Chapter Twelve

A nders took Micah home. What else was he going to do? Mephistopheles' tent had been spooky, yeah, but except for getting separated, Anders had found it more weird than scary.

But Micah was a fucking mess.

It took till they got into the truck, with the dome light on, for Anders to see just how bad off Micah was. The guy's eyes were red and every so often he reached up and wiped his face with the cuff of his hoodie—the visibly soggy cuff of his hoodie.

"You look like you could use a shot of tequila or something."

Micah gave a watery laugh. "Or something."

"I don't know what happened in there, but"—Anders put the truck in gear—"whatever it was, we'll deal with it."

Micah muttered something that sounded like, "You deserve better."

A couple of different responses came and went through Anders' mind, but in the end, he kept his mouth shut and focused on driving. We've already had this discussion, remember? I'll decide what I deserve.

Since neither of them was inclined to talk, Anders had time to think. What did he know about Micah, really? He was a polymorph, and someone was after him, someone who scared him, but beyond those two things, there were more hints and holes than any real information. Anders should be guarding his own heart, not running pell-mell into some drama he didn't really understand.

His wolf let out a low growl, the kind only Anders could hear. Yeah, yeah, so his wolf wanted Micah, but did that mean Anders had to give up all his plans to go riding to the rescue? He wanted to be Alpha of the Elwha Pack, to grow his business, to be the kind of guy who read the minutes from city council meetings and encouraged others to vote.

His wolf's knowing gaze said yes. Yes to everything.

"Jesus," Anders said under his breath. Maybe city council meetings were a bridge too far . Micah didn't respond except to put a hand on Anders' thigh. That point of contact was comforting, reassuring.

It made his wolf happy anyway.

Anders was still fighting his protective instincts when he pulled up the drive to his house. Everything looked normal. The porch light was on, the matched grandpa rocking chairs were in their normal places to the left of the front door. The welcome mat was…

Wait .

Something white covered the welcome mat.

"What the fuck is that?"

In an instant, Anders had the door open and his feet on the ground. He jogged across the dew-damp grass, coming to a stop at the foot of his front steps. The thing on the welcome mat was a snake of some kind, pure white, its eyes glowing red.

He looked around wildly for something to hit it with, to chase it off his porch, but before he could move, Micah grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

"Don't." Micah's tone of voice didn't invite argument. "It's a message."

At the sound of Micah's voice, the serpent lifted its head, rising it up several inches above its coiled body. "One more tasssssk," it said, its open mouth glowing like a ruby. "One more, or the child will pay."

The serpent disappeared, leaving only the echo of its words.

"What kind of bad cartoon dialogue was that?" Anders turned on Micah, fear turning to anger. "What the hell is going on?"

Micah stood with his eyes closed, his head tipped back, as if the moon was going to give him an answer to Anders' questions.

Too bad the moon was covered by clouds.

"Let's just get inside," Anders said. He wanted to be behind a locked door and was kicking himself that he hadn't let Kitty set wards on the place when she'd offered.

Micah allowed himself to be pulled up the steps and through the front door. He still looked like the wrong word would make him shatter into a hundred pieces, but Anders was too pissed to do anything about that.

He headed for the kitchen and had the bottle of tequila on the counter and two shots poured before Micah caught up with him. He nudged one of the shot glasses toward Micah and picked up his own. "Sk?l," he said and tossed down the shot.

Micah did the same, setting the empty glass on the counter with a clank. Anders poured them both another shot, but before he could drink, Micah started talking.

"I told you I was a shitty person." He sounded defensive, like Anders should have recognized the warning for what it was.

"I'll know better next time."

They locked gazes. Micah's eyes were still red, his face pale. The combination broke through some of Anders' anger and brought out the need to protect him. Or his wolf's need, at least.

Not until I know what he's done .

"Where do you want me to start?"

Anders snorted. "The beginning, I guess."

Micah tossed off the second shot, then stood with his eyes closed, hands flat on the counter. "The snake was a message from a demon named Seth Damyan. He's… got something on me, and he's made me do some pretty awful things."

Mirroring Micah's stance, Anders faced him across the kitchen island. "Do I want to know what kind of things?"

Micah's mouth worked but no sound came out. He pointed to the tequila, and Anders poured both of them another shot. Micah downed his, wheezing a little as the fiery liquid went down. He coughed, his attention firmly on the countertop. "Theft, mostly. With my gift, you know, I can get in and out of places real easy."

Okay, so Anders had two new bits of information. One, the thing chasing Micah was a demon, and two, Micah was a thief. Common sense told Anders the guy deserved whatever was coming for him.

Micah's vulnerability argued against that. He made Anders want to do whatever he could to protect him. "That's kinda fucked up," he said finally, though whether he was addressing Micah or himself was hard to determine.

"Yeah, it's… I have a daughter." Micah choked out the last word. "She's… five. Seth Damyan will kill her if I don't do what he wants."

"Jesus fucking Christ. That…"

Was about the last thing Anders had ever expected to hear.

"So the snake tonight—"

"Was a threat. We'd made a deal, or I thought we'd made a deal. Seven tasks and he'd leave us alone."

"Man, that's"—Anders reached across the counter, taking hold of one of Micah's hands. "I mean, what are you going to do?"

Micah shifted his hand to interlace their fingers. "I hope I'm going to make love to you one more time, then I'm going to hit the road so I don't bring down more shit on you."

"No." Anders tightened his grip on Micah's hand. "You don't have to face this alone."

"Yeah, I do." Without releasing Anders' hand, Micah came around the center island. "If Seth Damyan ever learns how I feel about you, it'll put a target on your back so big they could see it from space."

The world shifted under Anders' feet, as if gravity itself had taken a heartbeat off.

"And how do you feel about me?" His voice was so raspy he almost didn't recognize it.

Micah kept coming at him until they stood toe to toe. Belly to belly.

Heart to heart.

"Like if anything bad happened to you, it would destroy me." Micah carefully placed his palms on either side of Anders' face. "Like knowing you're alive and running in the woods with your pack will make whatever else I have to do worthwhile."

His heart pounding so hard he could hear it, Anders struggled to come up with an appropriate response. Then Micah claimed his lips in a kiss for the ages, and he stopped thinking at all.

Micah kissed Anders because he had to. Because he wanted him from that place where need turns into desperation.

Because kissing him shut off that voice in his head, the one that said should have asked him for help .

Fuck that noise. He didn't have time to think, didn't want to waste time weighing his own guilt. He kissed Anders with his whole being, and Anders kissed him back just as fiercely.

Anders turned so Micah had his back to the island. Their cocks weren't quite in line, but they both started rutting. Yeah, this one is gonna be quick .

Micah worked his hands up under Anders' hoodie, trying to touch as much of that warm skin as he could. Then even that wasn't enough, and he grabbed the hoodie's hem and yanked it over Anders' head.

"Aw, shit," he murmured, hands planted flat on Anders' warm skin. "Just gorgeous." Broad, buffed shoulders and just the right amount of hair on his chest. A wild scent that could only come from a wolf. Micah licked down his throat to his collarbone, and Anders shivered in response.

"How do you want me?" Anders asked, his voice unsteady.

Micah distracted him with another rough kiss, mouth wide as if he could swallow Anders down.

"Your choice," Micah managed between kisses. "I'll do whatever you want."

Anders groaned against his mouth. "I'm about ready to turn you around and fuck you over the counter."

Micah had his hands on the fly of his jeans before Anders finished talking. "Anything you want."

After one more kiss, where he bit Anders' lip hard enough to make him jump, Micah turned around, his jeans falling around his knees.

"Fuck," Anders grunted, his hands kneading Micah's ass. "Don't have any lube."

"We're in a damned kitchen." Micah grabbed his own ass cheeks and spread them, showing Anders the plug he still wore. "You must have some oil handy."

Anders leaned over Micah, pressing his chest to Micah's back. The buttons on the fly of his jeans rubbed against Micah's ass, which was a kink Micah never knew he had.

"Jesus, I want you to fill me up."

Anders latched onto a mouthful of skin below Micah's ear and sucked it in, using lips and tongue to leave a mark. "That gonna show up when you turn into a different man?"

Laughing, Micah tried to ease the pressure on his dick where it was caught between his body and the counter. "Not sure. Never had the chance to try."

Anders planted open-mouthed kisses down Micah's spine. When he reached his ass, he muttered, "Be right back."

Though Micah still wore most of his clothes, he felt cold for those few moments Anders was gone. When he returned, he eased the plug out of Micah's ass, wrapping it in a dishtowel. Tracing Micah's hole with a slick finger, he said, "I hope the Victorians were right about this stuff."

Micah closed his eyes, shutting off his mind and letting his whole consciousness feel. Anders teased his hole with two fingers, then three. "That thing has you all ready for me."

"Get in there, then." Micah's whole body pulsed with need. He wanted Anders to impale him on his cock, to pound him hard enough to drive out all the bullshit that had him tied up in knots.

To fuck him so hard he'd never forget it, even when Anders was a distant memory.

He should never have come here, and now he had to leave to protect Anders from the demon. He knew that in his bones, and as Anders slowly pushed his dick into Micah's hole, Micah relaxed into that fullness.

Anders had him, and for this moment, he was safe. Then his lover began to move, and Micah couldn't think of anything at all except the spiral of pleasure coiling tighter and tighter around his heart. Anders must have sensed that because his thrusts came faster, harder, as if he meant to tattoo something of himself in Micah's body.

And Micah wanted that tattoo. He wanted something of Anders to hold onto for as long as he could.

It was Anders who broke first, giving one last thrust and freezing, his hands holding Micah's ass in a bruising grip. After a long moment, he folded forward, and Micah frantically stroked himself. He wanted to come while Anders was still in his ass, and it didn't take much to bring himself off. Pleasure grabbed him around the throat while his hips rocked helplessly, his climax taking him to a place he'd never been.

A place of sadness because this was it. The last time they'd ever be together. For a long moment, they simply stayed where they were. Micah managed to get an arm on the countertop so his head rested on his forearm, Anders' warm weight a blanket he never wanted to lose.

One he'd never have again.

Anders' cock slid out of him, making him shiver. Anders chuckled, his mouth at Micah's ear.

"That was…" Anders began, ending the sentence with another chuckle. This one sounded more like disbelief, and Micah laughed too.

"Yeah."

"We should, uh, clean up."

Still chuckling at the intensity of it all, Micah agreed with him. "Though I'm not sure I can move yet."

With a groan, Anders straightened, his hands on Micah's shoulders so he stood up, too. "Bathroom," Anders growled. "Shower."

"Sure," Micah said. "A shower would be great."

At least then he'd be clean when he took off. He wouldn't be washing this hoodie any time soon, though. He wanted to hang on to Anders' scent as long as possible.