STORY EXCERPT

Isaac scrambled to the edge of the awning and dropped the remaining eight feet to the alley. His knees buckled on impact, palms scraping against rough asphalt. Blood welled up from a dozen tiny cuts, but adrenaline kept the pain at bay.

“Whatever happened to basic manners?” he yelled toward his window where Marcus was leaning out. “A simple ‘hello, we’re here to kidnap you’ would’ve been appreciated.”

“We’re here to kidnap you.” Marcus rested his forearms on the sill. “Boss just wants to talk.”

Isaac didn’t want to hear anything Whichello had to say.

“Tell him to send a text like a normal person,” he hollered, already running toward the street. His beat-up Honda sat parked at the corner. The keys were still in his pocket.

Footsteps pounded behind him. Not just Marcus. At least two others, maybe three. Isaac’s red panda stirred under his skin, wanting to shift, to run faster than human legs could manage. But shifting in the middle of downtown would cause more problems than it solved.

Reaching his car, he fumbled with the keys. The lock clicked open just as a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Hey, beautiful,” another enforcer, this one named Dimitri, said. “Miss me?”

Isaac took a step back.

Strong fingers wrapped around his upper arm, not painful but definitely not a suggestion.

“Come on, Isaac.” Dimitri said, his face all sharp angles and eyes alight with a cruel kind of mirth. “You make me work for this I won’t make your return pleasant.”

“So I’m just supposed to roll over? What drugs are you on?” Isaac plastered on his brightest smile. “Sweetie, I’m about to make you sweat for my kidnapping.”

Dimitri’s grip loosened for just a second, long enough for Isaac to twist away and dive into the driver’s seat. Isaac would rather screw a cactus, but the tactic worked.

The engine turned over on the first try, a minor miracle for the ancient Honda.

“Isaac—” Marcus appeared at the passenger window.

Throwing the car into Reverse, Isaac peeled out of the parking space. The rearview mirror showed all three enforcers standing in the street, not even bothering to chase him.

That should’ve been his first warning that running was futile, but pathetic hope was better than no hope.

As Isaac raced through empty streets, his mind catalogued escape routes. The highway would take him north, toward the mountains. South led to the city, which offered more places to hide but he didn’t have enough gas. East or west was out of the question unless the demons would let him stop to refuel.

His phone buzzed. Once was annoying.

Twice was pressure.

Three times was a hand closing around his throat.

At a red light, Isaac glanced at the screen. Unknown number, but the message was clear: “You’re only making this harder on yourself, little panda.”

Only Whichello called him that.

The light turned green, but Isaac’s foot stayed on the brake. In the intersection ahead, three figures stood waiting. More enforcers. Behind him, headlights appeared in the mirror.

“Goddammit.” Isaac’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Rolling down his window, he stuck his head out. “Can you please move out of the way? Tryin’ to make a coffee run.”

Marcus’s laugh was genuinely warm, which made everything worse. Bad guys weren’t supposed to have pleasant laughs. “Not a chance in hell. Boss’ll give you all the caffeine you want. After.”

Isaac did not like that smirk. “After what?”

“After you stop running and come home.”

Home. As if that place could ever be home. Calling a cage a home was how monsters slept at night.

But with enforcers surrounding his car and nowhere left to run, Isaac’s options had dwindled to zero. His red panda chittered anxiously under his skin, recognizing the trap closing like a noose around them.

Adrenaline flooded his system like poison when he understood running wasn’t an option anymore. He didn’t want to go back willingly, but fighting would just delay the inevitable.

Dimitri opened the car door and hauled Isaac out. His grip tightened slightly before pushing Isaac toward his fate.

At the alley’s edge, where streetlight met shadow, Marcus stepped into the darkness first. Not dramatically, not like movies made it seem. Just walked forward and vanished like he’d never existed.

Too bad it doesn’t actually yeet him into the void.

Taking a deep breath, Isaac and Dimitri went next. His stomach lurched as reality folded in on itself, the sensation of falling making  Isaac shout. His gut immediately revolted when they landed, that familiar nausea rising.

Isaac pushed to his feet and glanced around. Serenity City lay in permanent night, like someone had turned the light switch off and had forgotten to flip it back on. The place was crawling with all sorts of nonhumans who’d shown up and just never left, calling this place home. It pretty much looked like an average city, except there was no sun or anything with wheels. No cars lined the empty streets. No bicycles leaned against buildings.

Streets without purpose. Infrastructure without movement. A city built for beings who didn’t need momentum the way the human realm did.

Why have streets if there was no use for them?

They turned down a tree-lined drive. The mansion loomed impressive against the sky, lit from below by strategically placed streetlights. Modern architecture mixed with classical elements. Whichello’s aesthetic in a nutshell. Beautiful and cold and designed to intimidate.

They headed toward the front entrance where more enforcers waited. Isaac counted at least six, with probably more inside.

From what Isaac had heard, Whichello loved to come up with creative ways to torture poor, unsuspecting victims, making him wonder what the demon would do to him. Whichello valued loyalty and was unforgiving of betrayal. He hadn’t physically hurt Isaac the first time he’d been prisoner, but the night was still young.

Dimitri kept Isaac upright while they walked, which was almost nice of him if you ignored the whole kidnapping aspect.

Inside, black marble floors reflected distorted versions of everything around them. The foyer opened into a grand staircase that curved like a spine. High above them a chandelier cast shadows in directions shadows shouldn’t go. Shadows should not freelance.

Upstairs, they led him through hallways he remembered too well, past doors that sometimes opened onto rooms and sometimes opened onto nothing at all, until they reached the carved oak that marked Whichello’s office.

Isaac’s mouth went dry, and his palms started sweating. Then they were inside the belly of the beast, and his usual sass evaporated.

Did they seriously think they needed two people to escort him unwillingly to Whichello’s office? What was with the overkill? Whichello had serious trust issues.

Dimitri handed him off to Marcus before heading back downstairs.

Marcus knocked while curling his hand around Isaac’s arm, like Isaac would take off at any second. Had your chance and blew it.

“Enter.”

That voice. Smooth as aged cognac, with an undertone of cold iron. Isaac’s panda scrabbled inside of him, desperate to run, but there was nowhere to go.

ADULT EXCERPT

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence stretched until Isaac’s nerves couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why did you buy me at that auction?” The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

Whichello remained quiet, contemplative. When he finally spoke, his voice came out low and subdued. “I wasn’t sure then.” He still kept his back to Isaac. “Loneliness, spite, or maybe you were a reflection of myself. Hollowed out.”

Isaac’s chest tightened at the raw honesty in those words.

“Maybe by purchasing you, I’d hoped to regain a piece of my own soul.” The confession hung in the air between them. “I didn’t buy you with the intent of sex.”

Whichello’s brows dipped as he grew pensive. “Shifters know their mates almost immediately.”

Still, he didn’t look Isaac’s way. Anxiety climbed up Isaac’s spine like ice-cold fingers. Whichello knew. Demons didn’t discover who their mate was until they had sex, but somehow, this demon had figured it out. How? How long had he suspected the truth?

“Tell me, Isaac.” Whichello’s subdued tone never wavered. “Are we mates?”

Isaac’s throat closed. Fear paralyzed his vocal cords, because what if Whichello became enraged for Isaac holding back the truth? Every fiber of his being wanted to trust this demon, but Whichello’s reputation, the way he constantly demanded instead of asking, and most of all, the fact that he’d purchased Isaac like property… All of it kept Isaac’s walls firmly in place.

“You don’t have to answer,” Whichello said quietly. “Already know the truth. Do you fear me, little panda?”

This moment held no humor, no teasing edge. Just raw vulnerability that made Isaac’s heart stutter.

He took a moment to answer, finally whispering, “Yes.”

No reassurance came. No comforting words of safety. Isaac respected him for that honesty, even as it terrified him.

Whichello’s soberness carried a frightening restraint. Isaac felt the mate bond pulling at something deep in his chest, but he resisted its call.

When Whichello finally turned and entered his space, those storm-gray eyes gazed down at Isaac with an intensity that stole his breath. The air between them crackled with intimacy and danger.

Without warning, Whichello’s mouth crashed against his in a kiss that tasted of desperation and centuries of loneliness. Isaac’s gasp parted his lips, and Whichello explored hungrily, one hand fisting in Isaac’s hair while the other pressed against the small of his back. The kiss sent fire racing through Isaac’s veins, his body responding despite every rational thought screaming warnings. Whichello’s tongue swept against his, claiming and demanding, and Isaac found himself melting into the demon’s solid warmth.

Whichello’s kiss devoured, consumed, demanded everything Isaac had spent nearly two years protecting. His hands weren’t gentle as they mapped Isaac’s body through his clothes, fingers pressing into muscle and bone like he was memorizing topography. Isaac’s head tilted back, breaking the kiss to suck in air that tasted like ozone and winter, and Whichello’s mouth moved to his jaw, his throat, teeth scraping over sensitive skin.

Every rational thought Isaac possessed screamed to stop this, to push away, to remember all the reasons this was dangerous. But his body had other ideas, arching into Whichello’s touch like it recognized something his mind refused to acknowledge. The mate bond pulled at his ribs, trying to drag him closer, and Isaac fought it even as his fingers twisted in Whichello’s shirt.

“You’re trembling,” Whichello murmured against his throat, not a question but an observation that felt too intimate.

“So are you,” Isaac shot back, because he could feel it, the fine tremor in Whichello’s hands where they gripped his hips.

A sound rumbled from Whichello’s throat, somewhere between a growl and a laugh. “Fourteen hundred years, and you’re the one who undoes me.” His hands found the hem of Isaac’s shirt, fingers skating across bare skin. “Tell me to stop.”

But Isaac couldn’t form the words. Didn’t want to form them, even though terror and desire twisted together until he couldn’t separate them. Instead, he pulled Whichello back down into another kiss, this one messier, more desperate, all teeth and tongue and need that felt like drowning.

Whichello walked him backward until Isaac’s legs hit the bed. He went down, pulling Whichello with him, and the demon’s weight settled over him in a way that should have triggered panic but instead felt like an anchor.

Whichello’s eyes grew darker, that storm-gray shifting to something closer to midnight. His hands made quick work of Isaac’s shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it somewhere Isaac didn’t track. Cool air hit his skin, followed immediately by the heat of Whichello’s mouth as he kissed down Isaac’s throat, across his collarbone, lower.

Isaac’s breath came faster, each inhale catching on something that felt too big for his lungs. Whichello’s tongue traced patterns across his sternum, teeth grazing over a nipple that made Isaac’s hips jerk involuntarily. A low laugh vibrated against his skin, and Isaac wanted to say something cutting, something that would wipe that satisfaction off Whichello’s face, but his brain had apparently relocated to somewhere south of functional.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Whichello said, lips brushing against Isaac’s ribs. “All that defiance melting into want.”

“Shut up,” Isaac managed, but the words came out breathless, unconvincing even to his own ears.

Whichello’s hands moved to Isaac’s jeans, fingers working the button and zipper with efficiency that should’ve been alarming but instead just made Isaac’s pulse race faster. He lifted his hips to help, and then the denim was gone, leaving him in just his boxers, cotton doing absolutely nothing to hide his erection.

“Still want me to shut up?” Whichello’s smirk was devastating, all confidence and dark promise. His hand pressed over Isaac’s dick through the fabric, palm applying pressure that made Isaac’s eyes want to roll back.

“Fuck,” Isaac breathed, hips pushing up into the contact.

“Patience.” Whichello’s mouth returned to Isaac’s skin, kissing down his stomach, his tongue dipping into Isaac’s navel in a way that felt obscene. His hands hooked into the waistband of Isaac’s boxers, pulling them down and off, and suddenly Isaac was completely bare, while Whichello remained fully clothed.

The vulnerability should have terrified him. Probably would have if Whichello’s mouth hadn’t chosen that moment to close around his cock.