“I was thinking that she was on the run from the Agency and the most powerful witches in the country might help her. She’s telling the truth. I can smell it. So did your feline friends there.” Kyle’s voice was calm, almost jovial, but Deck could see how he was quivering with poorly repressed tension. “And by the way, it’s nice to see you again too.” Kyle blew him a kiss, but his playfulness seemed like a thin veneer over a taut core of worry and anger.
“She’s telling the truth as far as she knows it, but what if there’s more going on here than she knows about? Even I don’t want a full-on war and I’m the crazy Donovan who gets bored enough to conjure sneaker waves and surf on them during lightning storms. What if she has a tracking spell on her?”
Kyle coughed drily.
“Right. There probably is more going on than she knows. That’s how the Agency operates.” Declan scratched his head. “But we may be okay. Elissa hugged her.”
Kyle leered, but it looked like an automatic response. “Yeah, and my brain went right to the fun bad place, seeing the pretty redhead hug the cute blonde, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“Elissa came to her full powers late, within the last year or so. I’m not sure what all she can do now. But she’s always had a lot of red magic and because of that, she’s touch activated. If there was a powerful spell on that girl, Elissa would know it, even if she couldn’t tell what it is, and since she said something about magical echoes, but no actual spells…”
“Either we’re okay or Elissa’s doing something sneaky, which probably means we’re okay too, but whoever she’s sneaking against isn’t.” Kyle hesitated. “Not that I know your cousin, but a red-haired woman being stealthy is dangerous, even if she’s not a witch.”
Declan nodded, not saying anything.
He was too busy staring at a point somewhere just past Kyle, trying not to stare at his lithe body, trying not to meet his brilliant dark-brown eyes.
Kyle had come back to Donovan’s Cove when he was in trouble, had come to him—not the rest of the family, but him. Declan hadn’t completely destroyed the trust between them when he’d forced Kyle away. And the otter’s restless energy and his aura—clouded, but streaked with the bright scarlet of desire—showed he still wanted Declan.
As Declan wanted him. Lord and Lady save them both. A refugee from the Agency dropped on their doorstep, Elissa and her husbands suddenly home with a child of unique and dangerous lineage, enemies possibly sniffing around their home—and all Deck could think about was grabbing Kyle’s wrists, dragging him into the garden shed and fucking him until they were both raw.
And then casting a spell on himself so he’d never send Kyle away again, no matter how scared he got.
He mentally shook himself out of images of hard cocks and tangled bodies. “Are you and the girl…involved?” He made himself say it, knowing as he did that Kyle could smell his desire and turmoil, or, failing that, at least pick up how hard it was to say the words, how little he wanted the answer. The way Kyle looked at the fragile blonde, touched her so protectively, spoke volumes. Hell, he’d tried to attack Elissa in her defense—not smart, but sincere.
Kyle shook his head. “I’m attracted, but Meaghan’s about this far from snapping…” he held up two fingers, almost touching, “…and by that I mean this far on the other side after she already snapped once. I pulled her out of the water after a suicide attempt. I honestly don’t know how she survived as long as she did. She’d been swept a long way and the cold should have killed her even if she didn’t drown.”
Then a strange look passed over Kyle’s face. “Meaghan smells like you, like the ocean’s part of her. Could she be a water witch as well as a seer?”
Something in Deck twisted. It shouldn’t bother him that this waif shared one of his powers, especially if it might have saved her life. But it did.
The water affinity was part of why he and Kyle connected.
“I didn’t look at her with witch-sight, but that would explain why she didn’t drown or die of hypothermia.” And she must be powerful too. He wouldn’t want to spend much time in the Pacific without his wet suit—the water magic would keep him alive, but he’d be damned cold—and the girl had neither body fat nor muscle to insulate her. “Water magic? I know you find that…attractive.” Powers, why was he jealous? He’d told Kyle he couldn’t have the kind of relationship Kyle wanted. If Kyle had moved on, that just made him smart.
Smarter than Deck, obviously.
Anger flared in Kyle’s dark eyes. “Trickster’s tits, Deck, she’s been in an Agency compound since she was little. I’m the first guy she’s ever met who wasn’t using her as a fucking lab experiment. Yeah, I’m intrigued, but I’m not going to go there. How the hell would she know if she’s really interested or if I just gain by comparison to sadistic Agency freaks?” He snorted. “She can’t even see my manly charms. She’s blind.”
But, demons and devas, Declan could see his manly charms. The short, dark-brown hair, as sleek and lush as his otterside’s pelt, dark eyes a man could drown in, cutting cheekbones, strong, lean body that quivered with erotic tension. He couldn’t see the well-muscled chest and back, the near-perfect abs, the angular lines on the sides of Kyle’s hips or the big uncut cock. But he knew those “manly charms” too. Knew them and had remembered them in explicit detail every moment he’d been alone, ever since he was fool enough to tell Kyle he needed time.
Kyle was one beautiful man. But that serious, thoughtful tone behind the flippancy so natural to an otter dual took him from beautiful to damn well irresistible.
With each step forward, Declan told himself no. But he kept walking. It didn’t help that Kyle met him halfway.
Declan froze at the last second. He’d rejected Kyle once, run like a rabbit from something he realized too late he wanted. Just because Kyle was still attracted didn’t mean he’d want to take the chance of being hurt again, especially not with the lovely, mysterious Meaghan depending on him.
But when he opened his arms in invitation, Kyle was in them, pressing his slender, sinuous body against Declan’s more solid one, drawing him down into a kiss.
Almost as soon as they touched—certainly as soon as their lips met—Declan’s cock snapped to awkward attention.
He needed. Lord and Lady, he needed. Something about Kyle made everything feel all right, made him feel like whatever challenges they faced, whatever the Agency might do, they’d be able to handle it.
He was pretty sure it wasn’t anything deep and metaphysical. He was on such a hormonal high that everything seemed like it was fine.
Kyle was in his arms, Kyle was kissing him, Kyle’s energy was caressing him everywhere and Kyle’s hands were doing their best to do the same. Declan slid his own hands down to cup the other man’s firm ass. With a muffled groan, Deck ground their crotches together. Arousal, sharp and hot and almost painful, shot through him.
Deck’s red magic was as squirrelly as his other powers, sometimes as erratic as a teenage virgin’s, sometimes nearly as strong as Elissa’s, though a lot more chaotic. Right now it was running so high the world turned red and crackled with energy, and they both had all their clothes on. Instinctively, he shunted the power the two of them were raising to strengthen Meaghan’s shields. The poor girl was almost as naked as a normy and more psychically open than his cousin Portia. At least Portia didn’t have seizures when she telepathically tapped into someone else’s thoughts.
Then Kyle’s hand snaked into his pants and Deck was glad that the red magic could do its thing without his brain involved now that he’d directed it, because his brain and his body both wanted to focus on Kyle.
It was all he could do not to start undressing in the garden, even though it was early summer in the Pacific Northwest, cool for naked shenanigans.
He’d forgotten that duals didn’t feel cold the way humans did—and otters spent a lot of time in the chilly waters of the Pacific.
When Kyle groped at the zipper of Deck’s jeans, Deck stopped feeling cold too.
“I think all the time about sucking you,” Kyle whispered, his voice harsh and throaty. “I dream about it. Even when I’m not wordside.”
Deck tried to find words for all the reasons this was a bad idea.
But with Kyle’s hands stroking his quivering dick, all Deck could say was, “Me too. I dream of your mouth and my cock. I just plain dream of you.”
Kyle grinned, his lips moist and red, his mouth a little toothy to be human. Then he sank to his knees—and he really sank, not the semi-awkward scramble or flop most humans would manage, as if Kyle surrendered fully to the moment without any thought for his knees exposed in board shorts, or possible rocks and mud—and released Deck fully from his jeans.
The air was chill on Deck’s newly bared skin, but Kyle’s mouth was hot. Dual hot, hotter than a human’s, and he used it like it had no purpose other than pleasuring Declan Donovan’s cock.
Before he lost his mind completely to sensation, Deck set up a quick-and-dirty keep-away spell on the area. Kids would decide they wanted to play somewhere else. Adults might guess why they had this urge to be anywhere but the back vegetable plot, but would respect the wish for privacy. Akane and the duals living with or visiting the family would be oblivious to the spell—it took a lot to magic a dual and even more to affect an immortal kitsune like Akane—but with any luck they were busy.
He felt the spell rise up, an earthen wall surrounding a waterspout.
Then he gave himself up to the wet heat of Kyle’s mouth.
Demons and devas, even Kyle leaning against him was erotic. Deck couldn’t remember ever being as aware of his partner’s energy as he was now, twining over his skin, caressing places Kyle’s mouth and hands couldn’t.
Kyle’s body was hot, and his mouth was hotter, but his energy was deliciously cool. Blue and brown, ocean and shore, calming the earth, containing the lightning, dancing with the water of Declan’s magic, balancing it. Kyle felt different from another water witch. The water energy wasn’t flowing through Kyle. It was him, on a very deep level. Water energy and a predatory yet playful force that had a vibrant color Deck couldn’t name.
Pleasure beat inside Deck. One hand cupped the back of Kyle’s head. Deck couldn’t help curling his fingers into Kyle’s dense hair, as if Kyle was his to control—which he suspected Kyle wanted at the moment, from the way he went so readily to his knees.
He thrust into Kyle’s mouth at the thought, unable to contain himself, and Kyle’s energy flared in joyful response.
With his other hand he gripped Kyle’s shoulder for balance, since all the blood seemed to be draining away from his brain. Even Kyle’s muscles moving under his long-sleeved tee-shirt added to Deck’s arousal, as if the palms of his hands had become an erogenous zone.
Kyle’s tongue teased at the slit of Deck’s cock. One hand fondled his balls just the way Deck liked. Then Kyle engulfed him, taking him deep. The muscles of his mouth and throat worked, his tongue lapped at Deck’s shaft.
And Kyle’s other hand worked between Deck’s cheeks so his fingers touched the puckered opening of his ass.
It was almost too much, after such a long time with nothing but dreams of this man. For a fleeting instant, Deck managed to focus on the flow of magic and energy between him and his playmate to prolong his pleasure.
Then that clever finger infiltrated his ass. Deck shot into Kyle’s mouth, unable to stop, unable to do anything but cry out something that he’d meant to be Kyle’s name, but didn’t sound like English or Gaelic.
Head swimming from the explosive force of the orgasm, Deck wobbled on his feet and wished he’d taken the time to get Kyle to his place, an unoccupied guesthouse or anywhere there was a bed.
Of course, if they’d taken that extra time, he might have talked himself out of the blowjob, and certainly out of what he did next.
Which was to draw Kyle to his feet and hold him close, glorying in the feel of Kyle’s energy surging over his skin.
Damn it, he was in love with Kyle. He was pretty sure it wouldn’t work out in the long run. Shouldn’t there have been magic dancing if he and Kyle were meant for each other? But having Kyle back, finally holding Kyle against him, touching him, even kissing the top of his head, made Deck feel contented and complete, instead of like the odd man out, the fuckup in his family.
This was a trap. Kyle didn’t mean it to be, but it would be. Deck would try to live up to Kyle’s expectations, like he used to try to live up to his family’s until he realized it was impossible. It might work better with Kyle because Kyle might think he was more than he was, but Kyle wasn’t expecting him to be fucking Superman.
Unlike his father, who was pretty much the magical equivalent of the Man of Steel, rigid standards, perfect abs and all, and who couldn’t figure out why Deck, of all his five kids, couldn’t live up to him.
He could hear Desmond Donovan in his head now, telling him he was being irresponsible, leading Kyle on, using Kyle, who wanted a real relationship, when all Deck could offer, until he got his magic balanced and his head screwed on straight, was a fling. He opened his mouth to apologize, though he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. But what came out of his mouth was, “My place. Now. Need to fuck you until I know I won’t send you away again and you know not to listen if I try.” Mixed in with the raging lust was a profound sense of relief that someone lost had come home.
He wasn’t sure if Kyle was the prodigal or he was.
Kyle said, “Do you have rope? Because if I’m not tied up, I’m not responsible for how much furniture I break. Not to mention skin. I’ve been craving this way too long, and you know otters get a little crazy during sex.”
Deck had been convinced he’d never see Kyle again, but he’d still ordered bondage rope off the Internet.
But when they walked into the huge, comfortably shabby former reception area of the Victorian hotel that had been converted to apartments for the single family members, they were forced into a change of plans.
Deck’s grandmother Roslyn was waiting for them, along with Elissa’s mom, Jan. Roslyn was hovering over Portia, the most powerful telepath in the Donovan family. Portia was even paler than usual and looked queasy, and Grandma Roz was obviously working some kind of magic to keep her from passing out. Meaghan was walking on her own, but she looked pretty shaky too. Everyone’s auras bristled.
Something bad was going on.
“I thought Meaghan was going to hang out with Elissa,” Deck said, knowing how lame he sounded.
“Change of plans,” Jan said briskly. “Elissa had left the baby with me, and when she brought Meaghan to see her, I figured I needed to see what was really going on. Best to take precautions when someone has a story like Meaghan’s.”
Of course. He should have anticipated this.
“Your friend’s telling the truth,” Portia said. Her voice was as pale and drawn as her face. “Meaghan’s been a prisoner of the Agency most of her life and the Agency’s been using her visions against Differents. They’d fed her some bullshit about helping duals and other Differents integrate into human society. She led them to Jude, but because of his connection to Elissa she finally saw what the Agency was doing and she’s been fighting as best she could ever since. She’s not sure how much she let them know about Jocelyn, and because her own memories are so foggy, I can’t tell either. She was willing to die to try to keep Jocelyn safe. But it may be too late.” She started to sway, then sat down abruptly on the nearest chair.
“Elissa says she senses Shaw’s magic lingering on Meaghan,” Elissa’s mother said, “Maybe some other sorcery as well. Meaghan agrees she wants it gone, so we’re going to lift it now, but we need help from both of you.”
“Me?” Kyle raised his eyebrows. “How can I help with magic, Ms. Donovan?” He smiled as he said it. Deck was very busy trying to maintain his game face and not let the dismay he felt at Aunt Jan’s words show, but he couldn’t help noticing that smile.
“We’ll need to break down Meaghan’s shields, and the ones Deck gave her, to clear the spell trace. Meaghan’s a seer, so this is going to be traumatic even inside the house protections and surrounded by well-shielded witches. She’ll panic. You’re the only person here the poor girl has known for more than ten minutes. You can anchor her.”
“How?” Kyle sounded concerned, but at the same time eager. Finally getting to do something heroic, Deck thought. Poor furry bastard would find out soon enough that heroism left marks.
“You look like a clever lad,” Grandma Roz said quietly, turning up her Irish accent, as she always did when she needed to charm someone of the female-fancying persuasion. Never mind that Roslyn was over a hundred, she had enough red magic that it worked every time. “You and the lady take a few minutes to talk it out. We witches have some prep work to do. Declan, you’re with us. We’ll be prepping for the ritual in the grove.”
Deck tried not to gape and failed. They knew his mind wandered during long rituals, and his combination of erratic powers didn’t exactly play well with others. Normally his relatives let him off the ritual-magic hook unless they were dealing with a violent lightning storm at sea or a tsunami—or, he supposed, a toaster that had fallen into a bathtub due to an earthquake. “What do you expect me to do?” He realized he was one eye-roll away from coming off like an exasperated teenager and tried, belatedly, to smile and sound less sullen.
She shot him a blue-eyed look that was half glare and half approbation, the kind of look only an Irish grandmother could pull off properly. “Meaghan has water powers as well as precognition, but the water magic’s locked down with a sorcerous spell. Right now, you’re the only water witch available, and she’ll need you to ease her through having that magic awakened after so long.”
Had his grandmother lost her mind? And Jan was nodding like she thought it was a great idea. “Are you sure…”
His grandmother couldn’t read thoughts—thankfully—but from the look she gave him, she didn’t need magic to know what he was about to say. “Don’t start arguing with me, lad. The only other grown water witch at home right now is Portia. I’m not putting her in a circle with an unshielded seer with repressed memories. It has to be you.”
No, no and no. The lightning power behaved so unpredictably when other magic was bouncing around. He mostly knew what to do when the lightning collided with familiar Donovan magic, but Meaghan had nasty sorcerous spells on her. What if the power decided it wanted to play and he couldn’t stop it? “Heather can work circles around me.”
“Dispelling dark sorcery is no task for a witch of thirteen, even one as competent as Heather,” his grandmother said.
Did he have to spell it out? He’d rather not be so blunt with Kyle listening—not to mention poor Meaghan, who had to be scared enough without knowing one of her would-be saviors wasn’t up for the job. But he was not going to risk a magical clusterfuck if there was any way to avoid it. “I don’t trust my control around sorcery. Meaghan has enough problems without being struck by lightning indoors.”
Roslyn sighed heavily. “Get over your fears and step up. It pays to be cautious with wilder magic like yours, but you’ve never hurt another person and I doubt you’ll start now. You’re not getting out of being a Donovan this time. And you might as well get used to working with the lass. Someone needs to teach her to use that water magic once she gets it back.”
“Oh shit,” Deck mouthed at Kyle as the relatives led him away.