking the pistol from the vampire’s hand. He was fast. But so was the vampire. A hot line of pain blazed from his thigh, the bolt from the lazpistol searing deep, burning flesh. He roared, pain and rage making him reckless. The sword punctured his side, and he knocked the vampire sprawling, the smaller supernatural sliding through the debris, tumbling over the bodies of his men. “Trevor!” he heard Alfonse scream his name. Blood flowed down his side, slowed and stopped, his preternatural ability to heal undiminished by the many wounds he’d already sustained. Another rolling boom echoed from somewhere deep in the residence. Page 109

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“I’ll go for help!” Alfonse shouted. “Stay put!” he shot back as Neville pulled himself to his feet, sword and pistol ready. “You’ll pay for that audacity, of course.” The vampire gave another chilling laugh, “Your hide will make a lovely rug for my bedroom!” Face twisted into an horrific aspect, the vampire came for him, sword raised, pistol in the firing position. The shrill crack of a blastpistol going off told Trevor that Alfonse hadn’t obeyed him. Neville staggered, glanced down at the burn hole in the middle of his chest. “You little bastard! How dare you!” he screamed and lunged for Alfonse who was standing out in the open, no longer protected by the damaged dresser. A second shot from the blastpistol sent Neville to his knees and Trevor closed with him, knocking the lazpistol from his hand. The sword sang through the air and Trevor jumped back, the tip of the blade scoring a gash across his belly. The wound was healed before Neville’s back sweep shrilled toward him, this time missing his flesh completely. Page 110

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“Use your mind and call for help!” Trevor told his lover as he slammed his fist into Neville’s face. Neville staggered under the impact of the tygon’s fist, but he recovered quickly, bringing the sword into guard position, ready to attack the first chance he got. Bad as the wound in the vampire’s chest had been, Trevor could see it healing, the burned flesh flaking away to reveal pink, healthy looking skin. They circled one another in a slow dance, a waltz that would lead to life or death for one or both of them. Trevor saw an opening, darted in to take advantage of it, only to discover he’d been tricked. The sword ripped into his ribs, shattering them, tearing into the organs beneath. He gasped, slammed his clawed hand into the vampire’s body and backpedaled out of reach. The wound he’d given the vampire had healed before he finished his retreat. His own injury was far more serious. He felt the flesh crawling, writhing and twisting as it mended. But the Page 111

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healing process was slowing, his own reserves of energy waning. A hand grabbed his arm, strength pouring through him from the contact. Truemates. Their bond tied them together in ways Trevor hadn’t expected. “Take him alive if you can, I’d like an explanation of why he did this, and if he had help with his machinations,” Alfonse murmured to him. “But if you can’t, then kill him in a way he can’t come back from.” “If I can keep him alive, I will,” Trevor replied. Neville lunged for him the sword raised high. The blastpistol knocked him to the ground, the sword flying from his hand. Trevor saw the opening Alfonse had given him and leaped on the vampire, his teeth snapping, a hand gripping his throat to keep him from biting. If he could get his fangs into the vampire he might be able subdue him. Vampires were very susceptible to the bites of tygons, the pain able to reduce most of their kind to whimpering terror. Page 112

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Trevor punched the vampire in the face trying to weaken the grip he had on his throat. It didn’t work and the vampire’s fingers dug in deeper, cutting off his ability to breathe. He saw motion beside him, realized it was Alfonse. His lover bent closer, aiming the blastpistol at his kinsman’s arm. If Alfonse fired, the heat of the blast would hurt both of them along with Neville, but Alfonse didn’t seem to care. Trevor tried to wave him back, gasped out a wordless sound that would have been a warning to his lover if he could have spoken. Point blank Alfonse fired and Neville screamed as the blast from the gun nearly severed his arm. Alfonse staggered back, whimpering at the pain of the heat they’d both felt so close to the blast. Trevor could tell his lover was hurt and the anger gave him the strength he needed to win the fight. Pulling away he heard Neville cry out as the fingers he had locked in Trevor’s neck gave way, the entire arm falling limp by his side. The vampire tried to fight, but without the damaged arm to use he didn’t have a chance against Trevor and he easily yanked the vampire Page 113

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to his feet, keeping him under control by pulling on his wounded arm. Silence filled the room, the sounds of battle gone. “My guess is they know he’s been beaten, any of his forces left alive will either run or surrender,” Trevor commented. Alfonse gave him a tired nod. “We’ve won,” he added. “Have we?” Alfonse asked, his gaze on the vampire in Trevor’s hold. Trevor bound the vampire with strips of cloth torn from the bed linens and then located the communit and made a call to see if anyone was around to help them. He smiled when a voice said, “Is his Highness all right?” “Yes, he’s alive and relatively unharmed,” Trevor replied. “Thank the Dark Lady, I’ll send someone up to help you. I’m sure the place is a mess.” “That’s an understatement,” Trevor replied as Page 114

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he disconnected the transmission and took hold of the vampire. He frowned. Neville’s arm was almost healed. Laughing the vampire broke free of the bonds and lunged for Alfonse, another shot from the blastgun knocking him backward into Trevor’s waiting arms. He sank claws into the vampire. “Nice try but you aren’t going anywhere near him.”

Y ``` Z The vampire glared at them, hate burning in his garnet-flame gaze. He struggled to break free of the tygon holding him, but Trevor held on, his half-tygon form more powerful than that of the would-be assassin. “Those two morons didn’t deserve to be head of our family. Arturo lost us so much when he conceded Shadowvale to that bastard Ettienne Morreaux. He had no claim to that property!” Page 115

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“Ettienne was my father’s friend and his own Bloodsire. The Maxmillians are an offshoot of the Morreaux family!” Alfonse argued. “Morreaux made his decision during the Purge! He’s a traitor! He worked for Central Command, willingly!” Alfonse stared at Neville, aghast. “How could you ever think that! He wanted to live, and that was the only option he’d been given, become one of their slaves or die.” “Better he should have died!” Neville retorted venomously. “Shadowvale should have been mine! Mine! I worked and bled to carve that land into something more than barren rock! Me! And what did I get for all my efforts? Shit, that’s what I got!” He lunged for Alfonse, a scream of hate and fury coming from him that had enough power behind it to stun the younger vampire. It didn’t have the same effect on Trevor. Strong as he was the tygon came close to losing his hold on Neville, the vampire exerting his full power and strength in a final bid to gain his revenge. Alfonse watched in horror as the other vampire, his own bloodkin, strained to reach Page 116

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him the light of insane hate blazing in the depths of his gaze. Very few vampires went mad, and most of them had done so during the Purge when their entire Families had been slaughtered by the Humans. But there was no denying the fact that Neville’s mind had twisted, going down the dark path of hate and twisted avarice. He’d wanted Shadowvale, wanted to be more than its governor though he had no claim on the land. None. The title to it had belonged to Arturo and his brother gave it to the Morreaux Bloodsire Ettienne who was the original Sire to many existing vampire Families. “Arturo was right, Neville. Ettienne deserves Shadowvale so he can build a new Morreaux bloodline.” “He should be dead!” Neville countered vehemently. Vampire talons tore at Trevor’s arms and the big tygon did the only thing left to bring the vampire under control, he sank his fangs into Neville, tearing flesh. Blood spurted, flowed in a river down the front of Neville’s clothing. An Page 117

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agonized scream came from the vampire as the teeth sank deeper. Gasping, shuddering in agony from the bite of a tygon warrior Neville finally sank to the floor subdued by pain and the dominating power of a tygon. Alfonse’s own Truemate. Alfonse backed away sick and horrified that a member of his own family was responsible for the death of his brother and of so many of his bloodkin aboard the ship. And the toll of lives among his staff and servants in the house was, as yet, unknown. Dark Lady what’s happened to Neville? He was always so reliable, so good to our people. And now look at him. He’s become the raving monster Humans believe all of us to be. Guards flooded in, answering Trevor’s summons. Had it only been a moment ago that the tygon had called for their help to subdue Neville and his remaining men? Unbreakable restraints were placed on Neville before Trevor released the grip of his bite in the vampire’s flesh. Page 118

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The few survivors among his followers were gathered up and taken out along with a cursing and struggling Neville who was dragged away shouting imprecations and threats. They would all await the judgment of the Maxmillian Family’s Father. His judgment. With Neville’s admission of guilt there could only be one possible outcome for him: execution. Traitors among the Families were never allowed to live. Especially not when they’d caused so much pain, suffering and death. Trevor returned to his neutral form, put his arms around Alfonse and pulled him into a reassuring and warm embrace. His lover smelled of blood. Vampire blood. The blood of his own kinblood, his own Family. A large hand curved around the nape of his neck, thumb and fingers gripping, forcing him Page 119

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to look up at the tygon shifter’s face. “I’m sorry, Alfie.” “It’s not your fault, Trevor.” He wrapped his arms around the bigger male’s waist, leaned into the powerful body, his head resting on the shifter’s chest directly over his heart. Sighing Alfonse closed his eyes, relaxed in his lover’s hold and tried not to think about anything but the feel of those strong arms around him. Protecting him. “I love you,” the deep voice rumbled, echoing through the broad expanse of Trevor’s chest. He held tighter to the tygon, tears welling in his eyes. The father of their Family was dead. Dead because of foolish greed. Because one of their own had wanted to possess a chunk of land so much he was willing to kill anyone who stood in his way to have what he wanted. Even if that meant he had to kill the Father of their Blood to do it. Strong arms swept him up and carried him out of the parlor into his bedchamber, laying him in his bed. Page 120

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Kisses, urgent, needy kisses covered his face, found his mouth, the tender places on his throat in a whirlwind of passion that drove everything else from his thoughts, body responding with a need to match that of his lover. They were alive. They’d made it through the attempt on his life and he wanted nothing more than to go somewhere quiet--and safe--to share the love he had for his Truemate. A gentle hand touched his shoulder. “Highness let’s get you somewhere quiet where you can rest.” He turned to look at Henri. Saw concern and love shining in his former feeder’s eyes. He reached out to the vampire who’d been his lover, felt Trevor let him go, and pulled Henri into his embrace. “You’re alive,” he murmured in relief. “So are you,” Henri replied, returning his hug for a brief moment before Henri released him and stepped away. He was looking up at Trevor. “Thanks to this fine tygon who, as I recall, you didn’t want to have here.” Alfonse managed a wan smile. “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you my friend?” Page 121

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Henri sighed. “Forever is such a long time, Highness. Perhaps only a century or so, then I’ll let it drop.” Alfonse moved into the welcoming embrace of his lover, his tygon Truemate. “Thank you, Henri. You gave me a Protector and in him I’ve found my Truemate.” Henri’s eyebrow raised. “Really?” Alfonse nodded. “Really.” The vampire smiled. “Odd but acceptable. Now let’s get you both somewhere that isn’t such a mess.” Henri frowned. “And getting both of you cleaned up is also a primary concern, Highness you’re a mess.” Alfonse nodded, tired and numb from the unaccustomed stress of battle. He closed his eyes and leaned against the powerful tygon at his side. Trevor’s arm slid around him, gave him a reassuring squeeze. “It’s all over, Alfonse.” He shook his head. “No, it won’t be over until we know why Neville did this.” He pressed his cheek against Trevor’s chest and stood there too tired to move, to think. But his brain rolled the question around in his mind. Page 122

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Why? Neville hadn’t shown any sign of the insanity now gripping him. And, as far as Alfonse knew, he didn’t have the power it had taken to destroy the wards on his room. So who else was involved? Who was really behind the attack on the Maxmillian Family? “It’s not over,” he whispered. “What makes you say that?” He looked up at Trevor, an agony of sorrow filling his heart. “Because Neville couldn’t have affected the wards protecting my rooms.” “Well no, that’s why they used explosives on the wall,” Trevor countered, his hand stroking along Alfonse’s back, the gesture meant to soothe him. He shook his head, “They came through the balcony doors, and that wasn’t explosives they used, it was a magical counter to the wards.” Henri and Trevor both frowned. “Highness are you sure?” Page 123

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Alfonse nodded. “I’m positive. Someone used magic to bring those wards down. I felt it.” “Do you know who it was?” Henri asked. “No. I felt what they did, but couldn’t locate the source of the magical attack.” “So this isn’t over,” Trevor remarked. “No. It appears not,” Henri replied, frowning. “We need to move his Highness somewhere safer.” “You lead, I’ll follow.” Alfonse felt hollow inside. Empty. He was picked up in powerful arms, cradled against a strong chest. Safe in his Truemate’s arms. “What’s wrong with him?” he heard the deep rumble of his lover’s voice, the sound like distant thunder as he slipped toward sleep. “He’s been awake longer than is good even for a vampire, and since it’s almost dawn the need for rest is taking over.” “Those broken doors will let in light, we need to get out of here.” Page 124

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The last thing he heard was Henri saying, “Yes, we’ve got a place prepared in the basement for him. The rest of the house has suffered damage that makes it unsafe for we vampires.”

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Epilogue Trevor glanced up from the small screen of his datacomp to see how Alfonse was doing. The vampire lay in bed unmoving, still as only a vampire could be, not even breathing. He lowered his gaze back to the situation report that Henri had supplied him before the newly made vampire had taken his own repose. Updates had come in since then, supplied by one of the surviving house guards, but most detailed reports on damage done to the house as a result of the attack. A soft sound, barely audible even to his keen ears reached him from the bed and he lifted his gaze to find garnet-fire eyes regarding him. A warm, welcoming smile spread across Alfonse’s face, the vampire holding his arms out to Trevor. “Come to me, my protector.” Trevor couldn’t help but return the smile as he set the datacomp aside and went to the bed. He stood there looking down at the beautiful vampire who loved him. Who’d called him Page 126

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Truemate and shown him the truth behind the word. “Love me, Trevor.” Growling softly he bent down, sank his teeth into his lover’s shoulder, felt Alfonse’s fangs pierce his own flesh. Sharing blood, sharing the essence of life, of power with one another. Trevor groaned, shuddered as the magic of the Truemate bond swept through him, wrapping him in warmth, in the love of a vampire that would never die. “Mine,” he heard Alfonse whisper as the vampire began to tear at the uniform he wore, the cloth tearing, shredding under the onslaught of a vampire’s strength. His garments falling away piece by piece, buttons and ornamental braid scattered across the floor. He should have been upset, but he found that it didn’t matter. He would be resigning his commission with the Protectorate, leaving the career he’d worked so hard to build. It no longer meant anything to him. Alfonse and the love they shared was far more important to him than the empty career he had. Now he had a life, a life Page 127

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with a lover who would stay with him, love him literally forever. The last bit of his uniform fell away, the lustbright gaze of his lover burning over him hot as a brand. Trevor found that he was trapped in Alfonse’s beauty, lost in the glory of his lover’s touches, his kisses. And it was a trap he never wanted to escape. END

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About the Author

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

About the Author

Seeing the popularity of erotica-- and finding it much easier to sell than poetry-- Michael changed his writing focus in 2003 and started researching the types of erotica popular with readers. The rest, as they say, is history. You can visit Michael and find out about his worlds at the following places on the net. Website:

http://www.michaelbarnette.com

Immortal Heroes: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/immortal_heroes

LiveJournal:

http://m-barnette.livejournal.com/

MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/michaelbarnette

Book Excerpts

Following are some excerpts of other hot m/m erotic romance titles from Shadowfire Press. If you enjoyed Supernatural Alliances 2: Trapped in Beauty by Michael Barnette you might also like Plague Dance by Michael Barnette. A plague ravaged the world. Cory and Deshawn survived. But can they survive Roderik, the man who would be King? After a mutated strain of Ebola ended the world as we know it, Staff Sergeant Deshawn Roberts finds himself alone and longing for companionship. Cory Wilson, one time office worker, finds himself a captive of Roderick, King of the Lone Star Empire. It’s a life of slavery worse than death, and Cory escapes to find himself on the run. Brought together by chance, can these two men survive in the harsh reality of post Collapse America, and will they find the love they both crave?

Book Excerpts

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

Book Excerpts

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

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

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

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

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You might also like Sweet Pet by J. Applebee. Geon is desperate to be free. Can Stephan’s love release the shapeshifter from his cage? Geon is a Shapeshifter, raised by humans, but kept like a pet. His new owner, Robert wants to use him for his own pleasure, and to entertain friends, but Geon dreams of a life beyond being Robert’s personal sex toy. As Christmas draws near, Geon escapes into the arms of a stranger named Stephan. Together they enjoy intense passionate encounters that leave both men hungry for more. However, Robert wants his pet back, and he thinks nothing of using force and blackmail to snatch the shifter away. Stephan takes matters into his own hands when he sets out to rescue his new lover from the clutches of the powerful man. He uses an innovative and sexually charged plan to make

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sure that when the New Year rolls around, Geon will be free forever. Here is a short excerpt from Sweet Pet by J. Applebee Geon answered him, by removing the large coat in a single shrug. Stephan looked at the garment as it lay around Geon’s bare feet, and then he looked up, followed the sleek lines of Geon’s legs, the powerful looking muscles of his thighs, the rigid cock that pointed right at him. Stephan gulped at the sight. He returned his hands to Geon’s cool skin, stroked up and down the other man’s chest, and over the peaked points of his nipples. Geon gasped quietly, and arched up to Stephan’s exploring fingers with a murmur of delight. The sound seemed to echo against Stephan’s own frame, and he could feel himself begin to harden. “This is all kinds of wrong,” he murmured. “This shouldn’t be happening.” “Just tell me how you feel.” Geon nuzzled

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the dark brown skin of Stephan’s neck, with hot breath, and he felt the other man stiffen with resistance before he finally spoke. “Good, so good,” Stephan whispered, surprised at the hoarseness in his throat. “What does it feel like--when you change I mean, do you feel the fur coming out? Does it hurt?” Stephan asked with curiosity, and Geon chuckled lightly. He stroked a gentle path over Stephan’s backside, on the skin just above his thick leather belt. “It’s ticklish; makes me want to rub myself all over,” Geon growled, and then ground his hips against Stephan. “My bedroom’s upstairs,” he whispered. Stephan climbed the stairs, not daring to look over his shoulder as he moved. He didn’t want to question what was real, and what was not. As the door closed behind them, Stephan stepped out of his T-shirt and jeans. The warmth that had gathered now slipped away from him, and he was left feeling exposed and totally vulnerable. Geon’s arms were around him in moments, squeezing, and kneading the long muscles of his arms and his back. Each

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press of flesh released a soft moan of surrender, and Geon claimed that too. He crushed his lips on Stephan’s own, parted the hungry mouth beneath, and sucked on the hesitant tongue inside. Stephan felt the room tip as he fell backwards onto his small bed. He exhaled in a whoosh of forced breath as Geon landed on top of him, with those amazing green eyes open, drinking in the sight of him. All too soon the comforting weight disappeared as Geon lifted himself up on his knees and elbows. He bent his head and nipped at a spot on Stephan’s throat, then lower to his collarbone. Tiny flickers of not-quite-pain sparked wherever Geon bit and Stephan could almost imagine the little red marks that would be left in his wake. When Geon reached his purple-tinged cock, Stephan held himself rigidly, not daring to move. But Geon did not bite; he just made a low noise in his throat that reverberated against Stephan’s balls. He swallowed him completely in a slow, wet gulp. When Geon withdrew, the empty dampness made Stephan want to howl with frustration. He felt his hands move to Geon’s hair, but his new lover batted his hand away, and kept out of reach.

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“Tell me what you want, Stephan,” he purred. A thousand different words battled on Stephan’s tongue, and he mouthed soundlessly until a single expression escaped into the air. “Please,” he gasped, arching off the bed. “Please, Geon.” He was shameless with desire; it had been longer than he wanted to admit since someone had done anything close to this with him. He looked up, and the evil smile on Geon’s face made him want to snarl. Geon lowered his head once more, and sucked Stephan’s dick in a noisy slurp. Geon’s tongue was longer and more agile than any that Stephan had encountered before; it seemed to wrap itself around the length of his hardness, and pull on the core of his being, until he felt himself disappear into the depths of Geon’s throat. Stephan jerked violently as he came with a muttered curse. You might also enjoy The Kahbid-Dai by Sabrina Hunt Master and slave, demon and human, their love must survive the Kahbid-Dai.

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In a single day the human race fell. A spell wiped out the sun, sending the world into darkness, and from that darkness rose a race of people forgotten since before the beginning of recorded history. Secretive, despising human beings, this new race is known to the humans only as “demons.” These demons enslaved the former rules of the world, turning the Sun into a myth believed in only by the oldest of the old. Once a year--on the day known to humans as the Burning Day, and hailed by the demons as the Kahbid-Dai--humans are burned in sacrifice to the god Kahbid. This is the world in which Joshua is born. Young, beautiful, Joshua is slave to the demon known as Feyahn, and they have fallen in love. Yet, as one of the healthier examples of his race, Joshua is in danger, for the healthy go to Lord Kahbid. It is blasphemy for Feyahn to love him, and worse to think of saving him from the Kahbid-Dai....

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Here is a short excerpt from The Kahbid-Dai by Sabina Hunt Finally, in a tinkle of jewels and ornaments, Feyahn turned from the window, pale blue eyes coming to rest on his slave. Joshua sometimes wondered if his master might be part human, for most demon’s eyes were stark white, a mark of living so long in darkness. Feyahn was so different in so many ways. The demon smiled, a soft but not entirely genuine smile. “You don’t realize, do you?” The question fell in musical notes from well-formed black lips. Feyahn closed the space between them with a few chiming steps, then sat beside Joshua on the low bed. A clawed hand came up to caress Joshua’s cheek, a cheek he gratefully pressed further into Feyahn’s touch. “You don’t know how perfect you are.” “You’re the perfect one,” Joshua murmured in return. He still feared, still wondered at the things his master asked of him, but nothing else mattered when compared to the bliss of Feyahn’s fingers. As always, given a little, Joshua craved more. The desire gave him courage, courage

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made him bold, and before any part of him could protest the action, Joshua shifted to his knees and moved to capture Feyahn’s lips. The demon’s touch was hypnotizing; his kiss sent spears of hot electricity through Joshua’s blood as warm as anything the mythical Sun could provide and more. Joshua moaned in joyous need when Feyahn’s head tilted back, yielding to the kiss and embrace. Elsewhere, Feyahn was master and Joshua slave. In the bedroom, Feyahn became as water, flowing and pliable to Joshua’s wishes. The human laced his fingers in Feyahn’s well-kept hair, satisfaction flaring as he thought of how mussed it would be afterward, and how adorable Feyahn would be as he pouted over it. For now, the demon cared as much about his hair as he did for the dirt on the ground outside. Feyahn flowed out of his robe easily, like a river flowing in twists around a bend. The two of them moved in such practiced motions they barely noticed the shedding of clothes to the floor. As Feyahn lay back, Joshua leaned forward, his lips coming down on the ebony expanse of

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his master’s chest, teasing and pleasing in just the right way to have Feyahn writhe beneath him. You can buy Plague Dance by Michael Barnette, Sweet Pet by J. Applebee and The Kahbid-Dai By Sabrina Hunt along with other fine m/m erotic romance and yaoi titles from: Shadowfire Press Enter the Shadows... Set your imagination on Fire http://www.shadowfirepress.com