Reading his mind, Mirceo said, “This is almost as good as the release that got us here. Who knew?”
Who indeed? It was too good. “You always split well before the morning after.”
“Depends on how drunk I got the night before. But to your point, I wasn’t much of an afterglow kind of male. I always felt panic after sex. I don’t know why.”
Cas did. Because Mirceo was terrified of commitment. Fear doused Cas’s hope, his instinct for self-preservation rising. This situation boiled down to a simple equation: If I claim him as my own and he rejects me, then I’ll be destroyed.
More simply: Mirceo equals doom.
Cas shook his head hard. All of this agonizing would be moot if they didn’t survive the next few hours. He needed to focus on their hunt, or he’d get them killed. “Up with you. We should talk some logistics.”
Mirceo sighed. “Very well.” He rose and adjusted his clothing. Tracing to sit on one of the trunks across from the bed, he secured his hair back with a leather tie.
Cas pulled his pants up over his still-swollen shaft. The mere glimpse of those fang marks nearly landed Mirceo back on the furs. Focus! “How long can you keep us in mist form?” He buttoned his shirt.
“By myself, indefinitely. With you, I don’t know. Let’s say half an hour.”
“Then we should . . .” He trailed off, catching sight of the vampire’s leavings on the floor of the cave. Pearlescent seed against opaque sand. Riveting—
Mirceo kicked more sand over it, burying it, breaking Cas’s stare. Eyes merry, he said, “Had to, or else you’d never be able to concentrate—and some of us are professionals here.”
Hating that the vampire was right, Cas struggled to concentrate. Where were we? Ah, half an hour. “That won’t be enough time for us to cross the entire gulg valley. But I have an idea to get past them.” Cas would turn a negative into a positive. He didn’t explain his plan, and Mirceo apparently trusted him enough not to demand details.
“Do you think the sorcerer’s guilty of all those things on the poster?”
Cas held up a palm. “Ah-ah. We don’t care. Never concern yourself with any specifics other than who, when, where, and how much,” he instructed, as if the prince was actually his new hunting partner.
“You aren’t a touch curious about Harea?” Mirceo asked. “Or sympathetic? He sounds larger than life.”
“Not at all. He’s just a job.”
“If the Gaolers are so imposing, why don’t they go after the sorcerer themselves?”
“I don’t know,” Cas said. “Some say they can’t enter all dimensions.”
“They provided no contact information. How will we get paid?”
“I think they’re keeping tabs on the sorcerer. The second Harea leaves Poly, they’ll sense his new location. We’ll take him behind the Red Flag and wait for them there.” Cas traced to the flap again, glancing outside. “It’s time.” He turned back, snagging supplies from a trunk: a large tarp, mystical restraints, and two long rolls of cloth to cover their eyes and faces.
Mirceo donned his sword and his trench coat, then drew on a pair of gloves from his pocket. “Then let’s be away.”
“You can’t go out like that. You need more protection.” Cas tossed him a roll.
The vampire caught the cloth, blinking at him.
Cas unwound his own. “Watch me. It starts at your head. That will put this thin gauzy part over your eyes.” He knotted the end around his neck.
“A little help here. I haven’t had five centuries of practice with this.”
Cas scowled. “Now I’m to dress you?”
“I’d much prefer the opposite, but yes, I’ll need assistance. Whereas I mastered my blowjob technique on my first foray, I’d rather not risk my flawless face.”
Muttering, “Arrogant leech,” Cas traced to him and reached for the material.
Heat emanated from Mirceo, the young vampire as hot-blooded as ever.
Cas had given him some of that warmth. I nourished him. “Here.” He began to wrap the material around Mirceo’s head, forced to smooth a lock of the vampire’s hair from his forehead. I’d rather not know how soft it is.
After lining up the thin part over Mirceo’s heavy-lidded gray eyes, Cas wound the rest of the cloth around Mirceo’s neck, nearly smiling when the vampire’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
Though they’d released some pressure, that chemistry between them had only grown. What if he’s mine? “There,” Cas said in a gruff voice, dropping his hands. He still couldn’t believe he was taking young Mirceo into danger. I’ve got no choice. This was the sole way to prevent a kill order on his friend. “You pay attention and you stay alert, okay?” He exhaled with resignation. “Are you ready?”
A smirk in his voice, Mirceo said, “I was born ready, sweetheart.”
Cas rolled his eyes.
NINETEEN
The demon traced Mirceo to the mouth of a canyon. The sand-laden winds howled, chasing ribbons of clouds. Moonshadows raced over the shifting dunes.
A few leagues in the distance lay Harea’s fortress—a massive pyramid with muted firelight glowing from the few slotted window openings. Smaller structures and a perimeter wall fronted it.
Mirceo gazed at their surroundings in disbelief. His mate had chosen to remain in this wasteland for five centuries. Rather than be with me.
Doubt crept in about their future, even after what they’d shared in the cave. What if Caspion viewed that pleasure as Mirceo had once viewed sex?
As just a trade of orgasms.
What if he and the demon couldn’t make it work? Caspion might have grown too unreasonable over the centuries to be in any relationship. Forgodsakes, he’d crushed a priceless talisman to rid himself of Mirceo.
Maybe I’m not . . . enough.
Seeming to sense his unease, Caspion glanced back at him. “What?”
“I thought the cave was bad.”
Despite their head wrappings, Mirceo could detect the demon’s frown. “Are you having second thoughts about this op?”
“Not about the op,” he muttered.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that one day you might convince me we have no chance.” They stared at each other. What is he thinking?
“Noted.”
Seriously, demon? “That’s all you’ll say?”
“If we don’t focus for the next couple of hours, someone’s going to get killed. Or worse.”
“Worse?”
“You want to live out eternity as a Wendigo?” A single bite or scratch from those creatures could transform even an immortal. “Now, look sharp.” Caspion began to clap his hands loudly.
“Pardon me, demon, I’m not one to tell you how to do your job—but won’t that attract Wendigos?”
More clapping. “Exactly.”
“Ah. So we’ll be the first in the Lore to voluntarily draw the notice of a legion of these creatures?”
“Yeah.”
Mirceo shrugged. “Very well.” If the demon said this needed to be done, then so be it. He brandished his sword and fell into place beside Caspion. “Onward!”