Binding Santos

Santos is a demon, enjoying life as a bachelor and
the  body  of  any  male  that  strikes  his  fancy.  But
one kiss to Tyron’s lips and he becomes obsessed
with the little gargoyle. They strike a deal. Tyron
will give him one night of passion in exchange for
information his tribe needs. But before the deal is
done, the gargoyle’s conscience kicks in and Tyron
reveals  that  they’re  mates  and  that’s  why  Santos
can’t  stop  thinking  about  him.  Scoffing  at  the
ridiculous notion, after all, demons don’t mate like
gargoyles  do,  Santos  insists  on  fulfilling  their
bargain.

Imagine his surprise when the Demon

Coalition,  the  ruling  body  of  demons,  kidnaps
Tyron, claiming Santos has started an unapproved
binding  with  the  gargoyle.  Santos  is  told  their
bond  must  be  broken.  Now  he  has  a  choice,  but
how  can  Santos  decide  between  his  own
execution,  which  would  free  Tyron,  or  allowing
the  Coalition  to  sacrifice  the  honorable  gargoyle
he’s infatuated with?

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Binding Santos

ISBN:

978-1-55487-932-8

Cover art by Martine Jardin

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Binding Santos

Gargoyles of Cuchulian Three

Charlie Richards

Chapter One

antos stared across the room at Tyron. It’d been
nearly two weeks since he’d seen the small

gargoyle at a BBQ hosted by the Cuchulian clan’s
Huzza.  He’d  removed  a  rogue  demoness  who’d
been  after  one  of  the  clan-member’s  mates.  He’d
met  Tyron  there  and  had  been  unable  to  get  the
gargoyle  out  of  his  mind.  The  demon  knew  he’d
walked  by  this  coffee  shop  a  million  times,  but
had never been inside. This time, something drew
his  attention  to  the  place.  Santos  ordered  a  large
macchiato  and  wandered  into  the  attached  cyber
café. That’s when he spotted Tyron.

Santos eased into a seat out of the gargoyle’s

direct line of sight, but he needn’t have bothered.
Tyron’s  focus  remained  on  the  laptop  in  front  of
him. Every once in a while he absently sipped the
coffee  beside  him.  Santos’s  gaze  swept  over  the
gargoyle’s  human  form.  His  lean  but  muscular
body  relaxed  in  a  chair,  blond  hair  flopped  over
blue eyes focused on his laptop screen, and  long,
slender fingers slid over the keys.

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Santos bit back a grunt as a wave of jealousy hit

him.  He  wanted  those  hands  on  him,  not  the
damn  computer.  Irritation  swept  through  him.
The  gargoyle  looked  so  relaxed  while  tension
filled  the  demon’s  body.  One  kiss.  One  fucking
kiss  and  Santos  couldn’t  stop  thinking  about
Tyron. If he could get his dick in the smaller man’s
ass, he could get the gargoyle out of his system.

Yeah. That’s what I need. Santos just needed to

fuck Tyron and get it over with. No one had ever
truly interested him for more than a couple
rounds. The gargoyle would be no different.

Rising from his seat, Santos sauntered toward

Tyron. A glance at the monitor as he rounded the
table told Santos that the gargoyle researched
demons. Well, well, not so unaffected as he appears.
Good.

Uninvited, Santos eased into the chair closest to

Tyron and rested his hand on the man’s thigh.
“You know, all you need to do is ask, and I’d be
happy to tell you anything you want about
demons,” Santos purred, leaning toward Tyron.

The fact that the gargoyle didn’t even flinch

when  Santos  touched  him  told  the  demon  much.
Like  Tyron  had  been  aware  he  approached.  And
he  didn’t  mind  expressing  his  sexual  interest  for
another male in such a public place.

“Yes, but how do I know you’d answer

truthfully, Santos,” Tyron responded. After taking

Binding Santos

off his glasses, the gargoyle shifted his gaze to the
demon. His blue eyes bore into his own. “Demons
aren’t known for their honesty.”

Tyron’s soft voice swept over Santos’s senses

like a caress, and his cock went from semi erect to
painfully hard in three seconds. “Then perhaps we
shouldn’t bother talking at all,” he replied silkily.
Santos slid his hand up Tyron’s thigh, rubbing
over the man’s cargo shorts covered leg, and
squeezed the gargoyle’s shaft. It hardened beneath
his fingers. Tyron sucked in a breath as he spread
his legs wider and leaned back.

“Or how about a trade?” Tyron murmured,

allowing his hips to thrust up, showing Santos
how much he liked his touch.

He felt pressure on his own cock and glanced

down in surprise. A pale green tail curled between
his  thighs  and  rubbed  the  hard  length  of  his
erection  through  his  jeans.  Grinning,  Santos
allowed  his black  eyes  to  flash  red  before  getting
his  lust  back  under  control.  “Mmmm,  nice. What
is it you want to trade?”

Tyron’s grin felt like a punch in the gut. It

transformed his handsome face into a stunning
work of art. “I can smell your desire, Santos. You
want me. You got me. If you tell me about
Leeching.”

Santos’s hand paused in its massage, and he felt

his face pale. “That subject isn’t open for

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discussion.”

The grin never faded. Instead it seemed to

ratchet up a notch. Tyron shrugged. “Then tell me
what demons had to do with The Dispersal.”

“Fuck, you pick tough subjects, pet,” Santos

muttered. But damn, did that tail feel good on his
cock.  What  would  the  leathery  skin  feel  like  if  it
stroked  him  without  the  barrier  of  material?  The
thought  almost  had  him  coming  in  his  jeans.  He
let out a painful grunt as he fought to control the
tingle  in  his  balls.  Santos  knew  he  couldn’t  say
anything  about  Leeching.  The  Demon  Coalition,
the  ruling  body  of  demons,  would  Leech  him  if
Santos  told  anyone  how  to  drain  a  demons
powers.  It  was  forbidden.  And  old  and  powerful
though he may be, Santos was still subject to them.
But  The  Dispersal…well,  if  he  could  get  Tyron’s
word  that  the  information  would  never  be  used
against a demon, then he could tell a little about it.

Santos let a wicked grin split his lips, his teeth

lengthening slightly as his control over his human
guise slipped due to the lust he felt for the man
next to him. “We have an accord.” Lifting his hand
from Tyron’s cock, his held it out.

Tyron took it quickly and gave it a squeeze.

Santos  felt  the  tingle  of  a  binding  agreement
shiver  up  his  arm.  No  getting  out  of  this  now,
which meant Tyron was all his. Tyron released his
hand,  and  before  Santos  could  move,  the  lithe

Binding Santos

gargoyle straddled his hips. Santos growled low in
his throat as the object of his lust rocked their
cocks together.

“There is something you need to know before

we consummate

this agreement,” Tyron

whispered.

“Time for talk is done,” Santos growled, caring

only for the promise of sex with this man. He saw
Tyron  open  his  mouth  to  protest.  Leaning
forward, Santos closed the gap between them and
sealed  his  lips  over  Tyron’s.  His  tongue  pushed
into  the  smaller  man’s  mouth  and  plundered,
mapping  the  man,  tasting  his  essence.  Power
tempered  by  self-control,  kindness  coupled  with
responsibility,  desire  wrapped  in  restraint,  and
spicy male musk assaulted his senses. He cupped
the man’s face, and using a thumb, pressed at the
corner  of  his  mouth.  Tyron  opened  wider  in
response, allowing Santos more access.

Not enough, his mind and body growled

simultaneously.  More.  Need  more.  Need  everything.
Digging  deep  into  the  recesses  of  the  earth’s
power, he snapped them both along a lei line and
hurtled  them  into  his  penthouse  suite.  Santos
landed  in  a  deep  armchair.  The  gargoyle  leaped
from his lap, his wings unfurling, tearing through
his  shirt,  as  he  morphed  into  his  true  gargoyle
form.  A  crown  of  seven  black  horns  rimmed  the
ridge  above  his  blue  eyes  and  down  toward  his

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now pointed ears. His pale skin darkened slightly
into a light mottled green and his t-shirt pulled
tight over thickening muscles and skin. He kicked
out of his shoes before his talons shredded the
leather loafers he wore.

“Where the hell am I?” he growled.
Santos grinned, letting go of his own guise,

revealing deep red skin and short, curved black
horns that jutted from his temples. “My home. As
much as I enjoy a little exhibitionism, I figured
neither of us wanted to allow the humans to arrest
us for public indecency, because when I fuck you,
neither of us will be wearing any clothes.”

At that, Tyron shook his head. “Well, you

managed to leave my laptop and glasses behind. I
kinda need both.”

Confusion flooded Santos until he remembered

the deep self-control and responsibility he’d felt in
the gargoyle. “Of course.” Closing his eyes, Santos
reached back along the path they’d come and felt
for anything tagged with Tyron’s essence. He felt
a third item and realized it was a coffee. Grabbing
all of them with his mind, he brought them to him,
using his thoughts to make them appear on the
coffee table. Santos pointed and smiled. “Better?”

Tyron strode toward them and scraped his

short  talons  over  the  items,  as  if  convincing
himself  that  they  were  real.  After  a  second,  he
turned  to  Santos  and  gave  him  that  one  hundred

Binding Santos

watt smile again. “Much.” But when Santos
started toward him, he held up a hand. “Wait.”

The demon ignored the word and pulled his

soon-to-be lover into his arms. “Don’t want to.”

“Do you want to be bound to me?”
The question caught Santos off guard. He knew

demons  that  believed  they’d  found  their  other
halves,  their  bindling,  and  bound  themselves  to
one  partner,  sharing  thoughts  and  feelings,
remaining  faithful  for  as  long  as  they  both  lived.
He’d never considered doing it himself even in all
the  centuries  he’d  lived.  “What?”  His  confusion
evident in that one word.

Tyron carefully extricated himself from Santos’s

embrace,  and  this  time  the  demon  let  him  go.  “I
thought  about  letting  you  go  through  with  the
bargain  without  telling  you,  but  I  can’t.  It  would
be wrong.”

“What are you talking about?”
Tyron’s smile turned sad, and Santos started to

reach  for  him  again,  wanting  to  do  anything  to
remove  the  sadness  from  the  gargoyle’s  eyes.
Tyron’s  words  stalled  his  attempt.  “I  just  wanted
you  to  know  what  you’d  be  getting  into  if  you
have  sex  with  me.  You’re  my  mate,  Santos.  I
realized  it  the first  time  I  kissed  you. Having  sex
with  me  may  consummate  that  mating.  I  read
about demon bonding on-line. It sounded similar
to  a  gargoyle’s  mating.  I’ll  be  compelled  to  bite

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you. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself. I just
wanted to warn you that if we do this, you may
end up only being able to perform with me.”

Santos’s mind froze for thirty very long,

agonizing seconds before the denials started
coming.

Binding Santos

Chapter Two

yron watched disbelief fill the red irises of the
demon’s eyes. He didn’t think Santos would

believe him, but he’d had to try. How a centuries
plus demon couldn’t recognize his own mate was
beyond Tyron. Whatever. Soon Santos would
figure it out.

Another thought gave him pause. What if

mating  was  a  choice  with  demons?  God,  that
would  suck.  Nothing  for  it  though.  His  leader,
Maximus,  needed  the  information  Santos  could
give  him  about  The  Dispersal.  And  there  was  no
way  Tyron  would  pass  up  getting  fucked  by  the
sexy demon.

Then he felt Santos’s arms slide around him, his

hands landing on his ass and pulling him against a
hard, well-muscled chest. Damn, that felt good.
“Demons don’t mate like other creatures, pet.
We’ll both be fine.”

The demon’s lips sealed over Tyron’s, and as

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Santos  plundered  his  mouth,  his  thoughts
scattered.  Besides,  what  was  the  point  of  arguing
about  it  when  they  both  wanted  the  same  thing?
He’d deal with the repercussions later. Much later,
he  decided,  as  he  rubbed  his  aching  cock  against
the  bigger  man’s  thigh.  The  answering  thickness
pushing  against  his  stomach  made  his  mouth
water.

Breaking the kiss, Tyron dropped to his knees

and reached for the button on the demon’s pants.
He  glanced  up,  asking  permission  with  his  eyes.
Santos’s  smile  turned  feral,  and  he  dropped  his
hands  to  Tyron’s  shoulders,  squeezing  gently.
Easing  open  the  button  of  Santos’s  jeans,  he
reached in and pulled out the large piece of meat
he’d been massaging with his tail.

The demon’s cock jumped in his hands. He

wrapped his fingers tightly around Santos’s hard-
as-nails  dick,  stroking  slowly, learning  his mate’s
length  and  girth.  Ten  inches  of  glorious,  thick,
heavily  veined  flesh  filled  his  hand.  He  could
barely  get  his  fingers  all  the  way  around  it.  His
asshole  fluttered  as  he  anticipated  having  the
demon’s massive length buried inside him. Desire
filled him with excitement, but first, he needed to
taste the demon.

He moved his head forward and slid his tongue

from root to tip, enjoying the smooth skin and
salty sweat of the creature in front of him.

Binding Santos

Reaching  the  broad  flat  head,  engorged  with
blood,  Tyron  slid  his  tongue  into  the  slit  and
pulled a large drop of pre-cum into his mouth. He
heard  Santos’s  grunt  of  pleasure  just  as  Tyron
moaned his enjoyment at the spicy, tangy taste of
his mate.

Unable to hold back any longer, Tyron

wrapped  his  lips  around  Santos’s  red-skinned
shaft and slid all the way down, carefully twisting
his head to keep his horns out of the way. He had
to  open  his  throat  to  take  all  of  the  demon’s
length, and he silently thanked eighty-seven years
of  practice.  Caressing  the  throbbing  vein  running
the underside of Santos’s cock, he sucked hard as
he drew his head back up.

“Tyron!”
Santos growled his name, making Tyron smile.

Santos  grabbed  two  of  his  horns  and  pleasure
exploded  through  Tyron’s  system.  The  tingles
went  straight  to  his  cock,  making  his  rock  hard
shaft  twitch  and  jerk  in  his  cargo  shorts  as beads
of  pre-cum  soaked  his  boxers.  It  wasn’t  often  he
found a partner willing to touch his horns, but, oh,
the sensations it caused was well worth the search.
To  have  Santos  do  it,  without  asking,  fulfilled  a
deep  longing  inside  Tyron  that  he  didn’t  even
know he’d had.

Santos used his grip on Tyron’s horns to tilt his

head up, allowing the demon’s red eyed gaze to

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stare down at him as he held him steady. His mate
started thrusting his red dick in and out of Tyron’s
mouth,  lust  clearly written  on  Santos’s  face  as  he
used  Tyron’s  mouth  for  his  pleasure.  Tyron
opened  his  throat  and  took  everything  Santos
threw  at  him.  He  sucked  hard  on  the  thick  cock
filling  his  mouth,  sliding  his  tongue  along  the
throbbing  vein  and  dipping  the  tip  of  his  tongue
into  the  slit  whenever  he  could.  He  was  never
disappointed, always able to pull a large dollop of
cream from the demon.

Santos’s breathing increased, along with the

speed  of  his  thrusts.  The  demon  began  caressing
the horns in his hands, sliding his palms from root
to  tip  and  back  again  as  he  thrust  his  hips  in
counterpoint.  The  sensations  sent  jolts  of  pure
pleasure through Tyron’s system, centering in his
cock, and he thought he’d explode right then.  He
gripped Santos’s hip tightly for purchase with one
hand  and  quickly  scrabbled  with  the  button  and
zipper  of  his  slacks  with  the  other.  He  barely
managed  to  get  them  open,  freeing  his  straining
erection from his pants and boxers when, without
warning,  Santos  threw  his  head back  and  roared.
As a stream of tangy cum hit the back of Tyron’s
throat,  Santos  squeezed  the  horns  he  held.  The
grip transferred straight to his shaft and the head
of  his  cock  exploded,  streams  of  seed  bursting
from his dick.

Binding Santos

Tyron happily swallowed down everything

Santos  gave  him  as  waves  of  ecstasy  flowed
through  him  in  time  with  the  pulses  thrumming
through his shaft. As he licked Santos’s dick clean,
he felt soft caresses  on his horns, sending shivers
down his spine. His cock jerked, sending one more
stream onto the floor in front of him.

Santos pulled his semi-hard cock from Tyron’s

mouth and released his horns. He couldn’t help it.
He mewled at the loss. He loved his mate’s hands
on his horns and couldn’t wait to feel them on his
dick.  Santos  grinned,  showing  off  sharper  than
normal  teeth,  and  pulled  Tyron  to  his  feet.  He
slanted  his  lips  over  Tyron’s  mouth  in  a  brutal,
claiming kiss, sliding his tongue deep into Tyron’s
mouth,  just  as  he’d  done  with  his  cock  seconds
before.

“Mmmm, I taste good on you,” Santos

murmured, breaking the kiss. “Come with me.”

Seconds later, Tyron found himself in a large,

airy bedroom. Floor to ceiling windows lined one
wall, spilling bright sunlight into every corner of
the room. The light revealed a dark mahogany bed
draped in deep red quilts and pillows. A matching
dresser and pair of nightstands completed the
furniture, giving it a dark, masculine feel.

“There’s something about fucking out in the

open I just can’t resist,” the demon crooned,
drawing Tyron toward the windows.

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He allowed Santos to position him against the

glass, facing the wide blue sky and shorter condo
buildings.  With  Tyron’s  hands  splayed  on  the
glass,  Santos  stood  behind  him  and  wrapped  his
arms  around  Tyron,  unbuttoning  his  shirt  with
quick,  sure  movements.  Seconds  later,  Santos
maneuvered  his  shirt  from  him,  revealing  a
slender, hairless, pale green chest. His pants were
removed  next,  leaving  him  naked  in  front  of  the
window.

“I told you I’m a bit of an exhibitionist,” Santos

whispered  in  his  ear,  sending  a  shiver  through
him as goose bumps rose on his leathery skin. Soft
caresses  drifted  down  his  spine,  around  his hips,
and  down  the  crease  of  his  groin.  Tyron’s  cock
jumped, desperate for touch, but Santos ignored it.
Instead he cupped and rolled Tyron’s balls in one
hand while the other traced the ridges of Tyron’s
six pack. “The idea of someone watching me take
you  excites  me  almost  as  much  as  seeing  you
splayed  out  against  my  window,  waiting  for  my
shaft to split you wide open.”

Santos’s words had Tyron’s cock thickening

further, and he knew if he looked down, he’d see
himself standing at the ready again, a pearl of pre-
cum  glistening  on  his  head.  Instead  he  kept  his
gaze  focused  on  the  image  reflected  in  the
window.  He  shifted  his  stance  wider  and  thrust
his  ass  out,  searching  for  contact  behind  him.  He

Binding Santos

wasn’t disappointed. Tyron felt the head of
Santos’s shaft rub along his crack.

“You like that idea, don’t you, gargoyle?”

Santos  hissed,  rubbing  his  cock  more  firmly
against  Tyron.  Like  him,  the  demon’s  dick  was
already  standing  hard  and  ready  for  round  two,
leaking  pre-cum  along  the  small  of  his  back  and
into the crack of his ass.

“Yes,” Tyron groaned, rocking his hips

backward,  encouraging  Santos’s  touches.  “I  want
you  to  take  me  here,  now,  where  anyone  could
see.”  And  he  did.  He  couldn’t  think  of  anything
better than showing everyone who cared to watch
that  he  was  Santos’s  mate,  even  if  the  demon
didn’t realize it yet.

“Good. Brace yourself,” the demon ordered.
Tyron obeyed. He heard Santos spit into his

palm, and then felt the blunt head of the demon’s
cock  at  his  entrance.  He  pushed  out  as  Santos
pushed  in,  and  the  head  of  that  massive  shaft
popped  into  his  ass.  But  Santos  didn’t  stop.  The
demon  continued  to  thrust  forward,  slow  and
steady,  forcing  his  way  further  and  further  into
Tyron’s rectum. Tyron relished the burn, loved the
feeling  of  his  mate  taking  him  hard  and  forceful.
He canted his hips, allowing Santos to push a little
bit  deeper,  fill  him  up  just  a  little  bit  more.  He
couldn’t remember anything feeling so good.

The weight of the demon behind him pressed

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him  against  the  warm  glass  in  front  of  him,  and
Tyron’s dick smeared copious amount of pre-cum
on  the  glass.  Once  finally  seated,  the  demon
stopped, pinning him there, making him wait. He
could feel the demon plastered along his back and
legs as he locked him in place with his body and
dick.  He  started  tiny  shallow  thrusts.  The  slight,
glancing  blows  along  his  prostate  making  him
tremble underneath the demon.

“Oh, yes, gargoyle. This is how I like you.

Spread out so the world can see what a slut you
are for me. Your hard cock, tall and thick, pressed
against the glass. Your body trembling as I bury
my dick in you and take my pleasure. You wait for
me to give you what you need. I am in control and
can do what I want with you.”

The demon’s commanding voice sent pleasure,

need,  and  contentment  in  equal  measure
cascading  through  Tyron.  “Yesss,”  he  hissed,  his
head  twisted  awkwardly  to  the  side  to
accommodate  the  demon’s  heavy  body  pressing
behind  him,  the  unyielding  glass  in front  of  him,
and his horns. “I am yours to do with as you will,”
he  said, knowing  his words  were  more  true  than
the  demon  realized.  After  today,  he’d  want  no
other  and  could  only  pray  Santos  would  feel  the
same.

The demon’s hands caressed his sides, then slid

down to caress his ass, pulling his cheeks apart to

Binding Santos

give  Santos  the  ability  to  plunge  his  ever
increasing  strokes  deeper.  Santos’s  hot  breath
caressed  his  cheek,  then  the  back  of  his  neck.
Those talented lips latched onto his nape, pulling
up a mark.

Joy filled Tyron that Santos wanted to mark

him. It might not be a bite, but it was something.
His cock pulsed at the feelings rocking through his
body,  and  he  knew  he  wasn’t  long  in  coming,
feeling amazed that he could get off so easily with
his  mate.  And  then  Santos  lifted  one  hand  to
Tyron’s  temple,  his  fingertips  teasing  where  his
horns met skull. It was too much. His body started
vibrating as Tyron fought for control.

“Come for me, Tyron,” Santos ordered, barely

lifting his lips from where they continued to suck,
sending tendrils of pleasure down his spine to his
balls, making them draw ever tighter to his body.

Tyron roared as his orgasm pulsed through

him.  His  canines  lengthened  further,  and  he
twisted  in  Santos’s  grip.  Finding  the  demon’s
neck,  he  struck,  sinking  his  teeth  deeply  into  his
mate. Santos threw his head back and howled his
own  release.  As  Tyron  drank  Santos’s  blood,  he
felt the demon’s cock pulse even larger as hot cum
splashed inside him, filling his hole.

He released his mate’s neck, licking the bite

clean. He leaned his head on the glass and smiled,
letting the waves of pleasure from his orgasm

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carry him for several minutes.

“Holy fuck,” he heard Santos whisper against

his neck.

“Definitely,” he replied, loving that he’d blown

the centuries old demon away.

Seconds later, he felt his mate’s shaft slide from

his body. Then the demon turned him around and
claimed Tyron’s mouth in a mind-numbing kiss.
When he broke it, both of them were breathing
heavy again, and Tyron could feel his cock making
a valiant effort to ready for another round.

Santos chuckled and shook his head. “Rest

first,” he said, pulling Tyron toward the bed. “Lay
down.”  He  eased  under  the  covers  and  watched
Santos cross to a bathroom. The demon came back
a  moment  later  with  a  warm,  damp  cloth.  He
waved  Tyron’s  hand  away  and  proceeded  to
gently  go  about  the  intimate  act  of  cleaning  the
gargoyle  himself. After  tossing  the  cloth  onto  the
floor, he crawled into bed and spooned up behind
Tyron.

Tyron settled against his mate, a sigh of

contentment leaving him before sleep claimed
him.

Binding Santos

Chapter Three

antos slowly swam to wakefulness, enjoying the
heat of the body draped over his chest. Cracking

an  eye,  he  stared  down  at  Tyron,  and  a  smile
curved  his  lips.  He  couldn’t  remember  the  last
time  he’d  experienced  such  mind-numbing  back
to  back  orgasms,  or  when  he’d  invited  his  fuck
into  his  bed.  But  the  way  the  gargoyle  greedily
took  his  cock,  both  in  his  mouth  and  in  his  ass,
had  tingles  moving  down  Santos’s  spine  at  the
mere  thought  of  taking  Tyron  again.  He  felt  his
cock  bob  against  his  stomach,  as  if  waving  in
hearty agreement.

Grinning, he eased the sleeping gargoyle all the

way  onto  his  chest,  shifting  Tyron’s  legs  to
straddle  his  waist.  The  head  of  his  weeping  cock
slid  between  Tyron’s  legs  and  along  the  crack  of
his ass, making Santos hiss in pleasure. Tyron still
didn’t wake. Damn, the gargoyle slept like a rock.
But  Santos  would  make  sure  he  didn’t  sleep

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through what he had in mind.

Reaching under his pillow, Santos found his

well-used  bottle  of  lube  and  squirted  a  generous
amount  onto  his  fingers.  He’d  started  sleeping
with it under his pillow after that damn kiss at the
BBQ,  and  Santos  planned  to  take  advantage  of
Tyron’s hot little body for as long as their bargain
held out. The thought of Tyron leaving his bed, no
matter  how  inevitable,  saddened  the  demon,
though  why  he  couldn’t  explain.  He’d  tire  of
Tyron soon, just like he did all his play-things.

Dismissing the irrelevant thoughts, Santos slid

a  hand  down Tyron’s  leathery  back,  enjoying  the
texture of the gargoyle’s hide. He settled the lubed
fingers  at  Tyron’s  entrance,  smearing  the  slick
along  the  puckered  hole  he  wanted  into.  Taking
him dry twice in one day was just cruel, no matter
what species he was.

When he slid a finger inside Tyron’s ass,

Santos’s cock jumped, clearly eager to explore that
place again. He felt a drop of pre-cum slide down
his  cockhead,  the  sensation  sending  minute
tremors  through  his  limbs,  settling  in  his  balls.
Seconds later, he added a second finger to Tyron’s
hole.  Crooking  his  fingers,  he  searched  for  the
small  gargoyle’s  pleasure  gland.  He  knew  he’d
found  it  when  the  creature  lying  on  top  of  him
moaned  softly  and  rocked  back  into  his  fingers,
mindlessly  seeking  more,  even  in  sleep.  Santos

Binding Santos

gave it to him, allowing Tyron to fuck himself on
his fingers for several minutes.

Finally, lust glazed, deep blue eyes opened to

stare  down  at  him.  Tyron’s  breathing  had
increased, but he didn’t stop rocking shamelessly,
taking the pleasure Santos offered him. He smiled,
showing  off  his  canines,  right  before  adding  a
third  finger  to  Tyron’s  ass.  The  gargoyle  took  it,
rocking  more  firmly,  picking  up  speed.  The
leaking  shaft  trapped  between  their  bodies  told
Santos  that  Tyron  sought  release,  but  he  had  no
intention  of  letting  the  gargoyle  get  it  until  his
own cock was buried balls deep in that tight little
ass.

When he removed his fingers, Tyron moaned in

dismay, but he didn’t stay empty long. Santos
gripped the gargoyle’s hips, shifted his cock, and
shoved his way inside. Tyron’s eyes slid shut, his
features pulling taught in pleasure, as semen
warmed the skin between them. A long, low moan
vibrated out of Tyron’s chest as he trembled above
him.

Santos struggled to breathe around the death

grip  Tyron’s  ass  had  on  his  cock,  and  he  tried  to
come  to  terms  with  what  had  just  happened.  He
hadn’t intended to get  the gargoyle off quite that
quick. Damn, it was sexy how fucking responsive
Tyron was. Once the gargoyle’s orgasm had eased,
Santos  pulled  his  dick  out  until  just  his  head

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remained in that hot, slick passage before
slamming back inside.

Bending his knees and planting his heels, he

opened  Tyron’s  legs  further  to  allow  him  to  rock
in  and  out  of  the  ass  he  was  quickly  becoming
addicted  to.  That  thought  had  him  pausing  mid
stroke,  but  then  Tyron’s  canines  scraped  against
his  nipple,  sending  a  burst  of  pleasurable  pain
through  his  body.  The  gargoyle  latched  onto  the
sensitive bud and sucked, driving everything from
Santos’s  mind  except  the  delirious  sensations
derived from the body above him.

Stroking swiftly, he kneaded one small ass

cheek  while  bringing  his  other  hand  up  to  the
horns decorating the handsome gargoyle’s crown.
His eyes hooded to half mast, enjoying the glide of
his  throbbing  cock  in  and  out  of  Tyron’s  ass,  he
skimmed  his  fingers  around  the  base  of  several
horns  before  ghosting  the  length  of  one  with  his
fingertips. Tyron’s breath hitched, and he lifted his
head to stare at Santos.

The renewed lust in the gargoyle’s blue eyes

and  the  flush  across  Tyron’s  cheeks  and  neck
amazed  Santos.  The  creature  derived  so  much
stimulation from the  simplest of touches. As if to
back  his  thoughts,  when  he  took  a  horn  more
firmly in his grip, sliding his hand up and down,
mimicking  what  he  planned  to  do  to  the
gargoyle’s  dick,  Tyron  let  out  a  harsh  cry  and

Binding Santos

started rocking back onto Santos’s cock, matching
him thrust for thrust. Tyron’s hole clenched and
released, milking Santos’s dick, driving his own
desire higher.

Snapping his hips up faster, he released Tyron’s

ass  and  gripped  the  satiny  dick  rubbing  between
them. Once again hard and leaking, he jerked the
gargoyle’s  shaft  and  horn  in  counterpoint  to  his
thrusts.  Seconds  later,  Tyron  growled.  Santos
watched  in  awe  as  the  little  gargoyle’s  blue  eyes
glowed  with  a  ferocity  he’d  never  seen  before.
Tyron  jerked  forward  and  sank  his  teeth  into
Santos’s  neck.  A  bite  that  should  have  been
painful flooded his system with pleasure. His balls
contracted so fast he couldn’t breathe. He snapped
his hands to the gargoyle’s hips, digging his short
claws into the leathery hide as his cock erupted in
Tyron’s  ass,  flooding  the  tight  channel  with  his
seed. Through the intense pleasure, he felt Tyron’s
ass  clamp  down  on  his  dick,  throwing  him  into
waves  of  aftershocks.  His  cock  shot  again  and
again until Santos felt certain he had no cum left in
his balls.

The scrape of a tongue sealing the bite mark on

his neck made his body shudder and his softening
cock jerk happily, still buried in the gargoyle
above him. He let out a shaky sigh and wrapped
his arms around the gargoyle’s warm body. He
smiled at Tyron, who lay panting on his chest.

Charlie Richards

“Now that would be a great way to wake up

every day,” he murmured. And the idea didn’t
scare him quite as much as he was certain it
should. Interesting.

Tyron chuckled and cracked an eye to look at

him. “Definitely.”

Too bad it couldn’t be permanent, Santos

thought, not for the first time. But he knew his
attention span was far too short to make promises
he couldn’t keep. Nuzzling his face into Tyron’s
neck, he murmured, “Do you want to eat and talk?
Or stay right here and talk?”

Stay right here forever. Santos pushed the

surprising  thought  away  and  focused  on  Tyron’s
answer.  “Here  is  fine,”  Tyron  murmured,
tightening  his  ass  muscles  around  the  cock  still
invading his hole. “Mmmm, just fine.”

Santos chuckled, flexing his groin, making his

shaft  shift  inside  the  tight  passage  holding  him.
Yeah,  he  liked  it  right  here  too.  “What  do  you
want to know about  The Dispersal, little one,” he
murmured,

surprising

himself

with

the

endearment. In all these years, he couldn’t
remember calling anyone anything except pet,
which is how he viewed his fucks. They were his
pets for a few hours.

Tyron lifted an amused brow, but didn’t

comment on the term. “My tribe is searching for
descendants of the McDarmund tribe. We’ve

Binding Santos

heard they were destroyed by rogue demons
during The Dispersal. No offense,” he added
quickly.

“None taken,” Santos whispered, his thoughts

drifting  back  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  years.
He’d  been  twenty  seven  when  it  started,  barely
out  of  puberty.  “I  was  very  young  then,  so  can’t
tell you how accurate this information is, but…”

“You were alive during The Dispersal?”
From the tone in the gargoyle’s voice, he knew

he’d  shocked  Tyron.  “Yes.  I’ve  been  around  a
while,”  he  said  with  a  chuckle.  “Everything  I’m
telling  you  was  overheard.  I  never  talked  to
anyone about gargoyles. I never saw the need,” he
admitted. It had never occurred to him to question
what he’d heard all those years ago.

“The Demon Coalition heard the Huzza of the

McDarmund tribe had come across some
information very dangerous to demons. Things we
can’t have other supernatural’s knowing,” he said,
idly tracing the seam where Tyron’s lowest horn
met his head, just above his temple.

“Like what?” Tyron asked breathlessly, making

Santos smile at the affect caressing his horns had
on the gargoyle. The idea of whether he was like
this with only Santos, or if every lover made him
react this way, pushed into his mind, momentarily
distracting him. An unfamiliar feeling filled him,
making him see red. Anger? No, jealousy? Couldn’t

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be.

Focusing on Tyron’s question, he smiled. Things

like Leeching. “I can’t tell you that, little one. Then
your tribe would be in danger of the coalition, and
we wouldn’t want that.” He leaned up and gently
brushed his lips over Tyron’s, his tongue flicking
out for a quick taste before he settled back on the
pillow.  “I  heard  the  coalition  sent  emissaries  to
confront  the  gargoyle,  which  somehow  ended  in
the death of two demons. The brother and sister of
two council members, their deaths were not taken
well.  The  Demon  Coalition  decided  the  entire
gargoyle tribe must die for their Huzza’s crimes.”

He saw the sadness and pain filling his lover’s

eyes  and  rubbed  his  hands  over  Tyron’s
shoulders,  trying  to  ease  the  tension.  “Not
everyone  agreed  with  their  decision,”  he  hurried
on to say. “Some demons, which for safety’s sake
will  remain  nameless,  sent  the  tribe  a  warning.
The Huzza didn’t heed the demon’s advice to take
his tribe and flee. Although I can’t confirm it, I did
hear  that  he  sent  away  most  of  the  hatchlings
along with several protectors, but the information
of  where  they  were  sent  or  who  they  were  died
with the gargoyles. The  coalition’s assassins were
very  thorough,  and  no  one  in  the  gargoyle
stronghold survived.”

Tyron remained silent for several minutes, his

gaze fixed on some point to the demon’s left.

Binding Santos

Finally,  unable  to  stand  the  pain  he  saw  on  the
sexy  gargoyle’s  face  any  longer,  he  cupped  the
creature’s  jaw  and  brought  his  lips  down  for  a
chaste kiss. “I can introduce you to a… psychic of
sorts.  She  has  visions  of  people  by  touching  an
object owned by them.”

“How will that help us?” Tyron asked softly,

his hands lifting to tangle in Santos’s thick, black
hair.

Santos smiled, the light tugging sending shivers

of pleasure across his scalp and down his spine.
“Well, all we need to do is find something that
belonged to a hatchling of the tribe.”

Tyron gave him an amused, disbelieving smile.

“And how are we going to do that? That was over
two centuries ago.”

Chuckling, Santos reached up to caress the

gargoyle’s  horns,  loving  the  shudder  than  went
through the  small frame above him. He wrapped
his  legs  around  Tyron’s  and  rolled  them  until  he
had  Tyron  under  him.  He  settled  comfortably  in
the  vee  of  the  gargoyle’s  thighs.  “Did  you  forget
so  quickly,”  he  asked,  easing  his  rapidly
hardening dick  almost  out  of  Tyron’s  hole before
sliding  it  back  in,  the  way  made  slick  and  warm
by his release from such a short time ago.

“What’s that?” Tyron panted.
“I’m a detective. I can find anything,” Santos

whispered into the gargoyle’s ear before latching

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onto  the  sensitive  flesh  below  Tyron’s  ear.  He
sucked  hard  at  the  salty,  leathery  flesh,  eager  for
another  taste  of  the  coppery  skin  he’d  enjoyed
when  he’d  had  the  gargoyle  pinned  against  the
window  and  at  his  mercy.  A dark  hickey formed
beneath his lips, giving him the flavor he wanted.

“Why?” Tyron gasped. “Why would you do

that for me?”

He grinned against the mark he’d made.

“Because when I deliver the item, I will claim this
sexy  ass  again,”  he  vowed,  already  anticipating
the  act,  even  while  in  the  midst  of  this  one.
Surprise  that  he’d  just  planned  what  could
constitute  a  second  date  filled  him,  but  it  didn’t
diminish his ardor one bit.

Done talking, Santos slid his hands up the back

of Tyron’s head, through his short, blond hair, and
grabbed  a  horn  tightly  in  each  hand.  The
gargoyle’s body bucked underneath him as he let
out  a  hoarse  cry,  telling  Santos  exactly  what  his
harsh grip did to Tyron. He glided his fists up and
down the horns and returned his attention back to
his  feast  at  Tyron’s  neck,  making  the  mark  even
darker.

The ability to speak coherently fled the creature

beneath him as Santos continually slammed his
dick into Tyron’s hole. He could feel it greedily
suck him back in with every stroke, squeezing and
massaging him. Releasing the gargoyle’s horns, he

Binding Santos

wrapped his arms around Tyron’s back and sat up
onto his knees, bringing Tyron with him and
encouraging the gargoyle to straddle his lap. “Oh,
fuck, yeah. Ride my cock, little one. Show me how
much you like it buried inside your greedy hole.”

“Yes,” Tyron groaned out through clenched

canines.  Santos  moved  one  hand  between  them
and  wrapped  his  fingers  around  the  gargoyle’s
hard prick. Tyron growled, which Santos thought
was  the  sexiest  fucking  thing  he’d  ever  heard.
Santos  tightened  his  hold,  watching  as  his  lover
shamelessly fucked himself between the fist on his
cock and the dick in his ass.

He watched Tyron’s blue eyes begin to glow

and  his  teeth  lengthen.  Knowing  what  would
come  next  had  excited  anticipation  coursing
through  him.  Tingles  danced  up  and  down  his
spine,  and  his  balls  tightened.  Who  would  have
thought getting bitten while fucking would feel so
good? But now he couldn’t wait for that sensation
again.  He  titled  his  head,  the  movement
encouraging  Tyron,  and  the  gargoyle  sank  his
canines into Santos’s neck.

His roar filled the room as exquisite sensations

raced  through  his  body.  He  felt  a  nearly
overwhelming  urge  to  bite  Tyron  back,  to  show
the  gargoyle  how  good  it  felt.  But  he  held  back,
knowing  Tyron  would  mistake  that  as  the
completion  of  a  gargoyle  mating.  And  then

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thought fled as  his cock erupted, spewing stream
after  stream  of  his  seed  into  Tyron’s  welcoming
channel. He vaguely heard Tyron cry out his name
as  he  came  too,  the  sound  making  him  smile,
before  he  collapsed  on  the  bed. He  tucked  Tyron
in  close  to  his  chest  and  drifted  happily  off  to
sleep, satiated beyond his wildest dreams.

Binding Santos

Chapter Four

yron stared at Santos’s sleeping form. He knew
it was cowardly to sneak out while the demon

slept, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Santos
waking and telling him to leave. If his ass hadn’t
clenched almost painfully when he’d pulled on his
cargo shorts, not to mention the pleasant aches in
all the right places, he’d have been sure this whole
experience was a fantastic dream. Never had he
been fucked so well and so thoroughly, but that
was probably because it was with his mate, right?
That’s the way it was supposed to be, wasn’t it?

After their discussion about The Dispersal and

the  amazing  sex,  they’d  slept  for  several  hours.
Then  Santos  had  made  him  a  delicious  dinner  of
steak, rice, and asparagus. He’d thought it odd fair
for  a  demon,  and  his  curiosity  had  gotten  the
better of him, making him question it. Santos had
explained  that  demons  technically  lived  off  the
emotional  energy  of  humans,  which  is  why  most

Charlie Richards

found  jobs  in  public  places,  they  still  required
nutrients  from  food  as  well,  just  not  nearly  as
much  as  most  creatures.  If  energy  from  humans
was  plentiful,  they  could  go  without  eating
physical food for weeks.

He’d asked about his work as a detective,

wondering  if  it  brought  Santos  into  contact  with
enough  humans  to  remain  healthy.  Santos  had
shrugged,  telling  him  sometimes.  He’d  admitted
to  also  working  for  the  Demon  Coalition  as  a
tracker.  He’d  bring  in  wanted  demons  to  stand
trial, which is why it had been such a simple thing
for him to find the demoness that had attacked his
clan-member’s  mate  several  weeks  ago.  Santos
had silenced any more questions with a deep kiss,
which  turned  into  a  round  of  sex,  right  there  on
the  table.  Then  Santos  had  tossed  him  over  his
shoulder and carried him back to bed.

Dismissing the memories, Tyron pushed to his

feet and glanced at the note he left, making certain
it would be easily found on the pillow he’d used.
He slipped silently from the bedroom, grabbed his
laptop  and  glasses,  and  left  the  condo.  He  found
himself  at  an  elevator.  He  took  it  down  to  the
main floor and walked out of an impressive condo
building.  Pausing,  he  craned  his  neck  and  gazed
up at the top floor, wondering if Santos still slept.
Releasing  a  sigh,  he  rounded  a  corner  of  the
building,  pulled  off  his  already  torn  shirt,  and

Binding Santos

unfurled his wings. He took to the air, letting the
cool morning breezes and floating sensation sooth
his nerves.

Twenty minutes later, he landed outside

Rostrorod,  the  clan  home  of  the  gargoyles.  He
waved  to  a  couple  gargoyles,  mostly  keeping  his
head  down  since  he  knew  he  smelled  of  sex.
Reaching  his  rooms,  he  showered  quickly  and
then  hurried  to  the  infirmary.  He  wished  he  had
time  to  meditate  for  half  an  hour.  He  wanted  to
clear his mind and settle his emotions, but he was
late  as  it  was.  He  promised  himself  an  hour  of
meditation  tonight  to  make  up  for  it.  Nothing
relaxed  him  faster,  and  he’d  probably  need  it  to
keep from hunting his mate down.

Grabbing a scrub coat, he pulled it on and

greeted Cosmo, a gargoyle nurse training to be a
doctor who often worked the night shift. “Sorry
I’m late,” he said. “I lost track of time.”

“No problem,” Cosmo replied. “It’s been

mostly  quiet.  Lebanon  dislocated  a  shoulder  in
training,  but  it  was  a  simple  fix.  In  a  day  or  two
it’ll only be a memory.” The gargoyle disappeared
in the back to change, and Tyron got busy running
through  inventory.  When  Cosmo  reappeared,  he
paused at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. Maximus
stopped by looking for you.”

That brought Tyron’s head up, his brows

lifting. “Did he say what he needed?”

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Cosmo shook his head. “No, but I told him

you’d be working in here later.”

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll buzz him.”
Once the other gargoyle had left, Tyron crossed

to a wall panel and held down the button for his
Huzza’s office. “Huzza, this is Tyron. Did you
need me?”

“Ah, Tyron,” he heard Max say through the

intercom. “Yes. Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll
swing by the infirmary.”

Maximus strode through the door twenty

minutes later and dropped into the chair across
from his desk. He grinned. “Been with Santos?”

“How did you…” Tyron rolled his eyes. “Damn

it. You didn’t, did you?”

Max smirked. He leaned across the desk and

inhaled deeply. “It’s faint, but the shower didn’t
get rid of it all.” He pointed. “And it’s probably
because of the marks on your neck.”

Well, shit. He’d kinda forgotten about those. He

ran a hand through his short blond curls. “Ah,
yeah,” he chuckled.

“I really came down here to ask you about your

research last night. Did you find the information
you needed?”

He blushed, remembering what happened

while doing research at the coffee shop. Tyron
nodded. “Yeah. I was only on-line for about fifteen
minutes when Santos showed up. We really need

Binding Santos

to get access out here, by the way,” he added
ruefully.

Maximus grinned. “Someone’s coming out on

Thursday to install it. If you’d been patient, you
wouldn’t have even had to go into town.” Then he
lifted an amused brow. “But then, you probably
would have missed out on the vertical fun.”

Tyron shook his head, fighting back a blush. “I

did find out about The Dispersal from Santos. I
don’t know why it’s called that. It should be called
The Slaughter.”

“What did you find out?” Max asked, leaning

forward and leaning his elbows on the desk.

He quickly relayed what he’d learned about the

McDarmund tribe. “Santos told me he could
introduce me to a psychic who has visions about
the owners of items she touches. If we can get an
artifact, she can point us in the right direction.”

“Uh… most of them were killed over two

hundred years ago. What are we going to do?
Take her to a museum and hope she touches
something relevant?”

“Well,” Tyron said, shifting uncomfortably in

his seat. “Santos said he’d find one for me.”

“Really?” He could hear the surprise in Max’s

voice. “For what price?”

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure he wanted to share that

information.

“What?” Max asked warily.

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“It was a personal favor,” he murmured,

looking up at his Huzza through his lashes.

Max cocked his head and blinked. “I’m sorry.

Come again?”

Taking a deep breath, he said, “He’s not doing

it for the clan. He’s doing it for me. Or more
specifically, my ass.”

The Huzza’s eyes narrowed. “I know you’re

gay, but even so, you’d better explain that,
Tyron.”

“We set up a second date to fuck when he

brought the artifact.”

He couldn’t stop the blush at the words,

especially when Max growled and rose to his feet.
“Why didn’t you ask me first? Didn’t you think I’d
be open to the idea? You didn’t need to trade your
body, Tyron!” he snarled.

Glaring, Tyron slammed his fist onto his desk.

“It had nothing to do with that,” he snapped,
frustration roiling through him. Shoving to his
feet, he began to pace.

“Then tell me,” Max urged. “You’ve been

distracted for weeks. What’s going on?”

“He’s my mate,” Tyron bellowed. “I realized it

at the BBQ.” He knew he shouldn’t be yelling at
his Huzza, but couldn’t seem to stop himself. All
the anger, frustration, and self-doubt from the last
few weeks just seemed to bubble up and flood his
system. “He kissed me, and all I’ve been able to

Binding Santos

think about is him. He came into the coffee shop.
We went back to his place. Evidently demons
don’t recognize their mates like we do, because he
wouldn’t acknowledge the bond between us.” He
felt tears threaten at the back of his eyelids, but he
blinked them back. Now wasn’t the time.

Max rested a hand on his shoulder and

squeezed. “And you’re sure he’s the one?” he
asked softly.

Tyron nodded. “Yeah. I couldn’t stop myself

from claiming him, but h-he didn’t reciprocate,”
he whispered.

“Damn,” Max whispered. “I’m sorry. Is there

anything I can do to help?”

He shook his head, taking several slow breathes

to pull himself back together. “I’m hoping that
during the time apart, while he’s searching for the
artifact, he’ll come to accept it. If not…” He
shrugged. “I’ve been celibate for years.”

“But the rest of your life?” Max frowned. “It

won’t come to that. We’ll think of something.”

Tyron gave the Huzza a weak smile. “I’d like to

bury myself in paperwork right now… get my
mind off it, ya know?”

Max nodded. “Sure. Let me know if you need

anything.”

Tyron watched Max leave, knowing for once,

his Huzza couldn’t help him with what he needed.

Charlie Richards

Chapter Five

antos’s eyes snapped open. His breath came in
ragged gasps, as he fought back the frustration

and  rage  filling  him.  Damn,  that  must  have  been
some  dream  to  fill  him  with  such  anguish.  He
thought of Tyron and reached his arm out, looking
for the gargoyle’s warm body next to him. Santos
wanted  to  pull  him  close  and  take  comfort.  A
desire  he’d  never  experienced  before,  but  at  the
moment he couldn’t find anything wrong with the
idea.

He came up empty.
Frowning, Santos turned his head and saw the

empty  mattress  next  to  him.  He  listened  to  the
silence  of  his  suite,  knowing  even  as  he  strained
for  some  tell-tale  sign  of  Tyron  in  another  room
that  the  gargoyle  was  gone.  He  growled,  a  fresh
wave  of  anger  filling  him.  How  dare  he  leave
without  waking  Santos.  Who  did  Tyron  think  he
was  to  treat  him  as  some  casual  fuck?  It  didn’t

Binding Santos

matter that he’d done it to hundreds of others over
the course of his two hundred seventy-seven
years. This was different.

The desire to go to Rostrorod and track the

gargoyle down filled him, and he flung off the
blankets. He had his jeans on and was grabbing a
shirt when the note on the other pillow registered.
Dropping the shirt on the bed, he grabbed the
scrap of paper.

Santos – I’m sorry to run out on you this

morning. I’m late for my shift at the infirmary. I’m
a  doctor,  did  I  tell  you  that?  Anyway,  your
assistance  with  finding  a  McDarmund  tribe
artifact would be greatly appreciated. And you’re
my  mate,  so  you  don’t  have  to  do  this  to  get  my
ass. It’s yours anytime. ~ Tyron.

“Fuck!” he yelled. He crumpled the note in his

fist, rested his elbows on his knees, and his head in
his hands. That’s exactly how he’d been about to
treat Tyron. Like a wayward mate. After over two
hundred years had he finally met his bindling? If
so, did he want to be bound to one person?

He’d never thought so before, but just thinking

back on the activities of yesterday and last night
had his dick hardening to the point of pain. Santos
could think of several new positions he wanted to
try with the gargoyle if Tyron had been in his bed

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when he woke this morning. And not only did he
enjoy Tyron’s sexy body, he’d enjoyed conversing
with him over dinner as well. He’d found himself
explaining  things  about  demons  he’d  never
discussed  before,  including  his  work  for  the
Demon  Coalition.  Santos  still  didn’t  know  why
he’d shared that he worked as a tracker for them,
but he didn’t regret the decision.

Rising from the bed, he slowly pulled the jeans

back  off  and  climbed  into  the  shower.  He  turned
the  water  up  as  high  as  he  could  tolerate,  and
being a demon, that was saying something. Steam
filled  the  room  in  a  matter  of  moments.  The  heat
soothed  his  nerves,  allowing  him  to  sort  through
his jumbled thoughts and emotions.

He didn’t know what to do about Tyron, but he

could  come  to  one  conclusion.  The  gargoyle  had
become  an  obsession.  Thinking  about  the  sexy
creature had his flagging erection hardening back
up.  Santos  wrapped  his  hand  around  his
throbbing  cock,  stroking  from  root  to  tip.  He
imagined Tyron  on  his  knees  in  front  of  him,  his
mouth  open,  eager  to  take  him  in.  Damn,  the
gargoyle gave the best blow jobs. He imagined the
heat  from  the  water  was  Tyron’s  hot  mouth,  the
pressure  from  his  hand  the  suction  of  the
gargoyle’s lips, the pad of his thumb over his slit
the  caress  of  Tyron’s  tongue.  Seconds  later,  he
came screaming Tyron’s name.

Binding Santos

He leaned his head against the shower wall, his

body shuddering as he came down from the high
of  his  orgasm.  One  thing was  certain.  He  needed
Tyron  again,  and  this  time,  he  wasn’t  certain  he
could  let  the  little  gargoyle  go.  So,  why  did  that
idea put a smile on his face?

It took over a week for Santos to track down the

information  he  needed.  Armed  with  the
knowledge of where he could find a McDarmund
artifact,  Santos  used  a  lei  line  to  appear  near  the
gargoyle’s clan home. He was a two minute’s walk
from the massive structure when his phone  rang.
He flipped it open and held the device to his ear.
“Santos here.”

“Santos, this is Maximus of Cuchulian.”
“Max!” Santos grinned. “I have something for

you. I’m…”

Surprise shot through him when the gargoyle

Huzza cut him off. “I’m actually looking for
Tyron. Is he with you?”

He paused, staring up at Rostrorod as his brain

processed those words. “No. Why?”

“He didn’t show up for work this morning. I

was hoping he’d spent the night with you again,”
Max said with a sigh.

“Open your door,” Santos growled, making his

request come out a demand.

“What?” Max snapped back.

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Forcing his voice into a more neutral tone, he

replied, “I’m already here. I was bringing
information to you. Please, open the door.”

“I’ll send someone right away.”
Flipping his phone closed, Santos crossed his

arms  and  waited  impatiently.  Seconds  later,  the
door  in  front  of  him  swung  open  and  Santos
spotted Graden. “Come with me. Max is waiting,”
the  large  black  gargoyle  grunted,  ushering  him
inside the massive building.

Santos followed, his tingling skin telling him

his control over his human form was beginning to
slip.  Too  much  worry  and  rage  filled  him.  He
wanted to slam Graden into the wall and demand
he  tell  him  what  they  knew  about  Tyron,  but  he
figured that wouldn’t be the best way to gain the
gargoyle’s  cooperation.  Instead,  he  followed  in
silence.

Graden opened a door and when Santos

walked in, he recognized it as Max’s office. The
gargoyle Huzza turned from the massive, floor to
ceiling, wall to wall fish tank he stared at. He
couldn’t help the surprise flooding him at finding
something that mundane in the gargoyle’s office.

Max must have seen the look, because he

smirked. “Watching them helps me relax.” Santos
just nodded, and Max indicated a seat. “When was
the last time you saw Tyron?”

Santos appreciated the Huzza cutting to the

Binding Santos

chase. “A week and a half ago. We met at a coffee
shop and spent the evening together.”

Max nodded and handed him a piece of paper.

“This  appeared  on  my  desk  while  Graden  was
going  to  get  you.  I  don’t  appreciate  things  just
popping  into  my  home.  Why  don’t  you  tell  me
what the hell is going on?” he said, his hard tone
revealing his frustration.

Confused, Santos took the offered paper.

~ Huzza Maximus of Cuchulian – We regret to

inform  you  of  an  uncleared  binding  between  the
gargoyle  Tyron  of  Cuchulian  and  the  demon
Santos  Ry  Conica.  To  facilitate  the  safety  of  the
gargoyle while breaking this bond, we are keeping
said  gargoyle  in  Overworld.  He  will  be  returned
once  the  break  is  complete.  ~Braken  El  Dramen,
Demon Coalition

Santos read the words again, his blood boiling

in  his  veins.  Rising  to  his  feet,  he  roared,  the  cry
shaking the glass fish tank. He released his human
form  and  shifted,  his  skin  thickening  and
darkening to a deep red, his eyes glowing like hot
coals,  and  his  horns  and  claws  extending.  “They
took  him,  the  bastards,”  he  growled.  Flexing  his
back  muscles,  his  wings  unfurled.  They  sliced
through his shirt and snapped to their full twelve
foot wingspan, nearly filling the room.

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“Who?” Maximus asked, now standing as well,

Graden at his shoulder. “And furl the wings
before they destroy something.”

“The Demon Coalition,” Santos snapped before

Max’s  second  comment  registered.  “Wings?  I…
have wings. Fuck! I am mated!” He looked left and
right,  staring  at  the  massive  red  membranous
wings  on  either  side  of  him.  Slowly,  his  muscles
uncoordinated  from  never  being  used,  he
wrapped  the  large  wings  around  his  shoulders
and  body,  locking  the  talons  halfway  across  the
tops  of  the  wing-bones  under  his  chin,  making  it
look  as  though  he  wore  a  cloak.  “These will  take
some  getting  used  to,”  he  whispered,  disbelief
filling him.

“What are you talking about? Used to what?”

Max asked.

“Demons don’t normally have wings. I’ve

heard rumors that when a powerful demon mates,
they  gain  wings.  Until  now,  I  haven’t  heard  of  it
happening  in  over  a  century,”  Santos  replied,
racking  his  brain  for  some  other  example.  He
couldn’t  think  of  any.  No  wonder  the  coalition
tracked  who  mated  who.  “Wings  increase  the
demon’s power,” he murmured absently.

“Tyron said you didn’t mate with him,” Max

growled, showing his fangs. “Did you mate with
someone else? Even after he told you he was your
mate?”

Binding Santos

Banking his anger, Santos shook his head. “No.

It doesn’t make sense. I haven’t been with anyone
since Tyron.”

Maximus frowned and whispered, “The love

bites.”

Santos shook his head. “I didn’t bite Tyron.”
“No. The marks you sucked up on Tyron’s

neck. Did you pull any blood through them? They
looked dark enough,” Max pointed out.

The memory of Tyron’s sweet metallic taste

came back to him, making his cock hard.
Groaning, Santos nodded. “Damn it. I guess I got
just enough to start the binding process.”

Max took the now crumpled letter and

frowned. “What’s an uncleared binding?”

“When demons want to bind with someone

other  than  another  demon,  they  are  supposed  to
acquire  permission  from  the  Demon  Coalition.
The coalition say it’s so they can keep track of who
may  have  inside  information  on  demon’s
abilities.”  He  shook  his  head  and  ran  a  hand
through  his  thick  black  hair.  “Personally,  I  think
it’s a way to keep demons under their thumb and
garner  favors  to  cash  in  later,”  he  growled,  his
anger renewing.

“And what do they mean by he’ll be returned

once the break is complete?” Graden asked, crossing
his arms over his massive chest.

“They mean to kill me,” Santos replied without

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hesitation. The damn fools. They wouldn’t get him
without a fight.

As if to cement his words, he felt a shiver run

up  his  spine  just  before  a  large  demon  popped
into the room. “Selvator,” Santos hissed, just as the
demon  sent  a  bolt  of  energy  at  him.  Santos
instinctively  lifted  a  wing,  deflecting  the  bolt,
absorbing  the  energy  into  himself.  With  a  feral
grin, he asked, “Sent you after me, did they?”

The demon Selvator was a tracker, similar to

himself, but often times, due to the gray cast to his
skin,  which  the  coalition  deemed  as  lower
breeding,  he  got  the  shitty  tasks  of  killing  other
paranormals  instead  of  bringing  in  demons  for
trial. The demon grimaced. “Sorry, old friend, but
I’ve got to follow orders. They want you brought
in,  dead  or  alive.”  He  shook  his  head  as  he  eyed
Santos’s  wings.  “And  now  I  see  why.  You’ve
become a threat to them.”

“A threat?” he snarled.
Selvator smiled, showing off a fang. Santos saw

his  body  relax  slightly,  though  he  kept  his  hands
in  a  defensive  posture,  ready  to  raise  a  shield  if
Santos  decided  to  strike  at  him  magically.  “You
mated  without  permission  to…”  he  glanced
around and took in the frowning gargoyles behind
Santos.  “A  gargoyle.  Powerful  creatures,
gargoyles.  A  demon  can  draw  on  the  power  of
their mate in battle. Combine that with the wings

Binding Santos

you now sport, you’ve become a danger to them.”

Growling low in his throat, Santos thought

quickly.  If  he  went  with  Selvator,  the  coalition
would  kill  him.  If  he  didn’t  go,  he’d  have  to  kill
Selvator,  and  then  the  coalition  would  just  send
someone  else  after  him.  Neither  option  appealed
to  him.  Another  thought  struck.  If  they  couldn’t
kill him, they may decide to kill Tyron.

Santos groaned in frustration as he turned to

Selvator. He appreciated the demon giving him
the choice, realizing Selvator could have shot that
bolt of energy while still concealed by the powers
of the lei line. The memory of absorbing his shot
with his wing came to mind and ideas filled him.

“I’ll go with you, Selvator, but I’ll not go in

chains.”

A smirk grew over the other demon’s features.

“I thank you for your choice, Santos.” Santos felt
his brows lift at Selvator’s words, and the tracker
chuckled softly. “I wouldn’t have been able to take
you.”

“Then why did you appear? You know you

could have struck first.”

Selvator shrugged. “You didn’t deserve that,

old friend. I don’t give a damn what the coalition
says.”

Santos bowed his head in thanks before turning

to Maximus. “Allow me to make certain no other
creature can just pop in,” he said, lifting his fingers

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in air quotes. After a nod from the Huzza, Santos
flexed his fingers and mentally reached out for the
lei  line  that  Selvator  used  to  enter  the  gargoyle’s
stronghold.  He  traveled  the  line  in  his  mind,
fusing the thread with several other entrances into
Rostrorod.  Seconds  later,  he’d  blocked  every
entrance from use by any paranormal but himself
and those he’d invited.

He turned to Max. “One way or another, Tyron

will be returned shortly.”

“He won’t want you sacrificing yourself for

him,” Max warned him. “Surely there’s something
we can do to help?” he said, shifting his gaze
briefly to Graden, who nodded his agreement.

Santos smiled, feeling gratitude for the first

time in nearly a century. “I’m honored that’d
you’d wish to assist, but this is demon politics.
There is nothing you can do.”

He watched Max’s jaw tighten before he

nodded curtly. “Once I leave, no one will be able
to enter except me.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Max murmured.
Santos nodded, crossed to Selvator and settled a

hand on his shoulder. He reached out to the lei
lines around him and took the pair to the demon
realm of Overworld.

Binding Santos

Chapter Six

yron bared his fangs at the demon that opened
the door. They may be holding him in a

comfortable studio style room, complete with a
stocked refrigerator and king size bed, but to him,
it was still a prison.

The demon, the one who’d brought him his last

meal a couple hours ago, hissed back, showing off
a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. “Come on,” he
ordered, motioning him forward.

“Where?” Tyron asked coldly, not moving an

inch toward the demon.

“The coalition has convened. They’ve called for

you.”

He could tell by the contempt dripping from

the  demon’s  voice,  he  didn’t  like  the  duty  of
fetching  Tyron.  Glancing  out  the  tiny  window  at
the red landscape outside, Tyron quickly weighed
his  options.  He  could  refuse  to  go  before  the
coalition,  but  then  he’d  never  know  why  they’d

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kidnapped him and locked him in this room. He
figured it had something to do with his contact
with Santos, but for the life of him, he didn’t know
what was going on. Best to get an explanation, he
decided.

Tyron nodded curtly and moved warily toward

the demon. When the demon held up a pair of
wrist restraints and motioned for Tyron to turn, he
growled, “Not happening.” There was no way in
hell, or in this case, in Overworld, he was turning
his back on this creature.

“Fine,” the red beast snapped.
He led the way out of the room and down the

hall.  The  gray  stone  of  the  hallway  had  grooves
chiseled  into  ornate  patterns.  The  gouges  were
filled with gold and red  metals creating one long
intricate  decoration.  Tyron  had  to  admit  that  it
was  stunning.  Even  the  stone  beneath  his  claws
had  designs  carved  into  them.  It  was  a  sharp
contrast  to  the  barren,  non-descript  room  he’d
been held in.

A short walk through twisting corridors and

passed several cross-hallways had Tyron being led
through  large  wooden  doors.  He  hardly  had  to
tuck his ten foot wings to get through the opening.
Stepping inside, the cavernous room was easily as
large  as  four  football  fields  with  a  sixty  foot
ceiling.  Dozens  of  demons  sat  along  the  far  side
nearly  two  hundred  yards  away.  More  demons

Binding Santos

stood lining the walls. Santos stood in the empty
center next to another demon, this one with a gray
cast to his red skin.

His heart skipped a beat as Santos turned

toward  him.  The  demon’s  glittering  red  eyes
swept  over  him  quickly,  as  if  assessing  for
damage.  Tyron  offered  a  tight  smile,  trying  to
reassure  his  mate.  He  nearly  stumbled  when  he
heard Santos’s voice in his head.

Can you hear me, little one?
He lifted one black brow and gave a tight nod,

veering toward his mate.

Good. Are you well? Have they mistreated you?
At that, he couldn’t stop the small smile,

knowing  that  Santos  at  least  cared  a  little.  When
the demon he’d followed to the room grabbed his
arm to lead him away from Santos, Tyron swung
to  face  him  and  growled.  At  the  same  time,  he
heard  a  roar.  Looking  toward  his  mate,  he
watched  what  he  thought  was  a  cloak  lift  and
spread  to  show  off  twelve  foot,  red  membranous
wings that, except for the color, looked a lot like a
bat’s.

“Come between me and my bindling again and

it will be the last thing you do,” Santos snarled, his
cold, angry words carrying easily through the
room, silencing all other conversation.

Tyron sucked in a surprised breath at Santos’s

words, and by the reaction of most of the demons

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in  the  room,  he  wasn’t  the  only  one  shocked.
Santos  crooked  a  finger  at  him.  The  demon
holding  him  released  his  arm  and  Tyron  wasted
no  time  going  to  Santos.  Even  more  amazement
flooded  him  when  Santos  wrapped  Tyron  in  his
arms and kissed him deeply, almost as if staking a
claim.

When Santos finally released him, Tyron’s

breath came in panting gasps and his cock pressed
painfully against his fly. “What the hell is going
on?” he murmured when he could finally speak.

“The coalition monitors bindings, Tyron,”

Santos replied. “They’re not too happy that we
started the process without permission.”

Tyron felt the color drain from his face. “Oh,

shit. I’m so sorry, Santos. I didn’t know. Will you
be in much trouble because I bit you?”

Santos scraped his clawed forefinger across

Tyron’s cheek, causing a shiver to travel down his
spine and settle in his balls. His cock twitched in
his  pants,  and  Santos  smiled,  as  if  knowing  the
affect his touch had on him. “I could have stopped
you,  love,  but  it  felt  far  too  good.  And  if  you
remember,  I  marked  you  as  well.  I  drew  just
enough  blood  from  you  to  start  the  binding.  The
process  isn’t  complete,  and  they  want  it  stopped.
They  fear  the  power  I’ve  gained  by  mating  you.
Gargoyles  are  powerful  creatures,  Tyron,”  he
murmured,  flexing  his  wings,  drawing  Tyron’s

Binding Santos

gaze to them.

“How will they stop the process?” he asked,

trying  to  control  his  need  to  explore  his  mate’s
new  appendages.  When  Santos  didn’t  answer
right  away,  his  attention  snapped  to  his  lover’s
face.  “No,”  he  growled  in  realization.  “I  won’t
allow it.”

Santos’s grin turned feral, but before he could

say  anything,  a  deep  voice  bellowed  through  the
chamber.  “Enough!”  All  talk  ceased.  Santos  and
Tyron turned toward the large gargoyle, but much
to Tyron’s pleasure, Santos kept a possessive arm
around his waist. “Santos Ry Conica, you’ve been
brought  here  because  you’ve  begun  the  binding
process  without  the  coalition’s  permission.  As
punishment, your binding must be severed. Either
sacrifice  yourself  or  your  bindling.  Choose  your
fate, demon.”

“No, Coalition Member Braken,” Santos

replied,  his  voice  cold  and  clear.  “The  Demon
Coalition’s  control  over  who  mates  who  is  an
antiquated and demeaning tradition. The hold you
have  over  our  lives  ends  now.  I  challenge  the
coalition’s right to choose. I demand a free-vote.”

Silence even more profound than when the

coalition  member  spoke  followed  Santos’s
demand.  After  several  long  seconds,  Braken
snarled,  “You  know  the  law.  You’d  put  your  life
on the line for this gargoyle?”

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“Yes,” Santos responded firmly.
“So be it,” came the disdainful reply.
“What’s going on?” Tyron whispered as he

watched the demons at the far end file out of their
chairs and form two lines across the massive hall.

“If a demon feels his belief is stronger than the

strength of the coalition, he can demand a free-
vote. He walks a gauntlet. If he survives, his belief
is the new law.”

“If he survives,” Tyron murmured, watching

the coalition members get into position. “A
gauntlet? You mean each member will have the
opportunity to strike you any way they want and
you can’t defend yourself?”

Santos wrapped his arms around Tyron,

pulling  him  close.  “You  are  my  defense,  Tyron.
You  gave  me  wings.  They  allow  me  to  absorb
blows  more  easily.  Plus  a  demon  draws  on  the
strength of his mate,” he whispered. “Even though
we  haven’t  completed  the  mating,  we  are  still
linked. My only concern is that you may feel some
of the pain. If it gets to be too much for you, please
close the link in your mind. I don’t wish any harm
to come to you.”

Growling softly, Tyron shook his head. “Not

going  to  happen.  Finish  the  bond,  so  I  can  help
you fully,” he demanded. When Santos just stared
at  him,  he  lifted  his  wrist  and  used  his  fangs  to
tear  it  open.  He  held  the  bleeding  limb  up  to

Binding Santos

Santos’s face. “Take it.”

Santos grimaced, and for several heartbeats,

Tyron thought he’d refuse. A soft smile curved the
demon’s  hard  features.  “It’s  not  the  way  I would
have  wanted  to  complete  our  coupling,  but  we’ll
do it right later,” he promised before latching onto
Tyron’s  wrist,  sucking  several  large  swallows  of
blood into his mouth.

Santos’s moan and the feel of his lips on his

wrist  sent  a  fresh  wave  of  lust  though  Tyron’s
body.  He  had  to  concentrate  hard  not  to  come  in
his jeans. He felt the faint mental link Santos had
used  to  talk  to  him  earlier  snap  into  place.
Delicious, Santos whispered in his mind. His mate
swiped his tongue over the gash, licking up a few
last drops before removing his shirt and wrapping
it around Tyron’s wrist. He smiled. “I can’t wear it
anyway.”

Tyron grabbed Santos neck and pulled his head

down for a quick kiss. “I’ll be here to patch you up
when they’re done, but don’t think I’ll ever stand
by for this behavior again. Do you hear me?”

His mate’s eyes glowed with amusement and

affection.  “Yes,  my  bindling.”  His  whispered
words  sent  another  wave  of  warmth  through
Tyron, this time of happiness. Now if he could just
get  Santos  home  safe,  everything  would  be
perfect.

Tyron watched Santos stalk toward the gauntlet

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of demons. How many demons are in the coalition?
Have you ever seen anyone complete this? Tyron
spoke to his mate through their mental link, trying
to hide the worry he felt.

There are thirty demons in the coalition. The free-

vote right hasn’t been invoked in nearly a century. I
wasn’t in court at the time.

Did he complete it?
No, little one. He didn’t. And then the first two

demons  attacked,  the  one  on  the  right  slamming
his fist into Santos’s sternum right before the one
on  the  left  shot  a  bolt  of  energy  at  his  demon’s
face. The pain swamped Tyron through the mental
link,  taking  his  breath  away.  Seconds  later,  more
pain hit him, and he realized Santos had stepped
forward and took on the next pair of strikes.

The fourth pair both shot bolts of electricity at

Santos,  making  the  demon  wrap  his  arms  and
wings around himself in agony. By the eighth pair,
that’s what each demon was doing, and from the
residual  pain  Santos  allowed  to  filter  through  to
Tyron,  the  demons  were  getting  more  powerful
near the end.

He wracked his mind for a way to help his

mate,  and  a  slim  idea  formed.  Tyron  lowered
himself  to  the  floor  and  knelt  on  the  carved
flagstones.  Pulling  into  himself,  he  searched  for
that  place  of  peace  he  retreated  to  when  he
meditated.  Tyron  finally  found  it  when  he  felt

Binding Santos

Santos  stagger  at  the  tenth  pair.  Taking  a  deep
breath, he opened himself fully to Santos, pushing
past  the  block  the  demon  put  up  to  protect  him.
He felt the next hits to his mate’s body fully, and
mental pain swept over him. Through it, he forced
his  breathing  to  remain  slow  and  even  as  he
sucked the pain out of Santos’s body into his own,
flooding his mate with relief.

“Tyron, are you still with me?”
Yes, Santos, he replied as the pain began to

slowly ebb. Suddenly, Tyron felt hands under his
arms, and he realized Santos helped him to his
feet. He tilted his head back and grinned at Santos.
“Oh. You said that out loud.”

“Yes, little one. I did.” He chuckled and kissed

Tyron quickly before whispering, “I couldn’t have
done it without you.” Santos turned to look at the
shocked and disgruntled demons making up the
coalition. “Demons choose their own bindlings,”
he stated flatly. “No permission needed.”

Member Braken nodded, his eyes blazing with

anger and something else. Respect. “As you say,
Santos Ry Conica. Permission is no longer needed
by the Demon Coalition for a demon to choose
their bindling.”

Santos nodded once before turning Tyron

toward the door and heading that way. “Hey,
Santos.” Tyron heard the demon that’d stood by
Santos when he’d entered call after them.

Charlie Richards

Santos turned and lifted a brow. “Selvator?”
The other demon grinned. “Since you’ll

probably want to work less so you can spend
more time with your bindling, think you could use
a hand at your detective agency?”

“A well-trained tracker is always welcome,

Selvator. How about you meet me at the office
Monday morning at ten?”

Selvator nodded. “Thank you, old friend.”
Santos nodded before resuming his walk

toward the exit, drawing Tyron with him. “Let’s
get out of here. We have some things to discuss, I
think.”

Binding Santos

Chapter Seven

is wings wrapped around his bindling, Santos
took them to the clearing near Rostrorod. Tyron

looked  around  with  interest,  taking  in  the  warm
sun  beating  down  on  them.  Santos  furled  his
wings,  grabbed  Tyron’s  hand,  and  led  the  way
through  the  trees.  “Once  I  figure  out  the  lei  line
closest  to  our  quarters  or  the  infirmary,  I’ll  use
that one instead. Until then, this one will have to
do. It’s only a short walk to Rostrorod.”

“Our

quarters…”

Tyron

murmured

questioningly, his eyes searching Santos’s grin.

It occurred to Santos that he may be jumping

the  gun.  He  paused,  pulling  his  bindling into  his
arms.  His  bindling.  Damn,  he  loved  how  that
sounded. “I guess I just assumed I’d move in with
you.  Now  that  we’re  bound,  I  don’t  want  to  live
away  from  you.”  He  cocked  his  head,  trying  to
read  Tyron’s  expression.  “If  you’d  prefer,  we
could  live  at  my  condo, but  since  you’re  the  clan

Charlie Richards

doctor, I figured you’d want to remain close to
your infirmary.”

He waited for the gargoyle to say something,

but  Tyron  just  continued  to  stare.  Santos  slowly
loosened  his  arms.  “Or  if  you  need  more  time,
we’ll  keep  our  separate  places,”  he  murmured,
feeling foolish for making assumptions.

Tyron smiled slightly. He wrapped his arms

around  Santos’s  neck  and  pulled  his  head  down.
When  Tyron  pressed  his  lips  against  his  own,
Santos  groaned  softly  before  tightening  his  arms
again, pulling the smaller man’s body flush to his
own.  His  cock  filled  as  he  plundered  Tyron’s
mouth, tasting his bindling’s essence, so sweet, so
rich.

When he released Tyron’s lips, they both

gasped for breath. He smiled down at Tyron.
“What was that for?”

“For your willingness to give up that awesome

condo to live with my clan,” Tyron gasped out.

“I’m not doing it for your clan, little one,” he

said. “I’m doing it for you. I figure if we’re at your
place, you can’t ditch me in the morning.” His
tone was teasing, but he knew he couldn’t hide the
hurt through the connection they now shared.

“I’m sorry,” Tyron whispered. “I didn’t think

you were interested in more than a one night
stand, and I couldn’t face you asking me to leave,”
he admitted, dropping his head.

Binding Santos

Santos cupped Tyron’s cheek in one hand and

tilted  his  face  up,  forcing  him  to  meet  his  gaze.
“When  I  woke  without  you  there,  I  just  about
came after you then and there. I was half dressed
before  I  realized  I  was  about  to  treat  you  like  a
wayward  mate.  I  knew  I  needed  to  do  some
serious  thinking  before  approaching  you  again.
Stringing  you  along  in  any  way  wouldn’t  have
been fair, and I knew it.” He brushed several light
kisses  over  Tyron’s  lips,  taking  in  his  surprised
expression.  “It  didn’t  take  me  long  to  realize  I
wouldn’t  be  able  to  let  you  go  once  I  had  you
again.”  He  smiled.  “And  not  having  you  again
wasn’t  an  option.  I’ll  never  get  enough  of  you,
Tyron  of  Cuchulian.  You  are  my  bindling.  The
other half of my soul.”

When he saw Tyron’s smile, he couldn’t stop

himself  from  dipping  his  head  and  claiming
Tyron’s  lips.  He  lifted  the  smaller  man  into  his
arms,  pleased  when  Tyron  wrapped  his  legs
around  his  waist,  bringing  their  bodies  flush
together.  Stepping  forward,  Santos  pinned  his
mate  against  a  tree,  grinding  his  erection  into
Tyron’s equally hard shaft.

“Santos!” Tyron hissed, his head falling back

against the trunk. He moaned, rolling his hips
forward.

“I’m going to strip you down, my sexy

bindling. I’m going to pin you to this tree and take

Charlie Richards

you right here in the woods where anyone can see.
You are mine now, Tyron,” Santos growled.

“As you are mine, Santos. If anyone else lays a

hand on you, I will kill them,” he promised,
growling low in his throat.

The man’s possessive words burned through

Santos,  making  him  even  hotter.  “Yesss,”  he
hissed before claiming Tyron’s mouth in a heated
kiss.  He  brought  his  claws  to  Tyron’s  waist,
intending  to  shred  the  man’s  jeans,  but  Tyron
stayed his hands.

“Ah, ah. I need those,” he teased.
“Then you’d best get them off,” Santos

growled.  He  unbuttoned  his  pants,  letting  them
slide down his hips as he pulled out his twitching
cock  and  slowly  stroked  it.  He  watched  as  Tyron
leered  at  his  swollen  dick.  The  gargoyle  slid  his
hands  down  his  chest,  taking  a  second  to  tweak
his own nipples through his shirt before grabbing
the hem and pulling it over his head. Immediately
Tyron’s green wings curved upward behind him.
Growling  low  in  his  throat,  Santos’s  own  red
wings spread behind him, sending swirls of wind
around the pair, echoing their desire.

He wrapped his fist tighter around his cock as

he  watched  Tyron  shimmy  out  of  his  jeans.  He
nearly  swallowed  his  tongue  when  the  gargoyle
sucked three fingers into his mouth before turning
around,  leaning  one  hand  up  against  a  tree,  and

Binding Santos

shoving two of the now wet fingers into his ass.
Mesmerized, he watched as Tyron pumped them
in and out, his body rocking as he fucked himself
on his fingers.

When Tyron shoved in a third finger, Santos

growled  and  lunged  forward.  He  wrapped  his
claws  around  the  gargoyle’s  wrist,  pulling  the
fingers free. Lining up his cock, he shoved into the
smaller  man,  not  stopping  until  he  bottomed  out
and his balls slapped against Tyron’s ass. “Mine,”
he  snarled  into  his  bindling’s  ear.  “My  ass!”  A
possessiveness  he’d  never  felt  before  swept  over
him.  His  teeth  shifted  fully,  something  he  almost
never  allowed  to  happen,  and  he  showed  off  a
mouthful of sharp teeth.

Tyron’s eyes widened as he stared over his

shoulder at him. For a second, Santos thought he’d
scared his mate. Then Tyron groaned and shoved
his ass against him. “Claim me,” he whispered.
“Tear into me with that sexy grin.”

A shudder of excitement racked his body at

Tyron’s  words.  Fuck,  if  Tyron’s  mewling,
vibrating  body  was  any  sign,  his  bindling  was
turned  on  by  the  idea  of  his  teeth  slicing  into  his
shoulder. A growl escaping him, Santos gave them
both what they wanted as his hips began to thrust
in and out of Tyron’s tight, hot sheath. He gripped
his bindling where the shoulder met the neck and
bit  hard.  Blood  gushed  over  his  tongue,  and  he

Charlie Richards

moaned at the exquisite taste of his mate. Fuck, the
small sips he’d enjoyed while in the Overworld
didn’t do Tyron justice.

Tyron screamed, but it wasn’t in pain. His cry

of  pleasure  echoed  between  the  trees  as  the  sun
warmed their skin. His gargoyle’s ass clenched as
his release shot from him, painting the bark of the
tree  in  pearly  essence.  Tyron’s  muscles  locked
around  Santos’s  cock,  sucking  the  orgasm  out  of
him.  The  demon  released  the  gargoyle’s  flesh,
blood dripping from his teeth. He threw his head
back  and  roared  his  release.  “Mine,”  he  growled
repeatedly,  his  body  still  shuddering  from
aftershocks  from  the  most  intense  orgasm  of  his
life.

“Yours,” Tyron murmured, leaning back

against Santos’s still shivering body.

Still connected, Santos dipped his head and

licked  at  the  wound  he’d  torn  into  Tyron’s
shoulder. Yeah, he’d bit him a little hard, but fuck
his  mate  was  sexy.  He  couldn’t  stop  himself.
Gently  he  suckled  the  flesh,  healing  it  with  his
saliva  as  only  a  mate  could,  leaving  a  large  pink
scar.

Santos sighed, looking over the mark he’d left

on his mate. Smiling at the proof that Tyron was
now his, he finally let his softening cock slide out
of his bindling. Both of them groaned at the
sensation. “Soon. I’ll have you again soon,” Santos

Binding Santos

promised.

Tyron grinned before bending to retrieve his

pants. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he quipped.

Growling teasingly, Santos put his pants to

rights before grabbing his bindling and latching
onto his lips. When he released Tyron, Santos
smiled at his mate’s shining eyes. “Any time, love.
Any time.”

Before he could start anything else, Tyron eased

away from him and grimaced. “I could really use
a shower and a change of clothes. And I really
need to check in with my Huzza.”

Santos smiled and nodded. “A bed would be

preferable,”  he  teased.  Gripping  Tyron’s  hand
tightly, he began to jog through the forest. “Come
on,  sexy.  Let’s  go  find  one.”  Winking  over  his
shoulder,  he  pulled  Tyron  behind  him.  “I’ve  got
ideas for what to do in that shower!”

They reached Rostrorod, and Santos pounded

on the door, since Tyron didn’t have keys on him
when he’d been kidnapped. The door swung
open, revealing a gargoyle Santos didn’t
recognize.

“Tyron,” the large man shouted. “Are you

okay?” he asked, pulling Tyron into a hug.

Santos growled low in his throat, not pleased to

see his bindling in another man’s arms. Tyron
extricated himself from the other gargoyle, patting
his arm. “Yes, Cliff, I’m fine. Santos saved me.”

Charlie Richards

When Tyron turned and smiled at him, the love

the  gargoyle  felt  for  Santos  showed  clearly  in  his
eyes. Santos’s growl turned to a purr as he pulled
him  close  and  kissed  him.  “And  you  saved  me,”
he  whispered  the  words  for  Tyron’s  ears  alone.
Gratefulness to the Fates for seeing fit to give him
Tyron filled Santos.

After one more not-so-chaste kiss, he looked at

the gargoyles standing around them. Most had
expressions of surprise or amusement on their
faces. “We need to speak with Maximus as soon as
possible.”

“I’m here, Santos,” Max said, threading his way

through the parting gargoyles. He held out a hand
and pulled Tyron into a one armed hug before
quickly releasing him. “Welcome home, Tyron. It’s
good to see you safe.”

“Thank you, Huzza,” Tyron said, ducking his

head in submission.

Max chuckled. “Relax.” He turned his piercing

blue eyes on Santos, taking in his shirtless form
and bruising ribs. He smirked. “Well, since you’re
alive, I’m assuming you came to some
arrangement with the coalition?”

Santos smirked, nodding. “Yup. Thanks to my

exceptionally  strong-minded  mate,  I  was  able  to
get  the  permission  requirement  for  claiming  a
bindling revoked. Any demon can now bind with
whoever  they  want.  It  should  make  for  an

Binding Santos

interesting couple of years for the coalition.” He
smirked, loving the idea of causing the controlling
bastards trouble.

Max chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”
“We have more to discuss,” Santos said softly,

his gaze roving over the men still looking on with
interest. “Things of a more intimate nature.”

“Ah. Of course,” Max said. He started leading

the way down the hall before glancing over his
shoulder and winking. “Congratulations, by the
way. Did you have to bite him so hard?”

Santos grinned. Allowing his jaw to shift to its

natural  form,  he  showed  off  a  mouthful  of  very
pointed  teeth.  “Tyron  didn’t  complain,”  he
purred,  the  arm  wrapped  around  his  bindling
tightening.

Max laughed at Tyron’s blush and opened the

door to his study. “I’m sure he didn’t.”

Serena followed him into the room and crossed

to the sideboard. “Do you want anything?” the
female gargoyle asked.

“Tequila,” Santos replied, eyeing Max’s sister.

He’d heard that female gargoyles were so rare that
they  had  two  mates  instead  of  one.  He’d  have  to
ask  Tyron  about  that  some  time.  Turning  to  look
at  Tyron,  he  asked,  “What  about  you,  little  one?
Do you want anything?”

“What time is it?” he asked.
“Almost two in the afternoon, Tyron,” Max said

Charlie Richards

gently. “Don’t worry. Your shift at the infirmary is
covered until tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Tyron murmured. He looked at

Serena and shrugged. “Got any Caribbean rum
over there?”

She laughed lightly. “Of course. My brother

keeps just about everything back here.” Winking,
she pulled a couple bottles and tumblers from
different cupboards behind the bar.

After settling with their drinks, Max leaned

forward. “Now what’s this about, Santos?”

“Did Tyron tell you I’ve been looking for a relic

from the McDarmund tribe?” After Max and
Serena nodded, he grinned smugly. “Well, I’ve
found one. And it’s right here in Rostrorod!”

About the Author

Charlie lives on a mini ranchette in Utah with her
handsome,  supportive  husband.  She  started
writing  fantasy  when  she  was  eight,  and  after
stumbling  onto  her  first  erotic  romance  at
nineteen,  she  realized  her  true  calling.  She  now
focuses  on  writing  erotic  romance,  often  of  the
paranormal  variety,  with  heroes  and  heroines  of
all  kinds.  You  can  often  find  her  curled  up  with
her  laptop  and  a  cup  of  tea  or  glass  of  wine,
creating  her  next  story,  which  could  pair  a  sexy
hero  with  an  adventurous  heroine…  or  maybe
with  another  handsome  hero.  Charlie  enjoys
horseback  riding,  jump  lessons  with  Apache,
watching movies with her husband, and listening
to her muse tell her about her next project.

She

can

reached

ch.richards2010@yahoo.com

Or at www.charlie-richards.com