| Soul Stone |
had them all laughing didn’t produce the effect it normally would have. It hadn’t fed him. He still felt a deep
need inside as if he’d only been allowed to taste his dinner, one or two small bites, before it had been taken
away.
A week later it had been Luke, the younger of the twins, who had found him curled in a corner, his body
trembling and burning with fever. His skin had started to change, his eyes to darken. He was becoming the
demon that humans whispered about in fear. He was becoming the predator that would seek out women and
feed from their dreams until sated, until he drove them mad or until he killed them. Luke had taken him to his
grandfather who had called the oracle for assistance. The oracle had explained what was happening.
Tarris needed to feed. If he didn’t feed in a controlled way he would change, he’d become one of the dark
ones, the vampires that fed not on blood but on the desires and dreams of others. Only if they could find a
way to control his feeding could they keep him with them.
And so the rules had been made.
Rule 1. Never feed alone.
Rule 2. Never touch unless you are invited to by the female.
Rule 3. Never penetrate a woman in the place reserved for her mate.
Rule 4. Never allow the act to bring you to orgasm.
Rule 5. Never. Never must you hunt.
The rules had been created to keep him contained. To keep Tarris fed and happy while stopping him from
crossing the line that could make him want more than he could be allowed to have.
Sitting in his chair he watched the flames flicker. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled
out the small oblong stone. It looked like an opal, but over one third of its surface was black and dull. He
rubbed at it seeking the strange sense of comfort it had always brought him. Tonight it didn’t work. Despite
the fire, a chill passed through him. The rules. How he hated the rules. How he needed the rules. He’d only
broken one and only once. He’d allowed Sweet-Sarah to pleasure him in a dream the three had shared
before their mating. It had been a mistake. Now he knew what he was missing. And he wanted more.
Worse, he could no longer feed off his lovers. Both Weres were mated. No one had realized at the time that
it would stop their ability to share their pleasure with him. But it had. He could enter their dreams, but in their
dreams the men would push him away. He’d learned this the moment Mark mated with Sarah. The animal
within him refused to allow him near his mate. In the waking world Mark had been devastated. In the land of
dreams he could not stop himself from turning on Tarris like an enemy. Tarris had not approached Luke. The
younger twin had always been the more sexually assertive, the more likely to react to his instincts. He was
certain Luke’s reaction would be even stronger than Mark’s.
Tarris closed his eyes. He tried to remember a time when he was satisfied with the lot he’d been given,
satisfied with the role of puppeteer, satisfied to orchestrate the pleasures of others and to drink in their joy
and satisfaction. It seemed so long ago.
He’d not actively decided to break the rules. He’d let them terminate him before he’d turn into one of the dark
ones. He may not have a soul, but one thing living in the Ursine house had given him had been honor. He
knew the clean and lighter side of living. He’d not become a monster.
He let his mind drift. He told himself he wasn’t doing it. He was only reaching out. He’d been able to take the
edge off the past couple of weeks this way. A voyeur watching a young couple, feeling the energies radiate
between two soon to be lovers in a club. A siphon, draining off some of the raw sexual arousal of those he
watched from the world of shadows. It wouldn’t sustain him he knew. The only true food was passion in
dreams. But maybe by doing this he could hold off the madness, hold off the day when his own Weres would
be forced to destroy him. Or hold out until he found another way.
He felt the touch of the sleeper and backed away; he wasn’t a predator. He wasn’t supposed to enter alone.
But the power of the mind reached out to him as if it had sensed him. It called to him, inviting him in. The
hunger raged inside him as he fought it. The moment he turned to the dreamer, the moment he let himself be
pulled to the cavalcade of images that passed through the sleeping mind he was lost.
He stood in the doorway of the modest bedroom. The sleeper on the bed was a woman. Her red hair was
twisted around her face, strands of it sticking to the damp forehead. The shirt of the men’s flannel pajamas
that she wore stretched tight across her breasts. Not exactly the seductress. Not precisely the femme fatale.
She looked more like a schoolmarm or a librarian. One leg had kicked itself free of the blankets and he
noticed she even wore socks to bed. It was early October. No, Red here didn’t look like the kind of woman
who embraced her sexuality.
Tarris stepped into the room and moved closer to the bed. The woman was moaning slightly and twisting her
head. Her fists clenched tight. She fascinated him. She seemed so restricted—closed off so tightly against
her own body, but the power of the imagination, the dreams that flowed through her had called to him across
the distance that had separated them. He could feel the incredible strength of her mind.
The rules repeated in his head.
He hadn’t hunted her, he told himself. She had called him to her.
He would not let her please him.
He would not penetrate her.
He would not touch unless she reached for him first.
He would not—
Tarris stood watching her, torn as his hunger battled with his conditioning. The emotions, the colors of her
mind were so powerful he shook with need. Her soul was laying itself bare for him just as if he’d been a fully
mature incubus. He saw all of who she was, all of her secrets, dreams and desires. And he loved each and
every one.
So yes. Yes, he would. He would feed alone.
He stretched out beside her on the bed and brushed the hair from her face. Her body went slack. He pulled
her to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Stroking her face he pressed his cheek to her and closed
his eyes.
need inside as if he’d only been allowed to taste his dinner, one or two small bites, before it had been taken
away.
A week later it had been Luke, the younger of the twins, who had found him curled in a corner, his body
trembling and burning with fever. His skin had started to change, his eyes to darken. He was becoming the
demon that humans whispered about in fear. He was becoming the predator that would seek out women and
feed from their dreams until sated, until he drove them mad or until he killed them. Luke had taken him to his
grandfather who had called the oracle for assistance. The oracle had explained what was happening.
Tarris needed to feed. If he didn’t feed in a controlled way he would change, he’d become one of the dark
ones, the vampires that fed not on blood but on the desires and dreams of others. Only if they could find a
way to control his feeding could they keep him with them.
And so the rules had been made.
Rule 1. Never feed alone.
Rule 2. Never touch unless you are invited to by the female.
Rule 3. Never penetrate a woman in the place reserved for her mate.
Rule 4. Never allow the act to bring you to orgasm.
Rule 5. Never. Never must you hunt.
The rules had been created to keep him contained. To keep Tarris fed and happy while stopping him from
crossing the line that could make him want more than he could be allowed to have.
Sitting in his chair he watched the flames flicker. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulled
out the small oblong stone. It looked like an opal, but over one third of its surface was black and dull. He
rubbed at it seeking the strange sense of comfort it had always brought him. Tonight it didn’t work. Despite
the fire, a chill passed through him. The rules. How he hated the rules. How he needed the rules. He’d only
broken one and only once. He’d allowed Sweet-Sarah to pleasure him in a dream the three had shared
before their mating. It had been a mistake. Now he knew what he was missing. And he wanted more.
Worse, he could no longer feed off his lovers. Both Weres were mated. No one had realized at the time that
it would stop their ability to share their pleasure with him. But it had. He could enter their dreams, but in their
dreams the men would push him away. He’d learned this the moment Mark mated with Sarah. The animal
within him refused to allow him near his mate. In the waking world Mark had been devastated. In the land of
dreams he could not stop himself from turning on Tarris like an enemy. Tarris had not approached Luke. The
younger twin had always been the more sexually assertive, the more likely to react to his instincts. He was
certain Luke’s reaction would be even stronger than Mark’s.
Tarris closed his eyes. He tried to remember a time when he was satisfied with the lot he’d been given,
satisfied with the role of puppeteer, satisfied to orchestrate the pleasures of others and to drink in their joy
and satisfaction. It seemed so long ago.
He’d not actively decided to break the rules. He’d let them terminate him before he’d turn into one of the dark
ones. He may not have a soul, but one thing living in the Ursine house had given him had been honor. He
knew the clean and lighter side of living. He’d not become a monster.
He let his mind drift. He told himself he wasn’t doing it. He was only reaching out. He’d been able to take the
edge off the past couple of weeks this way. A voyeur watching a young couple, feeling the energies radiate
between two soon to be lovers in a club. A siphon, draining off some of the raw sexual arousal of those he
watched from the world of shadows. It wouldn’t sustain him he knew. The only true food was passion in
dreams. But maybe by doing this he could hold off the madness, hold off the day when his own Weres would
be forced to destroy him. Or hold out until he found another way.
He felt the touch of the sleeper and backed away; he wasn’t a predator. He wasn’t supposed to enter alone.
But the power of the mind reached out to him as if it had sensed him. It called to him, inviting him in. The
hunger raged inside him as he fought it. The moment he turned to the dreamer, the moment he let himself be
pulled to the cavalcade of images that passed through the sleeping mind he was lost.
He stood in the doorway of the modest bedroom. The sleeper on the bed was a woman. Her red hair was
twisted around her face, strands of it sticking to the damp forehead. The shirt of the men’s flannel pajamas
that she wore stretched tight across her breasts. Not exactly the seductress. Not precisely the femme fatale.
She looked more like a schoolmarm or a librarian. One leg had kicked itself free of the blankets and he
noticed she even wore socks to bed. It was early October. No, Red here didn’t look like the kind of woman
who embraced her sexuality.
Tarris stepped into the room and moved closer to the bed. The woman was moaning slightly and twisting her
head. Her fists clenched tight. She fascinated him. She seemed so restricted—closed off so tightly against
her own body, but the power of the imagination, the dreams that flowed through her had called to him across
the distance that had separated them. He could feel the incredible strength of her mind.
The rules repeated in his head.
He hadn’t hunted her, he told himself. She had called him to her.
He would not let her please him.
He would not penetrate her.
He would not touch unless she reached for him first.
He would not—
Tarris stood watching her, torn as his hunger battled with his conditioning. The emotions, the colors of her
mind were so powerful he shook with need. Her soul was laying itself bare for him just as if he’d been a fully
mature incubus. He saw all of who she was, all of her secrets, dreams and desires. And he loved each and
every one.
So yes. Yes, he would. He would feed alone.
He stretched out beside her on the bed and brushed the hair from her face. Her body went slack. He pulled
her to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Stroking her face he pressed his cheek to her and closed
his eyes.
This excerpt contains Adult Material. |
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He sat in the overstuffed chair facing the fire. He was hungry. He hadn’t
planned on this little glitch, none of them had realized it would happen.
After all, how many times in the history of things had a Were picked up
an orphaned incubus child and taken him home? How often has a
creature whose very nature requires him to feed off the sexual
energies of others found himself living along side a family, people that
he would love if he were capable of that emotion? But his kind couldn’t
feel love. All the stories agreed on that point. He had no soul. He was
one of a cursed race, a merciless parasite that drained others until he
destroyed them. Only glitch in that theory was that Tarris had never
harmed anyone and he felt something for his adopted family. He’d sure
as hell die for any of them, Mark, Luke, their mates and the children.
In the beginning it had been easy. As a child he fed off the happy, joyful
emotions of those around him. This continued as he watched his
companions, the boys he was being raised along side, grow and
reach maturity. His body had grown like theirs and no one would
believe that more than a few months separated them in birth. But it
was long after they’d become sexually mature he realized he too had
passed that threshold. Physically he became a man, or at least looked
like one, almost twenty-five years before the hunger began.
He remembered the day he sat along side his Weres at the pool. The
twins were bickering as usual, but in the end the water fight that had
planned on this little glitch, none of them had realized it would happen.
After all, how many times in the history of things had a Were picked up
an orphaned incubus child and taken him home? How often has a
creature whose very nature requires him to feed off the sexual
energies of others found himself living along side a family, people that
he would love if he were capable of that emotion? But his kind couldn’t
feel love. All the stories agreed on that point. He had no soul. He was
one of a cursed race, a merciless parasite that drained others until he
destroyed them. Only glitch in that theory was that Tarris had never
harmed anyone and he felt something for his adopted family. He’d sure
as hell die for any of them, Mark, Luke, their mates and the children.
In the beginning it had been easy. As a child he fed off the happy, joyful
emotions of those around him. This continued as he watched his
companions, the boys he was being raised along side, grow and
reach maturity. His body had grown like theirs and no one would
believe that more than a few months separated them in birth. But it
was long after they’d become sexually mature he realized he too had
passed that threshold. Physically he became a man, or at least looked
like one, almost twenty-five years before the hunger began.
He remembered the day he sat along side his Weres at the pool. The
twins were bickering as usual, but in the end the water fight that had
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