“You will die in this filthy place,” Azul sneered as he circled around the chair Brone was strapped to. Brone’s wrists and ankles were bound tight to the worn wood, and no matter how hard he tried to pull free, he was stuck there.
“You really should consider a breath mint before interrogating someone.” Knowing it was useless, Brone tugged at his wrists anyway. “Are you trying to question me or render me unconscious?”
“Wiseass.” The demon smirked, his dark eyes narrowed. The guy wasn’t that tall, and Brone wouldn’t have taken the man seriously, but the demon had a wicked talent that he’d already used on Brone for the past few hours—a talent that left Brone feeling baked from the insides and sweating like crazy. “Make all the humorous comments you want, but by the time I’m done with you, you’ll tell me where Sheridan is hiding.”
The demon wanted one of Brone’s pack members, and Brone wasn’t giving the guy up. He had no clue what Sheridan had done, but that didn’t matter. No alpha worth his salt handed over one of his guys to a crazy demon.
Over the past few hours, Azul had tried many methods to make Brone talk. Brone currently had a blade shoved into his left thigh, a deep cut down the side of his face—giving him a matching set since his left side was already scarred—and if the son of a bitch electrocuted him one more time, Brone just might melt into the chair.
Azul ran his fingers along Brone’s shoulder, the electrical current zapping from the demon’s hand making Brone’s teeth clench together. “Is it really worth the sacrifice?” Azul taunted. “Just tell me where Sheridan is and we can end all this.”
Like Brone believed that. Azul wouldn’t set him free. He was a demon, after all, and demons were deceptive sons of bitches. Brone had yet to meet a decent one.
Helping anyone outside his pack wasn’t in Brone’s nature. He’d learned long ago that good intentions bathed the road to hell with your blood. His father had taught him that by the back of his hand when Brone had tried to save his mother from endless beatings. Still, he wasn’t giving up Sheridan’s location. Truth be told, he didn’t even know where Sheridan was. His beta had taken off three days ago, telling Brone he was going to visit a friend in the demon realm. When Sheridan hadn’t answered his calls, Brone had gone looking for the wolf.
And he’d ended up being captured by Azul.
“Remove these straps and I’ll show you what kind of sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Brone said and then shouted when the electrical currents flowing from Azul’s fingers grew stronger. It felt as if his brain was being deep-fried. “Fuck!”
Azul gripped a handful of Brone’s hair and yanked his head back, the demon’s face a mask of rage. “No one defies me! By the time I’m done with you, you’ll beg me for death.”
Knowing it was a suicidal thing to do, Brone spit in the demon’s face. “Do your worst.”
Why in the hell had Brone allowed his ego to get in his way? Why was he asking Azul to further torture him? Those electrical currents must’ve killed brain cells. But Brone hadn’t cowed when his father had done his worst, and he wasn’t about to show his fear in front of the demon.
Flexing his massive muscles, Brone braced himself for the torture he knew was coming.
And he’d been right to do so. Moving in front of Brone’s chair, Azul threw his arms out. Blazing blue lights arced between his hands before he directed the current at Brone.
Son of a bitch! Brone’s back arched away from the chair as his head fell back. A gurgling sound rumbled up his chest as the pain centered on the right side of his gut. It felt as if Azul was searing his skin from his body.
When the demon’s arms relaxed, Brone wished Azul would kill him. The pain threatened to make him pass out. Sweat covered his body as he struggled to breathe. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. His insides sang with sharp stabs of electricity, and his side felt as if twenty hot pokers were branding him.
Azul backhanded Brone. “No passing out, dog. I’m just getting started.”
Brone ground his teeth as he tried to yank his arms free. Azul tsked. “Let’s see if you’re still filled with fight after this.”
The demon pressed the tips of his fingers against Brone’s temples, and the room fell away. Suddenly Brone stood in his childhood home. The sounds of his mother’s scream filled the air.
No! The memories were so real, so vivid that Brone would’ve sworn he was actually back home. He knew he wasn’t. His mother was dead. His father was in the underworld reliving his worst memories over and over again for all eternity. Yet, Brone smelled his mother’s fear and his father’s sweat. He felt the chill in the air, tasted his father’s tangible anger, and heard the creak of the screen door as it slapped against the frame from the wind.
His mother lay crumpled on the kitchen floor, her arm covering her head.
Brone backed away as his father shouted for his mate to shut her fucking mouth. Spinning on his heels, Brone raced for the front door, but instead of exiting the house, he spilled right back into the kitchen, as if the memory refused to let him escape its horrors.
His father stood over Brone’s mother, his shoulders hunched, his height towering, a belt gripped in his beefy hand. Brone’s stomach rolled as his rage consumed him. His breaths came out in short bursts as he tried to make the image disappear. He closed his eyes and opened them, only to realize he was still in the kitchen.
There was no escape.
Wyatt’s brain slid to the side of his skull as Brone skillfully used his tongue, sucking Wyatt’s cock until Wyatt could no longer think. His toes curled as his hips hiked upward. If Brone kept up his pace, Wyatt would be a pile of goo before anything really got started.
“This isn’t how I want to come.” Wyatt couldn’t believe he was making Brone stop. He had to be insane because he wanted the pleasure Brone gave him to go on forever. He nearly begged Brone to keep going when his mate pulled back.
“I won’t let you come.”
Wyatt didn’t see how Brone would accomplish that. He was already teetering dangerously close to the edge. When Brone inserted a single wet finger, Wyatt clenched his jaw to stave off his climax. “I’m about to blow my load,” he warned.
“No, you’re not.” Brone pinched the base of Wyatt’s cock as he worked his finger deep into Wyatt’s ass. “You’re gonna be a good little bear and hold your load.”
A burst of laughter vibrated in Wyatt’s chest. “Little bear? Hardly. You might be bigger than me, but I’m no slouch.” Wyatt hissed at the burn. “Lube. In the front pocket of my jeans.”
Brone arched a brow. “Thought you’d get lucky tonight?”
“More like hoping,” Wyatt confessed. “You’re not an easy man to figure out.”
Brone got up without disputing Wyatt’s claim. No, his mate was not the easiest man to figure out, but it didn’t take a genius to know that Brone was haunted by something. There was some kind of war going on inside Brone. Wyatt knew the signs. His father had battled alcoholism for many years, and Wyatt had witnessed the times when the need to drink tore Anthony Remus apart. Brone might not be battling booze, but he was fighting against something.
Brone came back to the bed with the small packet of lube in one hand. He settled back between Wyatt’s legs, lubed his fingers, and then shoved two deep into Wyatt’s ass before sucking Wyatt’s cock down his throat.
The mystery of why Brone was so closed off vanished as Wyatt thrashed on the bed. He spread his legs wide, bent his legs at the knees, and dug his feet in deep. Holy fuck! His body shook with hungry tremors as Wyatt fought not to come.
It was a losing battle. His hips shot upward as Brone inserted another finger, stretching Wyatt wide. He’d had ass play before, but that was always as far as he’d allowed things. Brone’s fingers were thick, and the calluses rubbed over his tight muscles to add friction to what Brone was already doing to him.
Just when Wyatt reached the edge, Brone pulled back. His fingers slipped free as he released Wyatt’s cock from his mouth.
“On your hands and knees,” Brone demanded in a deep, raspy tone. When Wyatt glanced at his mate, he saw the lust, the need deep in those light brown eyes.
Flipping to his hands and knees, Wyatt braced himself for the pain. His body stiffened as his breathing became shallow. When Brone brushed the head of his cock over Wyatt’s hole, Wyatt jerked.
“You need to relax, bear.” Brone’s hand slid over Wyatt’s ass. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I’ve seen the size of your dick,” Wyatt said. “I highly doubt you can deliver on that promise.”
The head of Brone’s cock popped past the ring of muscles. Wyatt breathed out as the fullness made him hiss. It burned. It burned like hell, but Brone smoothed his hand over Wyatt’s back, up and down his spine, but didn’t push any farther inside Wyatt’s body.
A soft kiss landed on his shoulder and then another. Wyatt tried to relax as Brone slowly worked his way in. Whenever Wyatt stiffened, Brone stopped. Wyatt wasn’t sure he could do this. Where in the hell was the pleasure?
“It’ll ease,” Brone crooned to him. “Just try your best to relax.”
Blowing out a long breath, Wyatt nodded. He forced his body to relax, to unknot as he slowly sank his shoulders into the mattress.
“That’s it,” Brone said. He began to move faster, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. One second Wyatt was ready to tell Brone that he couldn’t do this, and the next he was flying high. His hisses turned into moans as his entire body went lax.
Brone’s hands were everywhere—brushing over Wyatt’s back, his shoulders, his arms, and down his outer thighs. It was as if the man couldn’t get enough of touching Wyatt, and Wyatt was fine with that. He was a tactile creature, and the touches only stoked the flames already racing through his blood. Pushing to his hands, Wyatt met Brone’s strokes until they were moving in a synced rhythm. Wyatt shoved backward as Brone drove forward, burying his cock as deep as it would go before pulling back again.
“You feel incredible,” Wyatt said between pants. Never had he thought that receiving instead of giving had its own rewards.
“So do you,” Brone said as his fingers dug into Wyatt’s hips. “So fucking incredible.”
His mate’s hips punched forward, his groin slamming into Wyatt’s ass, the sound of skin meeting skin ringing through the room. His balls swung freely as his hard cock bobbed in the air. Wyatt’s fingers curled into the bedspread as he hitched his ass higher.
And then Brone pulled free. Wyatt was confused for all of five seconds before Brone flipped him and drove his cock back into Wyatt’s ass. Brone lifted Wyatt’s beefy legs over his strong arms and pulled Wyatt closer, lifting his ass off the bed as he pounded into Wyatt.