employer for his employee? Outrage
and fury coursed through him. He’d rip the magic man’s testicles off and feed
them to him.
One by goddamn one.
“Now you are,” Diskant responded sharply, before Ava could.
“I wasn’t talking to you—”
“Damn it!” Ava yelled. “I don’t broadcast the goings-on of
my personal life at the bar. I don’t owe you an explanation. Piss off!”
“Satisfied?” Diskant didn’t wait for a response, moved
around the warlocke and strode purposefully toward the hallway. Nathan was
exactly where he’d left him and moved cautiously aside and lowered his gaze to
stare at the floor.
Reminded of the friend left face-up on the stage, Diskant
made a mental note to call Trey in the morning to find out what the fuck was
what—but not tonight. Tonight he was going to inform the tiny female in his
arms that she would never touch another male because she was intended solely
for him. As generous as he was with the stares and sexual comments earlier, he
wasn’t one to share. That would only worsen once he was lodged deep within her
and came while cradled inside those snug inner walls that would clench and milk
his cock like a fisting second skin.
The wetness in his leathers told him the slit in the tip was
oozing, aching and heavy balls armed and ready to pump his seed into his mate’s
womb and seal the first mark between them. The other two marks would involve
her implicit trust and willingness, but they didn’t have to happen overnight.
Most shifters with human mates didn’t bloodbond for several months, taking time
to prepare for the multitude of changes that went along with bonding to a
shifter.
Chavez’s wrinkled face was waiting when he strolled into the
kitchen. The chef’s brown eyes widened slightly when they settled upon Pinkie
but otherwise he kept what he was thinking to himself.
“Is that for me?” Diskant lifted the hand under her knees
and pointed at a large paper bag that was overflowing with Styrofoam boxes.
“We had some of the chicken parmesan left from a party
upstairs. I figured it was better to give it to you instead of throwing it in
the trash.”
Yes sir, Chavez always delivered.
Snagging the dual reedlike handles with his hooked index
finger, he instructed, “Charge it to my account.”
“I already did.”
Diskant grinned and walked past the smaller man, nodding his
thanks to the gawking line cook who opened the door wide and stepped aside.
When they exited the building and the door closed with a loud report, Pinkie
came to life again, struggling wildly.
“Put me down, right now!” she screeched. “I mean it, I’ll
scream!”
Shifting her slightly, he growled, “If you don’t stop, I’m
going to put the bag down, bend you over my knee and turn that beautiful little
ass of yours a nice shade of red.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She sounded skeptical but the thrashing
ceased.
“Don’t count on it. I’ve been in hell the last few weeks.
Delivering a small dose of what I’ve suffered to your derriere might be just
what the doctor ordered.”
“I can’t be your mate,” she argued hoarsely. “You know that,
right? It’s not possible.”
He stopped in front of his bike and climbed aboard, keeping
her weight balanced with the arm under her legs. “And why is that?”
“I’m human,” she answered as if it were the most logical
thing in the world.
“And?” He situated her across his lap and used his free arm
to retrieve the bag and place it in her lap.
“And nothing!”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me, baby.”
She started struggling again, nearly sending the bag to the
concrete in her efforts to gain freedom. “Damn it, it won’t work, there is no
way—”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and arms, forcing
her to go still. “Why won’t it work? Tell me.”
“You’ll…you’ll…” She shrugged after a moment, staring
straight ahead, refusing to look at him.
Lowering his voice an octave, he
and fury coursed through him. He’d rip the magic man’s testicles off and feed
them to him.
One by goddamn one.
“Now you are,” Diskant responded sharply, before Ava could.
“I wasn’t talking to you—”
“Damn it!” Ava yelled. “I don’t broadcast the goings-on of
my personal life at the bar. I don’t owe you an explanation. Piss off!”
“Satisfied?” Diskant didn’t wait for a response, moved
around the warlocke and strode purposefully toward the hallway. Nathan was
exactly where he’d left him and moved cautiously aside and lowered his gaze to
stare at the floor.
Reminded of the friend left face-up on the stage, Diskant
made a mental note to call Trey in the morning to find out what the fuck was
what—but not tonight. Tonight he was going to inform the tiny female in his
arms that she would never touch another male because she was intended solely
for him. As generous as he was with the stares and sexual comments earlier, he
wasn’t one to share. That would only worsen once he was lodged deep within her
and came while cradled inside those snug inner walls that would clench and milk
his cock like a fisting second skin.
The wetness in his leathers told him the slit in the tip was
oozing, aching and heavy balls armed and ready to pump his seed into his mate’s
womb and seal the first mark between them. The other two marks would involve
her implicit trust and willingness, but they didn’t have to happen overnight.
Most shifters with human mates didn’t bloodbond for several months, taking time
to prepare for the multitude of changes that went along with bonding to a
shifter.
Chavez’s wrinkled face was waiting when he strolled into the
kitchen. The chef’s brown eyes widened slightly when they settled upon Pinkie
but otherwise he kept what he was thinking to himself.
“Is that for me?” Diskant lifted the hand under her knees
and pointed at a large paper bag that was overflowing with Styrofoam boxes.
“We had some of the chicken parmesan left from a party
upstairs. I figured it was better to give it to you instead of throwing it in
the trash.”
Yes sir, Chavez always delivered.
Snagging the dual reedlike handles with his hooked index
finger, he instructed, “Charge it to my account.”
“I already did.”
Diskant grinned and walked past the smaller man, nodding his
thanks to the gawking line cook who opened the door wide and stepped aside.
When they exited the building and the door closed with a loud report, Pinkie
came to life again, struggling wildly.
“Put me down, right now!” she screeched. “I mean it, I’ll
scream!”
Shifting her slightly, he growled, “If you don’t stop, I’m
going to put the bag down, bend you over my knee and turn that beautiful little
ass of yours a nice shade of red.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” She sounded skeptical but the thrashing
ceased.
“Don’t count on it. I’ve been in hell the last few weeks.
Delivering a small dose of what I’ve suffered to your derriere might be just
what the doctor ordered.”
“I can’t be your mate,” she argued hoarsely. “You know that,
right? It’s not possible.”
He stopped in front of his bike and climbed aboard, keeping
her weight balanced with the arm under her legs. “And why is that?”
“I’m human,” she answered as if it were the most logical
thing in the world.
“And?” He situated her across his lap and used his free arm
to retrieve the bag and place it in her lap.
“And nothing!”
“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me, baby.”
She started struggling again, nearly sending the bag to the
concrete in her efforts to gain freedom. “Damn it, it won’t work, there is no
way—”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and arms, forcing
her to go still. “Why won’t it work? Tell me.”
“You’ll…you’ll…” She shrugged after a moment, staring
straight ahead, refusing to look at him.
Lowering his voice an octave, he
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