5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Zeke
What the fuck was I doing, letting him get that close to me?
I’d known for a couple of weeks what he was, although I’d tried so fucking hard to ignore the attraction I felt towards him. It had started in Italy when I’d seen his picture. A feeling of familiarity as if my demon recognised him from the off.
It’d tried to tell me Rory was special, that he would become something to me, and as much as I’d tried to reject it, the past week had only cemented in my mind what Rory Tushingham-Smthye was to me.
He was my fucking mate!
The more I tried to deny it, the stronger the attraction became until tonight. I’d sat on the bike and let him come to me. The scent of his arousal had filled my nose. How I’d wanted to pull him to me and kiss his lips.
He looked so much better in person: glowing skin, hair I wanted to run my fingers through, and a smile that sucked me in.
But that was stupid. I wasn’t here to fuck him; I was here to observe, then take my money and run.
Each and every report I’d made to Ernesto said the same thing.
He went to work. He came home and spent the evening with his daughter. There was nothing more to tell. It was the easiest money I’d ever made.
Ernesto hadn’t believed me, but that was no surprise. His thoughts on his son-in-law had been made clear. He thought I was screwing him over to get my hands on the money. Sure, I wanted it, but a liar, I wasn’t. Contrary to belief, I also wasn’t a thief.
“I’ll send more men. They will tell me the truth.” He’d insisted. It was his money. He could do what the fuck he wanted with it, and I’d told him so. But I also told him if he thought he could stiff me out of a million euros, he had another think coming.
I was doing the job he asked me to, and I’d earned that money fair and square.
As much as I’d tried to deny the attraction to Rory, I now understood the pressure Mal had been under when he’d met Jason. He’d become irritable, more so than usual, and he’d been willing to protect Jason with his life.
I was at war with myself, torn between staying here and doing what my demon wanted, or denying him and riding back to my home. If I were to get the money I wanted, I’d have to ignore my demon’s demands.
He wouldn’t be happy about it, and how long I could disregard him I didn’t know. I’d need to speak to someone. Dad or Mal, it didn’t matter which.
All I knew was that I didn’t want a mate. I had no time for one, nor did I want to be tied down for the rest of my life with that millstone around my neck.
The moment I left Rory, my demon howled his displeasure. It was the first time we’d ever been at odds. Both of us were usually happy with how things went, but since seeing Rory, he’d become increasingly agitated.
Fuck what he thought. He wasn’t the boss of me. Except he was, and we both knew it.
After almost running Rory over, I rode home, leaving him to stare after me. I knew he felt the pull too. Identifying mates happened differently with us all.
Mal knew it before Jason had. In fact, Mal had to tell Jason. He’d been so stuck in a rut since losing his husband a couple of years before. He’d approached me about resurrecting his husband, Kieran, but fate and Mal had intervened.
And now I thought about it, how weird that both Mal and I were fated to widowers?
The universe was no doubt fucking with us both. At least we’d have something in common.
Fuck. The hell I wanted a mate. I’d deny it until my dying day.
By the time I arrived home, my demon was fighting for release. I’d contained him in the week I’d been in London, but he would no longer be shackled.
It felt as if he were battering me from the inside, pummelling every organ. He’d never been so vocal in his outrage.
I threw open the doors to the balcony and stepped onto it, stripping away my clothing. First my jacket, then my shirt, the cool night air soothing my burning skin.
Desperate for release, my demon form burst forth before I’d had a chance to remove my trousers, tearing them to shreds.
“Ok, you bastard. Just calm the fuck down,” I growled at him. “Give me a minute.”
But he refused to wait.
Usually, the transformation from human to demon took a minute or two, not the thirty seconds this was taking.
My body shook with the effort as thick grey horns erupted from my head.
Usually painless, this time it hurt like a bitch, bringing a tear to my eyes.
I squeezed them shut, grimacing through the agony he wrought.
No doubt my demon decided to give me shit for ignoring him for so long.
The release of my wings was no less brutal, bursting from my back. While Mal’s were leathery in appearance, mine were feathers, but instead of white, they were grey flecked with black. The tips were just inches from the floor.
I shuddered and shook them out, the pain finally dissipating. It had definitely been far too long. I relaxed my shoulders and rolled my neck, attempting to release the tension.
With the worst of it out of the way, I stared at my reflection in the window. I’d grown another five inches and added at least another thirty pounds of defined muscle.
Last but not least was the thing I hated the most—my tail.
Mal didn’t have one. I’d drawn the short straw and favoured Dad in that respect.
Grey with black stripes, it sprouted from the base of my spine. Thick scales coated the long, whiplike appendage, ending at a point.
It slithered around my legs like a snake with a mind of its own. Why did I loathe it so much? Perhaps it had always seemed more of a hindrance than a help.
At this point, my demon was pissed, urging me to fly. I checked my surroundings. There were plenty of windows facing my way, but luck had intervened for once, and as the sun had set, it was now dark enough to take flight without being noticed.
I hopped onto the rail, several stories above the ground. I wasn’t scared of falling, confident in my agility. I launched myself off the balcony and shot straight up, not wanting to be spotted. It was risky, I knew, but I didn’t have time to drive back home where I’d be safe.
There was still a chance I could be spotted despite the clouds obscuring the moon, but it was a chance I was willing to take to appease my grumpy demon.
Even though he didn’t speak, his disjointed thoughts linked with my own.
“Mate. Ours. Mine.”
“He’s not ours. Not our mate,” I said in my head, even though I knew it was a lie. I didn’t have time for a fucking mate.
“You must mate.” His low, gravelly voice sounded inside my head.
I should go out and fuck someone. That would shut the demon up, and I vowed to hit some bars when we got back and find a willing participant to drive away the incessant thoughts of Rory that had invaded my head since seeing him.
Fuck knew I’d tried to drive them from my brain with little to no success.
The demon’s thoughts faded into the background as I concentrated on my flight path and not being spotted.
I made my way to Buckingham Palace and the surrounding gardens.
Despite it being one of the most protected areas of London, with the king in residence elsewhere, I managed to land undetected on the lush lawn.
A light rain fell, cooling my scorching skin. I ran hot when in demon form. I tucked away my wings and lay on my back on the grass, looking up at the moon. What the fuck was I going to do now?
Before, I’d been able to tamp down my demon, but the more time we’d spent watching Rory, the more insistent he’d become.
I knew a little of matings. They could be rejected if one or other of the parties so wished. Would Rory know what was going on? The pull he felt could be explained away as infatuation. For a demon, it was a little more difficult.
It would require me to ignore him. To stay away, but with a million euros at stake, could I actually do that?
Money had always been important to me, but more important than a mate? We’d find out soon enough.
“Hey, who’s there?” I heard the voice before I saw the light heading my way. Time to fly.
I scurried into the trees and clambered up the nearest one. It’d be easier to leave without being noticed this way than spreading my wings and leaping into the sky.
Silently and swiftly, I unfurled my wings and flew into the night, back to my apartment.
My clothes lay where I’d shed them. That goddamn demon had ruined my best leathers, and I cursed him for his impatience.
Usually, he’d retreat into the recess of my mind until the next time I called him forth, but this evening, he refused to go, saying a word in my head repeatedly.
“Mate. Mate. Mate.”
I pounded my temples with the heels of my hands, hoping he’d shut the fuck up, but he continued. Physically, I retracted my horns, tail and wings and returned to my normal size, but the incessant chant drove me to distraction.
How the fuck did I stop this?
I wouldn’t let the bastard win.
There was only one way to win, and that was to find someone—anyone—to quieten the beast inside of me.
Thirty minutes later, I was in Soho, a double shot of whisky in front of me. I scanned the room, looking for anyone to help me drown him out.
No one caught my eye. A long-haired brunette licked her lips and slowly parted her legs, showing me what was on offer.
But it did nothing for me. My eyes tracked a knockout blonde, but she was the wrong sex. I wanted a man, and not just anyone.
They had to be the polar opposite of Rory. And there he was, strolling towards me, his eyebrow piercing glinting in the dim light of the bar, tattoos covering his muscled arms. He was attractive, I’d give him that, but he was so far removed from Rory he’d surely make me forget he ever existed.
“You looking for me?” He sat next to me at the bar, picked up my glass, and knocked back the whisky I’d been nursing for the last half an hour. I signalled to the bartender for a refill and an extra glass. I could forgive him once, but he wouldn’t do it again.
“Maybe?” I took a swig from the fresh glass before me, the strong liquor burning a path to my stomach, and turned it over.
“Why don’t you meet me out back?” And with that, he drank the shot of whisky and stood. He walked towards the back of the bar, pushed open a door, and stepped through it.
I sat there. Could I be bothered? But then my demon howled.
“Shut the fuck up,” I whispered.
“What did you just say?” The barman looked at me, wide-eyed.
“Sorry, not you.”
That cinched it. I hopped off the bar stool and pushed open the door the guy had walked through.
He stood with his back against a wall, a cigarette in his mouth.
“Took you long enough.”
No time for words. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a rough kiss. The taste of my whisky lingered on his lips. I forced my tongue inside his mouth, my teeth clashing with his.
He grabbed the front of my jacket, keeping me there while his tongue invaded my mouth. I forced my knee between his legs and kicked them apart, then grabbed him with my free hand, his hard dick filling it.
I squeezed and swallowed his groan as his legs buckled beneath him.
Our breaths sounded loud in the deserted alleyway. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d fucked someone in such unsanitary conditions, an overloaded dumpster to one side, a pool of vomit on the other.
This would be a quick and dirty fuck. It didn’t need to mean anything.
Except pain shot through my head, and I crumpled to the floor, my knees banging on the hard ground.
“What the fuck?” I shouted.
“Are you all right, mate?” the guy asked, all bravado gone.
“Do I look all right?” Another jolt hit me. It felt as if my head was splitting in two as the pain radiated through my body.
“I’ll call an ambulance.” He frantically searched his pockets for his phone.
“No! I’ll be fine.” I knew the cause of this, and a low rumble reverberated in my chest. Fucking demon.
He was doing this. Well, he wouldn’t be happy when we went cold turkey, and I stopped going to see Rory. Let Ernesto’s men do the rest of the dirty work. I was done.
I didn’t want a mate. Never had done, never would.
“You win.” I finally stood.
“Win what?” What was he still doing here? But to his credit, he looked worried.
“Nothing. Just having one of those nights.” I dug around in my pocket and found a twenty-pound note. I threw it at him. “For your trouble.”
“I’d have preferred a fuck, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.” He tucked the money into his jeans and walked back into the bar, leaving me against the wall, trying to get my balance.
Luckily, I’d walked tonight and not taken the bike. I didn’t fancy riding home in this state, but it was all I could do to make my way back to the apartment.
I didn’t look out of place as I stumbled down the road, people avoiding me, probably thinking I was drunk or drugged up.
By the time I arrived home, the pain was manageable but still there, pounding away.
I let myself in and threw myself onto the sofa, covering my eyes with my arm. What the fuck was I going to do now?
That plan had backfired spectacularly. There was only one thing for it. I peered at my phone and dialled the only person I could think of who could help me.
He answered straight away.
“Mal. I need your help.”