Free Spellbound by Marcus Atley Page A

even a possibility.
    Long fingers gripped his hip firmly and the warmth of another body soaked through his clothing and made him shudder slightly. “Damn kids,” Stavros grumbled as he held on to Elion’s stumbling frame.
    Elion wanted to yell at him, maybe make a cheeky comment or two, but he couldn’t. He needed a cold shower and a few realms distance from the man holding on to him. He wasn’t aware of the walking or the elevator ride. He didn’t realize the door had been opened or that his shoes were being pulled off. He tugged at his clothing uselessly before trying to pull his shirt over his head.
    “Help,” he whined, flailing his stuck arms.
    “Hold still,” Stavros ordered. He was freed from his shirt and hot, slightly rough hands were shoving him back down onto the mattress, soliciting a sharp gasp from him when a hand brushed across his chest. He blinked a few times, desperately trying to clear his vision.
    Stavros was hovering over him with dark eyes and a furrowed brow. “Go to sleep,” he ordered.
    “Gods, you’re so pretty,” Elion breathed, awed. His fingers stretched out and grazed over Stavros’ abdomen, drifting down his thigh before falling back to Elion’s side.
    Stavros almost blushed. He could feel the heat creeping up his neck and he forced himself away from the drunken brat. He was a bastard, but he never fed from anyone unwilling, but if the little shit didn’t stop shifting his hips and chewing his bottom lip, he wasn’t walking away without a taste of him. Elion didn’t even know what he was doing. There was no way he knew. He had gotten bold in the past weeks, but only a night prior he was blushing like an innocent maiden because of a shower. Stavros wasn’t new to feeding from someone simply because they were curious or had heard what sex with an incubus could be like, and Stavros usually obliged. He was sated in every way he needed and there was no drama about the morning after, but someone like Elion- he couldn’t just jade that kind of innocence.
    “Stavros?” Elion slurred worriedly, shifting under the sheet thrown over him. Stavros paused for a moment, waiting for him to say anything else, but he didn’t. His wiggling stopped and his breaths slowed.
    Something tugged in the bottom of his stomach. It wasn’t painful, not in the sense that he needed to be healed. He doubted there was even a cure for what was happening to him, but he knew he had to stop it immediately.
     
    Chapter 9
    Elion could only hold his pounding head in his hands and hope that he hadn’t done anything stupid the night before. He was still breathing so he couldn’t have pissed Stavros off too much. He vaguely remembered questioning Stavros about his odd sleep behavior, but everything after that was blurred.
    He had never questioned Stavros’ habits when it came to feeding because it had never seemed relevant, and it really wasn’t his business; but he had never met an incubus cambion and he was naturally curious.
    It was sad, really, and it made Elion see Stavros in a different light. It couldn’t be much of a surprise for Stavros to be such an emotionally constipated hard ass when intimacy meant something completely different for him.
    Elion groaned softly, desperately needing a toothbrush and a shower, but he didn’t have it in him to wake up Stavros; because he was terrified of what he may have done or said, and because there were still a few hours before dawn. He looked around for any clothing that was within reach and cringed, hoping he hadn’t tried to seduce the bastard or done something equally as embarrassing. He knew he had a tendency to sometimes get touchy-feely after a few too many.
    He hadn’t planned on even getting drunk. He just wanted a few drinks to forget about the shitty start to a shitty day. He had thought he and Stavros would knock this case out of the park with ease, that maybe the older man would give him a little bit of credit, and life would continue. Instead, he