BOOTS

by

ANGEL MARTINEZ

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.amberquill.com

Boots

An Amber Quill Press Book

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters,

locations, and incidents are products of the author's

imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales,

or events is entirely coincidental.

Amber Quill Press, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

http://www.AmberHeat.com

http://www.AmberAllure.com

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced

in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing

from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used

for the purposes of review.

Copyright © 2011 by Angel Martinez

ISBN 978-1-61124-097-9

Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber

Published in the United States of America

Also by Angel Martinez

A Different Breed

Dedication

For my Oma--

though she might be many years gone, her reading
of

Der gestiefelte Kater

stays with me. For me, Puss

will always be a gorgeous black cat.

Once upon a time in the little town of

Honeybole, Pennsylvania, there lived a brewer and his

three sons.

It came to pass that the brewer fell ill and died, leaving his

sons to

divide his estate according to his wishes...

Chapter 1: Will

"The cat?" Willem sputtered. "That's what he left me?"
"Settle down, Will." Gunther pursed his lips and pointed

to the stool beside his desk. "Yes, and three hundred
dollars. Wasn't much to divide between us."

"But he left you the whole brewery!" Willem flung his

arms in the air.

Dear old Dad's parting shot from the

grave.

"And at least he left Kurt the truck!"

"What would you do with a truck and no license?" Kurt

drawled from where he leaned in the doorway.

"Could've sold it!"
Gunther ran a hand back through his hair. "Will, it's not

like I'd kick you out on the street. You're welcome to stay
with Linda and me as long as you need. You can always
work on the line, or the loading dock." He glanced up at
Willem, his eyes tired. "It's not like Dad left me a lot either.
A floundering brewery and a hell of a lot of debt."

Shame flushed Willem's face. "I'm sorry, Gun. I know."
Five years, it had been five years since he had spoken

to their father, and then it had been a shouting match about
Willem being a "sissy fag." When his father had called him
the week before, it had been a surprise. He couldn't get
hold of Gunther, and Kurt was out of town, he said.
Someone needed to help him get to the hospital. The
shock of seeing his strong, blustering father gaunt and

unsteady had shaken Willem to the core.

In the ambulance he thought they had mended fences,

and now this.

"I appreciate the offer." Willem blew out a slow breath.

"But I can't mooch off you. And working at the brewery
would be too much like charity."

"It's not charity, Will. We're family."
"Hate to break up this love fest, but I'm out. Have to get

back to Pittsburgh tonight." Kurt pushed off from the wall
and gave them an unenthusiastic wave. "Later, bros. Have
fun with your cat, Will."

Gunther snorted when he walked out of sight. "Such a

warm, caring person."

"Yeah, well, Dad made us all what we are," Willem

muttered.

A long hesitation hung between them.
"Did he make you gay, Will?" Gunther asked softly.
From anyone else, the question would have made him

furious, but Gunther, solid, backwater Gunther, really
wanted to know. "No, Gun. Either you are or you aren't. Dad
made me crazy, but he didn't make me gay."

Gunther nodded, tapping a pencil on the desk. "So

what're you going to do? No job, no place to stay. Will, I
worry about you."

"I'll manage." Jaw tight, the backs of his eyes burning,

Willem had no idea how.

Three months prior, he'd had a good job as a welder at

the auto plant, a live-in boyfriend, and a decent apartment.
Now the plant had shut down, aforementioned boyfriend

had ditched him for some damn hairstylist, and cheating
boyfriend and said hairstylist now inhabited the apartment.
The drunken binge after finding Joey in bed with his new
lover had been the final blow. He didn't recall driving drunk,
but since that night had cost him his license, he must have.
Not such a terrible thing, since the week after, the bank had
repossessed his car.

Joey.

.. He wished he could recall good moments. There

had been happy times, when they had fun together, when it
felt like Joey loved him. The only image that would come,
the one seared into his brain, was Joey on his knees, head
and shoulders on the mattress, ass in the air, crying out
while hair-boy pounded into him with wild abandon. God.
How long had it been going on, right in his own bed?

He heaved a sigh and glanced down at the black

tomcat sleeping on his cushion in the corner of the office. "It
was a good joke. About the cat. But I can't take poor Puss
out of here. He's comfortable where he is."

"Don't mind keeping him for you," Gunther said. "He

keeps the mice from the grain. You just let me know if you
ever want him."

"Thanks, Gun." He rose and shook his brother's hand.

"Really. I know it's--" He broke off when something butted
against his legs. Puss wound his way around Willem's legs,
purring.

Gunther chuckled. "He doesn't want you to go."
"You stay with, Gun, Puss." Willem reached down to

scratch the tom behind his ears. "Stay here where you've
got your food dish and your pillow."

Puss looked up at him with bright green eyes and

mewed. Willem hoped that was agreement.

He had walked out onto the street, long strides eating

up half a block in no time, before he stumbled on something
and nearly fell. The damn cat had run right between his feet.

"Go home, Puss."
Puss just stared at him with those shining, enigmatic

eyes.

Not like you can tell a cat where to go.

When he

started walking again, Puss padded right beside him.
Willem went on to the memorial park in the center of town
and sat on one of the creaky benches with the fewest slats
missing. He pulled his jacket closer against the late autumn
chill, set his backpack by his feet, and tried to jumpstart his
tired brain.

What was there really left to do? Here he was, in a town

where the recession had begun long before Dubya had
taken office. The coal companies, having ripped the hearts
from the hills and left their mess behind, had long moved
on. The last factories had shut down. Half the stores on
Market Street were empty or boarded up. He had no
prospects, no transportation, just enough money to get him
in trouble, and no dreams that hadn't died. What was the
point--

"Are you going to sit there feeling sorry for yourself all

night?"

Willem looked around to find the velvet smooth voice.

"What? Who said that?"

"Down here, nitwit."
But there was no one, just Puss sitting beside him on

the bench with his thick, black tail twitching.

"Where?"
"For Raiju's sake, Willem, open your eyes."
They were open all right, but that didn't guarantee his

sanity. He could have sworn the damn cat had spoken.

"Puss?"
"Yes. And while I have your attention, what sort of stupid

name is Puss, anyway? Couldn't you and your halfwit
brothers have come up with something

slightly

more

imaginative? You may as well have called me Cat."

"Um... "
"Close your mouth. You waste precious heat that way."
Willem snapped his mouth shut.

Wonderful. I've been

under so much stress I'm losing my marbles.

"I've shocked you. Can't be helped." Puss butted his

head against Willem's arm. "I don't normally speak to
regular, garden-variety humans, but you need some serious
help getting your head pulled out of your ass."

"Did you... are you... " Words no longer seemed

adequate for all the things he wanted to ask. In a strangled
squeak, he forced out, "Have you always talked?"

"That, my dear Willem, would imply I've been talking

nonstop for a number of years. I think you meant to ask,
'could you always talk?'"

"But... did you talk to Dad?"
"Toward the end, yes. I tried to help. Your pater was

stubborn, though. Convinced I was part of the disease
process." Puss lifted a white-socked paw to clean, his pink

tongue rasping against his fur.

"Why didn't you ever talk to me?" A little ball of hurt

lodged in Willem's gut. The old tom had been around for as
long as he could recall. He would have given almost
anything as a lonely, miserable child to have had someone
to talk to.

"You never asked."
"Oh." Willem batted this around his tired brain a

moment. "What do you want me to call you?"

Puss lifted a shoulder in what could only be a shrug. "I

suppose you could call me Kasha."

"Isn't that a cereal?"
"No, you ignorant hick." Puss... Kasha snorted. "Now,

focus. It's getting cold out here. Where have you been
sleeping?"

"I was sleeping on a friend's couch." Willem shivered,

still staring at his cat. He supposed if he had to hallucinate,
at least it was a sensible one. "But her sister's coming for a
long visit and she asked me, nicely, to get out."

"So your intention was to freeze to death on a park

bench."

"Yeah... I mean, no! I didn't, that's... " he trailed off, at a

loss. The huge lump in his throat wasn't helping.

"Willem, my boy." Kasha patted his thigh with a paw.

"These situations are rarely as hopeless as they first
appear. Turn off the bitter emotions. Keep your head. There
are always opportunities. Are all your necessities in that
bag?"

Willem stared down at his backpack and nodded.

"Yeah. I... didn't keep much. The rest is in storage."

Kasha jumped down from the bench and tugged at

Willem's jeans with his claws. "Come. We're going for a
walk. I know a place."

* * * *

Two hours later, Willem swayed on his feet, teeth

clenched against his shivers. They stood in front of a dark
hunting cabin, nestled in the hills outside of town.

"We can't just go in. It doesn't belong to us."
"He's gone until next year," Kasha said with a push at

Willem's legs. "We won't do any harm and you need
somewhere warm and dry. Rain's on the way."

Willem glanced up at the cloudless sky. "It's probably

locked. I'm not breaking in."

Kasha let out a little growl, apparently growing short on

patience. "The key's underneath the stone turtle by the
door."

Sure enough, it was. "How do you know all this?"
"I visit sometimes. The hunters give me deer entrails,

still warm from the kill."

"Sorry I asked."
Exhausted and out of options now that the sun had set,

Willem unlocked the door with his heart slamming against
his ribs. No vehicles sat beside the cabin. No lights shone
inside.

Still, someone might come.

"I'm going to bite you if you don't go inside."
Evening blanketed the interior, but enough light

remained to make out a table and two wooden chairs, a cot
by the wall, a kerosene heater, and a gray stone fireplace.

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute. Just need to get some
wood." He was about to stoop to squatting on someone
else's property, but he'd be damned if he was going to steal
the man's kerosene as well.

"Suit yourself."
Kasha sat on the cot, tail curled around his feet, eyes

closed, while Willem schlepped logs and branches in from
the woodpile. Though his hands shook from cold and
exhaustion, he managed to get a respectable fire going.
The cheerful snap and crackle lifted a thin layer of shadow
from his heart and Kasha, now that the hearth was warm,
padded over to join him.

"Are you hungry?" Willem dug in his backpack. "I have a

tin of sardines in here somewhere we could share."

"You always were a thoughtful boy," Kasha said as he

curled up beside Willem's thigh, his front paws tucked
under his body. His ears pricked forward at a delicate
metallic clatter against the stones as Willem rifled through
his pack. "What would that be?"

Willem peered over his leg and picked up the little wire

and scrap metal sandhill crane. "Oh, that. Nothing."

"If it's nothing, you wouldn't keep it. Did someone give it

to you?"

"No." Heat crept up his face. Why he felt embarrassed

in front of a cat, he couldn't imagine, especially a cat he had
known all his life. "I, um, made it."

"Did you now? Huh." Kasha rubbed his head against

Willem's knee. "I believe you said something about
sardines."

"Right. Sorry." Willem turned the key to open the can,

the sudden, sharp fishy scent mingling with wood smoke in
an oddly comforting way.

Warmth and food, I suppose.

His

hands still shook as he divided the contents in half and
placed Kasha's portion in front of him on the lid.

Feline eyes stared up at him. "Are you ill?"
"No. I mean, I don't think so." He wolfed down his

sardines; barely enough to fool his stomach into thinking it
had been fed. With his arms wrapped around his ribs, he
scooted closer to the fire. "Just can't get warm."

Kasha rose with a languid stretch and a sharp-toothed

yawn. He trotted over to a cabinet by the cot and hooked a
claw under the door's bottom corner to pop it open. With his
teeth, he snagged a wool blanket and pulled it out, the cloth
unfolding behind him to three times his length as he
dragged it across the floor to Willem. When he tried to
repeat the process with the down comforter from the cot,
Willem finally snapped out of his shocked stupor.

"Hey, um, maybe we should just sleep on the cot."
"Warmer by the fire," Kasha muttered with his teeth still

closed on the comforter.

Can't argue that.

Willem rose on shaking legs and

made them a nest of blankets on the hearth. He curled up
with Kasha snuggled in his arms, the gradual spread of
warmth calming his jangled nerves.

His father was dead and he wasn't certain how he was

supposed to feel. Numb, definitely, numb. It was all so
inconceivable, that Horst Aufderheide, larger than life,
never satisfied, never-still Horst, could be gone. Not that he

had ever been close to his father. His contempt for Willem's
"doodling," his constant irritation about his lack of "drive"
and "initiative" had built a Kinzua Dam-sized wall between
them.

Kasha began to purr, soothing vibrations rippling

through his chest. "Go to sleep, Willem. You need to rest."

Between fire crackle and purr, Willem drifted off.

Chapter 2: The Kasha

Poor, unhappy boy, what are we to do with you?

Kasha

sat by the glowing embers, watching Willem sleep. Trouble
was, the boy was no boy any longer. He had grown tall and
strong, with deliciously long legs and shoulders broad
enough to sleep on. The face that had been elfin in
childhood had transformed into even-featured angelic
beauty, full, soft lips and all.

The kasha had wondered, twenty years ago, why the

spirits had directed him to Horst's household. The man
didn't seem to need help, nor would he have accepted any.
His wife had died after the birth of their third son, but he had
coped well enough. The boys grew up flawed, but not too
much more than other humans. Gunther lacked imagination,
content with a small, provincial life. Kurt grew up cool and
distant, not an evil man, but insular and self-absorbed. Then
there was Willem, the dreamer, the wool-gatherer, though
he had seemed settled as a welder, stable and secure.

When Willem's life had disintegrated around his ears,

that's when the kasha understood. Not for Horst, this little
jaunt so far from home, not for the oldest son, as it had
been so often in the past, but for the youngest.

He was here to help Willem. As he blinked luminous

green eyes at the lovely creature sleeping on the hearth, he
realized he might enjoy the task for once.

* * * *

Rain fell, regiments of water soldiers drumming double-

time on the roof. Willem thought the downpour had woken
him until he felt the soft breath against his throat.

Oh,

damn...

Someone lay in his arms. Had he been drinking again?

He didn't think so, but things were fuzzy. He couldn't recall
where he was until he blinked the fireplace into focus, the
flames burned down to embers. He pulled back in
confusion and his breath hitched hard.

His arms were wrapped around the most beautiful

young man he had ever seen. Thick, black hair tumbled to
his shoulders. Almond-shaped emerald eyes gazed out of
a heart-shaped face with high cheekbones and a slender,
elegant nose. Willem moved his hand along the young
man's back, feeling only the silken slide of naked skin. He
must have been drinking, to forget this gorgeous boy.

"Who are you?" he whispered.
"Hush, Willem," the lovely vision murmured in a throaty

baritone. "Go back to sleep." He leaned in and brushed his
lips over Willem's. "Sleep."

The command seemed reasonable and impossible to

disobey, in any case. Willem's eyelids drooped as if
weighted with stones. His last bit of awareness was of the
stranger snuggling closer, resting his head on Willem's
shoulder. For some reason, he found it comforting rather
than odd. His last waking thought was that Kasha had been
right about the rain.

* * * *

"Wake up, dear boy, I have breakfast."
Fingers of gray light filtered through the cabin's window.

Willem woke to stiff muscles and the smell of...

what the

hell is that?

He sat up with a groan to find Kasha sitting beside him,

with look-what-I-just-did smugness. At his feet lay a
walleyed bass, nearly as long as the tomcat.

"Whoa. How did you... I mean, it's too big for you."
Kasha made a sound between a sneeze and a growl.

"You're welcome, I'm sure."

The bass stared up at him with its strange, milky eye.

He half expected the fish to start talking as well, but that
was ridiculous, of course. Dead fish don't talk.

Neither do cats.

"Um... I guess I'll cook it for us?"
"You do whatever you like with your portion." Kasha

turned half away to clean his front paws. "Just give me the
head and I'll be happy."

Did I offend him? Do cats get offended?

"Thank you.

For the fish. I'm not awake yet. Had the strangest dream."

"Oh, yes?"
"There was this boy. Really hot. He was... " Heat

climbed Willem's face. "Never mind."

"No need to be embarrassed. You obviously haven't

had a good fuck in some time."

Somehow hearing the word out of a cat's mouth

embarrassed him more than discussing a naked-hot-boy
dream.

He shoved all the strangeness of the past day into the

back of his mind to concentrate on the practical concerns of
preparing fish. The cabin had a good set of knives, from
which he selected a scaler and a heavy chef's knife. Once
he'd hacked off the head and handed it to Kasha as
promised, he fell easily into the task made familiar by so
many summers spent fishing with his brothers. Off with fins,
tail, and scales, hook in near the tail, slice it open, and
clean out the guts. While he had never been good at
catching fish, the cleaning had a meditative rhythm to it,
good for getting lost in his thoughts.

Kasha didn't speak again until he had a fire going, the

fish cooking on an improvised spit. "I have some things to
see to today. While I'm gone, I have a task for you."

"A... what?"
"Task, Willem. Something I require you to do," Kasha

went on, apparently unperturbed by his confusion. "I need a
good pair of boots. Perhaps a nice, wide-brimmed hat as
well. A well-tailored jacket would be asking too much, I
suppose. But most important are the boots. I need you to
purchase a pair for me."

"Boots."
"Yes, as in were made for walking. A pair of Luccheses

would be ideal, but I'll settle for Ariats, or anything well
made. I suppose--"

"Why would a cat need boots?" Willem blurted out.
Kasha sighed in a most un-feline way and then did

something else unexpected. He stood. This wasn't in the
way a cat will get up on its hind legs for a moment to take a

look at what's on the table or to gauge a leap. No, this was
standing as if he were normally bipedal and walking on two
feet was the most natural thing for him.

Willem felt as if a giant vacuum had sucked all the air

from the room. He stared, fighting his frozen lungs for a
breath, and finally forced out, "You're not a cat, are you?"

"Of course I'm a cat, you twit," Kasha snapped. "What

do I look like, a turnip?"

"You're... " Willem gulped a breath as he tried to calm

his slamming heart. Really, what did one more thing
matter? He'd already conceded the loss of his sanity when
the cat started talking. Nothing should surprise him, then.
Fairy dust, winged horses, magic beanstalks, he should
expect to see just about anything now. "You're not just a
cat."

Kasha gave him a slow, unreadable blink. "Correct. Not

just." He dropped back down to all fours. "I am your friend,
though, Willem. I want to help you. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." He found he meant it. If Kasha was a

hallucination, he was a beneficial one. If he truly was some
sort of... something, otherworldly being, magical creature,
he had always been Willem's friend.

"Good. Then finish your breakfast and go down into

town to get me some boots."

"What, um, size?"
"The smallest you can find, dear boy. I don't have very

large feet."

No, and they're not the right shape for human boots.

"Okay. But you still didn't answer my first question."

Fish head held between his front paws, Kasha ignored

him and attacked his breakfast. Finally, after picking the
skull clean, he tipped his head to one side and asked,
"What is it you want most? If you had no need to worry
about money or what others thought, what would you do?"

Willem shrugged. "Don't know. Go to college, maybe."
"And what attraction does higher learning hold?"
"See, I--" He broke off, shaking his head. "It's stupid.

And just not practical."

"That's your father talking." Kasha rolled onto his back,

thick tail thumping the hearthstones. "Never mind practical.
Tell me your most outlandish, outrageous dreams."

Willem cracked a little smile. His most outrageous

dreams, the ones with gorgeous male bodies and various
edible items such as garden tubs full of whipped cream,
weren't ones he would share with a cat, even one who
wasn't just a cat. He peeled off a bit of fish to test if it was
done, forcing his brain back to the question. "I wanted to go
to art school, maybe in Philly or Pittsburgh or Carlisle. But it
would have been a waste of money. I mean, you pony up all
that cash, and then you're left without a steady income when
you graduate, probably strapped with loan payments, too."

Kasha batted at his shoelace, then captured it to chew

on the end. "So the purpose of this outpouring of funds
would have been to create, to become an artist."

"Yeah. Stupid, huh?"
"Terribly," Kasha said in a dry tone. "Are you so beaten

down, Willem, that you no longer see the sky?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" He pulled the

shoelace away gently. "Stop that. I don't have a spare."

"Do the few things I ask of you. Trust me for but a short

while. I am, after all, a

magic

cat. I'm going to change your

life, my boy."

"With a pair of boots."
"Yes."

Well, what the hell? Not as if three hundred bucks

would last me all that long, anyway. And if I've lost my
mind, might as well go the whole way to Crazytown.

"I'll see

what I can find."

"Good boy. Now, I must be off. I'll meet you back here

this afternoon." Kasha padded to the door, stood on his
hind legs, and turned the knob to open it as a person would.

A shiver climbed Willem's spine on spider feet.

Magic.

Did that mean magic in the benign, stories-for-kids sense?
Or was Kasha something far more sinister? The word
"demon" came to mind. Shouldn't he feel some sense of
menace, then?

He sifted back through memories of Kasha to see if

there were any frightening ones. A scary hiss once or twice,
but that was just him being a cat. No, most of the time he
had just been Puss, comfortable, affectionate, and tending
toward lazy. He had slept on his cushion at the brewery,
prowled among the sacks of barley, and sprawled on
Willem's lap in a purring, contented heap.

Any lingering anxious shadows cleared as he stepped

from the cabin into the sunlight. The autumn rain had left
half-frozen jewels on every twig and fire-hued leaf in sight,

the woods decked out in society party splendor. Things had
gone wrong, sure, but the world was still beautiful and evil
supernatural things only existed in frightened human minds.
He squared his shoulders and strode down the hill toward
town.

* * * *

Kasha sat on the bureau by the window in Willem's old

apartment, watching the entwined figures on the bed.

Lazy

slugs. Willem would never sleep this late.

The smaller boy, Joey, slept on his back, mouth open,

hand cupping his balls. It wasn't a good look for him. Kasha
had seen him with Willem before, though, and had never
been impressed. Something in his restless, shifting eyes
kept him from being a handsome young man. If once, just
once, he had gazed at Willem with adoration rather than
calculation, Kasha might have reconsidered what he was
about to do.

The taller boy, the one he didn't know, stirred first. He

had no quarrel with that one, except that he had been
instrumental in causing Willem's pain. Any collateral
damage would be little cause for regret.

The tall boy yawned and rolled over to slide a hand

across Joey's bare stomach. He startled when he spotted
Kasha.

"Fuck. That's one big-ass cat." He nudged Joey's side.

"You didn't tell me you had a cat, babe."

"Cat? Wha--" Joey rubbed a palm over his face, one

eye opening far enough to show the bloodshot evidence of
heavy excess. "Don't have a fucking cat."

Prim and proper with his tail curled around his feet,

Kasha did his best to give off a non-threatening air. While
the slugs untangled from sheets and each other, though, he
began to weave. Some spellcrafters saw magic as flowing
streams to direct; for others it came in flecks and motes to
puzzle together. For Kasha, magic was the complex pattern
of threads that ran through all things, the very fabric of
reality.

He pulled threads to him from Willem's ex-lover, from

the street outside, from the woods outside of town. A bright
green thread of poison ivy, a dark skein of spite, a brown,
chitinous thread of bedbug, a vibrant thread of scarlet from
Willem himself, and Kasha's own rainbow hues wove over
and under into the pattern he desired. It was an inelegant
thing with the feel of a rag rug, unsecured ends and all, but
the spell wasn't meant to endure or accomplish anything
elaborate. He sent it into Joey's underwear drawer.

"How'd the damn cat get in here?" Joey muttered as he

opened the drawer and pulled out a pair of powder blue
bikini briefs.

Kasha wrinkled his nose in disgust. The room stank of

stale sweat and sex, and the boy wasn't even going to
clean himself before he dressed? He truly deserved what
he was about to receive. The new lover at least staggered
to the shower first.

During his search over the floor for clothes, Joey began

to scratch absently at his balls and his stomach. By the time
his lover emerged from the shower, smelling a good deal
better, Joey's scratching had become persistent.

"What's the matter, babe? Got crabs?"
"Shut up, Leo." Joey's scratching became frantic.
"Those new briefs? Did you wash them first?"
"No, dammit, I didn't. They came packaged. Why would

I wash them?"

Leo stopped toweling himself dry, watching Joey with a

wary expression. "'Cause they use like, bug spray on
imported stuff. Can play hell with your skin sometimes.
Take 'em off, babe. You're making me itch."

"You just want me naked."
"Yeah, well--holy fuck!"
Leo's eloquent expression of disbelief leapt out when

Joey pulled the briefs down to expose sunburn-red skin
covered in angry, swelling blisters. Some of those had
begun to ooze from Joey's scratching. The sight of those
blisters on his genitals made even Kasha wince in
sympathy.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Joey reached out, but his lover backed

away in alarm. "Get the car, Leo! You have to get me to the
doctor's. Leo?"

"I don't think so, babe." Face drained of color, Leo's

voice came out thin and shaking. "Who the hell have you
been whoring with?" He began throwing clothes into a bag,
pulling on a pair of jeans and a sweater as he rushed
around the room. "Fuck! And I've been screwing you, you
little slut. If you've given me some nasty new kind of VD, I'll--
"

"You'll what, Leo? Dammit,

help

me! I haven't touched

another man! For all I know,

you

gave me this!"

Kasha waited until Leo had stormed out of the

apartment and Joey had flung himself onto the bed,
swearing and whimpering. It was all he needed to see. The
boy would have to figure out for himself where relief lay. A
kasha could only interfere so much. He slipped out the
same way he had come in, by the cracked kitchen window,
and hurried down the street. Willem would not have
approved, which was why he would not be telling him.

* * * *

The dry goods store stocked just about everything, even

kid-sized boots. Willem scanned the assortment with
amused confusion.

How do you pick out boots for a cat?

He had no idea what Kasha would like. A work boot? A

pair of shitkickers? Dress boots? It hadn't occurred to him
to ask and now, faced with too many choices, he wished he
had brought the cat along. He shook his head on a chuckle,
imagining how the store employees would react to the
large, crazy man in the footwear section asking his cat
which boots he liked best.

He rejected the ones that looked like water might ruin

them right off, and then became stuck between flashy and
practical. For some reason, he felt Kasha would prefer
flashy, but given their current housing situation, practical
made more sense. He finally compromised halfway on a
pair of Ariat cowboy boots in black, tooled leather. The
price was a little steep for such small boots, but he had
made a promise.

"For your little boy?" A middle-aged woman in a

maroon dry goods employee smock gave him an
encouraging smile.

"No, ma'am. I don't have any kids." When she looked at

him oddly, he added, "For my nephew." There, that
sounded a lot less cuckoo-for-Cocoa-Puffs than "for my
cat."

"You must be the favorite uncle, then," she said with a

laugh.

"Yes, ma'am, I guess so." Willem felt his face heat. God,

he hated lying about anything. It tied his insides into painful
knots. He bought a little black cowboy hat to go with the
boots and a few food staples to last a couple of days. Lying
made him cringe, but having anyone, especially a cat

he

should be caring for, believe they had to provide for him
made him feel about a quarter inch tall.

Back out on the sidewalk, he hitched a ride out to the

self-storage facility. His unit was paid for six months out, so
no need to rush finding a new place. He'd heard of
desperate people living in their storage units, and if his
hadn't been so pitifully small, he might have considered it.
Hell, it was cheaper than apartment rent. All his furniture
and household belongings stayed with Joey. He hadn't had
the energy to fight him over who actually owned what, and
the remainder of his worldly possessions boiled down to
his clothes (not many), a few framed pictures (likewise),
and his tools.

Sad, really. If he died under mysterious circumstances

and a forensics team searched through what he had left
behind for some clue, they'd leave after five frustrated

behind for some clue, they'd leave after five frustrated
minutes. Nothing. He would leave behind nothing.

He switched out dirty clothes for clean, stuffing the dirty

socks and underwear in the laundry bag he kept in the unit.

Probably should get to the Laundromat soon.

Then in a

quixotic moment driven by his conversation with Kasha that
morning, he retrieved his gas-powered soldering iron, his
tin snips, and the spools of solder wire.

The urge to create surged up in him, as it hadn't in

months. Strange how those months coincided with his
relationship with Joey. He hadn't realized it before.

* * * *

The cabin's front stoop was perfect for viewing the lines

of magical confluence that veined the nearby mountains.
Most mountains served as points of convergence for lines
of magic force. Some, like Fuji or Mauna Kea, gathered
magic to them like greedy collectors. Others, like these
modest mountains surrounding the town of Honeybole,
were simply natural meeting points, intersections of
magical roads.

While the magic had always existed here, the noise and

filth of the strip mining machines had masked the lines for
many years. Now, in the newfound silence, it became
possible to find the paths again. Kasha knew if he could
see them, so could others. Beings of power, lesser ones
but still enough to be dangerous, were drawn to such
places.

He shivered as a cloud ran ragged fingers over the sun.

Other spellcasters were here. They made no effort to hide

their power, not like the old days when magical beings
were modest and cautious, when humans were more
aware and knew them on sight. Now, dear gods, a kasha
could live without shielding for over twenty years as a
brewer's cat with no one the wiser. He shuddered at what
else might be out there.

The sun broke through the clouds and Kasha

straightened, his heart leaping. Willem rounded a bend in
the path, striding up the mountain like a young Beowulf, the
light sparking in his red-gold hair.

Gods, but he is beautiful.

If Willem had honored his request, tonight he would be

able to give himself to his new

heki-sama.

He had

wondered sometimes if his long exile might have negated
the strict forms, the rules of his existence. In some ways,
yes, but in Willem's arms the night before, the crushing
aversion thrust through his head like a lightning spear. He
needed to be Willem's, by ritual consent, before he could
offer himself.

"Hi, honey, I'm home," Willem said with a hint of a smile

as he approached the door. He did seem more himself
today, still so sad, but steadier, perhaps.

"It's about time. I've been waiting hours for you." Kasha

padded in behind him when he unlocked the door.

"I only have two legs, and I had some orders to fill, didn't

I?"

Kasha stared at the pack, tail twitching in anticipation.

"And did you?"

The little smile returned. "You want dinner or you want

what I bought you first?"

Incredible. The boy is teasing.

"Curiosity may have

killed the cat, but enforced patience will surely give him a
stroke."

Willem plunked down on the floor with his pack.

Altogether too slowly and carefully, he began to pull things
out. Tins of tuna, a can of beans, another of peas, a box of
oatmeal all emerged one by one.

"Do I have to climb in the pack myself?" Kasha

snapped.

"You're as bad as a kid at Christmas." Willem chuckled,

but he relented and pulled a shoebox from the depths of his
pack. "I hope these are okay."

His large, callused hands lifted the lid to reveal a lovely

pair of black boots. They had to be boots, of course, since
shoes would be too difficult to keep on his feet in any
convincing way, even with magical intervention, but these
were perfect. The rich scent of new leather filled his head
as his eyes wandered over the patterns embossed on the
surface. Just elegant enough to suit his tastes, but tough
enough to escape being effeminate.

"They'll do."
Willem laughed. "So glad you approve. But I'm not done

yet."

The second box contained a black hat that Willem

plopped on Kasha's head. With a bit of magic resizing, the
miniature Stetson fit perfectly. "Thank you, truly. Would you
put the boots on as well?"

"You can't do it?" Willem's forehead creased in a

puzzled frown.

puzzled frown.

"I could, but it's just not done. These boots are a gift

from you?"

"Yes." The puzzled creases deepened.
"Forgive me, Willem. Where I come from, this is the

custom. It symbolizes several things, not the least of which
is that you give them of your own volition."

And binds me to

you so long as you do not demand them back.

But to tell

Willem that would require more explanation than he was
willing to provide at the moment.

He leapt up onto the nearest chair and sat human-wise

with his back legs dangling over the edge. A shaft of
sunlight surrounded Willem, giving his skin a luminous
quality and Kasha spotted the instant his sea-gray eyes
softened in acceptance.

Despite his efforts to remain aloof and calm, anxiety

and anticipation overcame him, and he began to purr.
Luckily, Willem seemed to mistake the nervous reaction as
encouragement and gently slid the right boot over his paw.
The adjustments he made this time were to his foot and not
the boot, but, oh, it felt right. It had been so long.

He held his breath, readying himself, when the left boot

and foot mated. Still the sudden rush of power made the
room pitch and spin. Magic flowed into him, increasing his
being. Soon he would be too large for the cabin, too large
for the mountainside.

Gods, oh, gods, it's still there, all at

my paw tips now! I am immortal! I am the demon who rides
the lightning! I am...

His.

One look at Willem brought him back down from his

magic-induced high, back into the physical body he
inhabited.

"Are you all right?"
Some men who had claimed him had done so for

selfish gains, for power and wealth. Some had done so out
of lust. But Willem, sweet boy, had no idea what he had
done. He was simply giving footwear to his demanding cat.
"Yes. Thank you."

Kasha leaped down from the chair to stand on two legs.

He tried a few steps and did a slow pirouette. "So, do they
suit?"

"Never was big on the cowboy look, but on you, it looks

good." Willem gave a satisfied nod. "You're a very
handsome cowboy. Cowcat. Cowboy-cat."

"That was perhaps the clumsiest compliment I've ever

received. But thank you all the same. Now, I believe you
mentioned dinner?"

Chapter 3: Feline In His

Bed

A couple of tins of tuna and half a box of crackers later,

they lounged in their blanket nest in front of a roaring fire.
Kasha had placed his hat up on the table, but refused to
take off his boots. If they ever had a bed again, that would
have to change, but for now, Willem didn't say anything.

While Kasha dozed in a warm ball next to his thigh, he

dug out his tin snips and the three empty tins, two tuna, one
sardine, which he had washed out in a nearby stream.
Shapes formed in his mind, tiny geometries that would link
together to form the whole he intended. Spatial
manipulation had always been as natural for him as
breathing, the one thing he did well. His father had tried to
steer him toward drafting and civil engineering, but the
books he had tried to read had been so dry and his high
school drafting classes had lulled him to sleep.

He was well into cutting tiny triangles from the tuna can,

when he realized one bright green eye peered out at him
from beneath Kasha's tail.

"Do you mind if I watch?"
Willem shrugged. "Why would I mind?"
"Some men don't appreciate an audience while they

create."

He reached over to scratch Kasha behind his ears. "I

don't mind. Really. Gun's kids used to watch me all the
time." This was why he only had one of his creations with
him. Whatever he made usually went to a patient, watching
child.

When he had what he believed to be all the necessary

pieces, he took out the soldering iron and wire and started
assembling. A pair of tweezers would have made the work
easier and neater, but he managed, joining each
meticulously cut shape to the next. The almond-shaped
pieces cut from the green portion of the sardine company
logo became the eyes. The most delicate triangles cut from
the tuna can became the ears. White half moons from the
nutrition information box formed the little socks on the front
paws.

Darkness surrounded their little oasis of firelight by the

time he had finished. He put down his soldering iron and
rolled shoulders stiff from hunching over his work. Though
Kasha had watched the whole process, he still felt shy when
he presented the finished piece.

"There. What do you think?"
Kasha tipped his head to the side with a slow blink.

"It's... me."

"Yes."
"Willem, I... that is, no one's ever... "
"You don't like it. I'm sorry." Willem reached out to take

the little metal cat away. Kasha's paw shot out to stop his
hand.

"No. I like it very much. I'm simply... surprised." Kasha

petted him, his velvet pads soft against Willem's skin. "Your
technique is extraordinary. Quite astounding."

Willem struggled to determine whether the praise was

serious or if the sharp-tongued cat was poking fun. Hard to
tell with cat expressions. "Oh. Okay, then." A huge yawn
snuck up on him. "Bedtime, for me, at least. Don't you want
to take your boots off to sleep?"

"No, thank you. I'd like to keep them on, if you don't

mind."

* * * *

The little metal and wire cat was exquisite. How could

such large, powerful hands create something so delicate,
so elegant? Kasha lay on his side, staring at the miniature
sculpture after Willem had dropped off to sleep. No one
had ever thought of him as anything but a tool, an
instrument of fate. Certainly, no one had ever taken the time
to craft a likeness of him with such loving care.

If he had been able to weep, he might have. Even

without tears, regret shadowed his heart. This one would be
difficult to leave when the time came. Though perhaps the
time they did have could ease both their loneliness. Yes.
Willem needed more than a change in fate. It would cost
him nothing to give him that.

* * * *

When Willem woke that night, he knew where he was

and who lay in his arms. His beautiful dream boy was back.

"Don't put me to sleep again," Willem whispered, afraid

even a loud voice would banish the vision beside him. "Tell
me who you are."

"Dear Willem." The green eyes held a glint of

amusement. A gentle hand stroked back through his hair.
"Can you honestly tell me you haven't guessed?"

"I've never seen you before last night."
A lean-muscled leg slid over his, caressing his calf.

Willem looked down to see the boy's foot encased in a
black boot... Kasha's boot. "You do know. Let your mind
come around to it."

Those green eyes, the gently mocking voice...

No, holy

shit, it can't be.

Willem jerked back in shock. "You can't be

Kasha. He's a cat." He scrambled backward over the floor,
terrified that his last bit of sanity had taken a flying leap off a
tall bridge. "No... go away! You're not real!"

Hallucination-boy snorted. "Of course I'm real. Your

family's been feeding me for years."

"The cat... the cat was real." Even a magic cat, he could

accept, but this beautiful boy, despite his feline eyes and
fluid grace, was not a cat.

"Not just a cat. Willem, it's still me. This is simply

another aspect of me, the one you don't see as often."

"I haven't seen you before because I wasn't crazy

before!" Will scrabbled over the floorboards and surged up,
trying to stand. He smacked his head on the edge of the
table with a sickening crack. The room tipped on its side.

"Willem! Will!" A soft, anxious voice called to him

across the universe. "Oh, my poor Willem. Easy now."

He lay with his head and shoulders cradled in

someone's arms.

Must have grayed out. Ow. Damn.

His

fingers found a sore lump on top of his head. "Kasha?"

fingers found a sore lump on top of his head. "Kasha?"

"Yes. Despite your protestations to the contrary."
"God." Willem put an arm over his eyes. "This is

horrible."

"Why?"
"I've lost my mind. The way you look. Shit. It's just proof

I've lost my mind."

Kasha helped him sit up. "I can't possibly appear that

hideous to you." His green eyes narrowed. "Or is it that you
prefer something different? Someone larger, more
powerfully built to match your own strength?"

Will twisted out of his hands again. "What? No! Christ,

you've seen Joey. You know I like smaller men." That was
just it. This illusory version of Kasha was his dream boy.
Lean, compact and hard-muscled, with smooth, golden skin
and lovely, elfin features, he was like one of those luscious

uke

boys from a Japanese graphic novel, though not so

effeminate. "It's... just sick and wrong. You're a cat, dammit,
my cat. What the hell's wrong with me?"

With a little sigh, Kasha moved behind him, hands

kneading his knotted shoulders. "So you do find me
desirable?"

"Yes, and that's why you can't be real! You're exactly

what I want, what I dream about. You have to be something
manufactured by my tired, lonely brain. God, my head
hurts."

Gentle hands tilted Will's head back to rest on Kasha's

shoulder. Skilled fingers massaged his forehead and
temples, easing the throbbing tension, soothing the sharp

pain of smacking his skull on hardwood. "I see. So every
boy you've ever desired then was an illusion. Every time
you looked across the room and saw someone who
attracted you, it was a daydream. Everyone you ever
fucked was a hormone-induced hallucination."

"Yes... no! I didn't... that makes no sense."
"Neither does what you're babbling, my dear." Kasha

leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm trying to
create a logical progression for your thoughts."

"I... oh." Willem became all too aware, even through his

jacket and shirt, of the warm, naked chest pressed against
his back. "I haven't had that many lovers, you know." He
cringed at how defensive that sounded.

"You certainly could have." Kasha undid his top two shirt

buttons, sliding his fingers under the fabric to attack his
knotted shoulder muscles more directly.

"I don't just hook up with guys to screw them. I want it to

be more than that."

"No tomcatting about, eh?"
Willem turned his head to see Kasha's wicked grin. His

stomach did an odd flip, though he couldn't tell if he was still
freaked out or getting turned on. "Not funny." He gazed into
those lovely, not-quite-human eyes. If he wasn't crazy, there
had to be some other explanation. "Kasha, what are you?"

Kasha slid around to face him. He still had the cowboy

boots on, boots that shouldn't have fit adult male feet, but
damn, he looked sexy in nothing but those. "If I tell you, will
you run off to get a priest with crosses and holy water?"

"Please. You're not a vampire."

"Ah, no." Kasha's nose wrinkled in the most endearing

look of offense. "Hardly."

"What, then?"
"I'm a sort of demon." Kasha took his hand as if he

might try to pull away again. "Not the kind you Westerners
usually think of. Not, say, the kind from

Paranormal Activity.

But not a being of the human world."

"A cat demon."
"Yes."
"And you're here because... "
"Because I'm a very bad little demon who broke the

rules. I have to live among humans."

"Oh." Willem took a moment to mull this over. "So, you

were, what's that word, banished? Wherever home is, you
can't go back there?"

Kasha broke eye contact, a visible shiver running

through him. "No," he whispered. "I can't go home."

The shiver evolved into full-fledged shakes and Willem

felt like a jackass for making him so upset. So he was a
demon, so what? He'd never hurt Willem or his family and
he obviously had feelings. He reached out and gathered
Kasha close, pulling the lithe, lean body into his lap.

"Shh, Kash, I'm sorry." He rocked Kasha slowly,

stroking the silken skin of his bare back. "Things have been
a little screwy inside my brain lately. I didn't mean to poke
into things that would hurt you. It's all right. So we're
homeless together. It'll be okay."

A low, keening moan came from Kasha, a sound that

pierced Willem's heart. He wrapped his arms around that

slender body and held him tight, letting Kasha cling to him
until the shivers subsided. He shifted to adjust himself, the
press of that beautiful, tight ass against his crotch just a
little too intimate to keep to innocent thoughts.

"Don't cry, beautiful." Not that Kasha was weeping, but

he didn't know what else to call the little whimpers catching
in his chest.

On impulse, he slid his hands up to cup Kasha's face. It

fit so well in his hands. He tilted his head and watched in
fascination as Kasha's eyes fluttered shut, his lips parted.
Unable to resist the invitation, he closed the distance and
pressed his lips to Kasha's. They were so full, so soft. He
needed another taste. His lips touched down for a more
serious kiss, his tongue teasing at the seam of Kasha's
lips.

Demon kisses. Like mint-chocolate and honey.

He was rewarded with a throaty moan and Kasha's

arms twining around his neck. The slender body melted
against him, lips eagerly returning his kiss, opening for his
questing tongue. Then Willem knew. He might be a demon
and might work magic and have odd, mysterious motives,
but sexually, Kasha was a bottom through and through.

Tongues parried as their kiss caught fire. Willem let his

fingertips explore the firm planes of Kasha's chest. His
thumb flicked over the hardening nub of one brown nipple
and he received a little gasp.

Not just a bottom, but also a

wonderfully responsive bottom.

It suddenly became the

most important thing in the world to him to erase the

sadness from Kasha's eyes.

"So you're a bad little demon?"
Kasha pulled back far enough to see his face, his

expression guarded. "Some would tell you so."

Willem tangled his fingers in thick, black hair, tugging

gently. "And have you been bad today?"

Awareness dawned in those bright eyes. A wicked

smile curled Kasha's lips. "Oh, yes. I've been a very bad
little demon today. Very bad indeed."

"Hmm. We can't just let that go. Especially since you're

my demon. You were left to me in my dad's will, after all."

With a little squirm, Kasha let him know how excited this

turn in conversation made him. His hardening cock poked
Willem in the stomach. "I've been positively evil. I really
should be punished."

"You seem way too happy about that. It's not punishment

if you enjoy it."

"I won't." Kasha slid off his lap and pushed his jacket

from his shoulders. "I'll be positively miserable and penitent.
I promise."

"I see." Willem chuckled and pushed Kasha's hands

away when he started on the shirt buttons. "You sit there
like a proper penitent, then. Hands to yourself."

Kasha sat back on his heels, hands clasped behind his

back, gaze on the floor. Willem raised an eyebrow at the
instant compliance. He wondered what his past lovers had
demanded.

"You can watch, beautiful. Unless you don't want to."
The dark head snapped up, a brief look of outrage on

Kasha's face before he smoothed his features. His eyes
devoured Willem's movements as he stood, slowly
unbuttoning his shirt. A hot flush crept up from his heart. He
knew he wasn't ugly. He'd been told enough times by both
sexes that he was easy on the eyes, but he'd never had
someone's eyes rake over his body with such starved heat.
It made him self-conscious, as if he stripped out of more
than just his clothes, but he had started this so he had to
brazen through it.

What the hell am I doing? Am I so lonely, so horny,

that I'll settle for any port in a storm? We just met a couple
of days ago and he's not even human.

That wasn't entirely

true, since he had known Kasha all his life, just not like this.

He dropped the shirt to the floor and sat on one of the

chairs to unlace his boots, taking his time. Kasha chewed
on his bottom lip, his erection bouncing a little as he
squirmed impatiently.

Willem undid his belt, popped the button on his jeans,

and pulled the zipper down tooth by tooth. He did have to
be a little careful; his full, hard cock was bent down at an
odd angle under that zipper. Getting it caught would have
ended the fun real quick.

"You're glorious," Kasha whispered as he shoved his

pants and boxers down.

"Really? And here I thought I was just plain hot." In more

ways than one. If he blushed any more, he was going up in
flames. He sat back down on the chair to pull his clothes off
the rest of the way, and then folded his arms over his chest,
trying to look stern.

trying to look stern.

"Now what should I do with you? Hang you by your

thumbs, maybe? Tie you to an anthill?"

He meant it as teasing, but the look of fear and

suspicion that leapt into Kasha's eyes nearly broke his
heart. The expression faded so swiftly, he wondered for a
moment if he'd been mistaken. "Kash?"

His face a stoic, expressionless mask, Kasha

approached on his knees. He placed a hand on Willem's
thigh and turned his face up, though his eyes remained
lowered. "I am yours. To do with as you will, Master."

The word was like a bucket of ice water dumped in his

lap. He lifted Kasha up and set him on his feet, keeping
firm hold of his biceps. "Don't you ever call me that. Ever.
Hear me?"

For the first time, he thought he caught confusion in

those spring-green eyes. "But you are. I belong to you."

When Willem stood, he towered over the little cat

demon by a good half a foot. He took Kasha's chin
between his thumb and forefinger, forcing his head up.
"Don't say that. You're a thinking, feeling being. You don't
belong to anyone."

Kasha bit his lip on a mewl of distress.

Shit, what did

someone do to you?

"And I don't want a slave or some

I Dream of Jeannie

kind of fantasy in my arms. I want a partner. I want you, with
your smartass remarks and your cut-through-the-bullshit
questions. All of it. All of you."

"What should I call you, then?"

Willem allowed himself a little smile. "How about stud?"
"You haven't done anything to earn that yet."
"Good. That sounds more like you. You can't tell me

groveling comes naturally."

"No." The single syllable held more sorrow and anger

than Willem thought possible.

He held out his arms and waited until Kasha snuggled

against his chest. "I like when you say my name. Everyone
else just calls me Will. But you say the whole thing, and it
sounds liquid and beautiful, like lake waves on a windy
day."

"Willem, my dear boy." Kasha leaned back to meet his

eyes. "I'd no idea you have a poet's heart."

"Maybe you inspire me." He leaned in to brush a soft

kiss over Kasha's lips. "Now, since you know what I like--"

"Beautiful, compact boys with smart mouths and tight

little asses."

"Yes. That." Willem laughed, wishing he didn't blush so

easily. "Tell me what you like."

Kasha's hands skated up his arms, making Willem

shiver. "I like big men. Men of strength and... " He glanced
down at Willem's package. "Sizeable assets. I do like the
feeling of being overpowered during sex, overmatched.
Tenderness has its place. But in the grip of passion,
nothing annoys me more than being treated too carefully."

"I'll keep that in mind. But you do know I'd never hurt you.

Don't you?"

"Yes." Kasha ducked his head. Embarrassed?

Ashamed? "I know. Should have known."

Willem pulled him close again and crushed his lips

down on Kasha's in a bruising kiss. The undulations of that
lithe body against his sent a rush of blood to his groin, his
cock achingly hard again in seconds.

Kasha's scent drove him on, his taste an aphrodisiac all

its own as he plunged his tongue into his sweet mouth. The
fine-grit sandpaper feel of Kasha's tongue against his
added an extra layer of excitement. Teeth nipped at him
and Kasha's nails kneaded into his back. Willem bent and
slid an arm under Kasha's knees to scoop him up against
his chest, still driving his tongue hard inside. Those firm,
yielding lips against his conjured a sudden image of them
wrapped around his cock. The thought nearly took him out
at the knees.

"Willem." Kasha nuzzled under his chin, purring. "I do

want to please you."

He knew enough about cats to recognize that not all

purrs were contented ones. Cats purred when they hurt, as
well, or when they were anxious.

"Don't worry. I'm sure you will."
Their blanket nest by the fire seemed the best choice.

He placed his soon-to-be demon lover facedown on the
comforter, enchanted by the play of firelight over golden ass
cheeks blushed from the heat of arousal. Rose and gold--
the combination struck him as so warm and inviting.

Kasha arched his back, lifting his gorgeous butt in

invitation. "Is this part of the punishment? Making me wait
interminably to have you inside me?"

"I want that like you wouldn't believe, but I don't have any

rubbers."

"Ah." Kasha twisted to lean on one elbow. "You don't

need them with me. We're different species, my dear, and
can't transmit diseases to each other."

"Wishful thinking, or you know this?"
"I know it. I've lived with humans for long enough to

know."

How long?

Willem squashed the question. He wasn't

sure he really wanted to know. "I'm not taking you dry,
though."

"Didn't I just tell you what annoys me most?" Kasha

rolled his pelvis against the comforter. "If you don't--"

He broke off on a soft cry when Willem ran his tongue

down the crease between his cheeks.

"Oh... dear gods... "
Willem teased around the puckered ring, breathing in

Kasha's scent, clean and earthy. The clean part didn't
surprise him. He was a cat for most of the day, after all.
When he licked over the hole, Kasha shuddered. When he
shoved his tongue inside, his little demon howled and
pushed back against him.

"Shh, hush." Willem nipped his right ass cheek to

reinforce the demand.

Old habits, telling his lovers to keep it down. While he

had never kept his being gay a secret, he had never made
much effort to come out, either. His bedroom activities
were his own damn business, which he'd rather not share
with the neighbors. Out here in the woods, though, Kasha
could scream and moan without anyone overhearing.

He drove his tongue into the constrictive passage,

grabbing hold of Kasha's hips when his squirming and
thrashing bordered on violent.

"Willem," Kasha got out in a strangled whisper. "Turn

around. Please. Let me... oh... " He seemed to lose his
train of thought as Willem caressed his balls. "Just turn."

Without losing contact, Willem spun around and

straddled Kasha's head. Soft lips closed around his cock
as Kasha arched and turned his head to meet what he
offered. Soft, heated lips, just as he had imagined, closing
hard around his head... and then he gasped, his hips
jerking as that rough tongue lapped up the underside of his
erection.

"Fuck," he whispered, catching his balance on both

palms.

"Too much?" Kasha whispered against his skin.
"No... maybe. Give me a sec." Willem panted, trying to

force his body under control. "Do it again. Not too hard."

The little bit of sandpaper friction wasn't quite pain, but

the exquisite stimulation would put him over the edge too
quickly. He allowed it for a few moments, letting Kasha get
him wet and ready, gulping slow breaths while he ignored
his body's demands to thrust.

When he couldn't stand it any longer, he pulled away,

amused at the little whimper from Kasha.

"Willem, please, not yet. You taste so incredible."
"I'm not a piece of candy, babe. You keep licking me

like that, I'll be raw."

He moved back around and Kasha pulled his knees up,

spreading his legs wide while presenting that lovely
backside. Nice to have a lover who made clear what he
wanted without all the dirty talk. It turned a lot of guys on, he
knew that, but for Willem it had always been a distraction,
sometimes to the point of embarrassment. If both partners
had the same anatomy, why the need for such graphic
demands? They both knew what went where and how
things should go.

His fingers dented Kasha's skin as he pulled his cheeks

apart and angled his head with his thumbs, grunting at the
vise grip around him as he eased past the tight ring. Not
too careful, Kasha had been clear on that point, but he still
waited that crucial moment for his partner to adjust. Once
that telltale unclenching of muscles occurred, he thrust in
hard, shoving his cock halfway into that heated sleeve. He
knew it was the right approach when Kasha groaned and
shoved back equally hard, demanding more.

Head spinning from the overload of pleasure, Willem

clenched his jaw and gripped Kasha's hips to control his
movements. It had been awhile, and the last thing he
wanted to do was make a poor showing this first time. He
kept his thrusts long and steady, pulling out almost all the
way and then sliding back in until his pelvis met Kasha's
sweet butt.

"So perfect," Kasha whispered, his back arching to

change the angle of Willem's thrusts. "You fill me so
completely... gods."

Willem leaned against Kasha's back, nipping and

licking at his shoulder while he reached a hand underneath

to toy with Kasha's furry balls and tease along his cock. His
fingers slid over the leaking head, and then he curled his
fingers around, sliding his hand down Kasha's surprisingly
thick erection.

"Willem... "
"Hmm?" He thrust harder as he drew his hand back up.
"Willem, be careful of the--"
"Ow! Damn!"
Kasha jerked and moaned. "--penile spines."
He snatched his hand back to shake it out. Damn

stupid. Of course Kasha had the little ring of backward
pointing spines on his cock. He was a cat.

"I'm so sorry," Kasha murmured.
"Shush. My fault." He stroked Kasha's back to make it

clear he wasn't angry. "Didn't think of it in time."

"If you only stroke down... "
"Got it."
The little bite of the spines hadn't done a thing to

dampen his desire. The tingling burn along the webbing
between thumb and forefinger actually spurred him on.
Flushed, heart racing, it was as if the spines had injected
him with some sort of sexual fever. He closed his fist
around Kasha's cock again, careful only to stroke
downward, and returned to pounding deep into the lithe,
squirming body beneath him with unprecedented ferocity.

Kasha writhed on the blanket, shoving back as hard as

Willem thrust into him. "Willem... oh, gods... " He stilled,
muscles trembling, and then shoved back once more with
an unearthly howl, his channel clenching in hard pulses.

Willem gasped, his balls drawing up in a sudden rush.

He buried himself balls-deep inside the breathtaking
tightness of Kasha's body, the thirty-foot wave of his
orgasm rushing in on him. He bellowed as it crashed over
him, sweeping him up, tumbling and tossing him until he
lost all sense of direction. With a hard groan, he collapsed
on top of Kasha, crushing him into the blankets as the
aftershocks left him trembling and panting.

When he caught his breath, he levered himself up on his

arms and withdrew much more gently than he had entered.
Kasha shivered and moaned as he slipped free, shaking
from head to foot. With a frown, Willem gathered him into
his arms to hold him on his lap, stroking his back and
sides.

"Hey, you all right, babe?"
"I'm shattered," Kasha whispered against his throat.

"Nothing but a kaleidoscope of jagged pieces."

"Did I--"
Kasha put a finger over his lips to shush him. "You are

not a stud, my dear Willem. You are a god."

Willem grinned and tipped Kasha's head up for a tender

kiss. "A little over the top, there. But I'll take it."

Chapter 4: Retribution And

Reconnaissance

Kasha woke as a cat the next morning, sore and

unreasonably content. His first bout of sex in several
decades had a good deal to do with that, but the sunbeam
caressing his body and the large, sleep-warm body beside
him certainly didn't detract.

He rubbed his face against Willem's jaw, delighting in

the rough stubble. Such a handsome lord he had this time,
so considerate and giving. If only they could simply stay
here, tucked away in their mountain stronghold. Ah, well.
Willem needed more. He deserved more. It was a selfish,
ridiculous thought, the one that kept whispering to him that
he could have his lord to himself, truly be his lover, his
partner.

A product of his loneliness, such absurd thoughts. He

was merely the instrument of change, the faithful servant.
When human lives settled again, when the novelty of magic
wore off, they wanted human things and a human life.
Willem would need that, too, perhaps sooner than later. It
would be good to see him content, perhaps even in love,
before Kasha had to leave him, the day Willem no longer
needed him and dismissed him. Rightly so, a banished,
disgraced kasha had no place in a good man's life.

When Willem began to stir, he stared in unabashed

fascination as the blankets slipped from one broad
shoulder, hard-packed chest and flat abdomen exposed as
he rolled to his back, the soft line of golden hair from chest
to navel inviting him to move his eyes lower. Kasha pawed
at the blankets to pull them down farther, to the pelvic
crease, to the lovely morning erection lying heavy on
Willem's stomach.

Willem's eyes fluttered open. He stretched, powerful

biceps on full display.

"Damn!" Willem sat up and pulled the blankets close.

"Cold in here."

With a twitch of his tail, Kasha tamped down on his

disappointment at having the tantalizing view spoiled so
soon. His eyes half-closed, he contented himself with
catching teasing glimpses of skin while Willem built up the
fire and started breakfast, oatmeal for the human stomach,
another tin of tuna for the feline.

Willem stroked his ears while he gazed into the fire.

"Kash, when you said you were bad yesterday, did you
really mean you were bad? Did you do something bad?"

Before the claiming, Kasha could have lied or ignored

him. Now, his

heki-sama

had asked a direct question. The

compulsion made anything other than truth quite painful.
"Yes. I did something of which perhaps you would not
approve."

The petting hand froze on his head. "What did you do?"
Kasha paced to the other side of the hearth to give

himself a bit of room. "It was a matter of retribution. Of

setting things right."

"Retribution?" Willem's pale complexion edged toward

gray. "Damn it, Kash, what did you do? Who was it?"

Oh, this isn't going well at all.

"I paid a brief visit to your

ex-lover."

"To Joey?"
"Yes. It was a matter of justice, for his cruelty to you."
Willem surged up, yanking on clothes as quickly as his

shaking hands allowed. "Is he... oh, my God, did you hurt
him?"

"It's merely discomfort, Willem. He is unharmed. For the

most part."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Dammit, if I

didn't want to get back at him, why the hell would you?"

"You kindness would never have allowed it." Kasha

tucked into a ball, wishing he could shrink into the stones.

"Got that right. Did I ask you to fight my battles for me?"

Willem shoved his feet into his boots, fished his wallet from
his pack, and threw on his jacket. He stabbed a finger in
Kasha's direction. "We'll talk about this when I get back. He
sure as hell better be all right, or you and I are gonna have a
problem. Hear me?"

"Yes, m--yes, sir."
He flinched when the door slammed hard behind

Willem. So much for keeping it from him. It had been a
mistake, the little bit of teasing the previous night. Willem
might act the wide-eyed ingénue sometimes, but he was far
too sharp to miss such hints.

Patching things up would have to wait until later that day.

By then, perhaps the miscreant ex-lover would have
realized the solution to his dilemma and then Willem's
temper might cool. It shocked him, the hurt his new lord's
anger caused. He didn't relish anger aimed at him from
most sources, but this desolate feeling was less familiar.

No time for regrets or speculation now, though. He

searched the pack until he found the little metal crane,
placed it under his hat, and set the hat on his head. Before
seeking his Willem's forgiveness, he had much to
accomplish that day.

* * * *

Willem waited for an answer to his question, shifting

from foot to foot, while Gunther checked gauges on the
mash tun.

"Yes, that prick you used to live with," Gun finally said as

he straightened. "He called this morning looking for you.
Didn't know where you'd gone, and I told him so."

"Did he sound okay?" Willem ignored the gentle

accusation. He knew Gun would worry, but how could he tell
him he had hunkered down in someone's hunting cabin
without permission? Not as if he had a phone up there,
either.

Gunther shrugged. "He sounded hysterical, but I can't

tell you any more than that."

"What did he say?"
"Will." Gunther ran a hand back through his short-

cropped hair. "If you hook up with him again, I'll kick your
butt from here to Poughkeepsie."

"Not gonna happen. But I heard something and I'm

worried."

Gunther gave him a long, hard look. "Fine. He said if

you turned up to ask you to come by the apartment."

"Did he say why?"
"No, and I didn't ask the little creep. After what he did to

you? I don't much care if his hair was on fire."

One corner of Willem's mouth tugged up. Before the

breakup, he had thought Gunther didn't like Joey because
he was so openly gay. It had never occurred to him that the
dislike stemmed from how he treated Gunther's little
brother. "All right. Thanks, Gun."

He turned to go, but Gunther's hand on his shoulder

stopped him. "You plan on telling me where you landed?"

"I will. When I have something permanent." The hand

didn't budge. "I'm okay, Gun. Really."

Gunther relinquished his grip with a sigh. "Fine. You

check in sometimes. Don't make me come looking for you."

"Hard-ass."
"Slacker."
They shared a little smile at the exchange of boyhood

insults, and then Willem strode away, too worried to delay
any longer.

The apartment he and Joey had shared was only two

blocks away, not that anything in town was more than a few
minutes' walk from the brewery. Just three rooms and a
bathroom above the old hardware store, now a Goodwill,
he had loved the scents of old wood and the creak of
ancient radiators. Joey had always carped about finding a
better place, but Willem had felt at home there.

I guess that should be ironic. Oh, well.

He walked up the steps at the back of the building and

knocked. "Joey? Joey, open the door! It's Will!"

No footsteps came to the door. Willem pressed his ear

to the wood.

Nothing.

Maybe it was all a false alarm and

Joey was at work, perfectly fine. Still, he had come this far.
He reached up and groped around the top of the doorframe
until he found the key that Joey "hid" there. Maybe it was an
out-of-the-way place for someone Joey's height, but at six-
foot-four, Willem could practically stand on his tiptoes to
spot it.

He took a cautious step inside, wary of what he might

be walking into. Under the creak and hiss of the radiators,
another sound reached him. Someone sobbed from the
bedroom.

"Joey?" He hurried down the hall, imagining a dozen

different disasters. Joey lay curled up on top of the
bedspread in his red silk bathrobe, face buried in his
hands, body trembling as he wailed.

Willem called softly from the doorway, not wanting to

scare the hell out of him. "Joey? Sweetheart? It's me... "

Despite his careful intentions, Joey startled and

squeaked as he scuttled toward the headboard, pulling the
robe close around him. His face was blotchy from crying
and ashen, the way he looked sometimes after the worst
hangovers. "Will? Oh, holy shit. I didn't hear you. Oh, damn."
He buried his face back in his hands, his voice trembling. "I
didn't want you to see me like this!"

"Like what?" Willem eased down onto the edge of the

"Like what?" Willem eased down onto the edge of the

bed. "I've seen you with the flu, hon. Whatever's happened,
it can't be worse than that. Gun said you called. He said you
sounded scared."

"It's awful, Will! I don't know what to do. Leo ran out on

me and he thinks I have some horrible new strain of VD or
something and--"

He put a hand on Joey's foot, the only part he could

reach with Joey continually scooting away from him. "Leo's
an ass. If you're sick, we need to get you some help. Now
take a breath and tell me what's happened."

Instead of answering, Joey straightened his legs out

and, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, opened
his robe. Willem sucked in a breath at the sight of Joey's
groin, red and inflamed, with oozing, crusty blisters
covering most of his skin.

"That... has got to hurt."
Joey nodded, tears starting in his eyes again as he

closed the robe.

"Does it go all the way around?"
"Yeah. My ass is covered, too." Joey pulled in a huge

sniff. "I can't drive myself to the doctor. I can't even get
dressed, it hurts so bad."

"Maybe you should've called an ambulance, hon."
"And let the paramedics see me like this?" Joey

shrieked.

Willem wasn't sure if he stopped himself before his

eyes rolled. Vain and preening, he might be hurting, but it
was still Joey under those nasty blisters. "Have you been
fooling around in the woods lately?"

fooling around in the woods lately?"

"No! I--" Joey's nose crinkled, an expression that meant

he was thinking hard. "I don't think so. I mean, there were a
couple nights I was really, really trashed."

"So Leo could've had you rolling around in the bushes

somewhere?"

"I guess. Why?"
He patted Joey's ankle. "Looks like the poison ivy Kurt

used to get. Not, um, where you have it, but he'd always get
it real bad. Puffed his face all up. Blisters that wouldn't quit."

"You think that's all it is?" Joey scooted closer, his eyes

pleading for reassurance.

No, I know what it is. But I can't tell you my damn cat

put a spell on you.

"I'm pretty sure."

Joey swiped at his eyes with another sniff. "I've been so

damn scared, Will. The only thing that made it any better
was thinking about you. That's why I called Gun looking for
you. I know it doesn't make any sense."

Before he thought about consequences, he reached out

to smooth a curl back from Joey's forehead. The little guy
just looked so miserable. By the time he realized his
mistake, he had an armful of Joey practically crawling into
his lap, sobbing against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry! I was stupid and you were

the best thing that ever happened to me. You wouldn't have
run out when I needed you. My big, strong Will, please,
please say you forgive me. Move back in with me. I don't
care if you don't have a job yet. We'll find you something. I'll
do better. Try harder... "

Joey trailed off when Willem put a finger under his chin

to lift his head. He bit back a sigh when the boy looked like
he wanted a kiss. "It wouldn't work, hon. We can't go back
now."

"Don't you love me anymore? You can't forgive me?"

Damn, not more tears. God.

"Of course I love you. I

can't just turn that off. But you ripped my heart out and diced
it up pretty fine."

Joey ran a finger down the pulse point of his throat and

Willem swallowed hard. He'd always melted when Joey
touched him there. "You'd lost your job. We were fighting a
lot. And then Leo was there. I was selfish and stupid."

The finger traced Willem's ear and his stupid cock

stirred.

Down, boy.

"Say you forgive me. Tell me we can start over."
He took Joey's face between his hands, searching his

big, dark eyes. "I forgive you, sweetheart. I do."

A home, the comfort of regular meals, a bed, and hot

water, someone human in his arms at night, it was
tempting. He wanted to pretend it would be all right, wanted
to turn back the clock and erase the bad moments, but he
couldn't. His eyes were open now, and he had a lover
waiting for him who hadn't tried to control his every touch,
who appreciated who he was instead of who he thought
Willem should be.

"But I'm sorry. It just wasn't working. Even before Leo.

You wanted someone big and strong, hon. Turns out, you
didn't really want me. I can't change for you, and it was
wrong of me to want you to change for me."

"Oh." Joey moved back. He looked disappointed but

not devastated. Then his head jerked down toward his lap.
"Oh! Will, look!"

"What now?" Will frowned. He didn't want to look at

Joey's blistered crotch again, but when he glanced down,
his mouth hung open. Slowly, starting at the edges, the
oozing sores dried and shrank while he watched, the
inflamed patches of skin fading to a less painful-looking
pink.

"Oh, my God," Joey whispered. "Will, tell me you see

this."

Willem nodded, for a moment unable to form words. All

across Joey's skin, the blisters vanished. Only the barest
trace of irritated skin remained. "What the... "

Joey squealed in delight and flung off the robe, turning

in front of the mirror. "They're gone, Will! Holy fuck, they're
gone!" He ran to hug Willem and then raced back to the
mirror to look again. He laughed, twirling. "You're my good
luck charm!"

Someone's going to have to do some serious

explaining later. And I better like the answers.

"At least

you're better. That's the important thing. Must've been some
weird allergic reaction."

Still stark naked, Joey cocked his head to one side.

"When's the last time you had a shower?"

Willem tried to ignore the flush climbing his neck.

"Couple days ago, probably."

"Take one with me. I'll wash your back." Joey pulled out

his best come-fuck-me smile and held out his hands.

Tempting, again. He knew that beautiful, compact body

so well, knew just how it would feel to shove Joey up
against the shower wall, spread his thighs, and take him.
Willem squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the image.
"Maybe not the best idea, hon. I don't need a pity screw and
you don't need me giving you the wrong idea."

He

watched

Joey's

expressions

run

through

disappointment and offense, waiting for the explosion. It
never came. Joey ducked his head, his next expression
one Willem had never seen on him. He could have sworn it
was shame.

"I get it, Will. I'm sorry. For everything." Joey pulled a

blanket off the bed to cover himself. "I was a dick to you,
and you still showed up when you thought I was in trouble.
Please. Use the shower. You need one, baby. I'll stay out
here."

Willem tried not to gape, though he wondered when he

had stepped through the dimensional door into

The

Twilight Zone.

Joey insisted, he had his first hot shower in

days, and they parted with a kiss and a warm embrace.

"You'll find your big bear of a sugar daddy someday,"

Willem whispered into his hair.

"Dear God, I hope so." Joey rolled his eyes, but

sounded much more himself again.

"Just don't cheat on him when you do."
He was still royally pissed at Kasha, but making his

peace with his ex felt... better. No denying it, he felt better.

* * * *

Kasha peered out from the underbrush. The house and

grounds appeared quiet today, no gatherings, no guests,
just as he had hoped. He had known about the owner for
some time, but had never felt the need to approach before.

It wasn't that he was afraid, certainly not, but anxious

about the outcome? Yes, that was only sensible. Willem
needed him to accomplish a few, simple things, whether he
knew it or not yet. He needed housing, that first and
foremost. He needed patronage and a new love interest to
inspire him. If the patronage came with the friendship of
powerful people, that would be all the better.

These things had to be approached carefully, though.

He never had been at his best with females.

"Yorukaze, your transgressions cannot be overlooked

this time." Amaterasu had spoken softly, but the sun
goddess's face was stern.

"My lady, give me but another chance! It was a

mistake, a moment's indiscretion! Any punishment you
mete out, I will gladly accept!" Even while he protested, he
knew it was too late.

"A dalliance would be indiscretion, Yorukaze. But this

is no dalliance. You have broken your oaths, not once but
three times. You overstep, my kasha, your arrogance
driving you to believe that you are wiser than Lady Death
herself."

"He was too young! He had such promise!"
"You are banned from these precincts and stripped of

all but the most rudimentary magic. You will learn humility

by serving humankind in their world, serving their petty
needs and desires, only gaining some of your strength
again when you are claimed and leashed."

"My lady, please! You cannot be so cruel! I only did

what I thought right and just!"

Perhaps that hadn't been the wisest thing to say. She

had flung him from her kingdom with such force, he lay
senseless for a number of months thereafter. He had
served faithfully since, though he had little choice with the
compulsions set upon him. An instrument of the gods'
whims, sometimes the humans he served were
contemptible, sometimes they shone with inner strength.
For good or ill, he helped them gain what they needed,
which was not always what they believed they wanted.
When they took back what they had given, he was free, or
when they expired, likewise.

Free.

He snorted. It was always a hollow, bitter, short-

lived freedom, stripped to nothing but cheap conjuring, left
to his own devices only until the spirit winds called his name
again.

So often, he had served men of ambition, men who

shaped the course of those around them. To serve
someone like Willem was unusual, someone so...

He hesitated to say ordinary. It was less than accurate.

Someone of such narrow influence, perhaps, though Willem
was young. Who could say what events he would affect
eventually?

Getting as bad as the boy, sitting in the damp brush,

ruminating.

He shook himself and pushed his way through

the blackberry bushes to stride across the lawn on two legs.

The house sat in a large clearing, surrounded by

flowerbeds and an expanse of lawn, still green this late in
the year. Here and there, sculpture dotted the landscape,
everything from a classically inspired male nude to an
abstract kinetic construct.

A young woman stepped out the backdoor, red plastic

bucket in hand, her golden hair cascading to her waist. She
stopped a few feet from the steps, reached into the bucket
and began scattering birdseed on the lawn. Songbirds
converged on her, settling at her feet, tugging at strands of
her hair, completely oblivious that a predator stalked out of
the woods.

Kasha's stomach growled at the banquet before him,

but pouncing on the young lady's breakfast guests to
devour them would have been a dreadful first impression.

"Good morning, miss!" he called out when he reached

polite hailing distance. "I wonder if I might trouble you for a
few moments."

She turned his way, cornflower blue eyes widening. For

one heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he had erred.

"Oh, what a

cute

kitty!" she cried out as she placed her

bucket down and rushed toward him. "Oh, my God, I just
love your boots! Aren't you just the most adorable thing
ever!"

To his horror, he found himself scooped up and hugged

tight. "Miss, please!"

"You're even cuter than the kitty in that movie, the one

Antonio Banderas voiced. And I just

love

Antonio." She

rubbed his whiskers with her cheek, not entirely unpleasant
but terribly undignified.

"Morgen!" A sharp voice cut through the young woman's

gushing. "Come away from there! Put it down and get
away, now!"

The second voice belonged to a handsome, middle-

aged woman with sharp gray eyes and midnight hair. Her
tone was commanding, but fear edged it.

"Mom! It's not like he's dirty. You're embarrassing me."
"Don't be stupid, Morgen. Don't you know what that is?"

The matronly woman glared at Kasha. "Who have you
come for, demon? You can't have my daughter."

The girl squeaked and dropped him abruptly. "Demon?"
"It's a kasha demon, child. Come over here." The

woman raised a hand against him, tracing what he
recognized as a warding.

Kasha sighed as he stood, brushing dust from his fur.

"Madame, I assure you, I have not--"

"Ettie, stop that!" A third woman emerged from the

house, white hair caught in a neat braid down her back, her
progress slow and deliberate on the steps. "Great Mother,
you girls have no sense. If the kasha has come for anyone,
it's me. Don't be rude."

She stopped and leaned on her cane, her winter-pale

eyes raking Kasha up and down. "But you haven't, have
you? You're wearing boots."

On the surface, the statement seemed absurdly

obvious. It was a sign, though, that she knew precisely what

obvious. It was a sign, though, that she knew precisely what
he was. He removed his hat and swept her a bow. "Yes,
ma'am. I am indeed wearing boots."

"Were you forced into service?"
"No, ma'am. I serve because I must, but this one I serve

willingly."

"Whom do you serve, pretty kasha? A sorcerer? A

necromancer? And what does your master want with us?"

"I serve the artist, Willem Aufderheide. He has long

been an admirer of your beautiful house and gardens, and
he sends me with a small gift." He reached into his
hatband, pulled out Willem's crane, and offered it to the old
woman.

She approached slowly, perhaps more from impaired

mobility than caution, but tendrils of powerful magic
preceded her, ghosting over Kasha, prodding at him. He
drew slow breaths, willing his body to relax, his tail to stay
smooth and still. He had no ill intentions to hide, nothing to
fear.

With an age-curled hand, she took the crane, holding it

in her palm to examine it. "It's a princely gift. His work?"

Kasha nodded.
"It's lovely. Tell him thank you, from all of us. Come

inside, pretty kasha. It's too cold out here to talk."

Hat in paws, he followed the three witches, the youngest

positively beaming, the middle-aged one still scowling. He
sat human-wise on the kitchen chair offered to him, back
legs dangling over the edge, tail politely curled in his lap.
The old witch offered him catnip tea while she poured
chamomile for the humans, and the four of them sipped and

chamomile for the humans, and the four of them sipped and
chatted. He discovered they were Natt, Ettermiddag and
Morgen Engelstad, mother, daughter and granddaughter,
and that their family had owned large tracts of the land
around Honeybole for nearly two hundred years.

"Aufderheide," Ettie said into a pause in conversation.

"Isn't that the beer family?"

"That is my lord's family, yes," Kasha admitted.
"So a brewer managed to claim a kasha?"
"His father was the brewer, ma'am. Willem is a man of

more... unusual talents."

"Obviously." Natt, the grandmother snorted, and then

grew more serious. "I knew Horst. He was a hard man, but
devoted to his craft. I was sad to hear that he passed."

"He leaves a void." Kasha found he did miss the old

bear. Strange that he would.

"And into void something must rush to fill it," Natt said

softly. "And when we don't see to it, sometimes what we
don't wish rushes in."

"My lady, you mean something beside a philosophical

statement, I believe." Kasha shifted in his chair as fingers
of shadow crept along the floorboards.

"I wish I didn't," the old woman said. "Though maybe if

your Willem is powerful enough to ensnare a kasha, he
might help with this."

"Perhaps, my lady, you might tell me? I might intercede

for you with him."

The three witches looked at one another. Morgen finally

spoke. "See, Grandma owns a second house, on the other
side of the hill. It's supposed to be my house, if I, you know,

decide to have kids and stuff."

"But something moved in there, changing the deed,

registering the property as his," Ettie continued.

"Something?" Kasha's ears twitched.
"An investment banker."
"A lawyer."
"An ogre."
Kasha blinked, trying to make sense of the

conversation. "Three somethings?"

"No, all the same one," Natt explained.
"An unpleasant investment banker has seized the

property with the help of his attorney?" Kasha felt a
headache coming on.

"No, silly kitty." Morgen giggled. "The scumbag's an

ogre, a real one. Not the nice kind from that movie. But he's
also a banker and has his law degree. He just kinda took
the house and we can't budge him."

"An ogre," he repeated. "Truly?" But he found himself

not as surprised as he should have been. That explained
the darkness he had felt in the mountains, the gathering of
power that had disturbed his dreams. "How do ogres
acquire law degrees?"

Natt shrugged. "I assume they take all sorts at law

schools, if they pass the exams."

"Maybe even online, who knows?" Ettie shrugged. "No

one would ever catch sight of him then."

"Hey, Gram?" a new voice called from the hallway, a

deep, male voice. "Have you seen the cable for my amp?"
The disembodied voice resolved into a beautiful young

man, lean and athletic, with thick waves of chocolate hair
and a guitar slung over his shoulder.

"I can't keep track of your things, Teddy," Natt said with

weary exasperation.

"Well, I--holy crap. That is one freaky cat." The gorgeous

male, Teddy, presumably, stared at Kasha with hazel eyes
gone huge as dinner plates. "I mean, he is a cat, right? And
not some poor dude Aunt Ettie turned into a cat?"

"No, he's a cat, stupid," Morgen said with a

contemptuous eye roll.

"Never know around here." He gave Kasha a tentative

wave. "Hey, Mr. Kitty, how's it hanging?"

"Quite comfortably under the tail, thank you," Kasha

answered after a sip of tea.

Teddy grinned. "Hey, I like him. Lots more fun than your

usual guests."

"Good to hear, young sir." Kasha hopped down from his

chair and handed his mug off to Morgen. "Thank you for the
tea, kind ladies, and for the lovely visit. As to the issue we
discussed, I will put it before my--Willem. I'm sure he'll wish
to help."

Natt gave him a nod. "Thank you. We wouldn't want to

put him in a bad spot, but if there's anything he could
suggest, we'd be grateful."

Kasha gave the ladies a little bow and left by the

backdoor. On his way out, he heard Teddy ask, "So who's
this Willem dude? Is he cute?"

The visit couldn't have gone better. The witches were

friendly and interested in the arts. They had a problem with

which they required assistance, a house standing empty,
and a visiting relative who was not only gay and
breathtakingly handsome, he was apparently looking.

Perfect. All the elements were there for Willem:

patronage, housing, and the possibility of a new love
interest. Now he merely needed to pull the players together
under just the right circumstances.

Chapter 5: Memory And

Shadow

When he reached the cabin again, he was exhausted

and out of sorts. The brief visit to the ogre's house had
drained him badly, all his power going to shielding his
presence. The witches' neighbor was not merely any ogre.
They could be stupid, ravenous louts, but, no, this one was
old. Canny and powerful, he wore his magic like a carefully
selected wardrobe, only showing what he pleased.

Kasha felt the layers underneath, though, and was

frightened for the first time in many years. This one shifted
shapes as easily as if he changed his shirt. He wondered if
his promise to the ladies would be one he could keep, or
even one he should try to keep. It might endanger them all.

Rest first. Things will be clearer in the morning.

Unfortunately, rest had to wait as well. Willem had

reached the cabin first, his anger emanating from under the
door.

"Oh, marvelous." Kasha hesitated, briefly considered

staying outside, and then decided he was better off facing
the confrontation and possibly having the storm blow over
before he collapsed on his face.

He pushed the door open to find Willem pacing in front

of the fire. He whirled when the door creaked, fire in his

eyes.

"Damn you, Kasha! What the hell did you do?"
"In what regard, sir?" Kasha shut the door and went to

the fire to warm his paws.

"Don't hand me that! To Joey! He was all curled up,

whimpering in pain when I got there today. Don't even tell
me it wasn't you!"

"It was a small conditional spell, my lord. Nothing more.

How is he now?" He found himself unable to look at Willem.
It hurt to have him so angry, more than it should.

"He's... fine." That seemed to temper Willem's rage.

"He's fine. But that's not the point. He sure as hell wasn't
when I got there. And why is he fine now?"

"Conditional. A certain act triggers the spell. A certain

act rescinds it." Kasha lay down on his side, trying to keep
his eyes open.

"So what triggered it?"
"Putting on his underwear."
Willem made a disgusted sound. "Oh, that's low. God.

And how did he break it?"

"What did you do while you were there, my lord?"
It seemed Willem was too angry even to notice the title.

"I... talked to him. I held him. He said it felt better when he
thought about me."

"Yes. You were the crux of the spell. Retribution for the

hurt he had caused you. When did the symptoms vanish?"

"When... " Willem's voice finally regained a normal pitch.

"When I forgave him."

"So it is done. He will be well now."

He had hoped that was the end of it, but he found

himself seized under his forelegs and dangled at the end of
Willem's arms, facing his still angry

heki-sama.

"How can you be so fucking casual about something

like that? You hurt him!"

"And he hurt you."
"The one thing has nothing to do with the other!" Willem

gave him a little shake. "You don't go around hurting people
for revenge!"

"It was for you," Kasha pleaded softly.
"I don't care what it was for! You don't use your magic to

hurt anyone! Ever!"

"Fine."
Willem pulled him closer so their noses were a mere

breath apart. His voice had plunged to a deep growl as he
went on. "No, not fine! You promise me! Never again!"

Kasha heaved a weary sigh. "I will not use my magic for

harm while I serve you. This I swear on the gods of earth
and sky."

"Well... good. All right then." Willem's grip eased,

concern creased his forehead. "Kash? You okay?"

"No. Not entirely. I just need to rest by the fire."
Willem placed him gently on the hearthstones.

Darkness crowded his vision, and he knew this was not
merely exhaustion. The blackness hit him from time to time,
cold and bitter, though normally after battle, or after he had
been freed again. The timing made no sense.

If he were human, he supposed they would call it

depression. The word didn't seem quite adequate for the

crushing despair. He felt his body melt from fur to skin.
Distantly, he knew he lay in his human male form now,
naked on the stones except for his boots. He found it
difficult to care where or what he was.

"Kash? Damn... " Willem's voice reached him from the

end of a gray tunnel.

A blanket settled over his chilled skin. "It will pass. Let

me be."

But Willem, being Willem, did no such thing. He

gathered Kasha up and held him in his lap, wrapping the
blanket close around him. "You're so cold. Are you sick?
Do demons get sick?"

Kasha couldn't bring himself to answer. A sickness of

sorts, he supposed, if past failures and pain oozing up from
the depths could be called illness.

"Give me the slippers, Yorukaze."
"Yoritomo-sama... please! I have been faithful!"
"The slippers. I have no more need of you, demon."
"Did you not say you loved me, my lord?"
"Pillow talk. Surely you knew that."

Faces faded, but the voices stayed with him, clear and

sharp. Sometimes cold or fearful, sometimes full of
contempt or occasional regret. Humility, yes, he had
learned something of that. He knew his place by now. But
sometimes the voices grew too loud again, drowned self
and shattered confidence.

"Should have said something. I'm so sorry."
The deep, sorrowful voice reached through all the

others, dragging him back to the fireside, to strong, gentle
arms. Willem rocked him, stroking his hair.

"I shouldn't have been so hard on you. Not when you feel

this bad. God, I'm sorry." Willem's face appeared through
the shadows, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "You
going to be okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Always... such a considerate boy," Kasha whispered,

forcing the words through the dark sludge pressing on his
lungs.

"She took her life rather than be with me! Of what use

are you, wretched demon?"

"I cannot command love, majesty. The illusion of it,

perhaps--"

"Then why did you not give me that? Thrice cursed

churl, why did you not bespell her, make her mine?"

"There are things I cannot do, majesty."
"Cannot?"
"Will not."
"Give the damned boots back! Begone!"

He fisted his hands in Willem's shirt, desperate for his

solid warmth. "Willem... "

"Easy, easy, deep breaths. I've got you."
"Hold me tight. Please! I'm... I can't... everything's

shifting."

Willem's arms closed around him. Soft lips traced over

his cheekbones, his eyelids. "It'll be all right, Kash. You're
right here with me. Look at me."

"My lord, your hands... so much blood... what have you

done?"

"Easily washed, my kasha."
"But they came in good faith, under flag of truce."
"And you led them to me. It was well done. Lambs to

the slaughter."

He surged up from the dark, gasping, clawing toward

the one point of light so far above. "Willem!"

"I'm here, I'm here. Shh, shh."
Willem's lips closed on his, gentle but insistent. His

mouth answered with wild hunger, seeking to pin the
present down, clinging amid the storm surge of memory.
Willem, Willem, his touch seared Kasha to his soul. Where
his fingers traced, bands of white sunlight trailed behind,
filling the dark empty spaces.

He opened his eyes to find he had pinned Willem on his

back, half the buttons ripped off his shirt. Panting, he kissed
the red marks left by his nails on Willem's chest. "Forgive
me."

"You back with me now?"
"Yes."
"No big deal, then. Kinda nice to drive someone that

wild."

He searched Willem's face in the firelight. "Did I bite

you?"

"A little growling, some teeth, but no biting." Willem

reached up to stroke a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
His eyes held quiet amusement and concern, but no fear.

"I'm sorry about your shirt."

"Guess you'll just have to take it off the rest of the way

now."

Kasha gave him a solemn nod. "It's really the only

sensible thing." He undid the last three buttons with
exaggerated care, fingers ghosting over Willem's skin.
When he tugged the tails out, Willem half sat up to help him
slide the shirt from his arms.

Large hands stroked over his thighs. "You want to take

your boots off, Kash?"

"No!" He gulped a panicked breath and went on more

softly, "No. Please don't ask me to." He slid his fingers
down the lovely golden treasure trail on Willem's stomach to
undo his belt.

"Fine, sorry. It is starting to freak me out just a little,

though. Kind of like that story about the black velvet
choker."

"Oh?" Kasha popped the button on his jeans and slid

the zipper down.

"Man marries this woman who always wears a black

velvet choker. She never takes it off and he wonders why.
She won't tell him, but she says she can't ever take it off.
Finally, one night while she's asleep, he takes it off and her
head rolls off onto the floor. And her head yells at him that
she told him she could never take it off."

"Just to put you at ease, the boots are holding on

neither my feet nor my head."

Willem took his hand and kissed his fingers one by one.

"But something bad will happen? Is that it?"

"Yes."

"You don't have to tell me." Willem lifted his hips to help

Kasha slide his jeans and boxers down to his knees. "But if
you need to talk. About anything."

"Thank you." Still straddling Willem's hips, he curled

forward to blow a gentle breath over Willem's growing
erection. An inch more and he licked at the bottom of the
cap, pleased when he received a twitch and a hard groan.

"God, you're flexible."
"I'm a--"
"Cat, yeah, got that. Can you, um, lick your own cock?"
"I can even lick my own balls."
"Wow." The word came out as a tortured whisper.

"Could I... watch?"

Kasha found himself smiling, the darkness receding to

faint, stippled shadows. "My sweet Willem, you do have the
loveliest bit of kink to you." He slid off Willem's lap to sit on
the floor, one leg tucked under him. The other leg he lifted
slowly, straight up until his knee was beside his ear. "Are
you watching?"

"Hell, yeah," Willem choked out.
Slowly, just to tease, he curled down, concentrating on

one vertebrate at a time. His cock, a good deal larger than
a normal cat's, thank the gods, had already hardened and
pushed from its sheath in arousal. Careful of the little forest
of keratinous spines, he lipped at the tip. A desperate
moan pulled his gaze up. Willem knelt, divested of his
clothes, knees spread wide, stroking himself.

"Did you

just

want to watch?"

"No. But it's getting me pretty damn hot."

Kasha curled lower, shivering as his own rough tongue

teased over his balls. It didn't excite him during tongue
baths, but having Willem watch made it so deliciously
wicked. He lifted his head, his breaths coming short. "Tell
me what you want, Willem. Tell me what to do."

"You're so beautiful." Willem's hand had frozen on his

erection, his pupils so large they consumed his eyes. "I
want you so bad."

"I had hoped you'd do a little better than that."
"How long can you stay like that?"
"Oh." Kasha shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe half an

hour."

"Can you get both legs up?"
He snorted. "Not without falling over."
"Don't worry about that, sweetheart." A lazy, wicked

smile curled Willem's lips. "I'll take care of you."

"No doubt." Kasha shuddered as a bolt of pure lust shot

through the center of his body. He didn't mind nudging
things in one direction or another, but what he truly desired
was that rush of surrender. Willem in command mode set
off New Year's fireworks in his blood.

Without lowering the one leg, he carefully straightened

the one on which he sat, and had to stifle a cry of
indignation when Willem turned away from him.

Willem shot an amused glance over his shoulder as he

rummaged in his pack. "Don't blow a gasket, hon. Be right
with you." He turned back, gripping a little bottle of hand
lotion. "Joey insisted I needed it."

"You do know it's rude to mention an ex in front of your

naked lover?"

"Sorry." Willem's unrepentant grin was anything but.
"And you know I don't need that."
Willem scooted closer on his knees. "Sure. But

slippery's more fun." He squirted a little mound onto his
fingers, put the bottle down, and wrapped his other arm
around Kasha's back to steady him. "How about you get
both legs up over my shoulders."

Careful of Willem's head, Kasha lifted his other leg, able

to remain upright leaning on the strength of the arm
supporting his back. While he couldn't drape his legs over
Willem's shoulders, the position was just as interesting with
both legs sticking straight up in the air, propped against
Willem's hard chest.

He gasped at the cold touch of lotion against his

perineum, and then moaned, his head falling back, when
the slick finger slid lower to tease at his hole.

"I feel like a pretzel," he forced out as one thick finger

slid past his tight ring.

Willem sucked on the side of his throat. "You're sure a

tasty one."

Firefly sparks of pleasure ricocheted through him when

Willem wriggled the finger in far enough to stroke his gland.
He gave up speech, his fingers kneading Willem's biceps,
a loud purr vibrating through his chest. A second finger
joined the first and his purring ratcheted up a notch,
punctuated by little, pleading mews.

"I love the sounds you make," Willem whispered against

his jaw, licking and nibbling. "You want more?"

"More," Kasha got out in a hoarse growl.
His breath caught in shock when Willem lifted him, bent

in half as he was, onto his lap, settling his rock hard
erection in the crease between Kasha's cheeks. In all his
years of sex, with some encounters more memorable than
others, this was a position he did not recall. But then,
Willem was uncommonly strong; it wasn't a position most
men could manage.

That deliciously sculpted arm wrapped tighter around

Kasha's waist and lifted. The buried fingers withdrew,
replaced by the silken head of Willem's erection
demanding entrance. Kasha wrapped his arms around
Willem's neck, breathing in hard puffs as Willem lowered
him, filling him inch by inch.

The odd position meant that Willem couldn't drive as

deep as he had before, but that negated none of the mind-
melting pleasure. Pain accompanied the strange angle as
well, in each slow thrust, in the building burn tightening his
hamstrings, but it was what he needed most right now.
Physical pain was a thing of the moment. It drove out the
haunts of the past.

"All right, babe?" Willem murmured in his ear, both

arms wrapped tight around him now, moving Kasha up and
down as he pleased.

"Yes, oh, yes." Kasha dug his nails into Willem's broad

back, urging him on, helpless to do much more than wriggle
on the pole impaling him. His cock, trapped against
Willem's stomach, rode up and down along that soft, golden
treasure trail. The spines had to be scraping Willem's skin,

but he either enjoyed the sensation or was too caught up in
the moment to care.

So close, so damn close.

"Willem, just a little, just... "

He couldn't formulate a cohesive sentence, but Willem

sensed what he needed and thrust up hard, thigh muscles
bunching under Kasha's ass. The skin of his sac drew up
tight, in a sudden rush as if his balls tried to climb inside.
He felt as if the wind lifted him, as he used to when he rode
the lightning. The cabin fell away. There was only Willem
and the gale on which they rode.

A howl leaped from his throat as the first shock of

climax slammed through him. Willem's arms tightened
around him painfully, his body shuddering under Kasha as
he grunted and drove up harder. He buried his head
against Kasha's shoulder, muffling his cries when he
followed Kasha into the storm.

Once the tempest began to quiet, Willem leaned

forward on trembling legs to lower Kasha to his back,
easing out so Kasha could have his own legs back. He
sprawled boneless on the floor, limbs flung out with no
regard for dignity, and heaved a long, contented sigh.

Willem flopped down beside him. "Damn, you wear me

out."

With a little smile, Kasha leaned over to lick the red

claw marks on Willem's shoulders and back. Not satisfied
with that, he slid down to lick the white trails with which his
climax had decorated Willem's stomach and chest. The
mixed flavors of Willem's skin and his own come were
intoxicating.

After a few rough-tongued licks, Willem squirmed and

laughed. "Stop! You're going to get me all riled up again."

Kasha raised an eyebrow. "That's a bad thing?"
"I need a rest first. Maybe even a nap."
"Of course. I'm sorry." Kasha gave himself a little shake

and changed back into his furred form. He rubbed his
cheek against Willem's head and padded out the door to
sit in the last rays of the evening sun on the doorstep.

The blackness had lifted, thanks to Willem, though he

felt oddly hollow and weary. He hummed to himself,
watching the sun, his ancient mistress, change her gown
from yellow to scarlet.

In a few moments, Willem joined him, fully dressed. He

plunked down on the step beside Kasha, opening a tin of
canned ham. "What were you humming?"

"An old song. Before your time, dear boy."
"Uh-huh. Old like

Greensleeves

old? Or just

Stardust

Memories

old?" Willem nudged him with his elbow. "I know

a lot of old songs. It's not like music has an expiration date."

Kasha glanced at him sideways, and then recited rather

than subjecting Willem to his singing voice. Several
previous masters had begged him not to sing. "I'll wait in
this place where the sun never shines... "

"Wait in this place, where the shadows run from

themselves," Willem finished softly. "See, I know it. Still not
feeling too great?"

He butted his head against Willem's arm. "It's much

better."

You make it better.

"Just overtired."

Willem offered him bits of ham from his fingers while

they watched the sun melt into the trees. "You need regular
meals and a nice place to sleep. Time I swallowed my
damn pride and got a job. Even minimum wage would get
us a little room with heat and hot water."

"I'm comfortable here, Willem."
"This was the perfect place to be for a couple days to

get my head on straight. But we can't be up here when the
snows start." He pulled Kasha into his lap. "Not to mention
the money's going to run out, and the food."

"I'll hunt for you."
A soft laugh rumbled in Willem's chest. "I bet you would.

Thing is, I need more than meat. So do you. Maybe I get a
job I hate, so what? People do it all the time. It's just work,
just to survive."

A hard hand squeezed around Kasha's heart to hear

him say so. If Willem had been alone, he might not be so
willing to make the sacrifice. His lord wanted to do this for
him.

My heki-sama will

not

be someone's stock boy.

The

angry thought brought a growl up, which he managed to
hide under a sneeze. "Give me a day or two before you do
that. Just a little more time, and if your fortunes haven't
changed by sundown two days from now, I'll gladly go back
into town with you."

"All right. Couple days won't hurt." Willem sighed.

"Guess I'll have to go begging to Gun short-term after all,
just so we don't have to sleep in a doorway." He stroked
Kasha's back. "Please tell me you're not planning anything

illegal, or anything that'll hurt someone else."

"I've made you a promise. I intend to keep it. No magic

used for harm."

"Um, okay. But there's lots of harm done without magic

all the time."

Kasha leaned his head against Willem's chest. "I know

that. Better than you think. No humans or animals will be
harmed in the process of my machinations."

Willem tapped a finger on his nose. "That includes you. I

don't want you hurt, either." He hesitated a long moment,
though Kasha felt his need to say more. Finally, he went on
softly, "Kash? What did you do to get banished? Was it
something really bad?"

No other master had ever asked him that, and he had

never volunteered the information. Minamoto no Yoritomo
had known, had guessed the truth, but then the

shogun

had

been unusually skilled at reading motives, and he had
understood the nature of

kashas.

Trust, it seemed such a simple thing. He had loved a

half handful of his lords, but had never been able to peel
back that last layer of trust. Willem, he had watched grow
up. He knew his heart, an unfailingly good heart, despite his
sometimes-prickly temper. Did he trust Willem? Dear gods,
yes, more than he trusted himself.

"It was three really bad things, if you must know." Kasha

snuggled closer, wanting more warmth now that he had
made the decision to lay bare his past. "I was a particular
kind of demon and had a specific job. A sacred trust."

"Yeah? What kind of job?"

"Yeah? What kind of job?"
"I guided souls. Many people are able to find their own

way when they die. Some have difficulty. It was my job to be
on hand for the ones who needed help. Not that there were
ever enough of my kind to guide every lost spirit, which is
why there are ghosts--"

"You're kidding, right?"
"No. I tease about a lot of things. Not that."
Willem shivered and rose with Kasha in his arms. "I

think I'd rather finish this inside, by the fire."

Firelight was no deterrent to ghosts, but the instinctive

retreat to light and warmth was a human one.

If more

people listened to their instincts, they might not walk
blithely into so many disasters.

"Sorry, guiding spirits, you said," Willem prompted as

he settled on their blanket nest.

"That was my calling, my sworn duty. I was not to

interfere in any way, only to guide the frightened spirit to the
next life."

"Did you do it in cat form?"
"Sometimes. Children especially were happy to follow a

kitty. Adults were sometimes more comfortable with the
human form."

"I'd follow that, no question. Especially naked... "
Kasha snorted. "Focus, Willem. It sounds easy enough,

doesn't it? But there were many times when I felt the fates
unjust, when I wished to shelter the human from Lady
Death's hand. One day, I did. An evil man had strangled his
newborn son. I coaxed the infant soul back to his body and

breathed life back into him. The man was still in the room,
though blind to my presence, so I took his soul instead. It
was a struggle, at first. He didn't wish to go, but he became
more peaceful as we journeyed."

"So this was bad? Saving a baby?" Willem's voice

rumbled with indignation.

"It wasn't my place to decide. But my lady, the sun

goddess, forgave me, because of the circumstances. The
second transgression was similar, a young woman
murdered by her faithless betrothed. Again, I was royally
chewed out but allowed to return to my work. The third--"

"The last straw, huh?"
"Yes. This time it was a young man. Barely a man, he

was only eighteen, but already a gifted poet. He fell in
battle, defending his father's house. He was so lovely,
Willem, such a bright, astonishing spark. When I saw him
lying on the stones, his beautiful face gray, his eyes fixed, I
thought my heart would shatter. I healed his wounds and
placed his soul back in his body. Lady Death was furious,
and I had no soul to trade for him. And this time I was
punished for my arrogance."

"So how long's your sentence?"
"Sentence?"
"Right, how long do you have left? Do you get parole

hearings or something? Time off for good behavior?"

Kasha stared up into those beautiful gray eyes,

astonished. No one else had ever thought so, but Willem
believed there was still redemption waiting for him. "I... my
dear lord... "

"I said something wrong, didn't I?"
"No." Kasha squirmed out of his arms, needing some

distance so he wouldn't break down and begin keening.
"It's a life sentence. And demon lives are very long."

"Damn. I'm sorry. It was a stupid question."
"Not stupid, not at all." He curled up against Willem's

hard thigh. "It hasn't been all bad. I found peace with your
family over the last twenty years as a cat, following your
father from house to brewery every day. It was a good life."

"You miss him, huh?"
"I do."
Willem exhaled a slow breath. "I do, too. Sure, we never

got along real great, but he was always there, solid and
reliable. It's like there's this hole in the world now."

"Yes." Kasha watched the fire leap to catch a new

branch, transforming it from inert wood to a twisting,
glowing dragon. "I've had moments of joy, Willem. Those,
too."

"Good to hear." Willem leaned forward to add larger

sticks to the growing fire, his jaw set in a hard line. "Don't
think much of this sun goddess, though. It seems damn
cruel."

"Lady Amaterasu, the sun, is neither kind nor cruel. She

simply is. Elemental and pure."

"Maybe." Willem's expression softened again. "I'd be

willing to help you find some of those moments of joy. As
many as you wanted."

The ache around his heart became a stabbing dart.

How could he bear it when Willem took a human lover

again? He would, perhaps soon; he could not delude
himself otherwise.

I wish I were a real boy. Where's that

damn blue fairy when you need her?

He managed a

steady voice when he answered, "Thank you. I'll hold you to
that."

* * * *

The fire had died to coals when Willem woke on his

back to fingernails combing through his chest hair. "Hey,
there."

"I woke you. I'm sorry." Something other than contrition

lit those bright green eyes, though.

He pulled Kasha, back in his human form, tight against

him, the lithe, flexible body molding to his side as if it had
always belonged there. Soft hair tickled under his chin
when Kasha's head rested on his shoulder. He kissed the
top of that dark head and slid his hand down to cup one
perfect butt cheek, loving the way it fit in his hand.

"Kash?"
"Hmm?" Kasha nuzzled at his throat.
"Why are some of your, um, parts still cat parts when

you look human?"

"Ah." Kasha levered up on one elbow to look into his

face, that odd, wary look back in his eyes. "It took a bit for
you to ask. Are you displeased with the cat parts?"

"Hell, no. Excited, not turned off or freaked out. I was just

curious."

The little demon relaxed against his shoulder, letting his

fingers wander over Will's chest, circling his nipples. "The
demons from my home can often take two, sometimes

more, forms. But it is in the nature of being demon that one
retains aspects of each form in the shifting. The kitsune
cannot lose her lovely triple fox tails. The Kiyohime will
always have a serpent's tongue. I still have the ability to
speak and walk upright as a cat, and retain certain, as you
put it, cat parts as a human."

"Guess that... makes sense."
"I am what I am, dear Willem."
Will chuckled at the Popeye drawl Kasha put in his

voice and allowed those lovely fingers to wander his body a
little longer.

When Kasha reached for his zipper, though, Willem

grabbed his wrist. "No, hon. Not tonight."

Kasha raised his head, eyes wide and blinking. "Have I

done something?"

"Something wrong? No." Willem put a hand to the back

of his neck and guided him back down. "Just want to hold
you. That okay with you?"

"I... " Kasha squirmed in his arms, rubbing his groin

against Willem's jean-clad hip.

Willem swatted his ass, the crack echoing in the cabin.

"Stop that."

"You're a closet control freak, do you know that?" Kasha

subsided, clearly sulking.

"I'd be lying if I said no," Willem said on a soft laugh.

"But just in bed."

He tipped Kasha's face up to give him a tender kiss,

relishing the feel of those soft lips pressing and stroking his
own. A fierce protectiveness surged through him when he

gazed into those green eyes. He wanted to shield Kasha,
from the world, from his pain, from his past. "I just think
you've had people use you. For way too long. I need you to
know I'm not. It's nice to have someone just hold you, not
expect anything, isn't it?"

Kasha took so long to answer, he thought it was one of

those times his question was being ignored. With a little
snuggle, Kasha settled again, sliding his arm around
Willem's waist. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, it is."

Chapter 6: Machinations

Gone Awry

The incessant

chip-chip

of a cardinal woke Kasha the

next morning. He fought the urge to go out and kill the bird
for breakfast, knowing Willem might be upset if he woke to
see his cat devouring a ball of scarlet feathers.

Instead, he waited, ears twitching in annoyance, while

he distracted himself with the delectable sight of Willem
waking. The slow stretch of that long, hard body and the
bulge of morning erection under denim nearly drove him
mad, but he behaved and kept his paws to himself.

"I fixed your shirt."
"Oh, thank you." Willem sat up with a yawn, and then did

something so close to a cartoon double take that Kasha
snickered. "You... how?"

"Magic, dear boy. It's a small magic to sew on buttons."
Willem picked up the shirt with a dubious look. "So will

the buttons pop off when the spell wears off?"

"I certainly could spell the thread to unravel at a

delightfully inappropriate moment. Do you want me to?"

"Ah, thanks, but no."
He waited while Willem went out to brush his teeth and

wash up in the stream. Teeth chattering when he came
back in, Willem hurried back under the blankets and started

the fire with shaking hands.

Today, it had to be today. Constantly chilled and living

off canned food, Willem would soon become ill. While he
could still weave formidable magic, his ability to heal had
been taken from him.

And then what would you do? Carry

him down the mountain on your back? Dump him at the
nearest ER?

No, he wouldn't let it come to that. Although, a bit of a

manufactured predicament, well timed, just when a certain
witch's grandson happened by...

It was time to begin moving the players into place.
"I think I'll go hunt for myself this morning. Just for a little

variety. You don't mind, do you?"

Willem looked surprised, but not offended. "No

problem. Don't tangle with any skunks while you're out
there. Or foxes."

"Please. I'm not a kitten, Willem."
"Don't hand me that. Even experienced hunters get

caught off guard. Just say you'll be careful."

"I do try." He padded over to rub noses with Willem in a

cat kiss, and then left the cabin before he could change his
mind. What he did today was to secure Willem's place in
the world. That was the thought he had to keep wedged
tightly over all the others. If he thought about the possibility
of failure, or perhaps even spectacular failure and his own
death, or even about Willem in someone else's embrace...

The task at hand, he had to concentrate on that to the

exclusion of all else. Distracted thoughts bred mistakes like
rabbits. He hurried through the woods, darting through

rabbits. He hurried through the woods, darting through
dense thickets of elderberry, his boots stirring up the scent
of wild mint as he crossed clearings. Foxes and skunks
were the least of his worries. He could communicate with
them, calm them, and gain safe passage. What he would
face later this day, he feared there was no bargaining with.

His heart slowed in its rapid staccato when he glimpsed

the slate roof of the witches' home through gaps in the
brush. The yellow house gleamed in the morning light,
welcoming and safe. Some of the peace of the place
emanated from the wards of protection surrounding it,
certainly, but much of it came from the good hearts that
lived there.

That peace bolstered both his courage and his resolve.

If he met disaster today, he wouldn't leave Willem bereft
and abandoned. The witches were, though they didn't know
it yet, his insurance policy. He spotted the eldest working in
the garden, perched on a low moveable bench, carefully
harvesting rosemary.

He checked his fur for burrs, smoothed his tail, and

buffed the shine back into his boots with the back of one
paw. Presentable and outwardly calm, he crossed the lawn
with a purposeful stride, one that said he brought news.

"Mistress Natt! Good morning!" He waited until the old

woman turned and raised a hand in greeting before he
approached. It was never wise to startle an old witch.

"Good morning, pretty kasha. How are you and your

master today?"

"Both quite well, ma'am." The chill clung to the morning,

but it was no longer unpleasant, so he settled to the grass

but it was no longer unpleasant, so he settled to the grass
beside her. "Would you like me to speed up the work? I
could, if you like."

The old woman laughed, a sound much younger than

her appearance. "No, dear, but thank you. I don't like to
introduce unknown variables into my spells or my cooking.
Besides, I enjoy working with the plants. As long as I can, I
intend to."

"Ah."
She snipped a few more branches, the

snick-snick

of

her garden shears a soft percussive counterpoint to the
birdsongs. "While I wouldn't mind you coming for a social
visit, I doubt that's why you're here. What can I do for you?"

"I'd like nothing better than to come just to visit. Maybe

after today, I can."

"Not nice to keep an old lady in suspense, you know."
"Sorry." Kasha gazed up at her face, kind and

impassive for now. He was certain her anger wasn't
something he wanted directed at him, though, so he hurried
on. "I explained your problem to Willem. He's more than
willing to help."

"That's good news. Did he have any suggestions?"
"Yes. He believes the quicker we act, the more likely we

will be to dislodge your unwanted houseguest. What he
suggests is that you let him lead the assault. Give him just a
few minutes to contain the monster, and then you and your
family come along a pre-agreed route at a pre-arranged
time. If all goes well, you'll be there in time to help him
destroy it. If something goes wrong, we'll know where you

are if he needs help."

Natt gazed at the woods with a determined frown, and

then she nodded. "So Ettie, Morgen and I--"

"Teddy, too."
"Teddy?"
"Yes. We can't risk leaving him alone at your house,

unprotected if things do go wrong and the ogre wants to
harm your family. I take it he lacks the natural magical
abilities the three of you have?"

"He does, poor boy." Natt sighed. "The men in our

family have never been magically strong. We can ward him,
but you're right. If he's alone, he's vulnerable. How does
your Willem plan on containing the ogre?"

"He doesn't share such things with me, ma'am. I can

only ask you to let us try."

She sat so still, he thought she might have turned to

stone. When she suddenly turned toward him, he twitched
in surprise.

"Let's go in. If Ettie and Morgen agree to it, we'll set up

time and route."

Kasha would have liked to believe his charming

personality won them over, but he suspected it had more to
do with their assumption regarding Willem's prowess as a
wizard. In their estimation, he had snatched a kasha from
the winds of fate to serve him; therefore, his magical
strength must be prodigious. Regardless of the reason, he
had their agreement and the details worked out within half
an hour.

Now for Willem...

He hated to deceive them, most of all Willem, but he

certainly couldn't tell his

heki-sama

that the nice ladies

across the mountain expected him to battle an ogre, nor did
he want Willem anywhere near the monster.

The ogre he would take care of himself. Though no clear

plan occurred to him yet, he was certain something would
strike him at the right moment. He hoped.

* * * *

"You want to do what?" Willem laughed.
"I honestly don't see what's so funny. It's a lovely day."

Kasha sulked by the fireplace, obviously offended.

"Sorry, hon. I just never thought... I mean dogs ask to go

for walks."

That got him a low growl.

Not the right thing to say,

either.

"It's not that I don't want to." Willem forced the laughter

from his voice and expression. "You just took me by
surprise. I haven't had any lover ask if I wanted to go for a
walk in... well, maybe never."

That at least got him a glare over the shoulder.
"C'mon, sweetheart, tell me I'm forgiven, grab your hat,

and let's go."

Kasha shook his ears, took his time cleaning a paw,

and finally rose to his hind legs. "Fine. I forgive you on one
condition."

"Which is?"
"No more dog comments."
Willem held up both hands in surrender. "Never again."

Standing, even with the little cowboy hat on, cat-Kasha

only came up to his waist. The weird factor in this
relationship just kept going up a notch every time he
blinked. He had to suppress the urge to scoop Kasha up
and carry him, probably not a good idea since he was in
such a prickly mood.

Sun stippled the leaves and created puddles of vibrant

yellow and red on the forest floor. Despite the odd situation,
Willem felt his heart lift. He actually whistled as he walked.
Kasha had been right, as he was about most things. Better
to be out here than to brood inside over where he should go
apply for a job.

"Willem... "
He glanced down, but Kasha still stared straight ahead.

"Yeah?"

"If we become... separated for some reason, if I'm no

longer with you--"

"What are you saying, Kash? Are you leaving me?"
Now Kasha looked up, green eyes huge with some

emotion. "No, no, my dear boy. Not intentionally. But things
occur. Accidents happen. If by some chance you find
yourself alone, I'd like you to go to the Englestads. They
don't live too far from here. Can you remember that name?"

"Englestad? Sure. I think I know the house. Big, yellow

one? They friends of yours?"

"That's the one, Willem. Please go there if you're in

trouble and I'm not... available. Can you promise me that?"

"You're scaring me."
Kasha stopped on the path, removed his hat, and

gazed up at Willem with a pleading expression, his pupils
nearly swallowing his eyes.

"All right, knock off the cute, sad kitty face. I promise."
"Thank you." The hat returned to its place and Kasha

continued walking, as if the conversation had never taken
place.

Willem shook his head, going back to scanning the

woods. Amazing that this high up some wildflowers still
bloomed, yellow spots of wood sorrel and foxglove in
protected thickets and even a few splashes of orange
where late blooming butterfly weed still flourished.

They walked downhill to where their stream widened to

a fast-running creek, peppered with rocks and unexpected
depths. The mountain road ran nearby, up the
embankment, but they went down to visit with the ever-
talkative stream.

Kasha leaped out onto a flat boulder near the bank, and

then jumped across to a smaller rock farther out in the
stream.

"You sure you want to do that? You slip, you'll get

soaked."

Somehow, the snort reached him above the noise of the

stream. "I don't slip."

Probably not, but you'll be one pissed-off kitty demon

if your fur gets wet.

Concerned that Kasha might even slip

where the deeper water would sweep him into the current,
Willem followed. It suddenly felt like a long weekend off
from school, when he and his brothers would go off into the
woods to ramble and rock hop.

"Slow down!" Willem laughed and followed more

cautiously.

A sound reached him, strangely clear over the rush of

water. Dogs barked. Not only barked, but bayed, the sound
of a pack in full cry. Dear God, if a pack of wild dogs caught
sight of Kasha, things would get ugly. The dogs shouldn't be
agile enough to use the rock path, though.

"Kash! Stay there! Let me get to you!"
Out in the middle of the stream, Kasha shouted

something he couldn't make out. He had stopped, so
Willem concentrated on getting to him before the dogs
could spot him. If he slipped Kasha under his coat--

He stared in horror as the dogs broke from the trees.

The size of Shetland ponies, they barreled toward the river,
sleek coats glowing an infernal blue, saliva fire dripping
from their jaws.

"Holy fuck," he whispered as the pack leader reached

the stream. The hellhound ran right across the top of the
water, his pack in close pursuit. "No! Dammit! Kash!"

Willem turned to place his body between this oncoming

nightmare and his little demon lover. He threw a rock at
them, yelling so loud his chest hurt. The dogs came on
without hesitation, as if he were invisible. They swept right
past him--through him. Shocked, he backed a step and felt
his foot slip. Arms windmilling, he crashed into the water. A
sharp shock against his skull told him he'd smacked his
head.

What a stupid way to die.

* * * *

"Willem!"

Kasha's heart turned upside down and forgot how to

beat when his lord's head hit stone. Yes, he had intended
the hellhound illusion to be startling. Yes, he had wanted
Willem to be soaked and chilled just in time for the
Englestads' car to come by. But this... great Raiju no, not
this!

He shivered into his human form and plunged into the

water, naked as he was. While he was a dreadful swimmer,
the water wasn't deep in most places and plenty of rocks
offered themselves as footrests and clinging spots. He half-
swam, half-waded, desperate to reach Willem before he
slipped underwater. The stream might be less than three
feet at its deepest, but an unconscious man could drown in
a three-inch puddle.

A wild grab got him a handful of red-blond hair. He

heaved, pulling Willem to him, cradling his head against
one bare shoulder.

"Forgive me, forgive me, oh, my poor Willem," he

whispered as he picked his way to shore.

He hauled on the back of Willem's coat to pull him onto

the bank. His lord still breathed, thank all the gods. The
lump on the back of Willem's head didn't seem too severe.
With quick tugs, he yanked off the waterlogged boots and
soaked clothes. He sent heat through his palms to dry
Willem's coat and draped it over his now naked body.
Slightly chilled was one thing, dying of exposure quite
another.

The one thing he hadn't anticipated had thrown his plans

all askew. Willem had come too far out into the stream, had
put himself in a precarious position, because he was hell
bent on saving his kasha.

My Willem, why did you have to

be so brave?

A prickle of force tugged at his mind. The Englestads

approached down the road. He shook himself back into his
furred form and dashed for the ribbon of asphalt above the
embankment. Ideally, he would have liked nothing better
than to get Willem safe and forget the ogre for a day or two.
But the monster would have felt him when he conjured the
hellhounds. Delay put them all at risk now if the ogre
decided he was a threat.

Waving his hat, he leaped onto the road. "Mistress Natt!

Mistress Ettie! Help! Please!"

Van tires squealed, gravel flying, as Ettie swung the

vehicle over onto the shoulder. Englestads, all four of them,
piled out with varied expressions of confusion and concern.

"What's happened?" Ettie called out, short and sharp.
Kasha twisted his hat between his paws, and then

pointed down the embankment. There was no need to
manufacture the anguish in his voice as he blurted out, "It's
Willem. Please, please help him. Magical creatures
attacked. He fell. He... "

Morgen's hands flew to her cheeks. "Is he hurt?"
"Yes, he--"
"How did this happen?" Natt asked, her forehead

creased in evident concern.

"He was trying to protect me," Kasha told her truthfully,

his voice soaked in misery. "He's on the bank."

his voice soaked in misery. "He's on the bank."

Teddy leaped forward. "I'll go get him, Gram. You girls

stay up here."

"Teddy, wait!" Natt cried out. She turned to Kasha when

the young man hesitated. "Are the creatures gone?"

"Yes."
She waved to Teddy to go on. He crashed through the

brush with a good deal more enthusiasm than grace, and
they soon heard him swearing and grunting down below.
When he reemerged, he had Willem in a fireman's carry
over his shoulders, the coat in Teddy's hand.

"Okay, not like I mind, 'cause he's totally hot, but why's

the guy naked?"

Kasha gazed at his feet, partly out of shame and partly

so he didn't have to look at Teddy holding Willem. "He was
soaked through. The water is frigid."

"Oh, got it. It's not the way I'd want him on top of me but

I'll t--"

"All right, get him in the car, Teddy. Pull the blankets out

of the back for him." Natt took a step toward the car as well,
but stopped when Kasha didn't follow. "Is something
wrong?"

"I--things have been set in motion. I need to go on

ahead."

"Certainly not. Your master's hurt. You're both coming

back to the house."

He stepped closer, speaking for her ears alone. "It must

be finished, Mistress Natt. It must be done now. Follow after
me or take him back to the house, but I must see this
through." A little whimper caught in his throat. "Please take

through." A little whimper caught in his throat. "Please take
care of him."

She bent to take his head between her hands. She

kissed his nose and stroked his ears. "He'll be all right, little
one. Don't worry."

The conviction with which she said it allowed him to

relax to the point where he didn't feel as if his bones would
jump from his skin. All three women were healers. They
would look after his Willem.

He glanced over to the car and quickly tore his gaze

away. Willem lay across the backseat wrapped in a tartan
blanket, his head and shoulders cradled in Teddy's lap.

This was what you wanted, you ninny. Willem will wake up
in those strong arms and see that handsome face
bending over him. It couldn't be more perfect.

So why did he feel so cold and angry watching the two

of them together?

As if she sensed his tension, Natt said softly, "It's not

wrong to worry over someone you love."

"I don't--" He stopped himself before the lie could leap

out. "Thank you. I have to go."

She released him and turned to make her slow way

back to the van. "Be careful, little one."

He couldn't help but wonder if she meant more than his

impending meeting with the ogre.

* * * *

The jostling motion penetrated first. Then the hum of a

motor. Willem bunched his fists and fought toward
consciousness. Intermittent shadows flitted across his

eyelids. Car. Driving.

He cracked his eyes open on a miserable groan. God,

his head hurt. A handsome face swam above him, smiled.

"Hey, there! Welcome back," the young man said with

enough enthusiasm to make Willem squeeze his eyes shut
again.

"What the hell?" he whispered. "Who are you?"
"I'm Teddy. Teddy Englestad. You smacked your head

pretty good."

Englestad.

.. Willem surged up, fighting the blanket

tangling around his limbs. "Kash! Where's Kasha?"

An old woman turned in the front passenger seat. "He

was safe when we saw him, but he's run off ahead to deal
with the ogre."

"Ogre?" Willem murmured, feeling faint and ill.
"Yes, the ogre who lives in our other house. You were

apparently battling some creation of his by the stream?
Your magic against his?"

"I... how hard did I hit my head?" He let Teddy guide him

back down because sitting up was making him nauseous.
"I can't follow any of this and I don't know anything about an
ogre."

The old woman gave him a long, hard look, though when

she spoke again, her voice was gentle. "You aren't a witch
or sorcerer of any sort, are you?"

"What? Me? No. Why would--" He broke off when the

realization hit him. "Kasha told you I was, didn't he?"

"Yes."
"I hate to say this, and I don't know why yet"--he rubbed

a hand over the side of his aching head--"but I think we've
all been had."

"I just had the same thought." The old woman nodded. "I

don't know why either. But I think your little kasha has just
put himself in terrible danger."

Chapter 7: I. M. Ogre, Esq.

Kasha pulled threads of magic to him in desperate

haste as he ran. Brown, orange and yellow from the leaves,
dark gray from bark, deep green from the pines, all went
into weaving a cloak. If he could get into the house
undetected, he might have a chance. Even so, he had to
hurry. He felt the ogre's interest turn his way, a frighteningly
powerful tendril of magic seeking after him.

I am leaves. I am wind in the branches. I am moss and

crickets.

He came upon the house more suddenly than

anticipated, since he had been concentrating so hard on
being invisible. It shocked him into stillness. He watched,
ears twitching, trying to determine if he had been detected
or if magic traps guarded the house.

The house was lovely, just the thing. Slate blue siding

gave it a more masculine look than Mistress Natt's yellow
house, and it was a bit smaller, perhaps three bedrooms
instead of five, the perfect size for two. He could picture
Willem lounging on the back porch while he brought out
morning coffee, kneaded the muscles in his broad
shoulders, settled in his lap...

Enough.

He had no time or energy to spare for pleasant

daydreams. He proceeded cautiously, skirting the edges of
the trees to approach the house from its blindest side

where only one window on the second floor overlooked the
yard. A line of hemlocks ran from the trees, adding extra
cover for his approach.

He gained the porch, treading light as a blade of grass.

One of the windows had the slightest imperfection, not quite
plumb with the sill. He gathered his magical cloak close,
concentrating on small insect thoughts, flattened his body to
the width of a stinkbug, and slipped inside.

The moment his boots hit the floor, he knew he had

made a terrible mistake. The lines of a spell trap whipped
around the house, sealing it as if a giant roll of plastic wrap
had been pulled tight around the structure. Heart pounding,
he dived under a nearby sofa.

Ogre musk permeated the air, the dreadful stench an

unholy mix of decaying onion and mildewed burlap.
Somehow, other ogres found it enticing. Kasha fought not
to bring up the last week's worth of food. The monster was
most definitely in residence, and a ghastly, garish
residence it was. Metallic print wallpaper graced the walls
of the living room, along with a truly ugly gold-toned wall
sculpture. The furniture had been purchased on the bigger-
is-always-better side of taste with loud, mismatched prints
and far too much black lacquer and red leather.

Footsteps rang in the front hallway. Kasha crouched,

reaching desperately for magic to weave a lightning strike.
The threads eluded him. Apparently, the trap exuded a
strange magic miasma that scattered his attempts at spell
weaving. He believed so until a sharp pain lodged behind
his right eye.

My promise...

He had sworn to Willem not to use his magic for harm

and he was physically incapable of breaking a promise to
his

heki-sama.

Damn, damn, and damn again. If only he

had left himself a loophole, as he had when he promised
Willem his plans wouldn't hurt any humans or animals. He
had specifically omitted ogres from that second promise.

"You may as well come out, you know." The ogre

rounded the corner dressed in a silk Armani three-piece
and alligator shoes, the attempt at classy dressing ruined
by the hideous orange and purple tie and the fact that the
jacket sleeves were too short.

Seven feet tall, this ogre was not one of the obese ones.

Reminiscent of cartoon versions of death, he was gaunt
and hollow eyed, with long white hair caught at the nape of
the neck, slicked down with some noxious-smelling hair
product. He settled in one of the red leather armchairs,
showing rows of sharp, yellow teeth when he smiled.

"Come out, little pretty. Let's see you." The ogre leaned

back, hands folded over his stomach. "If you were human, I
would have called the police. Breaking and entering.
Trespassing. Tsk. What would your master think?"

Unable to think of a reason not to, Kasha crept out from

under the sofa and took a seat on the opposite armchair.
The leather felt cheap. He curled his tail up into his lap in
distaste.

"Such a pretty kasha," the ogre crooned. "I might be

tempted to fuck you before I eat you. Of course, I'll have to
slice off your adorable little cock and balls first. Nothing
better than kasha penis for weather spells."

The casual, urbane civility was much more frightening

than a roaring, drooling monster. Kasha shifted
uncomfortably, wanting very much to remain attached to his
private parts.

"Did you think you could take me unawares?" The

ogre's smile widened, showing a disturbing number of
jagged teeth. "I sensed a kasha in residence the moment I
moved here. I felt your power return to you when you were
claimed. Poor little kasha. All that magic and it's merely at
the beck and call of some idiot human. What does your
master want with me? Does he think I have a hoard of gold
in the basement?"

Kasha brushed a paw over his tail, trying to appear as

calm as his host and jailer. "Actually, no. It's the house that
interests him. Apparently you've stolen it from a friend of
his."

"Stolen? Please be careful with such words. They could

be considered libelous." He flicked his fingers and a folded
sheaf of paper appeared in his hand. "I have the legal deed
to this property, free and clear, from the bank which held the
remainder of the mortgage. Would you like to glance
through it to satisfy your, no doubt, overactive feline
curiosity?"

Kasha took the papers gingerly from dubiously clean

hands ending in black talons. He had his doubts if a bank
could truly grant such property rights prior to seizing land in
a foreclosure, but the documents certainly were impressive
and would no doubt cause a tangled legal mess in civil
court. He had to suppress a snicker at the grantee named

in the deed, a Mr. Ignacious M. Ogre, Esq.

Does no one

possess the imagination for good names any longer?

He folded the deed and placed it beside him on the

chair. "It certainly looks in order. I must congratulate you on
your foresight and your considerable intellectual prowess."
The ogre preened under the praise and the seed of a plan
sprouted in Kasha's mind. He heaved a tragic sigh. "I
suppose I've made the effort for my master in vain. I've
been outflanked, and will neither gain him what he sought,
nor be able to return to him."

"That is a shame. You will make a satisfying meal, if it's

any consolation."

Kasha tipped his head in acknowledgment. "Somewhat

gratifying, under the circumstances. Ah, well. I've had a long
life. Even the mountains crumble eventually."

"Well said."
"I can't help a few nagging bits of curiosity, though... "
"Oh?"
He slid off the chair and set his hat on the seat. The

ogre's eyes narrowed, so Kasha explained, "I'd rather you
didn't eat the hat, if it's all the same to you. It was a gift and
not part of my claiming."

"Of course. I understand." The ogre waved his claws for

him to continue.

"I've known a number of ogres throughout the centuries,

though certainly none as accomplished and powerful as
you. I've heard that"--he nearly said older ogres, but caught
himself in time--"more experienced ogres are able to

change form. Is this true?"

The ghastly smile grew indulgent as the monster

steepled his fingers. "Quite true, little pretty. I suppose you'd
like to see?"

"If it's not too much trouble."
The ogre's chair squealed in protest as he rose. He

slipped out of his jacket and stepped to the middle of the
room where he presumably had more space. The air
around him shivered, as if the chilly room had developed a
sudden heat shimmer. He raised his arms, the lines of his
body blurring. A moment later, a black lion the size of a
grizzly bear stood where the ogre had been.

The floorboards trembled when the lion roared, and

Kasha let out a convincing squeak of fear as he leapt to the
top of the black lacquer buffet.

The lion chuckled, a horrid, choking sound. "Poor little

kasha. You're not as brave as you pretend, are you?"

Kasha made a show of shaking down his fluffed-up fur

and cleaning his paws as if he were annoyed with his
skittish reaction. "I was simply surprised. Of course, it's
easy to shift to something so big. It's a simple thing to pull
mass and magic to you to enlarge your shape. A lion.
Naturally, a lion would be easy. I'm sure it's much harder to
change form to something smaller, like a rat. Where do you
put all the extra mass? How do you hold onto the disparate
components until you take your own form back?"

His irritated commentary earned him another chuckle.

"It's not so hard once you've reached a certain level of
expertise," the lion growled. "A rat? Don't insult me. I can

do far better than that."

Again, the air shimmered, the lines of the lion's body

growing indistinct. Kasha kept his gaze glued to the shifting
form, waiting, every muscle tense. When a shrew finally sat
on the carpet where the lion had stood, he discarded all
attempts at conversation. With a low growl, he pounced,
landed directly on the shrew, and broke its back. While this
didn't kill the ogre, it certainly slowed him down, giving
Kasha time to devour him.

The shrew squeaked, trying to wriggle out from under

his paw despite the broken spine. Kasha had to tamp down
hard on his natural inclination to play with his food. Any
delay would give the ogre a chance to heal and shift again.
He bent his head and took the tiny, squirming body into his
mouth.

Great Raiju, ogres taste worse than they smell.

He crunched through the skull and swallowed the body

whole.

"And that, I suppose, is that," he said to the now-empty

room, quite pleased with himself.

He turned, thinking he should open a few windows to let

in some fresh air. A sharp pain lanced through his stomach.

I guess ogre doesn't agree with me.

Though he tried to ignore it, the pain increased as he

walked toward the window. On his third step, he collapsed
to his knees, gasping, clawing at his midsection with both
paws. It felt as if a heated stone were expanding inside
him. The ogre... the ogre was trying to regain his form while
inside him.

Desperately, he pulled threads of magic to him to build

a cage, gray threads from steel I-beams, dark brown from
the hardwood flooring, white from the heat-resistant
ceramics in the kitchen, weaving a bright sphere of magic
inside his own body to contain his assailant. Something
ripped inside. Ribs creaked and then snapped. Blood ran
from his nose and mouth.

Trembling, he shifted to his human form to give his body

more room as he fought to enclose the ogre, who now felt
the size of a watermelon inside him. The sphere closed
tight just as he felt the expansion pressing on his heart. He
struggled to breathe, concentrating on shrinking the
enclosure. Little by little, he gained ground, a little more
breathing space, a little less white-hot agony with every
millimeter the ogre lost.

Perhaps it was only in his imagination, but he thought he

heard the monster shrieking as he forced it down to the
size of a mouse, then a pea, then a dust mite. His promises
allowed this attempt at extermination, most likely since self-
preservation did not fall under willful harm. At last, he felt the
ogre's magic extinguish, its oppressive presence erased
from the world. The scurrilous property deed, still lying on
the chair, vanished in a puff of sulfurous flame.

Kasha lay on the floor, bleeding, his breaths heaving in

and out in rattling gurgles. Victorious one last time, he had
paid a heavy price.

I do hope Willem comes soon. It would

be good to see him once more.

* * * *

Willem wrapped the blanket close around him,

staggering from the van before it rolled to a complete stop
in the blue house's drive.

"Wait!" Natt called after him. "Teddy, stop him!"
Strong arms closed around him, holding him up as

much as keeping him from moving forward.

"You said he's in danger! I have to find him!"
Natt hobbled up, shaking her head. "You can't just go

haring off into an ogre's house, dear. Your death won't help
him much."

She stood still, eyes closed. A spark of light caught

Willem's eye and he glanced down to see the top of her
cane glowing.

"What's she doing?" he whispered to the younger

Englestads.

"Gram's looking. Seeing what's happening inside,"

Morgen whispered back.

"Don't worry." Teddy gave his shoulder a reassuring

squeeze. "Nothing gets by Gram."

"I don't know about that, dear. I still can't find your

amplifier cable." Natt's eyes flew open. "But the ogre's
gone."

"He... left? Ran away?" Willem took an unsteady step

forward. Since Teddy allowed it, he kept moving toward the
house.

"No, gone. He no longer exists."
"That's got to be good, right?"
Natt walked beside him, forehead creased in a frown. "I

certainly hope so."

The front door opened for them when Ettie muttered a

few words over the lock. The stench that rolled out was
appalling.

"Kash?" Willem's stomach did a hard roll. Something

terrible had happened. He could feel it.

They made their way through the rooms in a tight knot,

like children in one of those haunted houses set up at
Halloween. Kasha wasn't in the front hall, the dining room,
or the kitchen. He didn't answer Willem's increasingly
anxious calls for him, ratcheting up the worry factor into the
red zone.

When they did find him, curled in a ball on the ugly,

purple living room rug, Willem let out an anguished cry and
flung himself to his knees beside Kasha.

"God... oh, shit, he's bleeding!" Willem slid an arm

under his head and shoulders and rolled him gently onto his
back. Unconcerned for his own modesty, he pulled the
blanket from around his shoulders and wrapped Kasha in it.
"Kash? Sweetheart? Can you hear me?"

Kasha's eyes fluttered open, those beautiful green orbs

dazed and clouded with pain. He smiled and rubbed his
cheek against Willem's arm. "You did come. I hoped you
would."

"What happened? What can I do?"
"I ate... " Kasha stopped to cough. More blood flecked

his lips. "I ate the ogre. Wasn't the best thing for my
insides."

"You'll be okay, right? I mean, demons don't... you're

not... "

Kasha slid a hand out from under the blankets to cover

the one Willem had resting on his chest. "My dear Willem,
I'm dying."

"No! You can't!" Willem cast back desperately through

everything he knew, everything Kasha had told him. "You're
still mine. I won't let you. I forbid it!"

"There's no wriggling out of it. Not this time. You could

hold me here a bit longer by force of will. But it hurts,
Willem. So terribly. I want to stay with you. But I'm no longer
whole."

The lump in Willem's throat threatened to choke him.

"No... Kash... I love you. Please don't leave me."

A strangled chuckle caught in Kasha's chest. "Ah, now

he says it. You should have my real name for such
sentiments, Willem. Kasha demon is what I am. My name is
Yorukaze, the night wind. Take off the boots, my dear. Let
me go."

"I can't lose you now, not now!"
"I'm sure these nice ladies will help you. Let you stay

here to live safely, to create your beautiful works of art. And
I think Teddy likes y--"

Willem wrapped both arms around him and pulled him

close. "I don't want Teddy. I want you. Kash... Yorukaze.
Just you."

"I'm so sorry." The little body in his arms shuddered. "To

die by your side, the pleasure, the privilege is mine."

Seriously? Lyrics from The Smiths? Now?

"I know that

one, too, hon," he whispered into his kasha's hair.

"I thought you would."

He gazed down into those feline eyes, the threat of

tears stinging his own. So much agony there... He wiped
the little trail of blood away from the corner of Yorukaze's
mouth. "I can't keep you in pain like this. I wish there was
something--"

"Take the boots back, Willem. Do that last thing for me."
His hands shook so badly, his vision blurring, it took

some time for him to work the boots off without jostling
Yorukaze too badly. "Do I have to say something?"

Eyes drifting shut, Yorukaze whispered. "Tell me you

release me. Tell me again you love me."

"You need that second part for the spell or something?"
"I just want to hear it again."
Willem crushed him close with a strangled sound, half

sob, half tortured laugh. "My kasha, my Yorukaze. I love you.
I release you."

A gentle hand touched his face, catching the tear that

fell. "I love you, too, Willem. I'm sorry."

The hand fell away and Yorukaze let out a soft sigh as

his body went lax in Willem's arms. His heart shattered on
that last breath, all shame forgotten as he sobbed, kneeling
naked on the world's ugliest carpet, with his dead beloved
in his arms.

* * * *

Yorukaze watched from far above his body. It hurt to see

Willem so heartbroken, those powerful shoulders trembling
with anguish. He wished he could offer some comfort, but
he was too far removed now. Death was supposed to be
the end of pain, wasn't it? Why did he still ache for his

darling Willem?

"You have changed, my Yorukaze."
"My lady?"
Amaterasu approached, her golden kimono floating

around her cloud slippers. "You have learned to see
through eyes other than your own."

"Ah. I think I understand you. I suppose I am free now,

though I've never known who guides the soul guide when he
dies. I am lost, my lady. I know not where to go."

"You linger out of attachment. Your love for your last

heki-sama

keeps you here."

"I would it were otherwise. Better to watch over Willem

as a ghost, though, than be separated from him."

She touched his arm, or his approximation of an arm in

the spirit world. "You have suffered long, my kasha.
Perhaps too long. I cannot bear to see you languish as a
shade. I give you a choice."

He tore his gaze from Willem, hope leaping in him.

"What choice, my lady?"

"You may return to him. I will heal your body so you may

live in it again."

"And the price? There is always a price, yes?"
"There is a balance to all things, Yorukaze. I need not

tell you so. You may return to him, but you will be human,
with the needs and frailties of a human and a human's
lifespan."

Yorukaze turned his gaze back to the living world where

Willem still wept over him. A little smile twitched at his lips.
"I give you Arwen's answer, my lady."

"Pardon?"
"I choose a mortal life."
"So be it."
The dizzy plummet toward earth stole any thanks he

wished to give her, the rush and plunge ending in a heavy
thump as he rejoined his body. He gasped, his eyes flying
open as his body arched in its struggle with the sudden
renewed spark of life.

Willem sat back in shock, hands running over his face

and neck. "You're not dead? You're not dead! Oh, thank
God, thank God!"

"Goddess, actually," Yorukaze whispered. He still hurt

and he was too weak to move more than his head. "She
said I could stay. As a human, but I can stay."

Willem kissed his face repeatedly. "However she let

you, oh, fuck, don't leave me again. I'll take care of you.
We'll make sure you get better."

Strong arms slid under him and he felt himself lifted as

Willem stood. "My dear, you did just hit your head. Maybe
you shouldn't be carrying me?"

"Don't care. You're not heavy."
"And you do know you're naked?"
"Again, don't care. You're what's important right now,

hon. Ms. Englestad? Can we take him someplace where
there's a warm bed?"

Natt came into view. "Come home with us, Willem. You

both need some looking after right now. I have plenty of
room."

Over the next few days, Yorukaze confessed everything,

how he had misled Willem, how he had lied to the
Englestads. By the thunderclouds in Willem's eyes, he
could tell his love was angry, but Willem strove to be gentle
with him in all things while he recovered and didn't shout at
him even once.

Being helpless annoyed him. Having Willem's hands on

him to move him, to feed him, to bathe him, did not. He felt
only gratitude to have those large, strong hands touch him
again, in whatever capacity.

However, Willem did extract one last promise. "You

have to be straight with me from now on, Kaz. No half-
truths, no evasions, no lies, not even when you think it's to
protect me. You want this to work, want a real relationship,
you have to be honest with me."

Yorukaze made a face, though it was more for the T-

shirt Willem had just forced over his head than the request.

Willem laughed. "Don't scowl like that. You have to start

wearing clothes, hon. Especially with winter coming. You're
human now and you'll freeze."

"It will hang on me and I don't like white," Yorukaze

huffed as he let Willem help him into the armholes of the
borrowed shirt. He moved like an old man still, but he could
sit up and had begun to feed himself.

"We'll get you clothes your size soon. Whatever color

you want."

"Black." He lay back, tired from the little bit of exertion.

"And maybe red. I like red."

"Okay, fine. But you're stalling. I'm waiting for that

promise."

He took Willem's hand, stroking his thumb over the

callused palm. "You know if I give you a promise now,
there's no compulsion to keep it. I could break it at any
time, just like any other human lover."

"I know." Willem leaned in to kiss his forehead. "We just

have to trust each other. That's part of the whole human
deal."

"I promise. No more lies. No more deceptions."

Yorukaze pursed his lips on a thought. "But if I should slip,
would you do something for me?"

"What?"
"Rather than shout at me, would you spank me

instead?"

Willem gave him a wink. "I'll spank you anytime you

want, sweetheart. Any excuse to lay hands on that
gorgeous little ass."

Someone cleared his throat from the doorway. Teddy

stood there, red-faced but grinning. "Hey! Hate to interrupt
the tender moment and all, but you've got a visitor, Will." He
tossed an express envelope on the bed. "And you got a
package, Kaz."

Package?

Yurokaze turned it over in his hands and then

set it on the nightstand when Will's visitor appeared in the
doorway. He had to tamp down a smile when he saw the
familiar figure. Gunther's brows were drawn together as
they did when he was uncomfortable or confused. He
clutched a brown paper grocery bag tight to his left side as
if it held the key to the universe.

"Gun!" Will strode around the bed to give his bother a

back-pounding bear hug. "Good to see you!" He turned and
waved toward the bed. "Kaz, this is my brother Gunther.
Gun, this is Yorukaze, the one I told you about."

He took Gunther's offered hand and managed a

pleasant, "Nice to meet you. Willem's told me so much
about you." The whole thing felt beyond odd, though, since
he had known Gunther for over twenty years.

"What's in the bag?" Willem asked as he settled on the

edge of the bed. "Gun, don't stare."

"Oh." Gunther tore his astonished gaze away from

Yorukaze to the bag as if he had forgotten it. "Sorry. You
just seem... familiar. The bag. Right." He opened the top
and pulled out a bottle of ginger ale and a box of tea
biscuits. "Will said you were sick. These were the only
things Will could stomach whenever he was sick."

"That was very kind of you. Thank you."
Gunther stayed for a few minutes, obviously

uncomfortable. Knowing Gunther, it probably had more to
do with being in a stranger's house than with meeting
Willem's new boyfriend.

When he got up to take his leave, he clapped Will on the

shoulder. "Sorry about Puss. I know you loved that old tom."

"I did, Gun, thanks. But he was more than twenty years

old. How many cats do you know live that long?"

The little misdirection was, after all, not a lie. Puss had

died that afternoon in the blue house. What had been
carried out alive in Willem's arms was neither cat nor kasha
any longer.

Will followed his brother out into the hall, where

Yorukaze heard them whispering. At least his hearing was
still sharper than most humans.

"So, is he Chinese or something?"
"Gun, for God's sake... "
"I mean, he looks Oriental, but those green eyes."
"Asian, dammit, Gun. Things are Oriental, not people. I

think his family was from Japan."

"Oh. Well. He's a helluva lot more polite than Joey.

Probably a hard worker, too."

"Keep up the stereotyping and I'm gonna kick your ass

so hard you'll be looking for it for a month."

"I'm just saying, I think he'll be good for you. You look a

lot better. Happier. And he's good-looking enough to be a
model or something. Not that I notice that stuff."

Willem snickered. "Thanks, Gun. I'll call you in a couple

days."

With Gunther gone, Yorukaze returned his attention to

the envelope. He tore off the perforated strip and shook the
package upside down. A rubber-banded packet of
documents fell into his lap. "Willem? What is all this?"

Willem put an arm around him. "It's you, hon. It's hard to

live as a human without a paper trail." He worked the
rubber band off with his free hand. "This is your birth
certificate, your state ID, social security card, high school
diploma... "

"I didn't go to college?"
"Sadly, no. You could, though, if you wanted."
"I don't think it's necessary." He leaned back against

Willem's chest. "Where did all this come from?"

He had no need to look back at Willem to see his grin.

"Natt has friends in low places, apparently. Go figure."

"Ah." He leafed through the documents for a moment

before the realization hit him. "I can get a job."

"You could, I guess." Willem sounded doubtful. "But I

don't want you to feel like you have to. I'll support us. Natt
says we can live in the blue house. It needs some fixing up
after the last, um, resident, and I said I'd get everything right
again for her. We'd pay her rent, of course, though she's not
asking much. I could--"

"No, Willem." Yorukaze put a finger over his lips to stop

him. "I will get a job. You will do what you love. Haven't the
Englestads already set up commissions for you?"

"Well, yeah, but--"
"And how will you fulfill these obligations if you stumble

home every night exhausted from some menial labor job?"

"Okay, but what would you do? You don't even know

how to make change."

"I can count. You can teach me. I'll find something I

enjoy, Willem. Don't worry. I'll simply be my charming self.
Who could say no?"

Willem nuzzled at his throat. "Not me, that's for sure. All

right, we'll try it your way for awhile."

"That's all I ask. We can make adjustments as we go.

As you know, I'm quite flexible."

The world held no sound more beautiful than Willem's

laugh.

Epilogue

"Marsha? My ride's here! The safe's locked. Did you

need anything else?"

"Go, Kaz, we're done," the manager's voice drifted out

from the stock room. "I'm right behind you. Careful going
home, they're calling for snow tonight."

"Yes, ma'am. See you Wednesday."
He gathered up the bag with his new boots and

shrugged into his coat. Willem had been horrified the first
week he had worked at Shoe Heaven. Nearly his entire first
paycheck had gone into footwear. After a stern lecture,
Yorukaze had agreed to curb his "shoe habit" to once a
month. He found he looked forward to the fifteenth of every
month now.

Morgen waved from the front of her Cherokee. She and

Teddy both had jobs at the new mall outside town and took
turns ferrying him back and forth. Someday he might learn
to drive, but the thought terrified him.

"Hey, handsome." She flashed her bright smile as he

settled shivering into the passenger seat. "Ooo, what did
you get? The loafers or the boots?"

"Boots. The ones with the silver thread."
"Nice." Her smile faded as she pulled onto the main

road out of town. "I better warn you, Kaz. Doesn't sound like
Will's had the best day."

"Oh?"
"Yeah, Mom went by earlier to bring over some cookies

and he was having a hissy fit about that swan sculpture.
Can't seem to, you know, keep it up." She snickered.

"It might be the only thing he's ever had trouble keeping

up," Yorukaze said in a dry tone. "Ah, well. I'm sure I can
soothe his frustration."

"I'm sure you can," Morgen said with a wink. "Just didn't

want you surprised if he's all growly."

He gave her a quick thank you peck on the cheek when

she dropped him off, and then he hurried inside to get out
of the bitter cold. A metallic crash and a thunderous male
bellow rose up from the basement where Willem had his
workspace.

Oh, yes. Frustrated would be an understatement.

Yorukaze shivered again, this time from anticipation.

Willem's lovemaking picked up a hard bite when he had
been in a temper, something Kaz craved desperately at
times. The anger he would rather forego. The aftereffects
could be delicious.

"Willem? Are you all right, love?" he called out as he

edged down the steps.

A holocaust of graceful swans, made of bits of scrap

metal joined together in amazing ways, lay about Willem's
feet as if someone had shot them from the sky. He sat in a
ladder-back chair, head in his hands, fingers fisted in his
hair.

Yorukaze approached cautiously and placed a gentle

hand on his shoulder. When he wasn't shrugged off, he set

both hands on that broad expanse and started kneading
over-taut muscles. "Not the best day, I take it."

"It sucked," Willem grated out. "Nothing I try is working. I

want them to look like they're soaring over the marsh, not
like swans on sticks."

The hands unfisted and Willem let them fall into his lap.

He seemed to be relaxing under the massage, so Yorukaze
thought a little teasing might be safe.

"Maybe you need a distraction. You might think of a

solution while you fuck me, esp--" He broke off with a yelp
when Willem seized his wrist and hauled him around to
face him.

Willem snarled through clenched teeth. "When I make

love to you, I sure as

hell

don't think about anything else."

Yorukaze struggled against the tight grip. He wanted to

say something angry and biting, but the still unfamiliar sting
filled the backs of his eyes and his throat felt as if someone
had shoved a pipe down it.

"No, oh, no." Willem's grip eased, though he snaked an

arm around Yorukaze's waist. "Don't cry, Kaz. Oh, shit,
please don't cry."

A gentle tug tumbled Yorukaze into his lover's lap,

where, naturally, he burst into tears.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I'm so sorry." Willem rocked him

and petted him, his anger apparently melted. "You were just
trying to cheer me up. I'm a monster. I'm sorry. Don't cry,
don't cry."

He wrapped his arms around Willem's neck and

allowed the sobs to rise from his belly for a few, precious

minutes. After all the centuries of not being able to weep, it
swept over him like a cleansing flood. Willem seemed to
sense he was no longer the direct cause of this storm, and
held him tighter as if he could protect Yorukaze from every
agony of his past.

In many ways, he did just that.
When the sobs died to a few hitching breaths, he lifted

his head from Willem's shoulder, wiping his eyes. "I'm not
sure where that came from. Forgive me."

"You all right, hon?"
"Yes, much better."
Willem set Yorukaze on the chair and dropped to his

knees. "You know what I want now?"

"Dinner?"
"Soon. There's a roast in the Crock-Pot. It'll keep."
"You want... " Yorukaze squirmed, his dress pants

suddenly too tight as Willem continued to gaze up at him so
intently. "Could you just tell me what you want?"

Willem's hands caressed up his thighs and stopped at

his waist to undo his belt. "Something I couldn't have before
when you were a kasha."

Nimble fingers made quick work of his fly, and then

Willem slid a hand under his butt to lift him and pull his
pants and bikini briefs down to his knees. He took
Yorukaze's burgeoning erection in his fist and gave it one
slow pump up and down.

"See? No spines. So now I can do this without hurting

my tongue." Willem leaned in to lick up one side of his cock
and down the other. Yorukaze's head thumped onto the

back of the chair on a long moan.

"And this." Gently, Willem rolled back the foreskin and

took the engorged crown between his lips with soft suction.
"And even this."

Without further warning, he plunged down and

swallowed Yorukaze whole. He cried out, his hips bucking
up off the chair.

Dear gods.

He had never felt anything like

this. The wet heat, the heavy suction Willem gave him as he
pulled back up, drove him mad with lust.

He dug his nails into Willem's arms as he thrust up,

fucking Willem's mouth as hard as his lover allowed. Willem
urged him onward with little moans and laps of his velvet
tongue, making no sounds of protest when the head
breached the ring of his throat. The tight constriction drew a
wild cry from Yorukaze, one that gave way to a howl when
Willem pressed against the smooth skin behind his balls.

Black flecks whirling across his vision, he came hard,

shooting down Willem's throat with such force, he
wondered how the man stayed upright. He collapsed
against the chair; Willem's hand on his chest the only thing
keeping him upright, as Willem's sucking became softer
and softer, drawing the last pulses from him in little
earthquakes.

"Willem... oh, my love... " He was only half-aware as

Willem put his clothes to rights and lifted him in his arms.
He began to revive, though, as they came up the stairs and
the scent of dinner reached him. Roast, potatoes...

"Peas?"
"You need your veggies."

"But vegetable are for rabbits."
"And humans. Would you rather brussel sprouts?"
Yorukaze growled in disgust.
"That's what I thought. Eat your peas and I'll even pay

attention when you show me your new shoes later."

He whispered in Willem's ear. "It's a new pair of boots."
"Oh." Willem's heart beat a little faster against

Yorukaze's palm. "Maybe you could model them for me,
then?"

"With pleasure."
"And maybe you could keep them on when I take you to

bed?"

"My dear Willem, what else is a good pair of boots for?"

Author's Note

The town of Honeybole, Pennsylvania is not, to my

knowledge, a real town. It is, however, an amalgam of many
such towns in Pennsylvania's former mining belt and does
reflect their plight. While many towns in the eastern half of
the state have undergone their own miniature renaissance
by this time, many still struggle. It is the author's hope that
helpful kashas will move into all of them someday.

Angel Martinez

Angel Martinez is the erotic fiction pen name of a writer

of several genres. Her experiences as a soldier, a nurse, a
banker, and an underpaid corporate drone give her a
broad view of the world and a deep appreciation for the
astounding variety of people on this small planet.

She currently lives part time in the hectic sprawl of

northern Delaware and full time inside her head. She has
one husband of over twenty years, one son, two cats, a love
of all things beautiful and a terrible addiction to the
consumption of both knowledge and chocolate.

To

learn

more

about

Angel,

please

visit:

http://www.freewebs.com/angelwrites/

* * * *

Don't miss A Different Breed, by Angel Martinez,

available at AmberAllure.com!

Josh hunts vampires with relentless, cold precision

until the night he confronts a gorgeous hunk of vamp in
the woods outside Ithaca. Richard destroys all of Josh's
prejudices about vampires in the first few moments of
conversation, and the sexual sparks between them ignite
almost as quickly. Richard offers the stability Josh never

had, while Josh offers the healing Richard needs so
desperately.

But it's nearly impossible just to walk away from a life

of violence. An attack one evening leaves a friend in the
hospital, Richard with a bullet through his chest, muttering
about strange creatures, and Josh fighting to piece
together what really happened. Are Richard's nightmare
attackers real, or is Josh's favorite vamp losing his mind?
Is there a reasonable explanation or has the hunter now
become prey?

Amber Quill Press, LLC

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