[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, demons, warlocks, HEA]
Disgrace or devotion? Plagued by the choices in his past, warlock Noah Hall cannot allow himself to claim Rhys Whitaker, the man—the incubus—he loves. He sees himself as a killer, having played a significant part in his own father’s death. Torn between shame, reason, and desire, Noah lingers in a platonic friendship that hurts them both, but that neither of them is willing to abandon.
Rhys has loved and desired Noah since the very moment he met the warlock. He knows that Noah is his other half, but when the other man rejects him, Rhys can do nothing else but respect Noah’s wishes.
When Noah’s dark secret comes out, Rhys is crushed. In the midst of a conflict between races, their fragile relationship threatens to be overcome. Can Noah let go of his doubts and protect his mate? Can Rhys heal Noah’s wounds in time to save them both?
A Siren Erotic Romance
When he heard the door open, Rhys was half terrified, half relieved. A part of him just wanted this torture over. The man-child guilty of Rhys’s plight now approached, and he obviously planned on killing Rhys. Rhys could feel it in the emotions now invading the room, coming from the warlock.
“Well, well. It looks like our sleeping beauty hasn’t surrendered to eternal slumber just yet.” A chuckle sounded. The footsteps resonated against the floor as Tyrell approached. The warlock leaned over Rhys and gripped his chin, forcing Rhys to look at him. “Look at you. So lost in your hunger. You know, out of all magical creatures, incubi are my favorites. You might be beasts like shifters, but you’re certainly lovely enough to compensate for the lack. Too bad I can’t use it. I’d have loved to explore your beauty, your lust.”
Rhys counted his blessings for that since he was well aware his body would have accepted any touch, even one his mind rebelled against. Even now, pleas were ready on his lips. Tyrell was only a boy, so his form held no appeal to Rhys, but the guard who’d come with Tyrell was a different matter altogether.
With heavy-lidded eyes, Rhys gazed at the man, licking his lips. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have touched the guy with a seven-foot pole, but he could feel the desire pouring off him, aimed directly at Rhys, intoxicating, like a drug. His body responded to that lust, even if everything else screamed at him to shy away, to hide, to cover himself.
Fortunately, Tyrell didn’t seem inclined to allow Rhys’s hunger to be sated. He threw an ugly look toward the guard. “Get out. Just your presence is feeding him.”
After throwing one last look Rhys’s way, the underling fled. Rhys experienced a deep pang of loss, but it was combined with an even more intense relief. He might die here, but at least he’d have kept his dignity and not spread his legs for all the guards in Tyrell Hall’s prison.
“I know you want it, little incubus,” the warlock said, “but you’ll just have to suffer without it. That’s the price you pay for going against me. Now, I have other matters to deal with. This might well be the last time we see each other. Enjoy your stay in the afterlife.”
Before Rhys could even figure out what Tyrell meant by that, the man-child left the room, abandoning Rhys there. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Tyrell intended to let Rhys starve to death. It was the worst way to go for an incubus, and by the end, Rhys would give just about anything to feel a sexual touch.
A tear slid over Rhys’s cheek, burning his oversensitized skin as it fell. There were so many things he hadn’t done. He’d had lovers, yes, but he’d never found his soul mate, that one person meant for him. He’d wanted to meet that person so desperately, to start a family, and perhaps to mend the rift between the Whitakers and the Arceneaus. His dream had been to one day sit at a celebratory dinner table with his mate, his father, and his sire with him, his brothers joining him, and perhaps, a child growing inside him. So many wishes that would never come true now.
He was snapped out of his thoughts when, out of the blue, the door opened again. Instantly, Rhys knew it wasn’t Tyrell or any of his cronies entering the cell. A gust of pure, fresh emotions struck Rhys, bringing with them an unexpected wave of strength.
Rhys struggled to focus his vision and, to his surprise, actually succeeded. A dark-haired man walked toward him and knelt by his side. “Dear gods,” the man murmured. “What did he do to you?”
For a few seconds, Rhys thought he’d fallen into a dream. The new arrival was a vision, everything Rhys had ever desired in a man. Muscular, but not thick or heavy, he moved with a feline grace that would have rivaled that of any shifter in the world. His smoky gray eyes held a storm of emotions that awoke Rhys’s every instinct.
Rhys reached out to him, hissing as he touched the other man’s skin. The contact was electric. Unlike the artificial lust he’d experienced in the warlock guard’s presence, this was his own need and desire, combined with a clear response coming from the stranger.
On instinct, Rhys released his incubus powers, summoning the man to him. The guy groaned. “Please, baby, don’t do that now. I need to focus, and I can’t with you distracting me.”
It hurt to be called a distraction, but Rhys could feel what the man truly wanted. Rhys’s anus clenched in response to the deep desire he felt coming from the man. He opened his mouth to whisper something appropriately seductive, but he never got the chance. The stranger swept his tongue over Rhys’s lips, pain and anger mixing with the lust. “Hush now,” he said. “You’re not in any condition for sexual acrobatics, but I’ll give you what you want.”
Soft lips pressed against his, the kiss echoing through Rhys like thunder, lightning, hail, sandstorm, and at the same time, as gentle as a spring breeze. It was a force of nature, sating Rhys’s hunger and whetting it, making him lust for more.
Rhys tried to wrap his arms around the man’s neck, but there were still shackles around his wrists and chains binding him against the floor, leaving him immobilized. The realization brought to mind his situation, but still, when the stranger broke their kiss, he whimpered in distress, not caring about anything except exploring the attraction between them.
“I’ve been so worried about you, Rhys. You have no idea…” Noah’s voice broke off, and he reached for Rhys’s cheek. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry for what I did to you, to us.”
Noah hadn’t called Rhys baby since the day they’d met, so the endearment struck Rhys hard. Did he dare hope that… No, no. It couldn’t be. Noah had made it clear that he didn’t want Rhys like that.
And yet, in spite of knowing this, Rhys couldn’t hold back from trying one more time. He reached for Noah, pulling the warlock close. His soul mate came to him, and before Rhys knew it, soft lips crushed against his almost violently.
It was unlike the other kiss they’d shared, and yet, so very similar. It was still Noah, the same taste, the same scent, and the same tenderness, even if this time, it lay hidden behind a layer of sensual desperation. Rhys’s hunger rose, angry and hot, demanding that he take what he’d yearned for so long.
Circumstances were far from ideal, and Rhys was still unsure regarding Noah’s motives, but in the heat of the moment, none of that mattered. Noah climbed into the bed and crawled over Rhys, never once breaking their kiss. The warlock threw off the quilt covering Rhys’s body, revealing Rhys’s near-nude form underneath. He wore only a pair of briefs for modesty, something that was hardly surprising given the condition he’d been in. It was customary for incubi to be as close to naked as possible when they were extremely sick, so the material didn’t get in the way of them absorbing sensations and emotions.
This proved to be quite convenient for Noah, as the warlock swept his hands all over Rhys, enflaming Rhys even further. At the same time, Noah’s clothing scratched Rhys’s sensitive skin, providing both an additional layer of sensation and a barrier between their bodies. Rhys wrapped his legs around Noah’s waist, rubbing against the other man madly, desperately seeking the delicious and tormenting friction.
Exquisite pain rose within him. He had not even realized how much he’d wanted to do this, and now he was overwhelmed with the lust, the desire, the intoxicating flavor of Noah’s need for him. He was a starving man who’d fasted for months and now suddenly had a banquet in front of him. Ravenous, wild with the hunger, Rhys found a strength he didn’t know he had. He tore at Noah’s clothing, experiencing savage satisfaction as fabric tore and seams ripped.
Alas, this led Noah to separate their mouths. Rhys let out a keening sound, unwilling to be parted from Noah for even a second. “Shush, baby. I’ll give you what you want.”
Noah muttered a spell under his breath. The result was quite gratifying. Both Noah’s clothing and Rhys’s underwear tore off, landing on the floor in a heap. For the first time, Rhys feasted his gaze on Noah’s naked body. God, the man was beautiful. From his expressive eyes and his so very kissable lips, to his rippling abs and that gorgeous dick rising proudly between muscled thighs, everything about Noah made Rhys hot with lust. He didn’t even know where to look first and what to touch. He was completely frozen.
Thankfully, Noah didn’t suffer from this problem. He took charge of the situation once again, flipping Rhys on all fours. “I’m afraid I don’t have any spell to lube you up.”
“It’s fine,” Rhys gasped, throwing a gaze over his shoulder at Noah. “I’m an incubus, remember? You can even take me dry.”
Noah’s gaze held a decision that touched Rhys to the core. “No. I’ll never chance hurting you. Not with this. Not with anything else.”
Rhys didn’t get a chance to answer as his soon-to-be lover parted his ass cheeks and licked across his crease. Pleasure exploded over every inch of Rhys’s body. He’d always loved rimming, even more so than others of his kind. It looked like Noah enjoyed it as well. Rhys’s incubus senses were flooded with the warlock’s ecstasy and desire. It almost seemed like Noah’s passion fed off Rhys’s, and the other way around.
Noah thrust his tongue inside Rhys’s body, wiggling it around and stretching Rhys’s passage in preparation for the act to come. Every motion of that skilled muscle drove Rhys wild. He pushed back against Noah, fucking his lover’s face. It was oh so good, and still not enough, never enough. Rhys ached to fully feel Noah’s dick penetrating him, filling him, stretching him.
He heard himself cry out, although he couldn’t really understand the words. Moans, pleas, and an incoherent litany of Noah’s name mingled together in a jumble that made very little sense. But Noah didn’t seem to mind, or care. As always, he guessed what Rhys asked of him.
The warlock pulled his tongue out of Rhys’s channel and flipped Rhys on his back. “You weren’t lying when you said you easily adapt. You just open up for me like a flower.”
Noah’s hot fist engulfed Rhys’s erection, massaging his dick. “And look at you, so hard already. So beautiful. I just have to taste you.”
And indeed, Noah did exactly what he said he would, lowering his mouth to lick Rhys’s cock from head to tip. As Noah applied gentle suction, Rhys was already so close he thought he would come any moment now. But the hunger, God, the hunger, it wouldn’t be appeased if Noah didn’t get inside him.
“Please,” he begged. “Please, Noah, fuck me.”