For Alastor, rules are made to be broken and when he and Machidiel set their sights on the same mortal man it is only a matter of time before Machidiel is breaking some rules of his own.
Together with Tristan, the human they are both falling for, they form a ménage filled with jealousy and insecurities, passion and love.
It might be a sin for an angel, a demon, and a human to live and love together, but for the three of them it is heavenly.
Summary:
What happens when an angel and a demon fall for the same mortal man? Tristan Garrett is about to find out whether the ménage they form is made in Heaven or Hell.
Angel Machidiel (Mac) and demon Alastor have been denying the attraction they feel for each other for centuries because relationships between angels and demons are forbidden.
Things change forever when they both fall for the same mortal man and begin a relationship with him. Together with Tristan, the menage they form is filled with jealousy and insecurities, passion and love. Only time will tell if the relationship they have forged together is made in Heaven or Hell.
Summary:
Is it possible for a demon to be a good man, or are all who have fallen for temptation evil at the core?
Tristan, Machidiel and Alastor are bound together by love, but their lives are running far from smooth. Thanks to Tristan’s demonic bargain with an incubus, they have no choice other than to accept that their lives are never going to be the same again.
To fulfil his obligations to the demon Tristan has two choices—remain with the incubus as his trainee or find a mortal to take his place. Neither option is appealing.
The three lovers struggle to release Tristan from his bargain, but find bigger problems on the horizon when a human caught up in the mess is taken prisoner by the Demon King himself.
With no help forthcoming from either angels or demons, the three lovers are on their own with a seemingly impossible mission before them—rescue the mortal from the Underworld.
Mac, meanwhile, has problems of his own. The archangels are voting on whether to ban relationships between angels and demons, and if the new law is passed he must choose between his wings and his lovers.
The three of them believe their love is strong enough to see them through the hard times ahead, but if they aren’t careful the repercussions of Tristan’s bargain could tear their ménage apart forever.
Summary:
With one of his lovers imprisoned in the Underworld, Mac has no choice except to go where most angels fear to tread.
With Tristan imprisoned in the Underworld the ménage is broken. Angels are forbidden to enter the demonic domain and while Mac has been breaking rules in recent months, he doesn't have the power to enter the Underworld.
Alastor is still unsure about his position in the relationship following recent revelations, but he cannot walk away when he is the only real link between his two lovers. Splitting his time between Mac and Tristan he hopes they can soon find a way to reunite the two men in his life.
As time moves on Alastor realises he is struggling to satisfy Tristan's thirst for sex. His lover needs more than he can give him and craves Mac in his bed.
Mac still believes he can complete his mission to save his two lovers, but with one of them out of his reach it is going to be far from easy.
During their time together they have made plenty of enemies, including one who would seek to separate them forever, even if it means biding his time until Alastor and Tristan are at their most vulnerable, when even the love of an angel can't save them.
Reader Advisory: This book contains multiple male ménage.
Between Heaven & Hell #1
Tristan moved the computer mouse over the play button and clicked it. The video stream began with an out-of-focus shot of what appeared to be the carpet in the study. Then the image panned out and he saw the face on the screen. It was the face that stared back at him from the mirror, yet he had no recollection of making this recording. Of course, that had been the whole point, hadn’t it?
“Er, hi,” the man on the screen said awkwardly. “I’m Tristan Garrett and in a matter of hours I’m going to lose my memory. But I guess you already know that.
“Your parents and the rest of your relatives should believe you’re dead by now, so don’t go looking them up or anything like that. Your parents were…”
Tristan watched himself falter on the screen.
“Damn, this is pointless,” the recorded Tristan said. “I can’t tell you all about your life in just a few hours. There’d be stuff missing and it’d be like a half-written story with gaps and plot holes. So here’s the important stuff. The stuff you really need to know. It all started on Halloween night the year before last…”
Tristan Garrett could feel the man’s eyes on him as he moved away from the bar. Like many of the men in The Inferno, the stranger had gone all out for Halloween and was the very image of a sexy, badass devil. He wore a pair of fake red horns atop his head. They poked out from his shoulder-length, ebony hair and the lights of the club caught them each time he turned to survey the crowded room.
Tristan admired the way his tight leather trousers hugged his shapely arse, and his hands itched to trace the washboard abs that were only partially covered by the black vest.
Tristan wasn’t the only man in the club following the devil’s movements. Several had approached him only to be turned away after barely a few seconds had passed. The direct approach didn’t seem to be working with this guy.
“He’s out of your league,” teased Lawrence, Tristan’s best friend and former lover, when he caught Tristan checking out the devil for the third time in less than ten minutes.
“No such thing,” Tristan replied lightly. “You’re the one who taught me to go after what I want and not let anyone tell me I’m not good enough for them.”
Lawrence took a swig from his pint of beer before he answered. “Fifty quid says you can’t pull him.”
Tristan watched as the devil rebuffed the latest man to approach him. The devil smiled in his direction and even though he hadn’t said a word, Tristan sensed he might have a chance if he were to try his luck.
“I’ll take that bet,” Tristan replied quietly. He maintained eye contact with the devil as he slowly finished his beer and put the glass down on a nearby table. He nudged Lawrence towards the dance floor. They had played this game countless times, and it almost always worked. Lawrence led the way and Tristan followed. Moulding their bodies together, Tristan’s back to Lawrence’s front, they began to slowly move in time to the pulsing beat of the music.
Tristan closed his eyes and rested his head back on Lawrence’s shoulder, letting the taller man set the pace. He knew his fair-skinned looks and spiky strawberry blond hair were complemented by the contrast as he nestled against Lawrence’s dark hair and bulkier frame. He was a fit and healthy twenty-seven-year old, and while he wasn’t the best built guy in town, he knew how to draw attention to himself when he wanted to. Right now he wanted the attention of the devil focused on him. He wasn’t going to chase the other man to win the bet. The devil would come to him. He was absolutely sure of it.
Lawrence whispered the devil’s movements in his ear. “He’s watching us. We’re turning him on. He’s watching me grinding my cock into your arse and wishing it was his.”
Tristan moved back against Lawrence as his friend slowly rubbed his thighs, inching his fingers close to his groin. He guessed that within five minutes the devil would be approaching him, just as they had planned. The devil wouldn’t care he was with someone else right now—he’d step in and claim what he wanted, no matter who stood in his way. “Soon,” he whispered, as the slow beat of the music changed to a faster, insistent pace.
Sure enough, just a few minutes later, a hand on his chest caused him to open his eyes. “May I cut in?” the stranger in front of him asked politely.
Tristan blinked in surprise. It wasn’t the devil who stood before him. Instead, a blond Adonis had asked him to dance. Tristan stared into piercing blue eyes and nodded mutely. The man pulled him into his arms so they were dancing face-to-face and close enough for their erections to touch through the material of their jeans.
“I’m Mac,” the dancer whispered into his ear.
“Tristan,” Tristan replied when he finally found his voice.
Lawrence seemed slightly unsure as he stepped away. Tristan shrugged and smiled. “Guess I owe you,” he said. The dark-haired devil had left his spot near the bar and had disappeared into the crowd. Tristan realised he must have misjudged his potential conquest. He should have kept eye contact with him.
Still, the evening wasn’t a complete loss, not if he ended up going home with the hunk who was holding him close right now. The devil was forgotten as Tristan gave himself up to the music and the man who held him in his arms.
The club lights came on, signalling closing time, when Tristan and Mac finally left the dance floor and moved with the rest of the lingering clubbers towards the exit. They were nearly at the door when the devil from earlier in the evening stepped into their path. “You don’t play fair, Machidiel,” the devil said accusingly.
Mac swung his arm around Tristan’s shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. Tristan recognised the move as the sign of possession it was. “Who’s playing?” Mac replied.
“This isn’t one of your usual haunts.” The devil reached out to run a hand down Tristan’s bare arm. “And this one isn’t your usual type.”
Mac smiled down at Tristan. “He isn’t exactly your type either, now, is he?”
The lights were brighter near the entrance, and Tristan could see the devil was wearing red contact lenses, completing the demonic look he had chosen to go for. Right now those eyes twinkled with amusement.
Before he could speak, Mac steered him around the devil and out into the cool night air.
“Tristan,” the devil called after them. “We have a date. Next Halloween.”
Tristan looked back over his shoulder only once. A shiver ran down his spine at the intensity he saw in the glowing red eyes.
How did the guy know his name?
Between Good & Evil #2
Tristan Garrett watched the waves as they lapped closer to his bare feet. Behind him Machidiel and Alastor packed up their belongings and prepared to return to the real world, as Tristan had come to think of it. He’d known from the start their idyllic island holiday wasn’t meant to last—he just wished their escape wasn’t coming to an end quite so soon.
Resting his chin on his drawn-up knees, he stared at the sinking sun, willing time to stop so he didn’t have to go back. Unfortunately, despite all his newly acquired powers, stopping time or turning back the clock weren’t amongst them.
He didn’t even turn round when Alastor flopped down on the sand beside him.
“Have you thought more about our idea?” Alastor asked. He sounded unsure.
Tristan snorted. He’d thought of little else.
It wasn’t that he hated the idea of relocating, though he’d balked at first. No, the idea had a certain appeal to him. He just didn’t think living somewhere else would solve his current problem. If it would, he’d be down at the estate agent’s first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, no matter where he lived, Lawrence would be able to find him.
Alastor reached around Tristan’s shoulders and pulled him into his side. “We’ll sort things out, don’t worry.”
“How?” Tristan asked. “I’m bound to Lawrence for fuck knows how long, and the only way to escape his clutches is to turn some innocent human into a monster like me.”
Alastor smacked Tristan’s thigh, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “You’re not a monster, so stop calling yourself one. Unless you think I’m a monster too?”
Tristan sighed and covered his face.
“Do you?” Alastor asked.
Tristan wouldn’t meet Alastor’s eyes. Even though he’d known Alastor to be a demon almost from the start of their relationship, he’d never thought of him as a monster.
“Then why do you think of yourself that way?” Alastor pressed. “You might be an incubus now, but you’re still you. You’re more yourself than I’ve been since turning demon, because you remember your life before. You’re not some evil monster.”
Tristan didn’t know the answer to the question Alastor posed. Maybe it was because Alastor was a different sort of demon—or because he’d never known him as a human. Whatever the reason, Tristan could barely stand to face himself in the mirror, and cringed when he saw the red eyes staring back at him instead of the regular green. He’d seen his full demon form just once and he had yet to work up the nerve to take a closer look.
“Are you guys ready to go home?” Mac called from across the dunes.
Tristan finally lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder towards the angel who’d swept him off his feet so unexpectedly the Halloween before last. If anyone had told him his one-night stand with Mac would’ve led him here, he’d never have believed them.
Here he was, living with two other men—one an angel, the other a demon—and he couldn’t bring himself to regret the direction his life had taken at all.
Even becoming a demon didn’t seem quite so bad now the memories of his life had been restored to him. He just wished he could figure out a way to get Lawrence, the demon who’d made him, out of his life without finding another human to take his place. He hadn’t yet come to terms with being an incubus, a male sexual predator of the demon world, and now Lawrence expected him to find some unsuspecting human and turn him into an incubus too. He’d be ruining someone’s life just to save himself. Actually, he’d be ruining more lives than one, because the new incubus would do exactly what Tristan had done to regain control of his sexual appetite, take the life of the human he fed from. Tristan wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if he turned another man into a killer, yet what choice did he have? The alternative would be to join Lawrence for as long as the other demon wanted, and Lawrence wanted forever.
Mac strolled over to Tristan and Alastor and crouched down on the sand. “Tristan, what’s the matter? Are you hungry?”
Tristan’s cock hardened in his shorts as Mac reached out to pat his leg. If it weren’t for the fact Mac and Alastor always managed to turn him on so quickly, Tristan might have thought the reaction stemmed from his demonic sexual appetite. Honestly, the hunger wasn’t the problem right now, though Tristan wasn’t one to turn down an offer of sex.
Tristan turned to Mac and pressed their lips together, moaning into the kiss.
“Fuck me, Mac.” Tristan sent his thought directly to Mac’s mind without breaking contact.
“Alastor, go fetch the lube from the satchel,” Mac ordered, as he toppled Tristan backwards onto the sand and yanked off his shorts without ceremony.
Alastor returned in seconds and Tristan felt slick fingers teasing his hole. He shivered as two mouths descended on his nipples, sucking and biting them. He relished the sharp pleasure pain as his lovers marked him as theirs.
Closing his eyes, Tristan wriggled his arse, trying to push down on the fingers that never quite entered him.
“Fuck me,” he begged. “Please Mac. I need you in me. Now.”
Tristan knew Mac had heard his plea. He was sure his words had made it through to the angel. During the last two weeks he had worked on his telepathic ability almost constantly. He knew Mac had heard him. Mac had simply chosen to ignore his plea, at least for the moment.
Alastor’s tongue circled his navel as Mac lapped at his balls. Tristan closed his eyes and let them work their magic on his body.
“Relax, baby,” Alastor whispered through his mind. Tristan smiled at the demon’s pet name for him. Whenever anyone else had given him pet names, Tristan had hated hearing them, yet with Alastor it gave him a feeling of being cherished.
Tristan sighed contentedly as Alastor moved lower, joining Mac at Tristan’s crotch, licking at every crevice.
The seawater brushed over Tristan’s toes as the tide came in. He moved his feet apart, his heels sinking into the wet sand as he lifted his hips, straining towards the teasing tongues.
Simultaneously, Alastor and Mac each sucked one of his testicles into their mouths and Tristan cried out as he began to shudder with the force of his emotions. He opened his eyes and stared down at the two heads bobbing together between his thighs. They were close enough for Mac’s blond hair to tangle with Alastor’s dark locks. Tristan’s cock stood erect and untouched. The head was purple and already leaked pre-cum.
Mac lifted his head and descended on his erection, swiping the slit with his tongue. Alastor meanwhile had moved in the other direction as he sucked and nibbled on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
“You’re torturing me,” he scolded lightly.
“Ah, but this is such fun, baby,” Alastor said telepathically, as he pushed a slick finger into Tristan’s arse, with Mac’s joining it a moment later.
“More,” Tristan begged. “Please.”
More was what he got as Alastor and Mac each inserted a second finger.
“Oh fuck.” Tristan nearly sobbed at the burning pleasure of having his two lovers fingering him so thoroughly.
“Is this too much?” Mac asked. “I know Alastor has a high pain threshold, but we’ve never gone this far with you. If you want us to stop…”
“No.” Tristan watched the two heads lift and blue and red eyes stared at him curiously. “This feels good,” he assured them.
One of them, he wasn’t sure who, crooked a finger and rubbed his prostate. The touch sent him over the edge and cum sprayed his chest as his orgasm tore through him.
“Just good?” Mac teased.
Tristan couldn’t even summon the strength to answer mentally. He lay panting on the sand, his lovers’ fingers buried in his arse and his softened cock exposed to the elements.
He wanted to stay there forever. He didn’t want to return to the rest of the world, not knowing what Lawrence expected of him in the imminent future.
The fingers disappeared and Mac pulled him up and into his arms. “It’s okay, Tristan, it’ll be all right. We’ll sort things out.”
Tristan buried his face in Mac’s chest. Alastor wrapped himself around the two of them and the three lovers held each other for several long minutes.
Eventually though, they had to leave the island. They washed up in the ocean one last time, Mac gathered their belongings, and the three of them transported themselves home in the blink of an eye.
The time to return to their lives had arrived and they couldn’t put reality off any longer.
Between Life & Death #3
In the exact center of the entire Underworld the throne room of the king of all demons could be found. Easy to find from any direction, the audience chamber drew demons in like moths to a flame. Escaping the large cavern was another matter entirely. For many demons—particularly those who had incurred the wrath of the Demon King—the only way out was via flames that shot out from the cracks of the floor, sucking the miscreant down into the torture chambers, known as The Pit.
For one demon, there was no way to leave the Underworld at all.
At the back of the throne, hidden behind a stone wall, the chambers of the Demon King were located.
Tristan’s new quarters were not at all what he’d expected. Luxurious and well lit, they were nothing like the rest of the Underworld. He had expected to find a dingy and dirty cave, something similar to the catacombs he had stayed in with Alastor not so long ago. Instead, the chamber seemed more like a swanky hotel room, though one without windows. The wall sconces were not naked flames as he had seen throughout the Underworld. Instead they appeared to be electric, although he could see no obvious light switches on the walls. Tristan cringed at the brightness of the nearest of the lamps and as soon as the thought formed in his mind, the light dimmed to a more bearable level.
Thick rugs covered most of the highly polished marble floor.
Every item of furniture seemed to be modern and expensive. The glass coffee table held current magazines and newspapers, including the ones Tristan liked to read on a regular basis. The bookshelves showcased his favorite books, all of which were in mint condition.
A bowl of fruit sat on an end table and even from a distance, Tristan could see the bowl was made of silver. He sighed and shook his head.
All the luxury in the world made no difference to the fact he had been imprisoned.
How had he gone from a regular human with a job and a life to king of the Underworld?
The bed, large enough to accommodate him and his lovers with ease, looked comfortable and tempting. Like his bed at the penthouse flat he shared with Mac and Alastor, the headboard comprised of iron bars, perfect for holding onto while being taken by one of his men. Tristan wanted to take a torch to the sheets and set the whole thing alight. Had the sconces been actual flames, he may have done just that.
“Your quarters really aren’t so bad.”
Tristan spun round at the sound of his jailer’s voice.
“You think I want to sleep in the bed of the monster who put me here?”
“This bed wasn’t his,” Lucifer replied. He walked to the object in question and ran his hand lovingly over the surface. “This room is new and created by your own subconscious mind.”
“It is?”
Lucifer smiled and pointed to the bookshelf at the far side of the room. “Take a look and tell me what you see there.”
Tristan shrugged. He had already seen the shelves. “They contain my favorite books. So what? I’m still your prisoner.”
Lucifer ignored his comment. “I must say…this room is a vast improvement on your predecessor’s quarters. He had no taste at all. Did you know the candle holders he used had been made from human skulls?”
“No I didn’t know that, nor did I wish to.”
“There’s no need to be rude,” Lucifer chided. “I’m merely making conversation and paying you a compliment on your superior taste in decorating.”
“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked impatiently. “I thought you intended to give me time to celebrate my new status with Alastor?”
“And were he here with you, I’d leave my visit until later, but you haven’t bothered to summon him, have you? Instead, you’re wallowing in self-pity in a manner unbecoming of the new king.”
“Are you avoiding my question?” Tristan snapped. “Why are you here?”
“Idle curiosity as to what makes our new king tick,” Lucifer replied. “This room only generated when you crossed the threshold, so I couldn’t snoop earlier.”
“But now you can.”
“Yes. I make no apologies for my actions. If you don’t like my being here, tough luck.”
“Charming.”
“I can be extremely charming when the occasion warrants it,” Lucifer purred as he continued to poke around the room, checking cupboards and alcoves as he did. “My lover has always said my smooth tongue and way with words are my greatest talents. After all, I am the First Demon, and were I not so tempting, I would be the only one.”
Tristan crossed his arms and waited for Lucifer to finish wandering.
“Ah, yes, I think you’ll settle in here quite well.”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
Lucifer gave him an annoyed look. “You can sulk, complain and rage until hell freezes over, it makes no difference.”
“Maybe I’ll turn the heating off,” Tristan suggested.
Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, I suspect the heat will be rising in here before too much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Underworld will be opening again soon, which means regardless of whether you summon him or not, Alastor will be running down here in search of his missing ‘baby’. I suspect it will only be a matter of time before he’s in here helping you to break in your new bed.”
Tristan sighed. “I think we have a lot of talking to do before we jump into bed again.”
“You’re an incubus. You’ll be fucking him through the mattress before the end of the week.”
Tristan didn’t see the point of arguing with Lucifer. If he and Alastor did manage to sort through their problems, it would have nothing to do with the demon standing before him.
Lucifer continued to poke around the room while Tristan did his best to ignore him. Eventually he stepped into the path of the demon and glared at him. “Are you done?”
“You really shouldn’t be so rude to me,” Lucifer chided. “I’m here to help you.”
“Help me?” Tristan shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Help me, he says.”
“Who else is suitably qualified to guide you through your first days as our new king?”
“What makes you think I need your help?”
Lucifer smiled, clearly unfazed by Tristan’s attitude. “Even now the throne room is filling up with the leaders of each of the factions of demons, all here to bow down before you and swear their loyalty.”
“You’re joking.”
“Well, most of them will probably want to kill you and take your place, if truth be told, but they generally wait until after the banquet is over.”
Tristan dropped into one of the soft leather chairs. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Not if you let me guide you.”
“Why are you so keen to help me? What difference does it make to you who’s king?”
“I don’t care who sits on the throne, but I do like to ensure our new kings are settled in as soon as possible. That way I can turn my attention back to more pleasurable activities.”
Tristan cast a glance toward the wall where the entrance to his rooms had been. “How do I even get out into the throne room again?”
“Just walk toward the entrance and imagine the doorway opening for you.”
Tristan took a step forward and the entrance began to form. The most powerful demons in the Underworld congregated just on the other side of the wall. Shit!
“Wait a moment,” Lucifer called. “You aren’t ready to go out there yet.”
Tristan looked down and groaned when he realized what Lucifer meant. He couldn’t go out there in his human form. Reluctantly he took on his golden demon persona.
“You should be wearing something more appropriate than that dirty tunic too,” Lucifer advised. With a snap of his fingers, the tunic transformed into a silken black one with gold braiding. Tristan hated the garment on principle.
“We’ll be invisible when we first go out there,” Lucifer said. “You’ll appear before the crowd when you sit down on the throne.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how it’s done. I’ll remain at your side, invisible to all others. I’ll speak to you only in your mind and tell you what you need to know.”
“Terrific.”
“I’m glad you think so, because you’ll need me there.”
Without any further ado, Lucifer swept past Tristan and out through the entrance. Tristan dawdled after him with a sigh of annoyance.
The throne room appeared packed to the brim with demons, many of them jostling their way to the front of the room. Some openly fought with others, while still more watched the displays of aggression. Tristan could tell instinctively which demons fed on the hatred and which merely looked on in idle interest. He had a feeling this might be one of his new powers, though he didn’t bother to ask Lucifer to confirm his suspicion.
Tristan moved the computer mouse over the play button and clicked it. The video stream began with an out-of-focus shot of what appeared to be the carpet in the study. Then the image panned out and he saw the face on the screen. It was the face that stared back at him from the mirror, yet he had no recollection of making this recording. Of course, that had been the whole point, hadn’t it?
“Er, hi,” the man on the screen said awkwardly. “I’m Tristan Garrett and in a matter of hours I’m going to lose my memory. But I guess you already know that.
“Your parents and the rest of your relatives should believe you’re dead by now, so don’t go looking them up or anything like that. Your parents were…”
Tristan watched himself falter on the screen.
“Damn, this is pointless,” the recorded Tristan said. “I can’t tell you all about your life in just a few hours. There’d be stuff missing and it’d be like a half-written story with gaps and plot holes. So here’s the important stuff. The stuff you really need to know. It all started on Halloween night the year before last…”
* * * *
Tristan Garrett could feel the man’s eyes on him as he moved away from the bar. Like many of the men in The Inferno, the stranger had gone all out for Halloween and was the very image of a sexy, badass devil. He wore a pair of fake red horns atop his head. They poked out from his shoulder-length, ebony hair and the lights of the club caught them each time he turned to survey the crowded room.
Tristan admired the way his tight leather trousers hugged his shapely arse, and his hands itched to trace the washboard abs that were only partially covered by the black vest.
Tristan wasn’t the only man in the club following the devil’s movements. Several had approached him only to be turned away after barely a few seconds had passed. The direct approach didn’t seem to be working with this guy.
“He’s out of your league,” teased Lawrence, Tristan’s best friend and former lover, when he caught Tristan checking out the devil for the third time in less than ten minutes.
“No such thing,” Tristan replied lightly. “You’re the one who taught me to go after what I want and not let anyone tell me I’m not good enough for them.”
Lawrence took a swig from his pint of beer before he answered. “Fifty quid says you can’t pull him.”
Tristan watched as the devil rebuffed the latest man to approach him. The devil smiled in his direction and even though he hadn’t said a word, Tristan sensed he might have a chance if he were to try his luck.
“I’ll take that bet,” Tristan replied quietly. He maintained eye contact with the devil as he slowly finished his beer and put the glass down on a nearby table. He nudged Lawrence towards the dance floor. They had played this game countless times, and it almost always worked. Lawrence led the way and Tristan followed. Moulding their bodies together, Tristan’s back to Lawrence’s front, they began to slowly move in time to the pulsing beat of the music.
Tristan closed his eyes and rested his head back on Lawrence’s shoulder, letting the taller man set the pace. He knew his fair-skinned looks and spiky strawberry blond hair were complemented by the contrast as he nestled against Lawrence’s dark hair and bulkier frame. He was a fit and healthy twenty-seven-year old, and while he wasn’t the best built guy in town, he knew how to draw attention to himself when he wanted to. Right now he wanted the attention of the devil focused on him. He wasn’t going to chase the other man to win the bet. The devil would come to him. He was absolutely sure of it.
Lawrence whispered the devil’s movements in his ear. “He’s watching us. We’re turning him on. He’s watching me grinding my cock into your arse and wishing it was his.”
Tristan moved back against Lawrence as his friend slowly rubbed his thighs, inching his fingers close to his groin. He guessed that within five minutes the devil would be approaching him, just as they had planned. The devil wouldn’t care he was with someone else right now—he’d step in and claim what he wanted, no matter who stood in his way. “Soon,” he whispered, as the slow beat of the music changed to a faster, insistent pace.
Sure enough, just a few minutes later, a hand on his chest caused him to open his eyes. “May I cut in?” the stranger in front of him asked politely.
Tristan blinked in surprise. It wasn’t the devil who stood before him. Instead, a blond Adonis had asked him to dance. Tristan stared into piercing blue eyes and nodded mutely. The man pulled him into his arms so they were dancing face-to-face and close enough for their erections to touch through the material of their jeans.
“I’m Mac,” the dancer whispered into his ear.
“Tristan,” Tristan replied when he finally found his voice.
Lawrence seemed slightly unsure as he stepped away. Tristan shrugged and smiled. “Guess I owe you,” he said. The dark-haired devil had left his spot near the bar and had disappeared into the crowd. Tristan realised he must have misjudged his potential conquest. He should have kept eye contact with him.
Still, the evening wasn’t a complete loss, not if he ended up going home with the hunk who was holding him close right now. The devil was forgotten as Tristan gave himself up to the music and the man who held him in his arms.
* * * *
The club lights came on, signalling closing time, when Tristan and Mac finally left the dance floor and moved with the rest of the lingering clubbers towards the exit. They were nearly at the door when the devil from earlier in the evening stepped into their path. “You don’t play fair, Machidiel,” the devil said accusingly.
Mac swung his arm around Tristan’s shoulder and gave him a quick squeeze. Tristan recognised the move as the sign of possession it was. “Who’s playing?” Mac replied.
“This isn’t one of your usual haunts.” The devil reached out to run a hand down Tristan’s bare arm. “And this one isn’t your usual type.”
Mac smiled down at Tristan. “He isn’t exactly your type either, now, is he?”
The lights were brighter near the entrance, and Tristan could see the devil was wearing red contact lenses, completing the demonic look he had chosen to go for. Right now those eyes twinkled with amusement.
Before he could speak, Mac steered him around the devil and out into the cool night air.
“Tristan,” the devil called after them. “We have a date. Next Halloween.”
Tristan looked back over his shoulder only once. A shiver ran down his spine at the intensity he saw in the glowing red eyes.
How did the guy know his name?
Between Good & Evil #2
Tristan Garrett watched the waves as they lapped closer to his bare feet. Behind him Machidiel and Alastor packed up their belongings and prepared to return to the real world, as Tristan had come to think of it. He’d known from the start their idyllic island holiday wasn’t meant to last—he just wished their escape wasn’t coming to an end quite so soon.
Resting his chin on his drawn-up knees, he stared at the sinking sun, willing time to stop so he didn’t have to go back. Unfortunately, despite all his newly acquired powers, stopping time or turning back the clock weren’t amongst them.
He didn’t even turn round when Alastor flopped down on the sand beside him.
“Have you thought more about our idea?” Alastor asked. He sounded unsure.
Tristan snorted. He’d thought of little else.
It wasn’t that he hated the idea of relocating, though he’d balked at first. No, the idea had a certain appeal to him. He just didn’t think living somewhere else would solve his current problem. If it would, he’d be down at the estate agent’s first thing in the morning. Unfortunately, no matter where he lived, Lawrence would be able to find him.
Alastor reached around Tristan’s shoulders and pulled him into his side. “We’ll sort things out, don’t worry.”
“How?” Tristan asked. “I’m bound to Lawrence for fuck knows how long, and the only way to escape his clutches is to turn some innocent human into a monster like me.”
Alastor smacked Tristan’s thigh, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “You’re not a monster, so stop calling yourself one. Unless you think I’m a monster too?”
Tristan sighed and covered his face.
“Do you?” Alastor asked.
Tristan wouldn’t meet Alastor’s eyes. Even though he’d known Alastor to be a demon almost from the start of their relationship, he’d never thought of him as a monster.
“Then why do you think of yourself that way?” Alastor pressed. “You might be an incubus now, but you’re still you. You’re more yourself than I’ve been since turning demon, because you remember your life before. You’re not some evil monster.”
Tristan didn’t know the answer to the question Alastor posed. Maybe it was because Alastor was a different sort of demon—or because he’d never known him as a human. Whatever the reason, Tristan could barely stand to face himself in the mirror, and cringed when he saw the red eyes staring back at him instead of the regular green. He’d seen his full demon form just once and he had yet to work up the nerve to take a closer look.
“Are you guys ready to go home?” Mac called from across the dunes.
Tristan finally lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder towards the angel who’d swept him off his feet so unexpectedly the Halloween before last. If anyone had told him his one-night stand with Mac would’ve led him here, he’d never have believed them.
Here he was, living with two other men—one an angel, the other a demon—and he couldn’t bring himself to regret the direction his life had taken at all.
Even becoming a demon didn’t seem quite so bad now the memories of his life had been restored to him. He just wished he could figure out a way to get Lawrence, the demon who’d made him, out of his life without finding another human to take his place. He hadn’t yet come to terms with being an incubus, a male sexual predator of the demon world, and now Lawrence expected him to find some unsuspecting human and turn him into an incubus too. He’d be ruining someone’s life just to save himself. Actually, he’d be ruining more lives than one, because the new incubus would do exactly what Tristan had done to regain control of his sexual appetite, take the life of the human he fed from. Tristan wasn’t sure if he could live with himself if he turned another man into a killer, yet what choice did he have? The alternative would be to join Lawrence for as long as the other demon wanted, and Lawrence wanted forever.
Mac strolled over to Tristan and Alastor and crouched down on the sand. “Tristan, what’s the matter? Are you hungry?”
Tristan’s cock hardened in his shorts as Mac reached out to pat his leg. If it weren’t for the fact Mac and Alastor always managed to turn him on so quickly, Tristan might have thought the reaction stemmed from his demonic sexual appetite. Honestly, the hunger wasn’t the problem right now, though Tristan wasn’t one to turn down an offer of sex.
Tristan turned to Mac and pressed their lips together, moaning into the kiss.
“Fuck me, Mac.” Tristan sent his thought directly to Mac’s mind without breaking contact.
“Alastor, go fetch the lube from the satchel,” Mac ordered, as he toppled Tristan backwards onto the sand and yanked off his shorts without ceremony.
Alastor returned in seconds and Tristan felt slick fingers teasing his hole. He shivered as two mouths descended on his nipples, sucking and biting them. He relished the sharp pleasure pain as his lovers marked him as theirs.
Closing his eyes, Tristan wriggled his arse, trying to push down on the fingers that never quite entered him.
“Fuck me,” he begged. “Please Mac. I need you in me. Now.”
Tristan knew Mac had heard his plea. He was sure his words had made it through to the angel. During the last two weeks he had worked on his telepathic ability almost constantly. He knew Mac had heard him. Mac had simply chosen to ignore his plea, at least for the moment.
Alastor’s tongue circled his navel as Mac lapped at his balls. Tristan closed his eyes and let them work their magic on his body.
“Relax, baby,” Alastor whispered through his mind. Tristan smiled at the demon’s pet name for him. Whenever anyone else had given him pet names, Tristan had hated hearing them, yet with Alastor it gave him a feeling of being cherished.
Tristan sighed contentedly as Alastor moved lower, joining Mac at Tristan’s crotch, licking at every crevice.
The seawater brushed over Tristan’s toes as the tide came in. He moved his feet apart, his heels sinking into the wet sand as he lifted his hips, straining towards the teasing tongues.
Simultaneously, Alastor and Mac each sucked one of his testicles into their mouths and Tristan cried out as he began to shudder with the force of his emotions. He opened his eyes and stared down at the two heads bobbing together between his thighs. They were close enough for Mac’s blond hair to tangle with Alastor’s dark locks. Tristan’s cock stood erect and untouched. The head was purple and already leaked pre-cum.
Mac lifted his head and descended on his erection, swiping the slit with his tongue. Alastor meanwhile had moved in the other direction as he sucked and nibbled on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs.
“You’re torturing me,” he scolded lightly.
“Ah, but this is such fun, baby,” Alastor said telepathically, as he pushed a slick finger into Tristan’s arse, with Mac’s joining it a moment later.
“More,” Tristan begged. “Please.”
More was what he got as Alastor and Mac each inserted a second finger.
“Oh fuck.” Tristan nearly sobbed at the burning pleasure of having his two lovers fingering him so thoroughly.
“Is this too much?” Mac asked. “I know Alastor has a high pain threshold, but we’ve never gone this far with you. If you want us to stop…”
“No.” Tristan watched the two heads lift and blue and red eyes stared at him curiously. “This feels good,” he assured them.
One of them, he wasn’t sure who, crooked a finger and rubbed his prostate. The touch sent him over the edge and cum sprayed his chest as his orgasm tore through him.
“Just good?” Mac teased.
Tristan couldn’t even summon the strength to answer mentally. He lay panting on the sand, his lovers’ fingers buried in his arse and his softened cock exposed to the elements.
He wanted to stay there forever. He didn’t want to return to the rest of the world, not knowing what Lawrence expected of him in the imminent future.
The fingers disappeared and Mac pulled him up and into his arms. “It’s okay, Tristan, it’ll be all right. We’ll sort things out.”
Tristan buried his face in Mac’s chest. Alastor wrapped himself around the two of them and the three lovers held each other for several long minutes.
Eventually though, they had to leave the island. They washed up in the ocean one last time, Mac gathered their belongings, and the three of them transported themselves home in the blink of an eye.
The time to return to their lives had arrived and they couldn’t put reality off any longer.
Between Life & Death #3
In the exact center of the entire Underworld the throne room of the king of all demons could be found. Easy to find from any direction, the audience chamber drew demons in like moths to a flame. Escaping the large cavern was another matter entirely. For many demons—particularly those who had incurred the wrath of the Demon King—the only way out was via flames that shot out from the cracks of the floor, sucking the miscreant down into the torture chambers, known as The Pit.
For one demon, there was no way to leave the Underworld at all.
At the back of the throne, hidden behind a stone wall, the chambers of the Demon King were located.
Tristan’s new quarters were not at all what he’d expected. Luxurious and well lit, they were nothing like the rest of the Underworld. He had expected to find a dingy and dirty cave, something similar to the catacombs he had stayed in with Alastor not so long ago. Instead, the chamber seemed more like a swanky hotel room, though one without windows. The wall sconces were not naked flames as he had seen throughout the Underworld. Instead they appeared to be electric, although he could see no obvious light switches on the walls. Tristan cringed at the brightness of the nearest of the lamps and as soon as the thought formed in his mind, the light dimmed to a more bearable level.
Thick rugs covered most of the highly polished marble floor.
Every item of furniture seemed to be modern and expensive. The glass coffee table held current magazines and newspapers, including the ones Tristan liked to read on a regular basis. The bookshelves showcased his favorite books, all of which were in mint condition.
A bowl of fruit sat on an end table and even from a distance, Tristan could see the bowl was made of silver. He sighed and shook his head.
All the luxury in the world made no difference to the fact he had been imprisoned.
How had he gone from a regular human with a job and a life to king of the Underworld?
The bed, large enough to accommodate him and his lovers with ease, looked comfortable and tempting. Like his bed at the penthouse flat he shared with Mac and Alastor, the headboard comprised of iron bars, perfect for holding onto while being taken by one of his men. Tristan wanted to take a torch to the sheets and set the whole thing alight. Had the sconces been actual flames, he may have done just that.
“Your quarters really aren’t so bad.”
Tristan spun round at the sound of his jailer’s voice.
“You think I want to sleep in the bed of the monster who put me here?”
“This bed wasn’t his,” Lucifer replied. He walked to the object in question and ran his hand lovingly over the surface. “This room is new and created by your own subconscious mind.”
“It is?”
Lucifer smiled and pointed to the bookshelf at the far side of the room. “Take a look and tell me what you see there.”
Tristan shrugged. He had already seen the shelves. “They contain my favorite books. So what? I’m still your prisoner.”
Lucifer ignored his comment. “I must say…this room is a vast improvement on your predecessor’s quarters. He had no taste at all. Did you know the candle holders he used had been made from human skulls?”
“No I didn’t know that, nor did I wish to.”
“There’s no need to be rude,” Lucifer chided. “I’m merely making conversation and paying you a compliment on your superior taste in decorating.”
“What are you doing here?” Tristan asked impatiently. “I thought you intended to give me time to celebrate my new status with Alastor?”
“And were he here with you, I’d leave my visit until later, but you haven’t bothered to summon him, have you? Instead, you’re wallowing in self-pity in a manner unbecoming of the new king.”
“Are you avoiding my question?” Tristan snapped. “Why are you here?”
“Idle curiosity as to what makes our new king tick,” Lucifer replied. “This room only generated when you crossed the threshold, so I couldn’t snoop earlier.”
“But now you can.”
“Yes. I make no apologies for my actions. If you don’t like my being here, tough luck.”
“Charming.”
“I can be extremely charming when the occasion warrants it,” Lucifer purred as he continued to poke around the room, checking cupboards and alcoves as he did. “My lover has always said my smooth tongue and way with words are my greatest talents. After all, I am the First Demon, and were I not so tempting, I would be the only one.”
Tristan crossed his arms and waited for Lucifer to finish wandering.
“Ah, yes, I think you’ll settle in here quite well.”
“I don’t want to stay here.”
Lucifer gave him an annoyed look. “You can sulk, complain and rage until hell freezes over, it makes no difference.”
“Maybe I’ll turn the heating off,” Tristan suggested.
Lucifer chuckled. “Oh, I suspect the heat will be rising in here before too much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Underworld will be opening again soon, which means regardless of whether you summon him or not, Alastor will be running down here in search of his missing ‘baby’. I suspect it will only be a matter of time before he’s in here helping you to break in your new bed.”
Tristan sighed. “I think we have a lot of talking to do before we jump into bed again.”
“You’re an incubus. You’ll be fucking him through the mattress before the end of the week.”
Tristan didn’t see the point of arguing with Lucifer. If he and Alastor did manage to sort through their problems, it would have nothing to do with the demon standing before him.
Lucifer continued to poke around the room while Tristan did his best to ignore him. Eventually he stepped into the path of the demon and glared at him. “Are you done?”
“You really shouldn’t be so rude to me,” Lucifer chided. “I’m here to help you.”
“Help me?” Tristan shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Help me, he says.”
“Who else is suitably qualified to guide you through your first days as our new king?”
“What makes you think I need your help?”
Lucifer smiled, clearly unfazed by Tristan’s attitude. “Even now the throne room is filling up with the leaders of each of the factions of demons, all here to bow down before you and swear their loyalty.”
“You’re joking.”
“Well, most of them will probably want to kill you and take your place, if truth be told, but they generally wait until after the banquet is over.”
Tristan dropped into one of the soft leather chairs. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Not if you let me guide you.”
“Why are you so keen to help me? What difference does it make to you who’s king?”
“I don’t care who sits on the throne, but I do like to ensure our new kings are settled in as soon as possible. That way I can turn my attention back to more pleasurable activities.”
Tristan cast a glance toward the wall where the entrance to his rooms had been. “How do I even get out into the throne room again?”
“Just walk toward the entrance and imagine the doorway opening for you.”
Tristan took a step forward and the entrance began to form. The most powerful demons in the Underworld congregated just on the other side of the wall. Shit!
“Wait a moment,” Lucifer called. “You aren’t ready to go out there yet.”
Tristan looked down and groaned when he realized what Lucifer meant. He couldn’t go out there in his human form. Reluctantly he took on his golden demon persona.
“You should be wearing something more appropriate than that dirty tunic too,” Lucifer advised. With a snap of his fingers, the tunic transformed into a silken black one with gold braiding. Tristan hated the garment on principle.
“We’ll be invisible when we first go out there,” Lucifer said. “You’ll appear before the crowd when you sit down on the throne.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s how it’s done. I’ll remain at your side, invisible to all others. I’ll speak to you only in your mind and tell you what you need to know.”
“Terrific.”
“I’m glad you think so, because you’ll need me there.”
Without any further ado, Lucifer swept past Tristan and out through the entrance. Tristan dawdled after him with a sigh of annoyance.
The throne room appeared packed to the brim with demons, many of them jostling their way to the front of the room. Some openly fought with others, while still more watched the displays of aggression. Tristan could tell instinctively which demons fed on the hatred and which merely looked on in idle interest. He had a feeling this might be one of his new powers, though he didn’t bother to ask Lucifer to confirm his suspicion.
L.M. Brown lives in England, in a quaint little village that time doesn't seem to have touched. No, wait a minute- that's the retirement biography. Right now she is in England in a medium sized town that no one has ever heard of, so she won't bore you with the details. Keeping her company are numerous sexy men. She just wishes that they weren't all inside her head.
EMAIL: lmbrownauthor@gmail.com
Between Heaven & Hell #1
KOBO / iTUNES / GOOGLE PLAY
Between Good & Evil #2
KOBO / iTUNES / GOOGLE PLAY
Between Life & Death #3
No comments:
Post a Comment