| Soul Stone |
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 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.
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 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.
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
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
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