[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Romance, Alternative, Paranormal, Shape-shifter, Menage elements involving only minor characters, MM, HEA]
Saban's been around the block. He's been in love, but never found "the one". Now he's met his match - and his mate. Patrick Crowther, a minx who pushes all Saban's buttons. Haughty. Disdainful of Saban's past. Patrick is proving he's not used to trusting anyone, especially since an old threat comes back to haunt Saban, one involving Patrick's family.
There's danger brewing, too, in the form of an ancient foe. One who'll stop at nothing to rid the world of shifters...and Saban's friends, with particular interest in Bairr, Saban's boss.
New alliances prove fruitful as the Hartland pack are called to help. Their "hearts", healers within their shifter world, are crucial to helping destroy Ogilvy's plans for bio warfare against the shifters.
Except Ogilvy's no slouch in the revenge department, and goes after Patrick with gusto. Saban's helpless to help his mate, who's tortured by Ogilvy in his dreams - then kidnapped to teach Saban a lesson.
Patrick Crowther dabbed away the trickle of drool that escaped as he perved over Saban Stokes’s tremendous physique. The blond god of a man had a fitness regime that exhausted Patrick, just watching, but gave him the perfect opportunity to fantasize. Imagining Saban’s huge cock plowing Patrick over and over, their bodies slick with sweat and cum, making love throughout the night—or at any available opportunity.
Patrick flushed and smiled shyly as Saban winked as he finished his two-hundredth sit-up. Patrick waved back, his dick throbbing when Saban switched to a new set of reps. Watching a guy hauling himself up on a steel bar shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but damn! Saban could give a nun palpitations.
Patrick jerked as his brother Noah flopped down beside him, a taunting grin on his face. With a haughty sniff Patrick moved his latest acquisition, a sexy erotic man-romp, before Noah could get his grubby hands on it.
“Excellent. I highly recommend it. Get your own copy.”
Noah goaded Patrick with his elbow, annoying Patrick even more with his smug, just-fucked good humor. Patrick could smell the stench of sex on him and nearly gagged.
“I don’t wanna read it, douche. If you need any tips for your man over there, let me know.” Noah waggled his eyebrows. “I’m an expert now.”
“On what? How to be a smartass?”
“Sex, bro. Manly, sweaty, stinky, gorgeous, mind-blowing sex.”
Patrick scowled. “I wish you’d quit doing that.”
“Mock innocence doesn’t look good on you, bro.”
“Don’t pout, Patty. Might put Saban off, thinking you’re high maintenance.”
“Quit calling me Patty, asshole! You know I hate it.”
“Patty, Patty, Patty.”
Patrick cheered silently when Saban stalked up behind Noah, his fierce stare scaring the smile off Noah’s face.
“I was just saying…”
“You were stirring, Noah.”
Noah huffed irritably. “I was teasing, Saban. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You were causing trouble,” Patrick gritted. “Like you always do. Just because you’ve done the deed doesn’t mean we all have to follow like sheep. Saban and I are happy as we are. He understands me.”
Noah’s eyes widened comically, but he held his tongue.
Saban jerked his thumb, his dark, gold-rimmed gaze sharp as a laser. “Leave.”
Noah left, sniggering. Patrick inhaled deeply. Saban’s scent was intoxicating. Sweat. Musk. Arousal. Unique to Saban. He left Patrick in a muddle of confused thoughts.
Saban sat down, eyeing Patrick carefully. “Are you scared of me?”
Patrick looked down, uncomfortable with the shrewd question. “Not exactly.”
“Are you scared of what people in your family might say? I’ll squish ‘em to a pulp if they upset you,” Saban growled, with a flickering glance at the door.
Patrick smiled slightly but shook his head.
“Then what’s the problem? We’ve been dancing around each other for months. Nearly a year. I’m happy to do that forever, if that’s what you want,” Saban clarified hastily. “Only…I can’t fix what I don’t know.”
“You know everything about me,” Patrick blurted. “My family, my stupidity, my old bigotry. Yet I know nothing about you.”
Saban sighed, his sweaty neckline drawing Patrick’s attention. He swallowed hard, tracking a large bead of sweat that slid from Saban’s whiskered jaw down his throat to his nipple. The sleek, toned lines of Saban’s upper torso begged for the touch of Patrick’s tongue, and he licked his lips, his cock thickening inexorably.
Saban was like a Viking of old, tall and muscular, but not overblown like Mr. Universe. He had the toned physique of a warrior. Broad shoulders and a slim waist complemented his perfectly proportioned attributes. The golden braid was predominantly a honey hue, with many lighter shades running through it. His personality could flip on a dime.
What would it be like to have Saban make love to him? God knew he wanted him…but still, he hesitated.
“Why are you afraid?”
Patrick met Saban’s dark gaze, unfazed that Saban had obviously read his thoughts. He did that a lot.
“I heard something. Gossip, I thought, but then I began to remember other stuff. It upset me,” Patrick confessed.
Saban’s gaze sharpened. “About me?”
“You had a boyfriend. Someone my mother disliked. A guy my mother had killed…because he was gay.” He wrenched his gaze away. “I was only little, but I remember a hoo-ha around the killing of a young gay man. I didn’t connect it to you until a few days ago. Mother was scared. She never showed fear to anyone. Not ever.”
Saban grinned, chilling Patrick with the lack of amusement. “And?”
“I remember thinking that she’d gone too far. Killing people just because of who they love was a fool’s game.” He tilted his head, meeting Saban’s gaze again. “I remember one night. She was alone in the den, drinking sherry. I snuck in. I saw photos. Of the young man. Edward, I think his name was. Edward Selwyn. Beautiful, he was. And dead. Shot three times in broad daylight. I saw claw marks across his face and chest and the deep puncture wounds at his throat. He was mauled, but nobody mentioned that. Drive-by shooting, the police said. I guess they didn’t want a panic on their hands at the thought of a vicious beast on the loose. Mother had the most fearful grin on her face. Triumphant. Vicious.”
“And she had a note. She opened it, and the grin was wiped away. Then she looked scared. The note said, ‘Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth; your day will come, for all you took. Payback’s a bitch, your sons are fair game; when I come for you, you’ll wish you’d abstained.’ It was signed with the letter S.”
Patrick pleaded with his eyes, not wanting his suspicions to be confirmed…knowing the truth already because he’d already asked Yaska. He was a fool for imagining that being mated to Saban wouldn’t have its pitfalls.
“You’re asking if I wrote that. I did.”
Patrick shivered under Saban’s seductive stare, despite the heat of the shower, rubbing bodywash across his body, lathering up sensuously, measuring the delight in Saban’s lusty gaze as he posed for his lover.
“Pump your dick,” Saban whispered, barely audible over the powerful spray.
Patrick obeyed, closing his eyes as he cupped his crotch and masturbated, head thrown back, his lips mouth parted a little, his breath quickening as his pleasure ramped up.
He yelped as warm lips replaced his hand, glancing down to see Saban on his knees, his dark eyes glittering with greed as he sucked Patrick’s cock, and moaned wantonly.
Patrick stroked his lover’s sleek head, raking his nails against Saban’s scalp, his hips moving steadily as he found his rhythm. He fucked Saban’s mouth with abandon. Saban cupped his buttocks, his fingers parting Patrick’s cheeks, one finger probing the tight ring of muscle guarding his virgin chute.
He groaned, half choking as water invaded his nose and mouth, and snapped off the faucet. Saban probed harder, testing Patrick’s resistance. Patrick tensed slightly as his sphincter gave way, widening his stance and bending slightly, braced on Saban’s broad shoulders, allowing the slick invader inside a half inch.
Saban nipped his dick, sharp fangs embedding in the thick vein, the way he liked, driving Patrick crazy with want.
“Claim me,” he hissed, arching under Saban’s touch.
Saban reared up, eyeing Patrick with such intensity, such warmth, that Patrick melted even more.
“You want that? Now?”
Patrick waggled his eyebrows and spread his legs wider. “Assume the position, demon god.”
Saban burst out laughing. “Demon god?” He looked pleased, though, and lifted Patrick, grabbing a towel and a large bottle of lube, then carted Patrick through to the bedroom.
Patrick soon found himself flat on his back, legs draped over Saban’s broad shoulders, surrounded by Saban’s veil of hair as they kissed passionately. Tender and all-consuming, the kiss drove every other thought from Patrick’s mind. He felt, vaguely, Saban’s light probing, the subtle burn as a finger invaded his ass, but focused on his mate’s sensuous mouth instead.
Fuck, but Saban had a mouth! His tongue should be classed as a lethal weapon. Scooping cum from Patrick’s slit, Saban treated Patrick to the most erotic cleansing ritual, anointing every inch of him, his throat muscles working as he deep throated, growling his pleasure as he massaged the spongy head of Patrick’s throbbing dick.
Patrick came on a thin wail, shouting loudly as Saban probed his ass with something far thicker than his fingers. Oh god. It was happening. Patrick breathed through his nose, then lost all sense of reason as Saban blanketed his body, his lips fusing to Patrick’s, connecting them on every level.
Patrick expected a hard, steady fuck. Instead Saban made love to him with his whole body, moving slowly, writhing above, marking Patrick with his scent, sliding deeper with each scintillating, mind-stealing thrust.
Patrick wrapped his legs around Saban’s waist, his heels digging into his lover’s taut butt, feeling each ripple as they moved together, Patrick tumbling ever deeper in love. This was what he’d hoped for, dreamed of, fantasized over. Not a quick, mindless fuck in some dark room with a glory hole. Not a quickie in a dank alley beside a dumpster, frightened of who might see. Making love with Saban, his first lover, was everything.
Saban lifted slightly, resting on his elbows, staring down into Patrick’s dazed face, rocking gently back and forth. His expression was inscrutable, his dark eyes, rimmed with golden fire, as soft and warm as a vat full of treacle. He lifted Patrick’s hand, pressing it against his temple—and Patrick cried out as he read everything Saban was feeling. Identical to his own.
“I love you,” he whispered as Saban’s lips met his.
“I am in love with you too, Patrick,” Saban murmured, nibbling Patrick’s lower lip. “Always. Forever. With all that I am.”
He moved a little faster, with firm thrusts that speared Patrick to the hilt each time before easing back slowly, almost withdrawing. Over and over, angling a little, then tilting Patrick’s hips upward, tunneling downward, deep as he could go. Short and shallow. Long and hard. Slow and sultry.