Lost 

Darwin‘s Theory: Book 4 

Adrienne Wilder  

Published 2011 

ISBN 978-1-59578-834-4 

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 

Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2011, . All rights reserved. No part 
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form 
or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written 
permission of the author.  

Manufactured in the United States of America 

Liquid Silver Books 

http://lsbooks.com 

Email: 

raven@lsbooks.com 

Editor 

Victoria Miller 

Cover Artist 

Adrienne Wilder 

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the 

author‘s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or 
persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.  

Blurb 

Peter and me, we‘ve been through a lot over the past few days. Pete bit me, and then was 

kidnapped by Whitcomb-I-Used-To-Have-Clown-Hair. In my attempt to rescue Peter I was 
forced to break the promise I made, which went something along the lines of not setting 
anything on fire or blowing anything up.  

Everything is okay now because Pete and I are safe inside the Gray Zone. Now all we 

have to do is to deal with Peter‘s becoming Lesser-Bred. Because I can‘t feed Pete, it means 
buying a Lesser-Bred whore who can. But Peter is still worried he‘ll come after me so he‘s 
asked me for a favor, and Peter has never asked me for anything, so it‘s no surprise I can‘t 
tell him no. Only, if I keep my word, if I do the thing Peter has asked me to do, there‘s a 
chance it could kill him.  

Acknowledgements 

This series is dedicated to my beta readers and very good friends Linda, Racheal, and 

Larry.  

And my Special Agent beta readers:  
Karen Mullian and Ann Olson  
Who are not afraid to kick my ass and stab me between the eyes with a red pen.  
In no particular order.  
Last but not least, the author who gave me the courage to write Darwin as he was meant 

to be written. Jordan Castillo Price, you may not know me, but your bravery and creativity as 
a writer gave me the brass cahones to create without restraint.  

Thank you.  

Chapter One 

I dreamt I was a chocolate covered cherry, and someone had bitten a hole in my candy 

shell to suck out all my juices. A tongue played over my broken edges, and the lips caressing 
me became slick with all the sticky goodness I was leaking out.  

Now tell me that‘s not the wettest dream you could ever have.  
I would have loved to know how it was gonna finish, but unfortunately the ring of 

Peter‘s cell phone butchered it all to hell. I knew it was Pete‘s because instead of Manson it 
played some sort of Star Wars, Star Trek, space adventure sound effects. I opened my eyes to 
a stained popcorn ceiling and a line of warmth tucked against my side. Peter had his head on 
my shoulder and we were both naked as the day we were born.  

And not because we‘d been knocking boots.  
Okay, we had been knocking boots, but our current state of nakedness was due to the fact 

that our clothes were in the rust-stained bathtub, soaking to get all the burnt book smell out. 
That was my fault by the way. I‘d set the fire that kept Roger Serge out of the room we‘d 
been locked in at his apartment and almost barbequed us both. Thanks to Whitcomb-I-Used-
To-Have-Clown-Hair, we were alive and holed up in a rundown motel inside the Zone less 
than two blocks from the heart of the Dens.  

A lot had happened in the past twenty-four hours. Peter bit me, freaked out and called 

Whitcomb, who then kidnapped Peter with the help of his evil twin Robert Serge. Who‘s 
married, by the way, to Rebecca Serge, one of Georgia Tech‘s bigwigs. The very bigwig 
responsible for dumping Peter‘s lab scores because he wouldn‘t help her on some top secret 
project where the government was trying to build super soldiers with giant sized dicks and 
Pamela Anderson breasts.  

Or something like that.  
With the help of Peter‘s computer geek friend Danny, I found Whitcomb‘s apartment an 

attempted a rescue. Of course, in the process, I was forced to break the promise I‘d made to 
Danny about not blowing things up or burning them down.  

I couldn‘t help but wonder if Whitcomb‘s apartment fire had made the six o‘clock news.  
If Danny didn‘t hate me before, he was definitely gonna hate me now.  
No big loss. After all, I had my soul mate Pete. As far as I was concerned that was all 

that mattered.  

I waited for the phone to stop ringing. Eventually, it did. Which was good, because I had 

far more interesting things to occupy my time with.  

I stared at Pete in all his glorious nakedness: natural tan skin, tawny muscles. Submerged 

in dreamland, his eyes flicked back and forth under his lids. His mouth was open and was 
leaking a wet spot on my chest close to my armpit.  

Is it wrong when you‘re your turned on by your boyfriend‘s drool?  
I was just about to explore that thought when Pete‘s cell phone started ringing again. I 

groaned and waited for it to cut off. This time there wasn‘t much of a pause between the time 
it rolled over to voice mail and when whomever it was so hell bent and determined to reach-
out-and-touch-someone tried again.  

Answering the thing was probably the best choice. Otherwise, I was going to have 

―Priority message on star fleet security channel one‖ burned into my brain until I grew old 
and died.  

With a little bit of maneuvering I moved Peter over on the pillow. He didn‘t even twitch 

when I tucked the sheet around his shoulders or kissed him. That wasn‘t like him. Usually, I 
was the one who could sleep through a nuclear bomb blast. But then, since I quit the drugs 
and the drinking, I was finding it harder and harder to ignore the world around me.  

For example, last week, I realized that my parking brake was pulled up in the Neon. I 

didn‘t even know the damn thing had a parking brake. No telling how long it had been on. I 
mean, sometimes I smelled something funny when I was driving it, but I figured it was all the 
trash I‘d collected in the floorboards. Either that or the rats that occasionally climbed in there 
and died.  

I kissed Pete again and this time when my lips brushed against his, I noticed how warm 

he was. Inhuman warm. That‘s why we were here. Pete wasn‘t going to be a member of 
species Homo sapiens much longer. Nope, his genetic destiny was about to unfold. Within a 
matter of hours, days, or at the most, weeks, he was going to become Lesser-Bred.  

From the depths of my duster, Pete‘s phone kept ringing. My coat wasn‘t in the bathtub 

soaking with the rest of my clothes because I didn‘t want to clean out the pockets. Now I was 
wishing I had thrown it in the tub with everything else. Pockets chock full of shit or not. Of 
course, I could just take Pete‘s cell phone out and throw it in the tub.  

I couldn‘t help but wonder if Peter would notice his fancy blue texting gadget lying all 

sparkly and alone under gallons and gallons of water when he finally woke up to take a piss.  

The phone quit and began again. With some cussing, I hauled myself out from under the 

covers and stumbled over to where my duster had been thrown in a heap by the dresser. I dug 
through the pockets, dropping condoms, condom wrappers, a bottle of empty lube, a bottle of 
full lube, a small container of butter—how the hell did that get in there?—some pens, 
matches, super glue, a piece of paper with a mystery phone number.  

Found it.  
No, false alarm; that was my phone.  
I dug around in the other pocket and got a whole lot more of the same. Peter‘s phone was 

at the bottom. When I pulled it out, a vaguely familiar silver stick came with it and fell out on 
the floor.  

I pressed the call button as I bent down to pick it up. ―Hello?‖  
―Darwin?‖ Clown Hair.  
―Speaking.‖ I stared at the strange looking pen thingy trying to remember where I‘d 

gotten it. Then it hit me. Last night, when Peter and I were running for our lives, Whitcomb 
stuck it in my hand along with the keys to his fancy Toyota.  

―Are you and Peter all right?‖  
―Yeah, why?‖ There were no labels on the thing. Or warning messages. One end was 

smooth the other had a small hole in it. A crease in the middle suggested that the first half 
could slide back, popping out whatever was hidden in the opening.  

―I called several times and no one answered…‖ Whatever else Whitcomb said kind of 

faded out as I eyeballed the thing in my hand. Whitcomb had called it an epipen? I might not 
be a metaphysical genius, or even a regular genius—come to think of it—I probably wouldn‘t 
even measure up to the shoe size of a genius. Either way, I could tell by looking at this thing 
that it wasn‘t something a person used to ward off the nasty allergic effects of a bee sting, or 
shellfish, or peanuts…  

―What did you say this thing was again?‖  
Whitcomb was silent. Wow, I actually found a way to shut him up. I‘d have to remember 

that.  

―What thing?‖  
―This pen, thingy, you called it an epipen.‖  
I sniffed it. I have no idea why. Then I thought about chewing on it but no telling what 

would happen if I did that. Sometimes my last two brain cells are on speaking terms and 
occasionally hold hands. I stuck it on the dresser with the rest of the crap from my pockets.  

Now that they were cleaned out, I could throw the duster in the bath. Unlike the pen 

thingy, it did smell funny.  

Naaaaa—I let my coat fall back to the floor.  
―So? What is it?‖  
―Have Peter explain it to you. He invented it. I just put it together for him. Darwin, are 

you sure Peter is all right.‖  

―Yeah. Why?‖  
Whitcomb exhaled like he was letting out every ounce of hot air he was full of. ‗Course, 

as far as I was concerned, that wasn‘t the only thing Whitcomb was full of. After all, he‘d 
tried to convince Peter to leave me, then kidnapped him when he wouldn‘t. His only saving 
grace was the fact he‘d popped the bars off that window and pulled us out of the inferno I 
started.  

From the other end of the line Clown Hair sounded like he was getting pissed. ―Darwin, 

have you heard anything I‘ve said to you in the past five minutes?‖  

It occurred to me I could lie to him, but I didn‘t. ―Uh, no.‖  
―Jesus! For once in your life can you pay attention? This is important.‖  
I sighed. ―Fine.‖  
―David and Rebecca are on the war path. They‘re looking for Peter.‖  
―You said he would be safe here in the Zone.‖ I might have been scared shitless last 

night, with a whole hell of a lot on my mind, but I distinctly remembered that part of the 
conversation.  

―He is, but you need to be careful, too. He‘s close, Darwin. I‘m not sure how close, but 

when he called us yesterday, his temperature was spiking and he was throwing off a lot of 
heat.‖  

My eyes slid over to Peter. He was on his back, right where I left him: one hand near the 

side of his head, the other across his stomach. I noticed his breathing was rapid and he was 
flushed. The way-too-thin sheet that covered him did more to fuel my imagination then it 
actually concealed anything from my eyes.  

―Yeah, he‘s hot this morning.‖ In more ways than one.  
―Do you have someone you can call?‖  
―Call?‖  
―A Lesser-Bred, Darwin. Do you know someone you can call?‖  
―Yeah, I‘ve got a contact.‖  
―Do you have a back up?‖  
―I don‘t need one.‖ And I didn‘t. If Raithe was busy I could always dial up one of his 

associates. They‘d be easy to find seeing their numbers were scratched into the bathroom 
wall of just about every public john in the Zone. But Raithe wouldn‘t be busy, at least not for 
me, his bestest paying customer.  

I picked at the pile of crap I‘d laid out on the dresser while Whitcomb read me the riot 

act about how I need to take this seriously, and whether or not I could trust the Lesser-Bred I 
had on my speed dial. Also about how I needed to make sure Peter ate and…  

―Yeah, okay, I get it, Clown Hair. I‘ll make sure he eats, I‘ll make sure Raithe knows 

what the fuck he‘s doing…‖  

―And no sex…‖  
It was my turn to shut up. ―Excuse me?‖  
―This close it can set him off, Darwin. You need to let one of us handle him.‖  
Uh. Yeah. And flaming, flying baboons were gonna shoot out of my asshole. ―I gotta 

go…‖  

―Wait, Darwin…‖  
―Cell phone battery is down, need to charge it…‖  
―Darwin, this is serious. Please…‖  

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the please, but I actually refrained from hanging 

up on him. ―What?‖  

―I‘m not saying never again, I‘m just saying, not alone. I‘m serious Darwin, if he comes 

after you, he‘ll kill you.‖  

I was gonna tell Whitcomb he didn‘t know his ass from a hole in the ground, but the bite 

mark on my shoulder chose that moment to ache. Which, of course, reminded me of the 
promise I‘d made to myself, and most of all to Peter. The one that went something along the 
lines of me being responsible, taking care of him, doing what needed to be done, no matter 
how much my greedy bastard self wanted to keep him holed up in here, just me, and him, and 
a bottle of lube.  

Alone.  
After all, doing what I wanted had almost cost me his life once. That was not a mistake I 

could risk repeating.  

―Yeah … I understand.‖ Whitcomb went quiet again. So quiet that I checked my signal. I 

put the phone back to my ear. ―You still there?‖  

―I am. I was just… Are you sure you and Peter are okay?‖  
―I promise. We‘re fine. And I‘ll do everything you told me to.‖  
Another long pause then, ―I guess if you need me, call, okay?‖  
―Sure.‖ I hung up and tossed the phone into the pile of condoms. When I looked up, my 

reflection met me in the large mirror hanging over the dresser. I almost didn‘t recognize 
myself because the expression on my face was unfamiliar to me. Kind of worried, kind of 
tired, but happy. I guess that‘s what happens when you have someone in your life you care 
about. Someone who cares back.  

My eyes were the same, though. Hard chips of blue, like ice found in cold arctic waters. I 

read somewhere once that the eyes are windows to the soul.  

Looking at myself right now I had to agree, and then I had to wonder how Peter could 

love me. Or better yet, why?  

I blinked and noticed someone else was watching my reflection from over my shoulder. 

Peter was awake.  

I turned.  
Pete‘s dark, dark eyes went hot then his lips tugged up. ―Hey.‖  
―Hi back.‖  
Then he said, ―It‘s called a MFCD.‖  
The look on my face must have been priceless because Peter‘s small smile turned into a 

grin, then he actually rolled his head back and laughed. I was so dumb struck I couldn‘t even 
squeeze out a ―huh?‖  

―The thing in your hand, D.‖  
I looked down and saw the silver pen back in my fist. When the hell had I picked it up 

again? I dropped it, and wiped my hand on my chest. I don‘t know why, but that sorta 
creeped me out. Almost as much as the whole, spontaneous Human combustion trick I tried 
to pull outside of Whitcomb‘s apartment.  

―D?‖  
―Uh, yeah…‖ I wandered back over to the bed and climbed in. When I laid down Peter 

moved up beside me. He was still way too warm. Maybe even a little bit warmer than before. 
His hand touched my cheek, and my head automatically turned in his direction. I‘ve always 
been powerless against him.  

―What are you thinking about?‖  
Everything. ―What‘s a MDABC?‖  
―MFCD.‖  
―Yeah that.‖  

―Metaphysical Field Chemical Disrupter.‖  
I made a face. ―I think I liked it when I thought it was an epipen.‖  
He laughed again, but this time it was softer. Like his eyes. God, I just wanted to fall in 

there and drown. I couldn‘t interpret the expression on Pete‘s face, but I knew he could read 
me, front cover to centerfold to back cover.  

―Well, it‘s definitely not an epipen.‖  
―Whitcomb told me that if you … you know … came after me, I needed to stick you with 

it.‖ Of course, I could have heard wrong. We‘d just escaped the inferno I‘d started, and were 
about to run off into the night. Pete nodded. ―So, what does it do? I mean, how would it stop 
you?‖  

Pete propped his head up on his hand and stared down at me. ―It‘s pretty cut and dried 

really.‖  

―Well could you explain it? Using small words?‖ I pinched my fingers together to make 

my idea of small oh-so-obvious.  

Pete‘s palm slipped across my shoulder to my neck, then to my chest where his fingers 

made a circle around my right nipple. That was almost enough to make me forget about my 
question, but by sheer will I held on.  

―It acts on the neuroactive peptides and proteins in the brain. Those are the chemicals 

that allow signals to be processed. When a person is Flaring, they change. The signal goes 
from electrical to metaphysical. The enzymatic combination in the MFCD will disrupt the 
flow.‖  

Like I said, my idea of small and Peter‘s is nowhere near the same. I sighed.  
His eyebrow went up and he added, ―Think stun gun.‖  
―You mean it will knock you out?‖  
He shrugged and stared at my chest. ―That‘s the idea.‖  
―But you don‘t know.‖  
―I‘ve never had the chance to test it.‖  
―And what if it doesn‘t work?‖  
Pete gave a snort. I love his snorts. Like his sighs, they are oh so sexy. ―It‘ll work, D. 

Trust me.‖  

Now how come I didn‘t like the sound of that? ―What are you not telling me, Pete?‖ And 

he wasn‘t telling me something. I didn‘t need to read his expression to know that, because he 
wouldn‘t meet my eyes. Sometimes, I think Pete worries I can see his thoughts or read his 
mind, but I can‘t. I swear. I do good to read the instructions on a box of brownie mix. 
Following those instructions, however, is a whole ‗nother obstacle.  

I put a hand on Peter‘s chin and pulled it up. Eventually his gaze followed. He 

swallowed and I had the sudden urge to put my mouth over his pulse and suck till I left a 
hickey. Well, three hickeys, I can never stop at just one, but I held back on that, too.  

―No more secrets, Peter. Remember?‖  
He blinked, long and slow. His mouth turned down. Then he said, ―The chemical shock 

can be severe enough that the person on the receiving end of the injection could suffer a 
complete neurotransmitter disruption, causing the metaphysical signatures to short out, 
leaving the electromagnetic field to evaporate.‖  

God, I loved it when he talked liked that. I just wish I understood it all. Because what he 

said sounded so scary, I had to admit my ignorance. Any other time I would have just smiled 
and nodded.  

―Legos, Peter, remember the Legos.‖ Those were a concept even my refried, drug-addled 

brain could figure out.  

After another long pause, where Pete took the time to run his hand all the way down to 

my navel, he said, ―Worst case scenario? It could kill me.‖  

Chapter Two 

―D!‖ Pete made a grab for me as I rolled off the bed and marched back to the pile of shit 

I‘d excavated from my pockets. I snatched the MFCD—now titled the mother fucking crappy 
doodle thingy in my head—off the dresser with every intention of taking it into the bathroom 
and forcing the piece of shit down the toilet.  

If that didn‘t work, I was pretty sure I had a couple of firecrackers in my duster 

somewhere I could duct tape to it and blow it up, and if I didn‘t, there was almost a full tank 
of gas in the Toyota.  

Peter got in my way. ―What are you doing?‖  
What was I doing?  
What. Was. I. Doing?  
Was Peter serious? ―I‘m gonna get rid of this stupid piece of shit, that‘s what.‖  
―No!‖ Peter grabbed my wrist and snatched the silver pen thing from my hand. ―You 

might need it.‖  

―Fuck that!‖  
―Darwin!‖ My full name. Peter only says my full name under two circumstances. When 

he‘s being serious or when he‘s mad at me. Right now there was a lot of heat in his eyes, and 
flush in his cheeks, and since I didn‘t have him down and under me or my mouth around his 
dick there could only be one reason for that.  

Peter rarely loses his temper with me, and there have been so many times I deserved for 

him to. Like when I blew up Tolbert‘s car and cost him his Metaphysical Scholarship, and 
when I almost burned us to death in Whitcomb‘s apartment.  

That‘s only in the past month.  
I deserved his anger then, but for some messed up reason he was mad at me now.  
―D…‖ Peter reached out and I pulled away.  
―No.‖  
―D, please.‖  
―Nothing you can say to me will make me keep that thing. Nothing Pete, do you hear me, 

nothing!‖  

I was yelling. Yelling at Pete. I never yelled at him. Never. The fact I was doing it fired 

off a whole ‗nother round of angry in my chest. Then my eyes burned. Fuck, if I cried now I 
was gonna run naked into the street and jump in front of the first bus I came across.  

Considering the crappy motel we were staying in was located in the Gray Zone, I stood a 

better chance of getting eaten.  

The epipen made a noise when it landed back on the dresser. Peter had both his hands 

free now, and that meant I was really helpless. He took me by the hand and pulled me over to 
the bed and made me sit on the edge.  

―Look at me, Darwin.‖  
I refused.  
―Darwin. Look. At. Me.‖  
I ran my hand through my hair, scrubbed my face with my palms, even did some 

inappropriate scratching of my nether region to try and distract myself. Of course, it didn‘t 
work. Eventually, my eyes rolled up.  

The look on Peter‘s face made the burning in my eyes start up again. Crying was so not 

my thing. I‘m supposed to be too jaded, too angry, too pissed off at the world to give a shit. 
But ever since Peter gave himself to me, really gave himself, I had a hard time feeling 
anything but how much I loved him.  

And you know what? Even though love feels so good, it‘s a whole new kind of hurt.  
Not to mention, weakness.  

I thumbed off a tear and wiped it on the ugly maroon comforter. ―You‘re gonna make me 

smear my eyeliner.‖  

―You‘re not wearing any eyeliner. I washed it off last night.‖  
Oh, yeah. ―Well, I might want to apply another coat or two, if I get all teary eyed it won‘t 

stick, then…‖  

―D.‖  
My mouth snapped closed. I don‘t know how my body parts know what Peter wants 

from me even when I don‘t.  

―I need you to listen to me.‖ Pete fingered my red and black bangs, tucking them behind 

my ears, away from my eyes. Now, all my defenses were gone. ―I wouldn‘t have told you 
what that was, unless it was important.‖  

―Whitcomb said he helped you make it.‖  
―Yeah, he put it together for me using a formula I developed a few days after… You 

know, when I told him I wouldn‘t leave with him.‖  

―Why? Why would he help you make something that could kill you?‖  
―Because he knows what it‘s like.‖  
I didn‘t have to ask what Peter meant. Whitcomb killed his wife when he went through 

the Shift. Killed her and ate her. It was something Peter was afraid he‘d do to me. It‘s why he 
called Clown Hair when he bit me yesterday. It‘s why Whitcomb and Roger Serge took Pete 
and tried to hide him from me. Lesser-Breds who hurt, maim, or kill Humans get an 
automatic death sentence under the blade of an Alchemist death squad, because Lesser-Breds 
are not Human and they‘re not dragons. Being a mixed blooded offspring put them 
somewhere between rodents and nasty crawling insects.  

Somehow, I managed to keep my eye contact with Pete when I said, ―You won‘t hurt 

me.‖  

Pete‘s gaze slid to my shoulder and lingered on the bite mark he‘d given me. It was all 

shiny and metaphysically cauterized because he‘d been Flaring at the time he had me bent 
over the kitchen counter. Peter didn‘t normally top, but his aggression seemed to skyrocket 
when he was experiencing a metaphysical surge.  

Yeah, it was probably wrong, but thinking about that when right to my dick.  
Peter‘s nose twitched.  
―Sorry, I was just thinking…‖ And I didn‘t have to tell him what about.  
Peter‘s expression was serious when he picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles. 

―How much do you love me, D?‖  

I don‘t know why he was asking me this … again. I‘d already told him. Once right 

before I made love to him for the first time and once when he told me his big bad secret about 
not being Human any more. Or Human for much longer.  

I swallowed hard enough that my throat clicked. ―You know the answer.‖  
―Tell me, again.‖  
―More than anything. More than air, water, or life.‖ As if right on cue, the tears I‘d been 

holding in escaped.  

―Then you‘ve gotta know I love you that much, too.‖  
I did. I really, really did.  
―Darwin, I need you to promise me something.‖  
And because I knew how much he loved me, I shook my head. ―No.‖  
―D…‖  
―No, Pete… No. No. No…‖ The rest of my protests were swallowed up when he kissed 

me. My brain went all fuzzy until he pulled his lips off mine. ―That‘s not fair.‖  

―Life isn‘t fair.‖  

I blinked and looked at Peter then. And I mean really looked at him. There was a lot 

more feeling in those three words than should have been possible. The only problem was I 
didn‘t know what it was. I wanted to. If I could be smart like Peter and read the secrets of the 
universe that everyone else missed, maybe I‘d be able to understand. That‘s what makes him 
so good at metaphysical science. He can see the patterns, the equations, the hidden messages 
when other people can‘t.  

Peter kissed me again, just a press of his lips to mine. Somehow, that was way more 

intimate than his tongue in my mouth. When he pulled back again, he said, ―You promised 
you would take care of me.‖ I nodded. ―This is a part of taking care of me, D. If I come after 
you, if I try and kill you, I need you to stop me.‖  

My heart breaking in two should have been as loud as Tolbert‘s car blowing up. Maybe 

even louder. Yeah, definitely louder. The Earth shaking, window shattering kind of loud. But 
there was only silence. I was surprised to find the lack of sound effects far, far worse.  

Pete‘s thumb brushed over my mouth. ―Please stop me, D.‖  
I was going to tell him, again, that he wouldn‘t hurt me, but one look in his eyes and I 

knew he‘d never believe it. Bite or no bite, Pete really believed he could kill me.  

So, instead I said, ―I can‘t.‖  
―You have to.‖  
―Peter…‖  
―You have to, D. I‘m not strong like you.‖  
I blinked a few times. ―What are you talking about?‖  
―I‘m not strong like you, D.‖  
He wasn‘t strong like me? This was the guy who held onto his virginity until he was 

twenty-three and only let me have it then because he was afraid it wouldn‘t be the same after 
he changed. Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn‘t, how the fuck did I know, but the fact Peter 
never gave into himself, he never did things to hurt people, he never lost his temper, he never 
doubted himself, made him the strongest person I‘d ever known. Me? I‘d been hiding behind 
every kind of chemical impairment I could get my hands on for the last six or seven years.  

―How can you say that, Pete?‖  
―Because you are. You‘re strong in ways you don‘t even know yet. That‘s why I need 

you to do this, Darwin. Just this one thing. I‘ve never asked you to sacrifice anything for me, 
but I‘m asking you for this; if I come after you, you will stop me. No matter what. I could 
never survive knowing I killed you.‖  

He was right, you know. Peter never asked me for anything. He‘d never ever asked me to 

give up any part of myself. Unlike me, Peter isn‘t a greedy, selfish, or a bastard.  

Of all the things he could have asked me to do, this one had to be the worst of the worst. 

No matter how strong Peter thought I was, I would never be strong enough for this.  

If I wasn‘t strong enough, then failure wouldn‘t be my fault. Right?  
―Promise me, D.‖ Closer, Peter nipped my chin and brushed the lightest kiss across my 

cheek. ―Say it to me.‖  

If I said it out loud, he knew I‘d do it. I swallowed. I inhaled and Pete stared at me until 

the words fell out of my mouth. ―I promise.‖  

Peter caught the new flow of tears on my cheek with his mouth and fed the salty taste to 

me with a stroke of his tongue. My hands came up and I buried them in his hair. I yanked his 
head back, exposing his throat. With teeth and lips on his skin, across his pulse, I drew a 
moan out of his chest.  

God, that sound, that beautiful sound.  
I pushed Peter over, and under me, with our clothes in the tub we didn‘t even have to 

take time to get naked, and that meant I didn‘t have to wait to touch him. Head to hip, I ran 
my hands up and down his body, across his stomach, to his cock jabbing my groin.  

―D, we shouldn‘t…‖  
Yes, we should.  
―D … please … I need to eat … I‘m not safe.‖  
Safe? Since when have I ever cared about safe?  
My conscience—which I have an even less stellar relationship with than my brain—

chose that moment to remind me of what Whitcomb said. And since my conscience and I 
aren‘t exactly on the best of terms, I was bound and determined to ignore the fucker, but it 
wouldn‘t shut up. It just kept beating and beating and beating on my mental doors. Thanks to 
everything that‘s happened over the past few days, thanks to all of my shortcomings I‘ve had 
to face, I couldn‘t ignore it.  

When I stopped, there was a look of surprise on Peter‘s face along with the need. Like 

this, he wouldn‘t tell me no. Like this, I could fuck him and he‘d just want more and more. 
And here I was, oh-so-ready to take advantage of his lack of control.  

Somehow, facing that fact made me feel about two inches tall.  
I let him go.  
―I‘m sorry…‖ Not only was it a pathetic apology but an inadequate one, but I think Peter 

is used to my inadequacies. So far, he‘s never held any of them against me.  

―Don‘t be sorry. I just need to get something to eat. Then we can come back here and be 

together.‖ But I‘d promised Whitcomb not only would I feed Peter, but we wouldn‘t do this 
alone. One of Peter‘s eyebrows went up. ―What?‖ Like I said, he can read me like Men 
magazine.  

I told him what Whitcomb said. Exactly what he said and Peter surprised me by not 

losing that soft smile he wears oh-so-well.  

―But we already knew that was going to have to happen.‖  
Yeah, because I‘d promised him to find him a Lesser-Bred whore. One who could feed 

him when it was time to lose his Humanness. Then I‘d fallen down on the job and Peter bit 
me. Like I said, all this was my fault. Peter just wouldn‘t let me shoulder the blame.  

―Do you have someone you can call?‖  
I nodded.  
―Then call him. We‘ll meet with him at one of the café‘s around here and I‘ll eat.‖  
―We don‘t have any clothes.‖ It‘s not like I needed to point that out to Peter, he‘s way 

more observant than I am. And yeah, I‘ve totally not observed my own state of nakedness on 
multiple occasions.  

―My suitcase is still in the trunk of Whitcomb‘s car.‖  
His suitcase? Oh, yeah, the one they‘d stolen from our closet when they stole him. 

Fucking Whitcomb-I-Used-To-Have-Clown-Hair. Now there was someone I‘d like to test 
that stupid killer-epipen on. Hell, I might even enjoy it.  

Scratch that.  
I know I would enjoy it.  

Chapter Three 

I shouldn‘t have been smiling.  
Dressed in a polo shirt and tan khakis, I felt like my body had been sequestered by an 

alien life form and was no longer under my control.  

To make matters worse, I had on argyle socks. I wouldn‘t have worn them, but my boots 

were currently with my clothes drying on the heater in our motel room. Not to mention it was 
like forty degrees out and my toes were cold.  

The totally-not-me-wardrobe in combination with totally-all-me face metal had to be 

violation of some metaphysical, physical, time space flux that was destined to rip the entire 
universe in half.  

Yet here I was, sitting in the back corner of the Boardwalk Café with its cracked lime 

green tiles and 1950‘s soda fountains, the clocks all running in the right direction, planet 
Earth still in one piece, looking all the world like a casualty of war between white bread 
America and a punk rock band.  

And I still couldn‘t wipe the dopey expression off my mug.  
I blame the smiling on Pete. Watching him shovel food into his mouth was almost as 

good as watching him suck me off. He spooned in another mouthful of eggs and followed it 
up by cramming in a whole piece of toast. Maybe it was the lack of control, because Peter 
never ate like this before now.  

―Mumfff—‖ That was Peter, trying to say something. I propped my chin on my hand and 

stared into his dark brown eyes. Okay, not really. I stared at his mouth. He had a glob of jelly 
hanging on his bottom lip and I really, really wanted to lick it off. He chewed, he drank from 
his big glass of milk, then he swallowed.  

Milk-stache, he wore it well.  
Pete brushed his napkin across his lips. ―Aren‘t you gonna eat anything?‖  
Why? He was eating enough for an army and I loved it. Peter pushed a piece of toast in 

the direction of my lips. I took a bite only because I wanted to make him happy. Then Peter 
wiped out the rest of it by shoving it in his mouth.  

―Mif Muuff malfl mff?‖  
The fact that I could understand Peter with his mouth full should have disturbed me. 

There are reasons for that, but I won‘t go into them right now.  

―Yeah, I called him.‖  
―Mff Miff, Nom maf.‖  
―I left him a message to meet us around eleven.‖  
Pete‘s eyes went to the clock while he worked to swallow the mouthful he‘d been 

working on. ―Shouldn‘t he be here by now?‖  

I shrugged. ―Sometimes he runs late.‖  
―Does he have a name?‖  
―Huh?‖ I picked at the edge of the waffle hanging off of one the plates cluttering the 

table.  

―You keep saying ‗he,‘ I just want to know if the Lesser-Bred has a name?‖  
―Yeah, Raithe.‖ The waffle bit I pinched off dripped syrup across the table and down my 

fingers on its way to my mouth. In between chewing, I licked the syrup off my thumb. Then I 
sucked on my fingers: one, the other, and tongued the space in between my knuckles where it 
was sticky.  

Pete‘s silence made me look up. His lips were parted, his eyes were really wide, and he 

was watching my hand like it was a triple X man porn. Just to be an asshole, I shoved three 
fingers into my mouth and so deep down my throat I almost gagged.  

God, I don‘t know what was hotter, Peter when he wanted to top or Peter when he was 

about to rip out of his pleated khakis and hump my leg in public.  

―D…‖ Whatever it was Peter was about to say got cut off by the clatter of bells on the 

door. His eyes flicked up and the red in his cheeks went ten shades brighter.  

I wiped my spit-covered digits on my polo shirt and glanced over my shoulder.  
Speak of the devil, or in this case, the Lesser-Bred.  
Raithe, no last name—but then most Lesser-Breds only called themselves by one name 

just like their full blooded Kin grandsires—is what I guess you‘d call an average looking 
Lesser-Bred. Which means he‘s got a body carved like a Calvin Klein wet dream and dresses 
like Abercrombie and Fitch man-candy. No shirt, no shoes, and ragged out jeans with so 
many holes you know for a fact he‘s not wearing underpants. Aside from the red and gold 
Stain covering most of his back, trickling down his chest, splashing his left cheek—the one 
beside his mouth, thank you—and the copper tipped braids in his strawberry blond hair, he‘s 
a man you‘d be proud to bring home to mom.  

Gay or straight.  
Unfortunately, if your mother is anything like mine, you‘d probably never get him back 

out of her house.  

Raithe took off his mirrored sunglasses and slipped the earpiece into the front pocket of 

his jeans as he glided across the sparse dining room. The look in his silvery eyes made it 
painfully clear he‘d more than just noticed my impromptu wardrobe and was having some 
serious inner giggle at my expense.  

And Raithe, being the kind and understanding frenemy that he is… ―Holy, shit, Darwin, 

what the hell happened? You get raped by the Banana Republic or what?‖  

―Shut up.‖  
―Did you get a personality adjustment with the whole American-apple-pie makeover, or 

are you the same foul-mouthed asshole I love so much?‖  

―I said shut up, Raithe.‖  
―Yeah, and they say clothes make the man. Obviously, whoever came up with that never 

met you.‖  

―Another word and I‘ll set fire to your hundred bucks right here on the table so you can 

watch it burn.‖  

That got him to quit flapping his yap, but it didn‘t do shit about his sharp-toothed grin. 

Raithe doesn‘t have fold up fangs or the kind that come and go with a metaphysical surge. He 
just has a grin that makes me think of junkyard dogs or really mean house cats.  

Raithe pulled out a chair and poured himself into it. Elbow on the table, he propped his 

hand on his fist and fluttered his eyes at Peter. ―So, this is the illustrious Peter Forbes you‘ve 
told me so much about. Or more precisely, scream his name while you‘re…‖ Raithe gave a 
grunt when I planted my sock-covered foot into his shin. ―Hey, just say‘n.‖ He snagged a 
sausage and made it disappear, then proceeded to help himself to Peter‘s milk while picking 
through the stack of toast.  

Eating other people‘s food is a Lesser-Bred thing. I don‘t pretend to understand it.  
Raithe jabbed a half-eaten link in Pete‘s direction. ―He‘s shorter than I thought he would 

be.‖  

―I‘m short.‖ Which is true, although I have an inch on Peter.  
―Yeah, but you‘re mean enough to make up the difference.‖ Raithe‘s eyes gave me a 

little more up and down and the grin on his face changed.  

―What?‖ I looked down at myself. Maybe I had a glob of jelly on my shirt? When I 

brought my gaze back up, Raithe was practically in my face.  

Then he licked his lips.  
―Damn, D, you smell, really, really, good.‖  

―What the hell?‖  
―You quit smoking, and the drugs…‖  
―Yeah, so?‖  
―Mmmm I always knew you had the potential to put out some serious flavor but this … 

yeah … this is a very, very pleasant surprise. I honestly don‘t know if I want to eat you or 
fuck you.‖  

Beside me, Pete growled. Really growled. Just like he did in the janitor closet and in 

kitchen of our apartment when I cut my thumb. Only this time, instead of erotic, it was 
fucking scary as hell.  

I glanced at Pete. Or at least I meant to glance at him, but then my eyeballs snapped back 

while my brain did an uptake.  

Pete‘s hands clutched the side of the table, his knuckles were white, his chin was against 

his chest, and his eyes were rolled up and pinned on Raithe like he was going to make a go 
for the guy‘s throat.  

Raithe said, ―You‘ve definitely got a feisty one on your hands, D.‖  
―Shit, Peter…‖ I touched him, his shoulder, or maybe it was his leg. Honestly, I can‘t 

remember, because Pete‘s hand shot out and grabbed my arm with enough strength to make 
my bones scream.  

I looked at Raithe. ―What the fuck?‖ That was me. Pete‘s not an f-word kinda guy. Me? 

My current record is eighty-two F-bombs in under a minute.  

―He‘s close.‖ Raithe grinned. I was really starting not to like his grins. Not to mention 

the way he was looking at me.  

I did some prying on Pete‘s fingers trying to loosen them up before they punched holes 

through my skin. When I couldn‘t get them to budge, I resorted to saying his name in my best 
whiney, pleading, ow-my-fucking-arm-hurts voice. At least it was my left arm. I could live 
without the left one. My right one? Not so much.  

Pete turned. ―We should go.‖  
I blinked. Go? I was just trying to get him to quit crushing my bones. ―Pete, my arm.‖  
His eyes went down and his hand snapped open. You would have thought he‘d ripped off 

a finger and eaten it going by the look on his face.  

―I‘m sorry…‖  
―It‘s okay.‖ I wiggled my fingers just to double check. Everything worked. I moved my 

wrist. Yup, all functional. ―Now what‘s this about leaving?‖  

Pete stared at Raithe again. And Raithe? Well, he was staring at me.  
I looked at Pete, then Raithe, then Pete. ―Will someone tell me what the fuck is going 

on?‖  

―You.‖ That from Raithe.  
―Me?‖  
―Ooooh, yeah…‖  
―Let‘s go…‖ Peter yanked my arm and I slid half way across the booth in his direction.  
I threw out a hand and caught the edge of the table. ―Wait a second…‖  
Peter stopped even though he could have dragged me kicking and screaming out the 

door. He was more often than not stronger than me now, but then I‘ve never met a Lesser-
Bred who wasn‘t. ―I want to know what the hell is going on!‖  

Raithe said, ―Do you want to tell him or should I?‖  
He was talking to Pete. I don‘t know how I knew that. Maybe it was because I had the 

strangest feeling I‘d suddenly taken a one-way trip to the bottom on the food chain, and most 
people don‘t hold conversation with what‘s on their plate. It‘s not like I‘ve ever been 
anything but food, being Human and all, at least here in the Zone, but before now I didn‘t 
have flavor that made the Lesser-Breds drool.  

Raithe wasn‘t drooling, but he sure as shit looked close.  
Pete shut his eyes for a moment and sank back down into the booth. This time when he 

tugged on my arm it was to put my hand in his lap.  

―Pete? What‘s he talking about?‖  
―It‘s nothing.‖  
Well, to be nothing it sure was making him stare a hole in his waffle.  
I moved closer and slid a hand over his leg.  
―Talk to me, Pete.‖  
Pete stayed quiet while he picked at the edge of the table where the gaudy yellow 

laminate was peeling away from the particle board underneath. Every so often his gaze would 
flick up in Raithe‘s direction and then he would flinch, like looking at the Lesser-Bred caused 
him actual pain.  

Raithe cleared his throat. ―He‘s afraid.‖  
I glared at Raithe, and since I was not stoned or drunk he got the full affect. He flipped 

up his hands, warding me off, then went back to picking at the leavings on Peter‘s plate.  

―Pete?‖  
He sighed. ―Yeah.‖  
―Are you afraid?‖  
―It‘s not what you think.‖  
―Then tell me.‖  
Peter opened his mouth, closed it, and dropped his chin to his chest.  
―He just doesn‘t want what he‘s thinking to scare you, D.‖  
I rolled my eyes over at Raithe. ―So what? You sidelining as Dr. Phil now in between 

your Johns?‖  

Raithe jabbed at the air between us with a sausage link. ―No, but considering I‘ve been 

right where Peter is, I‘m about as close to an expert as you‘re going to find on the subject. 
Not to mention, I can smell a rat in heat through a brick wall. That means I can practically 
taste what he‘s thinking on the air between us.‖  

I started to pop off a retort, then I realized he was right. Fuck. To make matters worse, 

now that Peter had clammed up, it meant that Raithe was the only one I had to turn to for 
answers.  

―Start talking…‖  
―Oh, so now you‘re willing to listen…‖  
―Raithe!‖  
He shoved a piece of toast into his mouth. And chewed.  
Slow.  
Then he polished off the last of Pete‘s milk.  
―Sometime today, Raithe.‖  
Raithe lifted one of his perfect shoulders. ―Pete‘s ashamed.‖  
Ashamed? ―You care to elaborate on that?‖  
―Pete‘s ashamed over the fact that he wants me.‖  
―Excuse me?‖ Because I know damn well he did not mean what I thought he meant. Pete 

was mine. And considering I knew for a fact that no cosmic, interstellar, galactic event could 
ever change that, a genetic metamorphosis of even the metaphysical kind sure as hell 
couldn‘t.  

Raithe might have been supermodel good looking, and melt in your mouth beautiful, but 

he didn‘t hold a candle to my skinny, pasty, self loathing, over-pierced self, because I had 
what really counted.  

Pete‘s soul.  
And Peter, of course, had mine.  

Raithe said, ―Pete‘s Kin half wants me. It knows I have what he needs.‖  
―So? What‘s that got to do with me?‖ ‗Cause I was the one Raithe kept looking at like a 

side of meat.  

―Oh, well, you know, if I had to guess, you know, with my lack of expertise and all… I‘d 

say it‘s because right now, what Pete‘s thinking about, runs along the lines of splitting you 
open, eating out your heart, and feeding bits of it to me with his mouth.‖  

Chapter Four 

I have to admit, in my twenty odd years of life on this planet, several of which I‘ve spent 

drowning in the inhuman, there just wasn‘t a whole lot left that could make me speechless.  

What Raithe said, about the whole Peter wanting to eat me and feed parts of me to him 

… yeah, that … well … that … that shut me up pretty good.  

While I got busy trying to pick my bottom jaw off the floor, Raithe dusted off his hands 

and stood up. ―Well, shall we get to it or what?‖  

And people think I‘m nonchalant about having sex.  
―No.‖ This time when Peter stood up I didn‘t fight him when he pulled me with him. I 

think it was shock. My brain—which I have been very unkind to all of these years—was still 
choking on what Raithe said.  

―Peter…‖ Raithe‘s hand shot out and landed in the middle of Pete‘s chest. Their eyes 

met and just like that they were locked in a play of dominance.  

The scary thing? I wasn‘t all that sure who I wanted to win at the moment.  
―Let go of me.‖  
―Peter, you‘re getting close.‖  
―I know.‖  
―You‘re going to be dangerous.‖  
―I know.‖  
―Then you also know you don‘t have much time.‖  
The sudden seriousness in Raithe‘s voice was almost as scary as the growl from Peter.  
―If you want Darwin to survive this, survive you, you need to start talking to him. That 

means telling him everything. Even the ugly things. The smart thing would be to leave him 
out of this…  

―That‘s not going to happen.‖  
―Yeah, I figured as much. All the more reason you need to tell him what your instincts 

are telling you.‖  

After a moment or two Peter‘s eyes slid away, his shoulders went up and down and his 

hand came up and ran over his head. ―D and I need to talk. Alone.‖  

We did? I looked at Raithe because he was looking at me like I had all the answers.  
Here I thought Raithe knew me way better than that. ―If Pete says we need to talk…‖  
―I‘ll wait here for you to call me then.‖ Raithe turned his attention back to Peter‘s 

abandoned waffle and proceeded to finish it off.  

Hey, like I said, it‘s a Lesser-Bred thing. I guess when you eat out of the garbage on a 

regular basis eating someone else‘s unfinished meal is nothing.  

The bells on the diner door let out with a clatter when Peter threw it open. My big toe hit 

the threshold and I barked out a curse. Man, without my shitkickers, that fucking hurt. If 
Peter noticed he didn‘t care, because he just kept dragging me along.  

Okay, no closets, no kitchen sinks…  
―Peter…‖ I yanked but it was like being towed by a runaway train. Although, I have to 

say, I‘ve never seen a train with a caboose that could give me wood. Thing is, as much as I 
wanted to enjoy the view, this was serious and that meant I had to put my big boy pants on an 
play adult for a minute or two.  

Only a minute or two, because three would be pushing it.  
My first plan of action, the logical approach. Seeing that this was Pete, I figured if 

anything would impress him it would be logic. ―Raithe‘s right, Peter, you can‘t wait…‖  

―Shut up, D.‖  
Ooookay—now what?  
I tried the responsible angle. ―I‘m supposed to be taking care of you.‖  

―I said, shut up.‖  
Nope, that didn‘t work either. Pete went to the left, I went with him, and suddenly we 

were between a deli and a bookstore and standing behind a dumpster.  

Okay, alley. Yeah, I could do an alley. Wouldn‘t be the first time.  
While I fumbled with the button on my pants, Pete asked, ―What are you doing?‖  
I stopped. ―Uh…‖  
Pete sighed, one of those from-the-toes, sexy-as-hell, do-me-right-now-baby sighs. 

―D…‖  

―That‘s not fair, Pete. You can‘t sigh like that and not expect me to want more.‖ And it 

wasn‘t fair. Lucky for him, my dick was incapable of throwing in its two cents. ‗Cause 
between this morning and right now, I was pretty sure it could have cracked my F-bomb 
record wide open.  

―I was serious, D. We need to talk.‖  
―But you dragged me into the alley.‖ Christ, I sounded like a little kid who just learned 

he wasn‘t going to get to ride the roller coasters at Disneyland.  

Of course, if Disney had rides as good as Peter, people would never leave.  
Pete‘s eyes went to the collar of my shirt—er, his shirt—whatever—while his eyebrows 

met in the middle of his forehead. He made a frustrated sound and said, ―There‘s no easy way 
to put this…‖  

―Just tell me.‖  
―Raithe‘s right. I do want him.‖  
―Okay.‖  
Peter rolled his eyes. ―I don‘t want to want him, D. I know I‘ll have to use him, but I 

don‘t want to want him.‖  

Going by the look on Pete‘s face, the fact he did want Raithe really, really bothered him.  
Maybe it should have bothered me, but the truth was I knew exactly how he felt. I‘d 

needed people like Raithe, too, before Pete and I were together. The reasons might have been 
different, but the need was just as real. I slid my hand up the back of Pete‘s head and pulled 
him closer. My forehead touched his and suddenly the world was reduced to the expanse of 
his gaze.  

It was a view I could live happily ever after with.  
Peter swallowed. ―I‘m scared, D.‖  
―Of what?‖  
―What if doing this changes things?‖  
I made a face. ―It will never change things.‖  
―What if it does? What if…‖ His eyelids fluttered closed and a pain-filled expression 

mussed up his beautiful face.  

I remembered what Raithe told him in the café. ―Pete, talk to me, please don‘t shut me 

out.‖  

―I‘m not … I mean, I don‘t mean to, it‘s just…‖ Another sigh and this time his shoulders 

fell. ―What if me wanting him makes you not love me anymore?‖  

―That‘ll never happen, Peter.‖  
―But…‖  
―Shhh—listen. All those years, when…‖ When I wasn‘t strong enough. When I fucked 

anything that would have me. Luckily, I didn‘t have to say it out loud, ‗cause Pete nodded. 
―Yeah, well, there was never any doubt in my mind that the only person you ever loved was 
me or the only person I could ever love was you.‖  

―You won‘t be angry…‖  
―Never…‖  
―Even though I want him, even though I want to do those horrible things he said?‖  

―No, Pete never…‖  
―I‘d never hurt you on purpose … but those thoughts, they scare me and…‖  
―Pete.‖  
His eyes flicked up.  
―I love you, you love me, and that‘s all that matters.‖  
Peter‘s eyes searched mine for the longest time. I have no idea what he was looking for. 

My soul—which is shriveled and black—my heart—which isn‘t much better—or any scrap 
of good left behind from all the years of stupid things I‘ve done. I could have saved him the 
effort by telling him all those things were long gone, but I like having him look at me that 
way.  

It makes it easy for me to pretend I‘m good like him.  
Peter‘s hand closed over mine as he stepped away. With gentle tug he pulled me back out 

onto the sidewalk and in the direction of the motel. Half a minute later we were at the door of 
our room. Peter held out his hand and I gave him the key. The key, like the room, is a 
remnant of the sixties. And let me tell you, the sixties are not gentle on the eyes.  

I winced out loud when the door swung open and the outside light highlighted the puke 

green paisley carpet, orange wall paper and maroon comforter.  

It might have just been me, but I think it actually got uglier in here since last night.  
Not that I had a whole lot of time to think about that. Pete yanked me over the thresh 

hold and I stumbled to a stop near the bed.  

I didn‘t get on the bed. After all, like the alley, you know, maybe I was just jumping the 

gun.  

―Take off your shirt…‖  
Or maybe not.  
―Shirt, D.‖  
I looked down. My hands were on the button of my pants. Again. Damn it.  
With a sigh I pulled off my shirt and dropped it on the floor. Toe to toe, Pete put his hand 

on my shoulder where he bit me. His fingers rubbed the rough edges of the metaphysically 
cauterized wound. It would never heal. I mean, unless I spent the money on some fancy 
plastic surgery.  

I could have spent the money. Even if I didn‘t have a bank account full of it, my parents 

would have doled out it on me if I asked.  

Thing is, no amount of money in the world could make me take that off my skin. Having 

Peter‘s teeth marks branded into me was an all new high. Better than whippits, easy cheese, 
or huffing paint.  

Pete‘s nose twitched and his eyes rolled up. The fact that he could smell what I was 

thinking wasn‘t a surprise. Like the strength, his nose was working at an inhuman level more 
often than not now, too.  

―I don‘t want to share you, D.‖  
―Okay.‖  
―And I don‘t want you to have to share me.‖ I opened my mouth and Pete covered it with 

his fingers. ―But I know I have to. I know I don‘t have a choice. I know when it‘s time I‘m 
going to be dangerous, and I‘ll need things you can‘t give me.‖  

Well, I could, but then I‘d die, and if I didn‘t die, the scars left over would make the one 

on my shoulder look like a love bite.  

Peter‘s fingers traced the piercings on my lips. ―I know I can‘t change what I‘m going to 

be, but I can make it known to every Lesser-Bred or Kin out there I‘ve already been claimed. 
That even though I need them, only one man will ever truly own me.‖  

I didn‘t get a chance to ask who that man was because Peter kissed me.  

Chapter Five 

Oh, thank God, finally … finally…  
That‘s what I was thinking when Peter‘s hands went to work on the button of my pants.  
I didn‘t need encouragement to get naked any more than I needed encouragement to 

breathe, but Pete seemed hell bent on making sure my clothes were out of the way. He 
yanked off his own shirt with the same kind of flurry and desperation that made my pants 
disappear.  

―Wait…‖ And here I thought that word wasn‘t a part of my vocabulary. ―Are you okay?‖ 

As in, was he gonna go all metaphysical Incredible Hulk on me?  

―I‘m fine.‖  
―You sure, because Whitcomb said that we shouldn‘t do this. I mean, I know you ate, but 

I did promise, I…‖  

―D.‖ Peter gave me one of his smoldering looks. Color me surprised when my dick 

didn‘t actually burst into flames.  

While Pete got rid of his pants and socks I grabbed the bottle of lubricant and climbed on 

the bed. On my knees, I waited for Peter to climb up, and trust me, I was more than ready. So 
was my cock.  

Pete crawled up in front of me and I popped the cap on the bottle. That‘s when he gave 

me that look again. The one from the alley. Then, if that didn‘t beat all, he actually had the 
nerve to raise an eyebrow at me. And smile. Damn it. He actually smiled!  

―What?‖ If I sounded whiney before, now I sounded whiney and desperate.  
―Put that away.‖  
I looked at the bottle, then at Peter. ―But we‘re naked. And on the bed.‖  
―We‘re naked because I don‘t want our clothes to get bloody.‖ He sat down front of me 

and motioned for me to join him. I sighed and sat down, too.  

Then it dawned on me what he said. Bloody?  
Peter moved closer to me, between my knees, chest to chest, now my erection was 

practically crushed between us.  

Okay, this was so not fair.  
Pete pushed my red and black bangs back and tipped his head. ―Why are you looking at 

me like that?‖  

I narrowed my eyes. ―You actually have to ask?‖ I sighed. ―Never mind, just tell me 

what you meant by bloody?‖  

Peter‘s fingers stroked the scar on my shoulder.  
―Pete?‖  
―I want you to bite me, D.‖  
I felt my eyes pop then my mouth followed up with a, ―Huh?‖  
―I want you to bite me.‖  
I made him quit stroking the scar on my shoulder and look at me. ―Why?‖  
Pete stared at me for a moment, his dark eyes glittering with a kind of fire I‘d never seen 

before.  

―So everyone will know I‘m yours.‖  
So everyone would know that Peter was mine. God, that was so wrong and yet…  
―Please, D. If you wait any longer it may not scar. It may not scar even if you do it now, 

because I‘m so close, but I want to try.‖  

The idea of scaring up Pete‘s body should have abhorred me, but I‘d be lying if I said it 

did. Him wearing my teeth marks? That was better than my name tattooed across his ass. It 
didn‘t change the fact it was wrong. Not that wrong has ever stopped me before, but I was 

supposed to be a new man now. The man that was going to take care of him. The man Pete 
needed me to be.  

My face squished up with the effort it took to push the words out of my mouth, and they 

sounded forced and fake. ―I can‘t. That. Wouldn‘t. Be. Right.‖  

―Please, D.‖  
I sighed. ―Peter, you don‘t mean it.‖  
―I do.‖  
I tried to tell him no and he stopped me with a kiss. ―What would it take to convince you 

to?‖  

―To what?‖  
―To bite me, D. What would it take to get you to do that for me?‖  
I flapped a hand around, indicating, what, I had no idea. ―I don‘t know. I‘m just trying to 

do the right thing. I‘m just trying … hell … you‘re confusing me, Pete. Don‘t confuse me.‖  

―It‘s just a question.‖  
―It‘s not just a question … it‘s a trick…‖ I crossed my arms and tried to look angry.  
Needless to say, Peter was not impressed.  
―D…‖ His free hand moved around beside us. I heard a snick and looked down to see the 

bottle of lube in Pete‘s hand.  

―What are you doing?‖ Okay, so it should have been obvious, but after all the false starts 

I wanted to be really, really sure. For my cock‘s sake, you know? I didn‘t want it to get its 
hopes up.  

Peter didn‘t answer me; instead, he poured some of the oil into his hand. The smile on 

his face was different now. It was his dark smile. His dangerous smile.  

His very, very, very naughty smile.  
―I want you to bite me, D.‖  
Okay, now it was just a matter of principle. The fact I‘ve never had principles was beside 

the point. ―And what if I don‘t?‖  

Pete‘s hand slid down between us and his slick fingers danced their way up my dick. I 

might have been trying to do the right thing, but that particular part of my anatomy didn‘t 
give a rat‘s ass.  

Peter‘s other hand worked its way lower and his fingers played with the piercings under 

my base. I tried not to let my eyes roll up when he gave the small rings a good hard tug, but it 
was useless. Like I‘ve said before, my body follows my dick, and my dick has only one 
master, and now he was doing this little diddy down under my testicles sliding his fingers 
back and forth across my taint.  

Pete‘s lips touched my chin, my mouth, then I felt his hips rock forward and his erection 

slide against mine.  

So much for principles…  
―God, Pete…‖ I caught his mouth and plunged in my tongue. At the same moment his 

hand wrapped around our cocks and he gave us both a slow stroke. I grunted and tried to rock 
forward, but Pete was in my lap, his legs thrown over mine, pinning me in place. ―More…‖  

―You have to bite me first…‖ He kissed my chin again and his mouth slid to my neck. 

Like me, he hadn‘t shaved, and the new hairs on his chin prickled goose flesh across my skin 
as he licked his way down my throat. Pete‘s tongue left a hot, wet line as it traced my 
collarbone.  

―Do it, Darwin…‖  
Fine, two could play this game. I grabbed the lube with my right hand and single finger 

popped the top. My skills, while limited, consist of putting on condoms with my hands tied 
behind my back along with pouring lube into the same hand I needed to slick up, while 

holding the bottle in that hand. I even managed to snap the cap back down before tossing the 
container back on the bed.  

That trick, by the way, is a lot easier than the condom one.  
With my fingers greased up, I sought out Peter‘s hole and rubbed his opening. His ass 

cheeks clenched when I pushed my way in and at the same moment his hand began jacking 
us with intent. His other one went to tugging at the barbell in my slit.  

―D … please…‖ Peter moaned right in my ear when I gave my wrist a twist. ―Bite. Me.‖  
I happened to look up and see our reflection in the mirror over the dresser. I shouldn‘t 

have done that. The size and width of the reflective surface framed the bed perfectly and right 
in the middle of all that ugly maroon was a view of Peter‘s graceful shoulders, long back, 
hips and ass, which my first two fingers happened to be buried in at the moment.  

I watched his tawny muscles dance along the spread of his back. A movement made all 

the more dramatic by the shitty lighting and dark shadows infecting the room. Peter‘s teeth 
grazed the scar he‘d made. The sensation made me hiss.  

In one smooth flex of his perfect body Peter arched in my arms, his hands still on our 

cocks, as he rolled his head to the side and offered me the perfect wave of flesh that covered 
his shoulder.  

Then he made this incredible sound. I don‘t know what it was or where it came from, but 

it was the most beautiful music I‘d ever heard. A moan, a whirr, a…purr?  

―Daaarwiiiinnn—‖  
Ah hell, this responsible shit was for the birds.  
Peter got what he wanted. My teeth. In him. And buried up to my gums. He came the 

first time when I penetrated his skin. The feel of all that heat shooting over my cock, dripping 
down my stomach, should have undone me, but I think my body was beyond coming and on 
some new and unknown sexual mission.  

I twisted my hand, seeking out Peter‘s sweet spot and against my cheek, he said, 

―Harder…‖  

I don‘t know if he meant the finger fucking I was giving him or how hard I was biting, so 

I did both. In the mirror I watched my digits work in and out of his ass while I struggled to 
put every ounce of strength I had in my jaws. The crunch of muscle between my teeth 
reminded me of biting into an apple. That‘s when he came a second time.  

I swallowed a mouthful of blood. The taste of it on my tongue, the feel of it sliding down 

my throat, was like sex from the inside out. That‘s when I lost it.  

Peter abandoned our dicks to wrap his arms around the back of my head and shove my 

bite even deeper. My teeth hit something hard. Bone, I was biting him to the bone.  

―Don‘t stop… God… D, don‘t … stop.‖  
I don‘t think I could have stopped, even if I‘d wanted to.  
I looked up again. Maybe to watch him ride my fingers, maybe to watch how I moved 

them in and out, but I didn‘t see any of that because our reflection was now hidden behind a 
strange watery glaze that made me think of sidewalks in August, hot enough to fry eggs on. 
Then the vision of heat took on a corporeal sensation, only this time instead of cobwebs 
dancing across my skin, it felt like a Tsunami wave being ripped out of my chest.  

Sound became obsolete as the deafening roar of something wonderful filled my ears. My 

free arm went around Peter‘s ribs and I crushed him against me.  

At some point I forgot about what my other hand was supposed to be doing, along with 

my mouth, and simply drowned in that glorious feeling. Brutal. Violent. Endless. The image 
in the mirror of us on the bed disappeared behind a whirlwind of blazing blue.  

The color made me think of cold arctic water, just like my eyes.  
What happened next made the incident outside of Whitcomb‘s apartment look like a 

match head getting struck. One minute the comforter was an ugly maroon color, the next it 

was potted with massive black burning holes. I should have been scared, fucking terrified, but 
I wasn‘t.  

Oblivious to the fact we were sitting in the middle of a bonfire, Peter rose up on his 

knees, his body rocking against mine. He was hard again or maybe he‘d never quit being 
hard. Either way, watching him, holding him, tasting his sweat on my tongue when I French 
kissed his navel, made the fact that our bed was on fire seem like a small insignificant 
problem.  

Like running out of milk. Or maybe your favorite cookies to go with the milk.  
Rivers of sweat poured off our skin, hissing when it dripped onto the bed. I was vaguely 

aware that while the blanket was on fire, we weren‘t getting burned. Another weird thing, 
there wasn‘t any smoke.  

Head to toe I could feel Peter. Not just his flesh, but him. The thing that gave him life, 

the thing that made him who he was, and more than that, how much he loved me. Peter‘s 
heartbeat became my heartbeat, his blood pumped through my veins, and the point of start 
and stop between our bodies no longer existed.  

For the first time in my miserable life I found myself willing to believe in souls.  
It was then, I think, yeah, then that I realized it wasn‘t Peter creating the metaphysical 

firestorm.  

It was me.  
I gripped Peter‘s hips and his entire body shuddered like he was experiencing the orgasm 

of his life, but he didn‘t shoot another load; he simply collapsed, practically melting in my 
arms. A moment later the metaphysical burn surrounding us and the flames on the bed 
winked out.  

I can‘t say the all over fricasseed look made the place look any worse. Hell, it might have 

been an improvement. I doubt management was gonna see it like that.  

No doubt about it, we were definitely not getting our deposit back.  

Chapter Six 

An hour later I had Peter sitting on the edge of the tub while I waited for the shower to 

warm up. He kept listing to the right and I kept catching him and setting him back up. It 
seemed to take everything for him to keep his eyes open.  

A battle I was sure he would lose at any minute.  
―D?‖  
―Yeah…‖  
―I think… I think maybe you should call Raithe now.‖ Peter slumped and I hooked a 

hand under his armpit and helped him stand. I pulled the puke green paisley shower curtain—
which matched the carpet perfectly—closed. Peter leaned against me and I held him under 
the spray.  

The water slapped against his bare back and seemed to wake him up a little.  
His eyes met mine. ―D?‖  
―Yeah, yeah, I‘ll call him.‖ I would, but right now my mind was still on the whole 

burning bed experience. Now granted, I‘ve had sex in a lot of strange places, empty 
warehouses, alleys, janitorial closets, kitchen sinks, under desks, over desks, hanging from a 
ceiling fan—don‘t even ask—but having sex in the middle of a roaring fire? Yeah, well, 
needless to say, that was a new one even for me.  

Only place I can think of that comes close was the conveyor belt at the Krispy Kreme 

store.  

Bet you‘ll never eat another doughnut from that place without thinking twice.  
Peter hadn‘t noticed the comforter. At least, I don‘t think he did. As out of it as he was at 

the moment I don‘t even think he would notice if I was on fire.  

Since out of sight was out of mind, the comforter was now wadded up and stuffed under 

the bed. I‘d think about it later. Ask Pete about it later. Right now we had more pressing 
problems. As long as I didn‘t actually burst into flames myself, I could live with the 
occasional flash fires. Hell, I‘d been blowing things up my whole life.  

Unlike my conscience or my brain, me and fire, we sorta understand each other.  
I tipped Peter‘s head back and wet his hair. His eyes came open; they were dark, but not 

the scary metaphysical dark.  

―Thank you.‖  
I was busy with the shampoo and not paying attention.  
Peter tweaked my right nipple ring and I promptly dropped the bottle.  
―What?‖ I looked down, wondering how the hell I was gonna pick it up and hold Pete at 

the same time. Lucky for me, there was a second one on the soap holder.  

―I said thank you.‖  
I glanced at Pete‘s shoulder, it was black and blue with big gaping teeth holes. He wasn‘t 

bleeding anymore, because his body was already trying to heal. I‘m no expert, but I‘m pretty 
sure something that deep and ugly could only scar. I couldn‘t help but wonder if he‘d feel 
thankful about what I did tomorrow when he had his wits about him.  

Peter gave a snort. ―I‘m not gonna change my mind.‖  
―Reading my thoughts now?‖  
He rolled his eyes then dropped his forehead against my shoulder. His soapy head rubbed 

against my cheek and the bubbles crackled in my ear. Pete‘s arms came up and around and he 
fingered my hair. ―Of course not. I just know you.‖  

Yeah. He did.  
I was helping Peter rinse his hair when a muffled ―Priority message on star fleet security 

channel one,‖ echoed from our room.  

Maybe with any luck, Peter wouldn‘t notice it.  

―Are you gonna get that?‖  
―Uh … no?‖  
Pete tweaked my right nipple ring this time and I yelped. ―Wrong answer.‖  
―Jesus, you didn‘t say I was going to get graded.‖  
―D…‖  
―Okay … okay…‖ I stepped away from him and he stayed on his feet. ―You okay on 

your own?‖  

Pete nodded. ―Yeah, I‘m more awake now. I think I can get the rest myself.‖  
I kissed Peter on the forehead before slapping the ugly curtain out of my way and 

grabbing a towel. Peter might be okay to wash the rest of his perfect body on his own, but 
that was a chore I enjoyed doing. Of course, anything that involved touching Peter I enjoyed. 
The fact that I was being deprived of that to answer the phone did not put me in my happy 
place.  

I cussed my way across the room to where my duster was, but the phone was on the 

dresser. I snatched it up and flipped it open.  

―What!‖ Yeah, and that time, I meant to yell.  
Clown Hair sounded out of breath when he spoke. ―Where are you?‖  
―Same place we were this morning.‖  
―You need to leave.‖  
―What? Why?‖  
―It‘s Serge, Darwin.‖  
―Which one?‖ ‗Cause there were two now. The Barney the Dinosaur asshole lover and 

her under aged Lesser-Bred husband. Okay, Rebecca Serge didn‘t really love Barney the 
Dinosaur‘s asshole, she just dressed that way. And Robert? I don‘t care how old he was 
chronologically, anything that looked under eighty should have been off limits for that 
woman.  

Whitcomb said, ―Rebecca.‖  
I stuck my finger in my navel and dug out a piece of lint. Then I wondered where the red 

fibers came from because most of my shirts were black. I sniffed it and tried to figure out 
why it smelled like toe cheese.  

―Darwin?‖  
―Yeah…‖  
―Pay attention.‖  
I wiped my discovery on my towel and sighed. ―Listening.‖ Well, I was sorta listening. 

Not that Whitcomb would really know if I wasn‘t. He prattled on about how Serge, Rebecca 
Serge, was looking for us. About how Robert had defied her by refusing to come into the 
Gray Zone and now they were at odds with each other, then something else equally 
unimpressive and twice as boring.  

It was on the tail end of my yawn that I heard the words, ―Money man.‖  
Every thought in my head had an instant head on collision. The fifty-thought-pile-up was 

so violent I ass planted on the dresser to keep from hitting the floor. ―Whoa … wait … back 
up.‖  

Whitcomb made an angry sound. ―I told you to pay attention.‖  
Okay, I probably deserved that, but I didn‘t have time for his frustrations.  
―You said, ‗Money Man,‘ Clown Hair, and something tells me you don‘t mean Ed 

McMahon plans on showing up with a check in his hand.‖ The only other Money Man I knew 
of was hired to collect.  

In the Zone there is no such thing as credit and there is no such thing as bankruptcy. If 

you owe money, you pay. If you don‘t, the person you owe money to will send the Money 
Man knocking at your door. And if you don‘t have what you owe ready to hand over, they 

take it in the form of flesh. I had a feeling that in this case, no amount of money would pay 
the debt, because it wasn‘t cash money Serge thought she was owed.  

It was Peter.  
―As long as you‘re in the Zone, Darwin, a Money Man will find you.‖  
Yeah, yeah, I knew that. They were like cockroaches crossed with army ants. They 

worked with each other for each other and they were in every alley, or abandoned building. 
That kind of omnipotent reputation only served to make their jobs easier, by making people 
afraid of them.  

The airport was just a hop, skip and away. I could buy us some plane tickets, but how the 

hell was I supposed to get Peter through airport security in his condition? If he was 
discovered anywhere outside the Zone the Atlanta PD could shoot him on sight, for 
absolutely no reason. Not to mention I was having a few personal fire starter issues of my 
own.  

Think! Think! I smacked my fist against my head. It didn‘t do anything except make it 

hurt.  

From the bathroom, Peter called my name.  
―In a minute…‖ I put my ear back to the phone. ―Look, Whitcomb, I can‘t move Peter 

right now. He‘s too close… I‘ve got someone who can feed him and if I move him now it 
could get dangerous.‖  

Whitcomb was silent and then he sighed. ―You‘re right…‖  
Damn straight I… ―Wait, you‘re agreeing with me?‖  
―Yeah, moving around makes you more apt to be seen. Outside the Zone Peter is as good 

as dead. Normally, I‘d tell you I have people who could help him, but right now things aren‘t 
looking so good from out here either.‖  

Damn, Whitcomb sounded … I don‘t know … scared.  
I surprised myself by asking, ―Are you okay?‖  
He laughed, so I guess he must have been a little surprised, too, by my concern. ―Yeah, 

I‘m okay. There isn‘t much they can do to me personally. They can make my life hell, but 
they won‘t do anything stupid, I‘m too public.‖  

Peter called my name again.  
―Hang on!‖ To Whitcomb I asked, ―Who‘s they?‖  
―Others, like me.‖  
―They won‘t out you, will they?‖ ‗Cause if they did, Whitcomb could wind up on the 

business end of an Alchemist blade or a gun. Either one of them would kill him.  

Whitcomb was quiet for a minute. When he finally spoke he seemed to be choosing his 

words with care. ―There is a rule among Lesser-Breds, Darwin. We don‘t reveal the identity 
of those who manage to pass themselves off as Human. We do our best to never interfere 
with each other, unless, of course, our personal survival relies on it.‖  

―But you said they could make your life hell.‖ My bellybutton might have been full of 

alien red lint, but my ears were squeaky clean. On top of that, they never smelled like toe 
cheese.  

―You‘d be amazed at the difficulties one Lesser-Bred can cause by choosing not to 

interfere when doing so could save one of us.‖  

I probably would be. ―So are you telling me, in your roundabout way, that some secret 

society of Lesser-Breds, passing themselves off as Human, is on the warpath?‖  

Clown Hair‘s sigh rattled over the tinny speaker. ―Darwin, you have no idea the lengths 

both Humans and Lesser-Breds are willing to go to get control of becoming.‖  

―In other words, people are willing to kill us for a cure.‖  
―Kill you, maybe. Take Peter, definitely. Be careful, Darwin, and you may consider 

buying yourself a gun.‖  

On that note, I ended the call.  
I was just about to speed dial Raithe when Peter screamed.  

Chapter Seven 

My bare feet hit the slick tile and shot out from under me and over my head. And my 

head? Well, it smacked against the toilet, throwing big black stars in front of my eyes, which 
in turn fired off a cannon somewhere between my ears.  

If that didn‘t beat all, by some unlikely alignment of stars, the moon, and the planets I 

managed to bend some fucking law of physics and crush my left nut between my thighs.  

Yeah, and let me tell you, that hurt way more than my head.  
In spite of all that, in spite of the pain now pounding me in the back of the eyes and 

between the legs, the only thing I could think of was Peter.  

I struggled to get to my feet without throwing up and wound up on my knees. My hand 

made a grab for the shower curtain and it ripped free from half the rings stringing it up to the 
rod. Peter‘s hands were over his groin and his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of 
his head.  

―Don‘t look.‖ He swung his hips away and fumbled for a towel on the rack.  
I stopped him. ―What‘s wrong?‖  
―Nothing.‖  
I looked at where he was still cupping himself. Something was wrong. I felt like I was 

looking at one of those, ―what doesn‘t belong here‖ pictures. I blinked a couple of times 
trying to clear some of the pain and fuzzy vision.  

―Peter…‖ I reached for him and he shoved himself up against the tile.  
―Just don‘t … it‘s okay … I‘m okay…‖  
I blinked, squinted … blinked again. ―You screamed, Peter, it can‘t possibly be okay.‖  
―I overreacted. It just startled me okay. It just fell off, all of a sudden. I didn‘t know what 

the hell was happening and…‖  

Okay… I don‘t know about you, but when he said it fell off, the first thing that popped 

into my head was my favorite part of his anatomy. So, of course, my eyes went down. I don‘t 
know what the hell I would have done if assets had been lying in the bottom of the tub. Faint 
I guess—yeah, probably. Then I‘d cry.  

The tub was empty, by the way. I rubbed my right eye because it was really hurting, then 

I noticed the drain. There was a giant hair ball clumped around the top. I don‘t have to tell 
you how acquainted I was with those particular hairs.  

I realized what was wrong. Peter‘s five o‘clock shadow was gone, along with his happy 

trail, and his leg hairs. Not that he had a lot of hair on his legs to begin with but now they 
reminded me of doll legs or maybe someone who‘d just spent a grand on a Hollywood hot 
wax.  

I brought my eyes all the way up then, to the top of his head. It was still hairy. and he 

still had eyebrows and eyelashes.  

―Your hair fell out.‖  
In all the years I‘d spent among Lesser-Breds it never occurred to me that the reason why 

so many of them didn‘t have body hair—or very little of it—was because it fell out during 
their Shift. Most Kin didn‘t have any body hair because they weren‘t real, rather 
metaphysical impressions of Human form. That meant if they didn‘t see the need in body hair 
they didn‘t have it. As for Lesser-Breds, they started out as Human. So I guess I just thought 
… I don‘t know … that they shaved?  

Peter looked close to tears.  
―It‘s just hair, Pete.‖  
He nodded. But I don‘t think he felt the same way. Some men are attached to their pubes, 

I guess. Me? I‘ve shaved mine on a couple of occasions.  

―Peter…‖ At least when I reached out this time and touched his hip he didn‘t pull away 

from me.  

―I think…‖ Pete took a breath, one then two. When he inhaled his breath sounded way 

too close to a sob for my personal comfort. ―I think you better call Raithe now.‖  

Yeah, losing body hair had to be up there on the top five scary symptoms. I braced a 

hand against the side of the tub and pushed myself up. With a quick twist of the shower 
handle I turned off the water. Peter‘s bottom lip trembled, but I wasn‘t sure if it was from 
being chilled or being upset.  

―I don‘t care,‖ I told him. ―Peter … please…‖  
He shut his eyes and nodded again. ―Just call him, D. Please.‖  
I left the bathroom to do as Peter asked.  
I sat down on the edge of the bed with my cell phone to my ear and waited for Raithe to 

pick up. Five rings in and his very inhuman voice came over the line. ―Took you long 
enough. You know I charge extra for having to sit around and eat people‘s leftovers. I hope 
you‘ve got a few additional twenties…‖  

I sighed. It must have conveyed exactly how I was feeling at the moment—

overwhelmed, scared, inadequate. Double on the inadequate part.  

―D?‖  
―I‘m here.‖  
―Everything okay with you and your beau?‖  
My beau? I think I heard my grandmother use that term once or twice. I guess now I had 

a rough idea of Raithe‘s real age.  

―D?‖  
―Yeah, yeah, we‘re good, but you need to come on over. Pete‘s…‖ I rubbed a hand over 

my head and winced. There was a really nice goose egg popping up on the back of my skull. I 
thought about checking my nut, but to be honest I don‘t think I was ready to face any bruises 
down there yet.  

―What happened?‖  
―His hair fell out. Not his eyebrows or the top of his head, but you know, everywhere 

else.‖  

Raithe made a noise I couldn‘t interpret, and I heard the distinctive sound of a chair 

sliding back on tile. ―I‘ll be there in five.‖  

―You know the room number, right?‖  
―Unless it‘s changed from this morning, we‘re good.‖ He hung up and I snapped the 

phone shut and tossed it back on the dresser.  

Pete appeared in the bathroom doorway. He had a towel around his waist and his face 

was pale. I held my hand out to him and for a moment I thought he was gonna retreat back 
into the bathroom, but once he got his feet moving it was like he couldn‘t get to me quick 
enough.  

I gave a grunt when he flopped down beside me and slung his arms around my neck.  
―I‘m scared, D.‖  
Up until this moment, I‘d been sure I was okay with this whole becoming bullshit, but 

now I knew I wasn‘t. I don‘t know if it was from hearing Peter admit he was afraid or the 
things Whitcomb had told me. I held Peter tighter and buried my face in his neck.  

―I‘m sorry, D. I‘m sorry that this is happening. Please don‘t hate me…‖  
I could never hate him. ―That‘s not gonna happen, Peter.‖  
―You don‘t deserve this.‖  
―What?‖  
―This, this terrible burden I‘ve put on you, this stupid thing I‘m going to go through.‖ 

His shoulders heaved and a sob burst out on an inhumanly warm breath against my shoulder.  

―I‘d tell you to leave. I‘d beg you to. But I can‘t. I can‘t bear to be alone. I‘m not strong 

enough. I‘m not brave enough…‖  

I shushed him and pet the back of his head. Another sob made his body quake, and this 

time I felt tears drip on my skin.  

Mine on my cheeks and his on my shoulder.  
I kissed Peter‘s ear. ―I wouldn‘t leave even if you could ask me.‖  
His breath rattled when he inhaled. Peter turned his head and suddenly our faces were so 

close together our eyelashes nearly touched. ―Why?‖  

―Why what?‖  
―Why wouldn‘t you leave?‖  
―Well, beside the fact I love you more than anything in this world, your clothes would 

get my ass kicked before I could get two blocks outside the Zone.‖  

He laughed. I don‘t think he meant to, but it sounded so good. I kissed Peter‘s nose, then 

his mouth. He smiled and that made everything better. At least for me it did.  

―I love you, Darwin.‖  
―I know.‖  
―And I‘m sorry for all of this.‖  
It was my turn to smile. I rubbed my nose against his. ―I‘m not.‖  
Peter rolled his eyes.  
―I‘m serious, I don‘t regret any of it.‖  
His gaze met mine then his eyebrows had a head-on collision. ―You‘re serious?‖  
―Of course.‖  
―D, I‘m not going to be Human. There are people after us. I‘ve bitten you. Then I scared 

you half to death by screaming…‖ His cheeks went pink.  

I was so gonna rag him on that one later. But for now? ―And I don‘t care.‖  
His nose twitched. I think he was trying to sniff out a lie. Maybe I should have been 

insulted, but at the same time it was nice to know Pete would always know I only told him 
the truth.  

His head came up, but his eyes kept searching my face. ―I don‘t understand.‖  
I thumbed a lock of his hair away from his eyes. God, I love his hair, the chocolate 

brown color, the copper streaks, the gold highlights. Last, but not least, the curls.  

I sighed and said, ―Pete, if none of this happened, we wouldn‘t be together. At least not 

together, together … together.‖  

Peter sat up all the way and his arms slipped off my shoulders. Without him draped over 

me I felt naked.  

Vulnerable.  
Peter stared at me wearing an expression I wasn‘t familiar with. It made me nervous. 

Maybe even feel guilty for saying what I did. I blame it on my greedy, bastard self. Which is 
pretty much my entire personality.  

While Pete gave me laser beam eyes, I ran a hand over my head and winced when I hit 

my sore spot. Then I fumbled with the towel around my waist. I don‘t know why I was 
wearing a towel; it wasn‘t like Raithe had never seen me naked before.  

Speaking of whom, a knock sounded off at the door.  
Relieved for somewhere to run, I stood up. Pete‘s hand locked on my wrist and shackled 

me next to the bed. I shut my eyes and shoveled up all my courage from somewhere around 
my toes before turning to look at him.  

I expected anger, what I got was a smile and a fresh new batch of tears. ―Don‘t ever 

change, D. Please, don‘t ever change.‖  

Since I didn‘t have anything to say back, I went to get the door.  

Chapter Eight 

I opened the door to find Raithe propped up on the jamb by his elbow. Calvin Klein 

would have given his left nut to see him like this. Come to think of it, he probably would 
have given his right nut to touch him.  

Raithe peered at me from over the rims of his mirrored sunglasses and from under the 

wave of unruly strawberry blond hair. ―You gonna invite me in or make me stand out here 
while you two have all the fun?‖  

I stepped back and he walked inside. And trust me, I did not miss the look he gave me or 

the pointy toothed grin.  

Nope, I definitely didn‘t like Raithe‘s grins.  
―What?‖  
―You smell tasty.‖  
Keeping your cool and your emotionally detached image, wearing nothing but a scrap of 

terry cloth, while a Lesser-Bred eyes you like you‘re a fresh hunk of filet mignon, isn‘t easy. 
I wish I could say I pulled it off, but I know damn well I didn‘t.  

―Wow, Darwin, I think this is the first time I‘ve ever seen you speechless.‖  
I gave Raithe the finger and he threw back his head and laughed.  
When he stopped with all the har-har he looked at Peter. ―He‘s close.‖  
―Yeah, we kind of figured the hair falling out was a clue.‖ I looked at Peter then, too. He 

sat perched on the edge of the bed clutching the towel around his waist. His face was pale, his 
eyes way too round. His entire body was rigid, like any minute he was going to jump up and 
make a run for it.  

I was just about to walk over to him when Raithe‘s hand brushed across my shoulder. 

―What?‖  

His eyes went down came up. ―He bite you?‖  
I rolled my shoulder and rubbed my scar. ―Yeah, so, what of it?‖ Raithe‘s eyes slid over 

to Peter. ―So who bit him?‖  

―Me.‖  
Raithe‘s eyebrows went up and his mouth made a slash.  
―Problem?‖  
He shook his head. ―No, no problem.‖ He took off his sunglasses and left them on the 

crappy table by the widow.  

I walked over to Pete and sat down beside him. His lips curled but the smile was sad. ―So 

this is it, huh?‖  

I gave Raithe a quick look, he had his back turned but the way his arms moved I could 

tell he was unbuttoning his fly.  

I gave my eyes back to Peter. ―Do you want to back out?‖  
He shook his head. ―No, no. I … I don‘t want the first time to be because I have to do 

this.‖  

I slipped my hand to the back of Peter‘s head. His curls felt like strings of wet silk 

between my fingers. ―We can try another time. If you‘re not ready…‖  

Pete ran a hand over his now bare stomach. Once upon a time there‘d been a chocolate-

colored happy trail that led up between his pecs and down to his cock.  

It was now a clump clogging the bathtub drain.  
―I don‘t think I have a lot of time left, D.‖  
Yeah, scary thing is, I didn‘t think he had a lot of time either. I glanced up at Raithe, 

stood by the bed now in all his glorious bare skin. Uncut, un-pierced, the only thing marring 
his perfect physic was his Stain.  

―May I sit?‖  

I nodded and Raithe climbed on the bed and eased in beside us, spreading out and 

practically melting into the sheets.  

Peter jerked his eyes away. His breath shuddered out and his lip trembled.  
Seeing the love of my life like that almost made me call the whole thing off, then I 

happened to notice he wasn‘t nearly as scared as he was aroused. Pete pushed the heel of his 
palm against the pup tent in the front of his towel. An attempt to hide what Raithe‘s presence 
was doing to his body, I guess.  

―Sorry.‖ Pete tried to duck his head but I wouldn‘t let him.  
―Don‘t apologize.‖  
―I can‘t help it, D…‖  
―I know.‖  
―So…‖ Peter swallowed and blinked at the same time. ―How do we … you know…‖  
Leave it to Peter, in all of his metaphysical genius to be thrown out of whack by a 

threesome.  

―It‘s not funny, D.‖  
―I‘m not laughing.‖ I wasn‘t. I was just grinning so hard that my face happened to be on 

the verge of cracking in two.  

Peter narrowed his eyes at me. ―Close enough.‖  
―Still doesn‘t count…‖ I thumbed Peter‘s cheek. ―Are you sure you want to do this?‖  
He shook his head then he nodded. ―Yeah. I just … I just need a minute, you know, to 

get used to the idea.‖  

Thing is, we didn‘t have time for him to get used to the idea any more than we had the 

time to do this another day. I leaned closer and thumbed his cheek. ―Tell me what you want, 
Pete. I‘ll do it, whatever you want. Whatever you need.‖  

Peter‘s gaze locked onto mine and the trembling under my hand stopped. For an eternity 

Peter just stared at me, then he said, ―Say you love me.‖  

―I love you.‖  
―More than anything.‖  
―I love you more than anything, Peter.‖  
―Now kiss me.‖  
I did.  
It wasn‘t that I haven‘t kissed Peter a thousand times or more since he decided to give 

himself to me. I kissed him every chance I got. So I knew his mouth better than my own. The 
curve of his lips, the feel of his teeth—the one in the front with the chip from the same 
bicycle wreck that broke his arm—the taste of him, God, the taste of him as our tongues 
swept together.  

But in this moment, kissing him felt like a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Or maybe the last 

chance of a lifetime. ‗Cause every passing second there was going to be less and less of Peter 
left, and more of the Lesser-Bred that he would become.  

I took Peter‘s hand in mine and straightened out his fingers. I didn‘t put them on me; I 

guided them to where Raithe was sprawled out next to us. I used Pete‘s digits to trace the 
guy‘s cheek, his jaw, his lips, then I pushed two of them into Raithe‘s mouth.  

―D…‖ Pete turned his head just enough so he could watch Raithe deep throat his fingers. 

In and out, Raithe worked his digits with the kind of skill that promised greater things in 
other places.  

―You like that.‖ I made it a statement and Peter nodded. ―Feels good doesn‘t it.‖ Another 

statement and Pete nodded to that one, too. ―Come here.‖ I moved higher up on the bed, and 
pulled Peter with me. At some point his towel came loose and slipped off. Instead of trying to 
retrieve it, he pulled mine open and it fluttered to the floor.  

Chest to chest, cock to cock, thigh to thigh, I wrapped myself around Peter and buried 

my face in his neck. He moaned when I sucked at his pulse.  

Over his shoulder I saw Raithe watching us from the other side of the bed, his silvery 

eyes almost liquid gold.  

Raithe and me, we‘ve been around the block together enough times that he can almost 

read my mind when it comes to sex. I know it‘s not my mind he‘s reading, but my scent, 
along with the subtle body signals I give off. I‘m sure the fact that he‘s good at his job helps.  

So it was no surprise, with just a tip of my chin and a sliding glance to the open space 

behind Peter, that he knew exactly what I wanted him to do.  

In one fluid move, Raithe turned and unfolded himself against Peter‘s back, so we 

sandwiched him between us. Raithe‘s hands joined mine in the touching; the petting down 
Pete‘s arms, over his hips.  

Peter‘s breath shuddered out and his eyes came open.  
I said, ―Roll over. I want Raithe to use that mouth of his on you.‖  
―I‘d rather you do it.‖  
I smiled. ―Yeah, but then it wouldn‘t be a threesome.‖ Pete glanced back at Raithe who 

was kissing his shoulder now. ―I‘ve got you, I won‘t let you go.‖ He did as I asked.  

Raithe caught Peter‘s mouth and that strange, beautiful music rolled out of Peter‘s chest 

and vibrated the air. God, his new hairless body felt perfect in my arms. Flawless.  

When Raithe broke off the kiss he flicked his tongue over his lips before rolling it 

against his palate. His throat worked and his eyes fluttered. I‘d seen him do that before with 
me. He was tasting Pete.  

―He‘s close.‖ Raithe looked at me when he said it. ―D, this will push him over.‖  
―I don‘t care…‖  
Pete craned his head around so he could look at me. ―D…‖  
―I don‘t care, Peter.‖  
―I could hurt you.‖  
I was about to argue, but I didn‘t want to argue with Peter, I just wanted to be with him. 

One more time, before all his Humanness was gone. I don‘t know why it was suddenly oh-so-
important to me. But it was.  

Maybe I was more of a speciest than I gave myself credit for.  
I kissed Peter‘s cheek. ―Raithe will keep you from hurting me.‖  
He looked at Raithe. ―You promise?‖  
For a second there, I thought Raithe was going to say he couldn‘t or maybe wouldn’t, but 

then he dipped his chin. ―Yeah … yeah, I‘ll keep you from hurting him.‖  

Good, now that we had that settled…  
I pegged Raithe with a look. ―Suck him off.‖ Peter‘s head whipped back around, but 

since Raithe is good at taking orders his mouth was down around Pete‘s dick before he could 
utter a protest.  

Not that his protest would have lasted long.  
I ran one hand up and over Pete‘s new hairless chest, my other one found his right nipple 

and I gave it a good tweak. He barked a gasp, then rolled his head back and let go of a long 
agonizing moan as Raithe sucked his cock down his throat.  

Pete‘s hips rode forward and he did some flailing with his hands. First trying to grab my 

hips, then catching hold of my arms which were wrapped around his body.  

I kissed Peter‘s shoulder, his neck, his cheek; I wanted his mouth but the angle made it 

awkward. Not to mention, if I kissed him, I‘d miss the show that was happening below his 
waist.  

See, there‘s a reason I like Raithe. I mean, outside of his stellar personality, his 

conversational skills, and his junkyard dog grin. Before Raithe changed, he worked for the 
circus as a professional sword swallower.  

I shit you not.  
Only, Raithe‘s specialty wasn‘t just sharp pointy objects, it was balloons. Specifically a 

type known today as two-sixty‘s by those in the biz, the layman would know them as the ones 
birthday clowns use to make cute little balloon animals out of.  

And that, my friend, is exactly why I‘m Raithe‘s number one fan.  
I nestled my chin into Peter‘s shoulder and watched Raithe work. Just like always he 

started the dance out slow, going down, working those magical throat muscles of his, backing 
off and flicking his tongue over Pete‘s slit, before sucking the head of his cock in hard and 
swallowing him down whole all over again.  

And I mean all the way down!  
I groaned when Peter did and was helpless to stop the small jerks and thrusts my body 

made in time with his.  

―Feels good doesn‘t it, Pete?‖  
Peter‘s not normally the kind of guy to be a loss for words but he was then. He did make 

some noise though. Mostly grunts, groans, and small whimpering sounds between deep 
gasping breaths.  

As Raithe picked up speed, Peter‘s mouth came open and his eyes peeled wide. I‘m 

willing to bet every last cent my parents ever gifted me that the look on Pete‘s face was a 
mirror of my own the first time Raithe went down on me. A sensation even when drunk, 
stoned, or hung over I could never forget.  

―D…‖ He squirmed in my arms.  
I took one of Peter‘s hands and put it on Raithe‘s head. His fingers closed up in the 

Lesser-Bred‘s unruly braided locks as he sucked Pete in again. This time, Peter didn‘t resist 
what his body was urging him to do. His other hand joined the first one and suddenly he was 
plowing Raithe‘s mouth hard.  

―That‘s it, Pete, fuck him for me.‖  
And God, did he.  
Head thrown back, eyes clenched shut, Peter barked my name with every other thrust of 

his hips. The movement rocked his smooth-as-silk ass crack back over my aching cock and 
shoved me between his legs. Not enough to bring me, thank God, but it was enough to make 
me beg him to hurry.  

And it still took forever.  
By the time Pete was heading over the cliff of the glorious big O, he‘d kicked his legs 

wide and was trembling. And when it finally hit, he keened, an inhuman sound, high-pitched 
and wanton.  

Raithe took him deep one last time and I listened to his throat work as he swallowed. 

When he pulled off of Peter, he nuzzled his bare sac, making small sounds, purrs and clicks, 
sounds that dragons make, not men.  

I pulled Peter‘s chin around and kissed him. ―You okay?‖  
He smiled. God, I love his smiles. ―Yeah.‖  
―Still love me?‖  
He sighed. ―Of course, D.‖  
I kissed him again. ―See, still the same.‖  
Pete‘s lashes fluttered down and he nodded.  
Against his cheek I asked, ―What do you want to do now?‖  
Peter paused a moment before rolling over in arms and attacking my mouth. I didn‘t 

resist the intrusion, how he sucked my tongue, or how he bit down, trapping my barbell 

behind his teeth only to nurse the end like the head of my dick. When Peter broke off the kiss 
his face was flushed and his eyes were dark.  

His hand reached out over my shoulder. I didn‘t have to look to know what he was going 

for.  

The cap on the bottle snicked open close to my ear.  
Pete said, ―Roll on your back.‖  
I didn‘t even hesitate.  
After Pete filled his palm he put the bottle back on the bedside table and moved over me, 

straddling my legs. I hissed when his oil-slick hands gripped my cock. Skilled fingers slid up 
my length and his thumb traced the flared head before sliding a little higher to push at the 
barbell in my slit.  

Just like that I was right there about to lose myself before things even got started.  
―Fuck … Pete … don‘t, I‘ll…‖ He backed off and my vision cleared.  
It was his turn to smile. ―You like that way too much, D.‖  
Yeah, I did.  
But there were things I liked even more than that. Like him, riding me.  
I lifted my head up to watch Peter move. He was on his knees now, one hand on my 

cock, the other around his back. His lube-slicked fingers made a wet sound as he worked his 
ass. I worshipped the sight of him. How his brows came down, how he pinched his lip 
between his teeth, giving a mixed look of concentration and pleasure. Peter didn‘t close his 
eyes. I think he liked watching the change in my own face, how I coveted him, wanted him, 
begged him with my eyes to fuck me.  

Of course, my mouth begged him, too. ―Pete… God, Pete…‖ His hand tightened on my 

cock and his thumb swept over the blunt head. I jumped and begged him some more.  

Raithe became a line of warmth along my side and his head rested on my shoulder. His 

fingers danced a path to my nipple rings.  

With one hand on my chest, the other on my dick, Pete knee walked over my hips and 

sank down on my cock in one hard push. Even though he‘d worked himself, and we were 
both greased up, he was tight. So tight that the head of my dick throbbed with the skin-to-skin 
friction as I breached his hole. The curse I barked out was swallowed by Raithe. His mouth 
on mine tasted like burnt chocolate coffee and Peter.  

I pushed the Lesser-Bred back because I wanted to watch Pete. He wasn‘t moving yet, 

just watching me, heat in his eyes, and a small private smile on his face. His hands moved up 
to join Raithe in the nipple teasing he was giving me.  

―Damn, it, Peter…‖  
My dick jumped in his ass with every twist of my rings. I was pretty sure I couldn‘t come 

like this, but it sure made me wish I could.  

When Peter had me begging he spread his palms wide on my chest and rocked forward. 

Slow, teasing. I didn‘t know which was more intense, the feel of his cock rubbing against my 
stomach or the smooth skin of his sack resting against me. It was as if, without the hair, there 
was suddenly more of him. More to touch, to feel, to experience.  

I looked up at Raithe. He watched Peter, too, one hand on his cock. His thumb glided 

over his slit, traced the thick blunt shape of the end.  

God, he was beautiful, in a kind of way which was unnatural. Peter sorta looked like that, 

too. I couldn‘t be sure if it was because of his all-over smooth look or what.  

It struck me then. Pete would always look like this. Like Raithe, he wouldn‘t age; like 

Kin, he had the potential to live forever, and as a Human, that was something I could never 
do.  

Something cold and scary stirred in my chest, but before I had time to try and figure out 

what it was, Pete pulled himself up and slammed himself down, taking the ride from a slow 
pace to something desperate and violent in the blink of an eye.  

―Jesus … Peter…‖ I scrabbled for a hold and Peter gripped my wrists and pinned them 

beside my head. Damn he was strong, stronger than I‘d ever felt him before. Made helpless, I 
could only lay there while Pete he rode me, hard. Harder than I would have ever fucked him 
on my own. I brought my knees up, changing the angle of his thrusts, breaking his rhythm for 
a moment, then he found it again, fucking himself on my cock.  

I knew then not even a blow torch would burn this moment out of my head, Peter‘s body 

tight, his expression tighter, riding me like something possessed. My hands opened and 
closed and I looked over at Raithe. His hips rocked forward as he stroked himself in rhythm 
with Peter riding my cock.  

Desperate to come, I popped my hips off the mattress to meeting Peter halfway. The 

sound of flesh against flesh was rivaled by our breathing. It was my turn to wail, only I didn‘t 
make music, just pitiful sounds that conveyed my frustrations loud and clear.  

My left leg kicked out like it had its own agenda, and I bowed so far off the bed that I 

almost threw Peter clean off. The orgasm that tore through me was so blow-your-mind feel 
good that everything went blinding white. I think I screamed. Scratch that, I know I did. A 
ragged terrible sound like a dying man.  

When the world snapped back Peter‘s mouth was on mine, along with Raithe‘s, both of 

them fighting it out to see who could be the first to gag me with their tongue.  

They tasted wonderful together, like a cocktail of inhuman flavor and sex.  
When they pulled away, Pete‘s dark gaze filled my view. Only his eyes were no longer 

just brown, but flecked with bits of gold.  

The corner of his mouth tugged up. ―Do you still love me?‖  
Did I still love him? ―Does a bear shit in the woods?‖  
Pete kissed my nose, then my mouth.  
Beside us, Raithe said, ―I hope you two don‘t plan on stopping yet.‖  
Yeah, cause in spite of bringing himself, he was an iron bar digging into my hip. His 

fingers cut a path down the sticky mess Peter had left pooling on my stomach. I‘d been so 
caught up in my own cliff jump that I didn‘t even feel him come.  

I touched Pete‘s cheek and his eyes slid over to Raithe. I could tell by the expression on 

his face he wanted to say something.  

I said, ―What?‖  
The flush in Peter‘s cheeks darkened.  
―Pete?‖  
Peter swallowed. ―I…‖  
―Talk to me. You‘re supposed to tell me things, remember? Even the ugly, scary things.‖  
He tipped his chin and his breath went out. ―I want to watch…‖  
God help me if he was about to say what I thought he was…  
―D, I want to watch Raithe … you know.‖  
Fuck me. But, like I said, Pete isn‘t an F-word kinda guy.  
I growled and nipped Peter‘s lip and he laughed.  
―You okay with that?‖ That to Raithe. He smiled, but it wasn‘t his usual sharp-toothed 

grinned. This time it was more subtle and his liquid eyes watched Pete for a moment before 
sliding to me.  

To Peter, Raithe asked, ―How do you want him?‖  
Peter looked at me giving me his oh-so-naughty eyes. ―On his knees.‖  
I don‘t think I‘d ever had my ass in the air faster. Pete was still laughing when he 

grabbed the bottled of lube off the bedside table and handed it to Raithe.  

Peter sat back on his knees in front of me. I grabbed his hips and pulled him closer, 

burying my face against his stomach. I probed his navel with my tongue while Raithe slicked 
up my hole.  

Peter cupped my chin and claimed my mouth, just as the head of Raithe‘s cock pushed 

its way in. I balled up the sheets in my fists and waited for the ache, the burn, to be replaced 
by the gut-twisting pleasure. Pete wasn‘t looking at me anymore, he was watching Raithe, 
and Raithe, he was waiting for something. I tried to look at him but Pete held my head.  

Raithe asked, ―What now, Peter?‖  
The growl Pete let out drowned out his answer. At least to my ears. But he must have 

told Raithe hard because the Lesser-Bred pulled back then slammed himself back home. A 
grunt shot out of my mouth along with a ―Fuuuuck!‖  

The only reason I didn‘t go face first into the headboard was because Pete held me. His 

cheek next to mine, his breath hot against my ear. His growl, Fucking-A, his growl.  

I was hard again in no time and so was he.  
―I want to suck you off, Peter.‖ I had to say it again before he heard. All his attention 

was on Raithe and what he was doing to me. ―Pete…‖ He finally let me go and sat back on 
his knees and spread them wide so I could use his thighs to brace myself. I slid a hand around 
to Pete‘s ass while I inhaled his cock. He moaned my name and slipped his fingers in my 
hair. His position made it impossible for him to do a lot of moving, which was probably a 
good thing. Between the body rocking Raithe was doing on me and the angle I was at, I 
probably would have punched a hole in the back of my throat if he‘d been able to pop his 
hips.  

I‘d never be able to swallow cock like Raithe, but I took Pete down far enough that my 

throat threatened to retaliate. Peter didn‘t taste of salt and Human sweat any more, he tasted 
sweet and slightly smoky.  

My fingers followed his crease, but I couldn‘t go very deep when I reached his opening. 

Again, the angle, my ass in the air, my arms on Pete‘s thighs, Raithe fucking me so hard I 
was pretty sure I‘d have an imprint of his dick on my liver.  

But I made the best of it. I sucked hard, stroked fast, pulled back, teasing the head of 

Peter‘s dick with the barbell in my tongue before sucking him back so deep that I could feel 
him brush the back of my throat.  

I was only vaguely aware of Raithe‘s hand around my cock. It only took a few strokes 

before I was creaming the sheets, but I barely noticed because Pete was cranking out that 
wonderful heat, thick corporeal, and oh-so-inhuman. It was so hot that my skin crackled and 
my eyes watered.  
A moment later Peter came, and shortly after that the world ended.  

Chapter Nine 

It was like some scene out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. All muzzle flashes, gun shots, 

and screaming.  

Lots of screaming.  
The doorknob on the hotel door evaporated in a hail of metallic splinters. Raithe had just 

enough time to turn, and I had just enough time to sit up, before it was knocked off its hinges 
by some scary looking bald dude carrying a shotgun.  

Raithe shot off the bed, teeth down, growling, and went right for Big and Scary, moving 

faster than the eye could see. But our guest of honor must have had a twitchy trigger finger 
because the shotgun blast caught Raithe in the chest, jerking him off his feet and throwing 
him clean over to the other side of the bed.  

I grabbed Peter and dove just as big and scary threw down the double barrel and released 

a set of twin handguns from his over the shoulder holster. And unlike Raithe, I didn‘t move 
faster than then eye could see, so it wasn‘t really a surprise when I wound up getting plugged 
in the shoulder.  

At first it felt like getting punched, then the white hot pain bit into my bones. There was 

some shouting, maybe even some growling, but I couldn‘t tell from whom. My ears were still 
ringing from the close quarter‘s gunfire.  

I glanced over and saw Raithe. He blinked so he was still alive. I don‘t know how with 

the massive hole he had in his chest. I‘ve always heard Lesser-Breds were tougher to kill than 
Humans, but I‘d never seen that put to the test until now.  

When I glanced back at Peter, he was gone.  
That‘s when the next round of blood curdling screams began, and I shot to my feet 

thinking Peter was being killed.  

It took me a minute to register what I was seeing. Big and scary was on his back, Peter 

kneeling on his chest. I think that‘s when I said Peter‘s name. I mean, I must have said his 
name because he looked up.  

Peter‘s beautiful, kind face had been transformed into something angry and feral. Maybe 

it was the hard gold eyes, or the big ugly teeth. Of course, it could have been the blood, cause 
God, there was buckets of it.  

My eyes dropped to big and ugly. His expression had gone from serious hit man to 

surprised birthday boy.  

With his throat ripped out.  
Peter‘s jaws moved and I saw him swallow the flesh he had in his mouth. He crawled off 

the dead man and headed in my direction. I told myself Peter wouldn‘t hurt me, but it no 
longer sounded with steadfast conviction in my head. No, that strong know-it-all voice had 
been reduced to a Mickey Mouse whisper.  

But then, Peter had never looked at me like this. Like a predator. Like I was prey. Even 

though nothing about his body had changed, he no longer moved like anything Human, he 
moved like Kin. Rolling, sliding, slipping through the physical world.  

Maybe a poet or a singer would have better words to describe what I was seeing, but the 

only thing that came to my mind, was fucking terrifying.  

Peter reached the edge of the bed and I moved towards the end. I don‘t know why. It 

wasn‘t like I could have ran fast enough to get away from him, but I forgot about Raithe 
being on the floor and my foot caught his side and I went tumbling into the dresser. A 
sprinkling of condoms rained down on my shoulder, along with some other junk from the 
pockets of my duster.  

When I looked up, Peter was right in front of me.  
And I hadn‘t even heard him move.  

―Pete…‖  
He growled and his lips pulled up. His teeth, all of his teeth, were sharp. And I don‘t 

mean knife sharp. I mean metaphysically sharp. The kind of edge that can bite through bone 
and shred flesh like paper.  

Peter exhaled and his breath smelled like wet pennies.  
Closer now, I could feel the air vibrating with a deep thrum cranking out of his chest. I 

tried to concentrate on his features not distorted by this metaphysical flare or all the blood: 
how his hair curled, the shape of his nose, his freckles and how they were just a hair darker 
than his skin.  

Pete touched my shoulder. I‘d forgotten about the gunshot until he poked his fingers into 

the open wound. It took everything not to scream. Although the nausea that came after that 
urge was a hell of a lot worse.  

I must have blacked out for a second because when I opened my eyes back up Peter was 

licking his fingers, sucking them down his throat, sliding his tongue up and down each one. 
Any other time I might have found that sexy as hell, but not now. No, right now I knew Pete 
wasn‘t doing that with thoughts of sucking cock going through his head. More like ripping 
me open and eating out my insides.  

My hands did some gripping and flailing at my sides. Maybe my brain thought it could 

backpedal me away from him. Pete‘s hand shot out and I was slammed against the dresser. 
The impact rattled another avalanche of crap: condoms, empty lube bottle, Pete‘s cell phone, 
my cell phone, and then the epipen.  

Fuck.  
Peter‘s grip on my throat tightened. I grabbed his wrist. Like it was going to do any 

good. ―Pete… Pete … please … please don‘t…‖  

Beside me, Raithe made a noise. My eyes slid over to him. The hole in his chest looked 

smaller now, but he‘d never heal fast enough. Even if he did, he‘d be too weak to help me. I 
think I was hoping he‘d hop off the floor like a fucking super hero and rescue me from the 
love of my life, but he only turned his head. His eyes met mine and they were so sad.  

Whitcomb warned me about this, the this being Peter coming after me. I‘d been so sure I 

could handle it. And I couldn‘t, I realized that now. I think I also realized just how scared I 
was to die.  

I said Pete‘s name again. Over and over. Finally, he blinked and tilted his head.  
―C‘mon Peter … it‘s me…‖ I touched his thigh, it was slick. I didn‘t know if it was come 

or blood, and I didn‘t look and find out. ―Peter … please … please … don‘t do this…‖  

Another blink and I noticed his eyes weren‘t as gold any more. My breath shuddered out 

and Peter leaned even closer.  

Brown, they were almost brown, and his teeth weren‘t hanging out like wolf-man-jack.  
―D?‖  
My name. Not a growl, but my fucking name.  
I think I managed to smile. Pete didn‘t smile, he just looked scared. ―D…‖  
―God … Pete.‖ I tried to move, but his hand held me right where I was.  
His gaze shifted to the place beside my leg, back, then up again. I looked. The epipen. It 

was an inch from my fingertips.  

―No…‖  
―D … please. I can‘t stop.‖ The tears in Peter‘s eyes spilled over and cut trails through 

the blood on his cheeks. Blood he‘d gotten on him when he killed the Money Man.  

And Peter didn‘t just kill him. He‘d eaten parts.  
His free hand slipped up my leg, to my stomach, and his fingers dug in. If he‘d had 

chelae he would have cut through me like warm butter. As it was, I‘d just have bruises. I 
could live with bruises.  

I could not, however, live with hurting Pete.  
―No…‖ I said it again because of how he was begging me with his eyes. Pleading with 

me, reminding me.  

Then Pete‘s lips rolled, up his mouth jacked wide. Fangs, big ones, slid down from 

behind already metaphysically sharpened teeth. I didn‘t know Lesser-Breds could do that. 
Have two kinds of enamel hardware.  

Is this what Little Red Riding Hood felt like?  
I barked a laugh which turned into a sob. The tears were next. Peter jerked me forward 

then shoved me back. My shoulder fired off with crack. Either the dresser had just suffered a 
casualty or he‘d broken something; my arm, my shoulder? I hate to admit it, but at the 
moment I was too scared to tell what.  

―Daaarrrrwiiinnn…‖ He growled my name this time and I force my eyes back open. Still 

brown, still Pete. Still scared as fuck.  

I think that‘s when it hit me. Pete wasn‘t in the driver‘s seat at the moment. He was at the 

mercy of his instinct, metaphysical energy, hell, the parts of him that were Kin, but he wasn‘t 
gone either. He was stuck in the back, staring out the windshield, forced to watch the head on 
collision that was about to happen.  

My hand closed around the epipen.  
―Peter … you can beat this. You have to beat this. You love me, I love you. You do this 

for me and I‘ll even clean out my car, fold my dirty laundry, wash the fucking windows…‖  

You promised me. That‘s what his eyes said. And I did. Stupid me and my lack of 

fucking self control. Worse than that, I never lied to Peter, I couldn‘t lie to Peter.  

―C‘mon Petey—‖ God, I hadn‘t called him that since I was twelve. ―Please, please, don‘t 

make me. You‘re stronger than this, way stronger, please come back, please…‖  

But it wasn‘t going to happen. He wasn‘t going to blink and turn back into the man I 

loved. He was going to kill me. He was going to eat me. The worst of it all, Peter would be 
forced to relive this moment for the rest of his life.  

He wouldn‘t survive it. His eyes told me that, too. Peter wouldn‘t survive it.  
Like a stun gun. That‘s what I told myself. And worst-case scenarios meant the most 

unlikely turn out.  

Right?  
A deep thrum kicked up in Peter‘s chest, and his brown eyes bled gold. They were hard 

eyes now. The eyes of a hungry dragon.  

It was now or never.  
I stabbed Peter in the thigh.  
There was no sound, other than the click of the pen when the bottom half gave way and 

the needle punched out. There was no flash of light as the epi flooded Pete‘s system with its 
metaphysical science.  

Peter blinked once, took a breath and collapsed.  
There was sound then, the sound of my soul being ripped out and shredded in a ragged 

torn wail that stripped my vocal cords raw. I didn‘t have to touch Pete to know, I didn‘t have 
to hold him to feel it happen.  

The it being the worst case scenario.  
Peter was dead.  

To Be Continued… 

About the Author:  

I was born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia and I‘ve been writing and drawing since I 

could hold a crayon. My first dragon crush was Pete‘s Dragon. I was three, and he was, well, 
a cartoon. But I was hooked – a dragonholic. Then I moved on to bigger, badder, scarier 
beasties.  

Dahlonega, Georgia is my home and I‘m hard at work on new novels featuring the Kin, 

the Lesser Breds, the Humans and the rest of the residents of Atlanta, Georgia. Enjoy your 
time in the City of Dragons, and remember: don‘t wander into the Gray Zone after dark.  

Meet Lsb Authors At The House Of Sin 

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LSbooks.com 

for other exciting erotic romances. 

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