Devil's Own (5 page)

“So this isn’t Satanism?” Niall reiterated for verification.

Autumnsong shook his head, amused beyond belief. “Is that crap supposed to be Enochian? It’s gibberish.” Then he put up his hand in a stop gesture when Niall opened his mouth to speak. “Now, I’m not saying it’s
not
a language. But it’s no language associated with Satanism or devil worship.”

Gus tried not to shiver at the reality that his home, his sanctuary from the evils of the world, was now
the
place to be to talk about dark religions. A part of him hated how prejudiced he was about them, but the instinctive fears gave him chills. He truly did wish he were a better man, one who could rise above such preconceptions and try to understand these rebellious, indulgent, and liberating new religions. Yet… he just wasn’t there, in that headspace. Perhaps he never would be.

“What’s Enochian?” Niall asked.

“An occult language, first noted in the journals of John Dee and—you
do
know who John Dee is, at least?” Autumnsong’s mocking tone was accentuated by the arrogant smirk. Gus was watching the whole thing go down from the distant safety of the kitchen, but he had an unobstructed view to the proceedings.

Niall grimaced. “An alchemist, an occultist, a scholar in the sixteenth century.” Gus was impressed. He had been sure Niall wouldn’t know the historical figure who, among other things, had been a consultant to the Queen of England.

Autumnsong seemed favorably affected as well. “What do you know, a PI who reads. What a shocker. Anyway… Enochian is integral to certain magical practices, and the Satanic Bible has invocations written in that language. However, whatever
that
is—” He pointed at the note Niall was still clutching in his hands. “—it’s not Enochian. Yeah, sure, there are similar symbols, like the Greek omega, which resembles
mals
or
machls
in Enochian. But those are mere aesthetic similarities, not real connections.”

Quietly, Niall stared at the paper, and Gus had a feeling he knew what his boyfriend was thinking. If the writing was truly gibberish, then Florian hadn’t simply missed it, but had planted it for Angelina to find. Was this all just a huge practical joke? The reactions of the Talbot family seemed to suggest they used demeaning humor to put others down, including Angelina.

But then again, Florian Talbot was really dead.

“Do you know any of the people in Talbot’s coven?” Niall asked then.

Autumnsong shrugged. “Sure, I’ve seen them around. Talbot’s right-hand man is called Titus, if memory serves.”

“Is he a true believer?”

Autumnsong smiled in a condescending manner. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean by that, Valentine.”

Suddenly, Niall smiled back. Gus saw the predatory gesture and felt a chill go through him. Gus knew Niall could be very dangerous if he thought it necessary. Looked like their guest was about to learn that lesson too. “Oh, you know. The way you
aren’t
.”

The smirk vanished from Autumnsong’s face, and he shifted on the couch. “My, Daddy, what big eyes you have.”

“Don’t even get me started on my teeth.” Valentine smiled so widely his white teeth gleamed in the light.

Their guest made a mocking scoff, then sighed. “Titus is one of those silent, brooding types who hide their true selves behind a blank mask. But sensitive people feel uneasy with them, a creepy kind of vibe. He’s intense during rituals, saying his invocations, practicing the art with due diligence—but true faith? That’s harder to prove these days. Fanatics can always find a sympathetic ear, unfortunately.”

“You’ve seen their rituals? Talbot’s coven?” Gus was proud of Niall sounding so cool and disinterested, as if his sole focus was the man speaking instead of the topic.

Autumnsong laughed in a hiccup-y way. “Oh, puh-leez. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. A mockery. Sure, they used the inverted pentagram, dressed in dark silk for their black mass, and directed their horny prayers to Belial and Baphomet. But it was like they were playing dress-up. It was a show, a theatrical performance, casual Satanism. Certainly not a real ritual.”

“You participated?”

“Nah. I don’t do amateur hour.” He stared at Niall with hypnotic eyes and didn’t look away.

Gus wanted the man gone. He didn’t like their guest one bit. His words, however, implied he had observed the event from close-by, on the QT. Why was the question, not to mention how.

Niall, however, seemed unfazed by the stare-down. His voice was perfectly level when he asked, “Talbot was the emcee? No blood was shed?”

Autumnsong chuckled, shaking his head. “Wine spilled, mainly. A naked girl on the altar, then a naked boy. Both legal, as far as I knew. They mostly had sex. Consensual, of course, but with wrist and ankle restraints for show. Ritual knives, cuts on palms, tame stuff like that.”

“So, in real satanic rituals, more blood is spilled?” It was such a casual comment Gus had to briefly duck behind the kitchen wall to prevent his gasp from being heard.

Autumnsong’s eyes widened. “Had I known you were on a fishing expedition, I would have brought my own pole to play with.” If that was sexual innuendo, it missed its mark by miles, Gus thought, grimacing.

“So, in your professional opinion, Talbot’s crew isn’t a real satanic coven?” Niall’s use of the word “professional,” in a voice laced with sarcasm, made Gus grin.

Autumnsong may have snarled a bit. The way his lips curled sure wasn’t a smile. “No.” He stood up, glancing at the front door. “Anything else I can help you with, call me.” With an adept, swift flick of his wrist, like a magician, he held out a calling card for Niall to take. Then he shook his head, as if all this had been a gigantic waste of his precious time, and walked out the door, waving his feather boa around like a runway model.

When Niall came into the kitchen, he was staring at the calling card as if it were a poison-pen letter. He discarded it on the counter. “Well, that went well.”

Gus chuckled, going back to the stove. “Yup.”

“The little shit was being so damn evasive,” Niall grumbled, threading his fingers through his thick hair. “He could have at least mentioned that neo-pagan rituals, like ones for Pan or some such, could be misconstrued as being satanic. The horned god and the like. Mainstream churches have definitely painted them as that.”

Gus looked at Niall, impressed. “You
have
been studying.”

Niall’s steely gaze landed on Gus, but he was smiling crookedly. “Since I met you, I’ve been exposed to a lot of new things. Best to keep up, reading or otherwise.”

Gus was pleased to hear that, for it suggested Niall wasn’t just a casual visitor to Gus’s life. They were a couple. “You’re such a sweetie under that harsh exterior.”

Niall quirked an eyebrow, grinning. “What fucking harsh exterior?”

Gus laughed and stirred the stew. “Never mind. Dinner’s ready.”

“Cool.” Niall peered toward the pot, licking his lips, hunger in his eyes. “That, um, vegetarian?”

“For me. For
you
, however, I roasted some beef separately. I’ll add it to your dish.” He winked playfully.

This time, the hunger in Niall’s eyes was directed squarely at Gus. Niall gave Gus a slow, deliberate once-over from head to toe. Gus’s belly tightened. “That’s so considerate of you, Gus. Feeding a primitive carnivore like me.”

While several seductive double entendres whisked through Gus’s mind, he tamped them down and said, “My pleasure.” He turned to scoop the stew up a bit to check for texture and consistency. “How did you know Autumnsong wasn’t a true believer anyhow?”

Niall snorted. “He didn’t have that… fervent zeal that the truly faithful acolytes do. He had the knowledge, but not the passion. Not like you when you talk about Wicca.”

Gus ducked his head toward the stew pot to hide his blush. Niall’s compliments made him weak in the knees and his belly flutter. “Thanks.”

“Sooo….” Niall stretched the word until it became as real as a touch, hot and enticing.

“So?” Gus repeated questioningly and turned to face his boyfriend.

“Tonight didn’t go exactly as I had planned.” Niall’s gaze never wavered from Gus as he leaned against the island counter, a soft smile on his lips.

Gus swallowed, hoping his voice didn’t crack. “What do you mean?”

Niall cocked his head to the side and gave Gus the “oh, really?” look, his eyes glinting mischievously. “You know what I mean.”

Gus couldn’t have broken eye contact to save his life. Anxious about the prospects of their after-dinner activities, he offered, “You could stay the night. You know, if you wanted to.” He felt his cheeks catch fire upon saying that. He had never invited Niall to stay over before. Not even after a month and a half of dating. At the end of their dates, they kissed each other good-night and went on their separate ways, or made out a bit before parting. They were taking things slow. Partly because they didn’t get to see each other all that often.

Niall’s eyes darkened, and his grin widened. “Damn. And here I was all ready to wine and dine you first, to get you in the mood, before I invited myself over.”

Gus chuckled. “Huh. Guess I’m easy.”

Niall burst into a deep rumbling belly laugh, though the mocking wasn’t malicious. “That hasn’t been my experience!”

Gus punched Niall’s arm, not hard enough to hurt. “Jerk.”

Apart from the few casual dates and one-nighters—always at someone else’s place—Gus didn’t make a habit of bringing guys into his inner sanctum, so to speak. Which meant his bedroom, not his altar space. Welcoming Niall here for the night was a big step for him, and he began to waver with uncertainty.

“Um, I mean… there’s nothing more you can do on the case tonight, is there?”

Niall shook his head. His blue-gray eyes glimmered almost black with lust. “No, there isn’t. And… we did kind of leave things hanging since Ostara, didn’t we?” He pushed away from the counter until he was standing right in front of Gus, crowding him, invading his personal space. He rested his hands on Gus’s hips and pulled him closer until their groins came into contact. Both men were aroused, if the state of their half-hard cocks was any proof.

“Yeah, we did.” Gus’s voice cracked, and he felt breathless and hot in his skin. The heady anticipation of what was to come made him even more nervous. His tone was hopeful when he asked, “So… what do you say?”

Niall grinned then, much like a predator in sight of his prey. “You know the answer to that too, Gus.”

Then he leaned in and captured Gus’s lips with his own. A mere pressing together of soft, pliant flesh soon turned to hungrier nips and sucks when their tongues entered into the arena and took over. Gus let out a keen, needy sound, and that seemed to make Niall bolder since he wrapped his arms around Gus’s back, pulling him into full-body contact.

Deep in the kiss, Gus could only murmur one thing. “Bedroom.”

“P
ROMISE
NOTHING
’
S
gonna interrupt us tonight,” Gus said, half pleading, half ordering.

Niall kissed Gus on the lips. “I’ll do my best, baby.”

While Gus wasn’t sure if he liked being called that particular endearment, he did like Niall’s familiarity and fearlessness. “Cells off.” Gus dug into his pocket, located his own cell phone, and shut the device off without giving the infernal contraption a single glance.

Niall glided his tongue to Gus’s jaw, then farther down to his neck. Niall opened his mouth wider and sucked on Gus’s pulse point, then moved off to lick and suckle at his earlobe. “On it, beautiful.”

Pressed so tight against his lover-to-be, Gus felt Niall blindly fumbling in his jeans pocket for his cell phone. A beep sounded, indicating Niall had turned it off. And then Niall kissed Gus again.

Gus wound his arms around Niall’s broad shoulders, slanted his head, and deepened the kiss. Niall seemed more than happy to oblige because not only did his hold on Gus tighten, but he started humming. The vibrations entered Gus, making him shiver with need. The fact that a hot, slick, eager tongue invaded his mouth, seeking control, didn’t hurt the mood either.

Though Niall had never spent the night in Gus’s apartment above The Four Corners, he seemed to know his way around. With gentle, yet insistent, shifting he moved Gus backward toward the bedroom. Not once did their lips part except for a quick breath or to allow them to toss an offending piece of clothing—shirts, mainly—away from between them.

When the backs of Gus’s knees hit the side of the bed, their lip-lock broke for a gasp. Suddenly, Gus found himself being lifted off his feet—and thrown on the bed. Huffing and bouncing on the springy mattress for a time, he was about to protest when he saw the damn near predatory glint in Niall’s eyes. Gus couldn’t even remember when a man had looked at him like that. If ever. Not with that level of intensity.

By the Goddess, it turned him on something fierce.

Licking his lips, Niall climbed onto the bed, crawled to hover above Gus, and simply stared down at him. His expression would have made Gus afraid had it not been for the impressive bulge of his jeans-clad crotch. Gus’s eyes shifted between Niall’s face and groin, his head feverish, his body trembling with anticipation.

“You look fucking edible,” Niall growled. Gus swallowed hard, never having heard that particular sound from this man. “Wanna do everything with you. No. Gonna do everything with you.” His fiery gaze swept Gus’s frame from head to toe, practically leaving scorch marks in its wake. “Wanna suck your cock till you scream. Wanna lick you all over. Wanna eat your ass. Wanna fuck you for days. Gonna do all those things, I promise.”

By then Niall’s words were drowned by the humming in Gus’s ear, deafening him. With his mind’s eye, he saw all those vows being actualized, and his heart thudded a rapid staccato. “Oh yes, please.” He wasn’t ashamed about begging with a cracking voice, not when his plea only made Niall growl more and his eyes darken until his pupils were blown all out of proportion.