The smirk on his lips grew wider into a lurid grin, her response being exactly what he’d hoped for as made another couple of soft, teasing passes before burying his face between her thighs, a muffled groan rising in his throat that gave away that he was just as turned on by the act as she was.
Aislynn practically whimpered at the sensation, her back arching as she tried to grip something more stable than the blankets. She couldn’t remember anything feeling as good as what Teddy was doing. The sensation kept building until she was digging her claws into her legs just for something to hold onto as she cried out in pleasure.
Delaine had his own brand of effortlessly languid poise about his movements and an air of old-fashioned class that hinted that he had lived much longer than his youthful face suggested. Still, beneath the cool charm, there was a glint of something reckless that showed in the way his smile twisted the corner of his mouth a little crookedly.
He led Lewis toward one of the side streets that accessed a courtyard that was used for private parking, car keys in hand as he pressed the button on the fob to deactivate the alarm on a very sleek soft-top Italian sports car with a glossy, immaculately spotless, white paint job and deep blood red leather interior that was just on the right side of flashy without being obnoxious about it.
The car was a little fancier than he was expecting and he was beginning to wonder just what exactly he was getting himself into. Of course, he also wasn’t entirely sure he cared.
“I have a hard limit on silver, but that’s about it in terms of blood letting,” he stated, feeling the need to get that out of the way. He wasn’t as allergic to it as mom was, but it was still capable of making him sick if it got into his bloodstream at all.
“I considered waiting a week,” he answered flatly. It had only been burning curiosity that had him coming now. No one sacrificed to the old gods anymore. That was his whole problem, wasn’t it? But this one had. She didn’t look like the kind to go about sacrificing goats, but well… He offered a dangerous smile, something that looked more like bared teeth than a gesture of friendliness. “Appearances are deceiving. Should you not know that well? After all, you appear to be rather harmless, but harmless people do not sacrifice animals and summon old gods.”
Something in the way he smiled had Willow’s hand going to the butt of her gun for what little good the damn thing would do her. She knew bullets didn’t do shit to her grandmother and logic dictated that all they would do was annoy him too. “I’m also like a quarter keres and my mother is a mob princess. Violence doesn’t mean shit to me,” she answered honestly, but the sarcastic nature of her tone never dissipated.
“Okay, that’s fair. My parents are pretty good cooks and they don’t really like the kids messing things up,” he answered, paying for their order. The worker handed him the cookie and he passed it to August, before finding them a table while they waited for the drinks. “What’s the best thing you know how to cook?”
“You have siblings?” He was intrigued, honestly. It was also a way easier topic than anything from his past because the closest thing to a sister he had was still someone he adored. “Pretty good with heartier things like stews and chili and soups.”
“All sounds kinda rapey to me.” Matt murmured, grabbing a pillow and squishing it a bit under his head to get comfortable despite the less than pleasant conversation.
“Do you think that’s why the two Dad found recently are so messed up? ‘Cause they did stuff like that to them?”
Tucker barely batted at an eye at Matt, far too used to his siblings being more relaxed overall. Besides, at least Matt was pretty good at keeping his hands to himself, so there was hardly an issue.
“I don’t even want to entertain the idea, but it’s a real possibility. I mean, they’re like our age. So it makes you wonder when that sort of shit would have started and the idea makes me sick to my stomach.”
“Probably, but to be fair, the list of people I don’t get along with is like… really, really short.” And it was generally because they had issues with him and not the other way around. He grinned when Ben was done with the glitter. “How do I look?”
“She’s the same way, honestly.” He was more like her than almost anyone else he knew if he was being honest. “Like a walking wet dream.”
“Nope. Not coming out. The blankets and I have bonded. We have become one. It would be cruel to abandon them.”
Andrew is an old god. So old that his name has been lost from human history. But there are still spells out there, passed through family lines, written by immortals unafraid of their power, kept by witches holding tight to traditions. They’re few and far between, but they exist.
When he feels a mortal trying to summon him, he’s surprised for the first time in centuries. And when he senses they’ve made a sacrifice in his honor– a goat? it feels like a goat, though he’s no longer certain what these things feel like– he’s floored. But he’s under no obligation to arrive immediately, so he waits, despite the burning curiosity in him. Can’t have a mortal believing a god to be at their beck and call.
Three days pass before he drops himself into the room they summoned him from. He tries not to laugh when he sees it’s a living room. His eyes land on the only person in the room and for once, there’s something not entirely murderous in them. “I believe you were looking for me?”
Willow would have been an idiot to think gods didn’t exist given her pedigree, but she was terribly curious about the ones not actually related to her. Not that her grandmother would approve, but Ava was hardly in California to stop her.
The spell was sketchy, at best, and she wasn’t sure it would work. Plus, getting a goat up to her flat had been a pain in the ass. At least she had been smart enough to put down tarps and plastic coverings to keep from getting blood everywhere.
The minutes ticked, turning to hours and she had basically given up. Irritated, she crumpled the paper and tossed it away, annoyed that she had killed the animal for nothing. The last thing she expected was for someone to show up in her living room three days later.
“What’s with the Jesus three-days-resurrection bullshit? Are all immortals fucking drama queens? Is this the aesthetic?” Probably not the best way to greet someone, but she wasn’t one to react in fear. “I was beginning to think the spell was fake and, honestly, I’m a little underwhelmed. I thought you’d at least be…bigger.”
“Those sound like way more useful skills. I can cook, but it’s… sort of just the bare minimum and I wouldn’t call it good.” He could make pasta without screwing it up, but that was about it. “Perfect.” He headed up to the counter and placed an order before looking back at August. “What d’you want? My treat.”
“It was sort of learn or starve and I didn’t really want to starve,” he joked, despite the truth behind the words. But it worked out well for him overall, especially after he became a dad. “A small french vanilla and a peanut butter cookie, please?” He figured if it went well enough, he could pay next time.
ofviolentdeath 