Master of Ghouls

  (SPECTR #2)

  Jordan L. Hawk

  Master of Ghouls (SPECTR #2) © 2013 Jordan L. Hawk

  ISBN: 978-0-9885641-2-1

  All rights reserved.

  Cover art © 2013 Jordan L. Hawk

  Image credits:

  © Can Stock Photo Inc. / valdezrl

  ©iStockphoto.com /xavierarnau

  ©iStockphoto.com /Geber86

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Annetta Ribken

  Chapter 1

  The bass beat pounding from the club’s speaker vibrated in Caleb’s chest, but instead of feeling the urge to dance, he just wanted to get the fuck away.

  Not too long ago, he would have been thrilled to come to a gay club with a hot date. The press of bodies, the miasma of hormones, the cushion of alcohol, all leading up to a round of great sex later on, had been his idea of a terrific evening.

  Of course, that was before he’d been possessed by a demon—sorry, a Non-Human Entity—and turned into a vampire. Or drakul, or whatever the hell John wanted to call it.

  Gray had moved into his head, and now every sense was turned up to eleven. The base beat of the industrial music bruised sensitive ears, and the strobe lights of the dance floor stabbed his eyes. The reek of spilled booze, sweat, and too much cologne burned his nose and turned his stomach.

  “Here you go, babe,” John said, emerging from the crowd to where Caleb leaned against a support column. He held out the rum and coke Caleb had ordered, a sexy smile on his face.

  Oh yeah, and one more thing. Thanks to Gray’s insistence on “healing” their shared body, Caleb could no longer get drunk.

  He took the drink anyway; maybe he’d get some pleasure from the taste, if nothing else. His fingers brushed John’s, and a little shiver of electricity ran over his skin. Which, please God, was just static and not some new trick of Gray’s.

  John’s expression morphed into a cocky grin, and he pressed his hip against Caleb’s. Meeting John was the only good thing about the complete cluster-fuck his life had become—not that Caleb would admit it aloud. Special Agent John Starkweather, hotshot exorcist with Strategic Paranormal Entity Control, aka SPECTR. Caleb never would have thought he’d be attracted to a government drone—but he’d never envisioned one with John’s curly dark brown hair, well-muscled body, and laser-blue eyes.

  Certainly, he’d never imagined one who seemed to genuinely care about him, even if he was possessed by a big, scary drakul who might take it into his head to start snacking on innocent people as well as demons.

  “You are being absurd.” And there it came; he’d wondered how long it would take Gray to jump in.

  Caleb ignored him in favor of taking a large swallow of his drink. An instant later, he nearly spat it out. The sweetly acid taste of the soda reminded him of bile; it was everything he could do to choke it down. His stomach did a slow roll.

  “What’s wrong?” John asked, instantly concerned. Those gorgeous blue eyes didn’t miss much.

  “Nothing.” Caleb plastered a smile on his face with an effort. This possession was just temporary, after all. He only had to cope with it until John figured out how to exorcise Gray. “I just haven’t had, uh, soda for a while.” Which wasn’t a lie, precisely. “I guess I’ve lost my taste for it.”

  John’s dark brows drew together in concern. “Do you want something else? Or—”

  “No; this is fine.” Bad enough John had wasted money on one overpriced drink, which wouldn’t even give Caleb a buzz. “Want to dance?”

  John took a long swallow from his beer, before setting aside the empty can. “Got some moves you want to show me?” he asked, pressing up against Caleb. His expression turned sultry, a little grin curving his lips. Pinned between the solid agent and the support column, Caleb’s breath came faster and his cock swelled against the zipper of his jeans.

  “Sure do,” he murmured back.

  John stepped away, grabbed his hand, and pulled him to the dance floor. The beat of the music thrummed through Caleb’s body, and the pheromone haze of sweat and lust coated his tongue. The place was jumping, and other dancers jostled and bumped against him.

  Gray didn’t like the crowd at all. Anxiety jangled through their shared nerves. He was a solitary predator; Gray wasn’t touched, except when hunting or fighting, and every bump from another dancer made him want to snap and snarl.

  Which would be a disaster. Technically, the possessed weren’t even supposed to be out and wandering around. Having Gray vamp out in the middle of a crowded nightclub…

  John rested his hands on Caleb’s hips, pulling him closer. Grateful for the distraction, Caleb tried to concentrate on the other man. John looked damn sexy tonight, in a tight black t-shirt and ass-hugging jeans. The coconut scent of his shaving cream rose from his skin, underlain with musk and heat. The familiar, cocky grin hovered on his mouth as he ground his hip against Caleb’s, dick a hard ridge under the denim of his jeans.

  Nice distraction. Gray was distracted as well, and Caleb didn’t even want to consider the implications. Couldn’t he just stop thinking for ten minutes; was that too much to ask?

  He slid his arms around John’s neck, leaning in for a kiss. John complied, running his tongue teasingly over the part in Caleb’s lips, before sliding in. One hand twined in Caleb’s long braid, wrapping it around his wrist and tugging lightly, and oh, fuck yeah.

  John pulled back, sucked hard on Caleb’s lower lip. Caleb whimpered and rubbed the aching bulge of his cock against John’s. Shit, he was horny; he’d come in his jeans if he kept it up, but he didn’t want to stop.

  The kiss ended. John’s gaze smoldered as he tightened his grip on Caleb’s hips. “Come with me,” he said.

  Caleb nodded dumbly. John took his hand again and pulled him through the crowd, heading for the men’s room in the back of the club. Thankfully, it was deserted; as soon as they were inside, John shoved him into the nearest stall and locked the door behind them.

  “We—” Caleb started to protest, but John’s mouth cut off the rest of his sentence, insistent and demanding. Rough hands tugged impatiently on his belt, then the button of his fly.

  John’s warm fingers closed over Caleb’s swollen cock, and all thought fled. He didn’t give a damn if they were caught, assuming anyone would even care. After a last swirl of tongue, John broke off kissing him—and dropped to his knees.

  He pumped Caleb’s cock again, angling it up and running his tongue along the underside and forcing Caleb to bite back a moan. John tugged impatiently on Caleb’s jeans, yanking them down to his ankles along with his underwear.

  John trailed his tongue along Caleb’s cock, leaving behind a cooling line of saliva as he licked from slit to base. He nudged Caleb’s knees apart slightly, in order to mouth his balls. Caleb gasped, hips jerking so his cock rubbed against John’s cheek. John paused a moment to slick one finger with saliva, then pressed it against Caleb’s hole, demanding entrance.

  Caleb closed his eyes. Fuck, it all felt great: the warm mouth on his balls, the finger penetrating his ass, the contrast of skin and hair rubbing against his cock. Everything was so damn intense, Gray hovering just below the surface and mirroring each sensation back at him: taste and touch and scent, until he clung to control by his fingernails. His teeth burned, and shit, please, don’t let there be fangs or claws, no evidence of Gray right there beneath his skin, fascinated and wanting and frightened by the intensity.

  John’s mouth left his balls. “Look at me,” he commanded, voice hoarse with desire. “Look at me and fuck my face.”

  God, yes. Caleb forced his eyes open; they must have been their ordinary muddy brown, instead of Gray’s black, because John stared right back at him without any sign of alarm. His blue eyes almost glowed as he very deliberately wrapped his lips around the head of Caleb’s cock and slid down.

  Yes, yes, yes. Caleb anchored his fingers in John’s short hair and pushed his cock in, the head nudging the back of John’s throat, muscles working around him as his lover swallowed. He’d never thought he’d get off like this: a sexy government agent blowing him in a bathroom, wicked eyes staring right back at him, swollen lips wrapped around his dick and a finger up his ass.

  A half shout, half growl escaped him as his balls spasmed, a rush of heat shoving Caleb over the edge, his cock lodged in John’s mouth as a wave of pleasure crashed down over him. It seemed to go on and on, John milking him for all he was worth, wringing every last drop out of his cock even as it started to go soft.

  Caleb leaned against the wall of the stall and tried not to collapse. His legs felt like jelly and his head spun. He wondered how much noise he’d made, and if they were still alone. Half the fucking city could have come in while he was getting blown, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

  John stood up and kissed him with surprising tenderness, even as he pushed against Caleb’s thigh. He was still hard as an iron bar inside his jeans, and Caleb’s head cleared enough to reach for him. “Your turn—”

  The other man only shook his head, his swollen lips curling into his trademark sexy grin. “Later. When we get back to the condo, I’m going to bend you over the couch and ride your tight ass until you scream my name.”

  The promise made Caleb’s spent cock twi

tch as he shoved it back in his underwear. “Scream your name? ‘Special agent?’”

  John growled in his ear.

  “Ooh, Starkweather? Government drone?”

  John’s arm looped around his waist and pulled him close. “You’re such an asshole. Keep it up and…”

  A tiny thread of scent caught Caleb’s attention, blazing through his head even though it was almost lost beneath the haze of sweat and hormones. Rot and cold earth and the corruption of the grave, and his heart kicked into overdrive and every sense snapped into crystal clarity.

  “Demon.”

  * * *

  “Keep it up and I’ll have to spank you,” John said, pulling Caleb’s lean body tight against him.

  Caleb stiffened. Oops, wrong kink. “If you want—” he started to add.

  Caleb shoved him aside with startling strength and was out of the stall almost before John’s brain could register what happened. A swirl of etheric energy crackled across his skin, imperceptible to anyone who didn’t have an exorcist’s senses.

  “Babe?” Shit, what had he done wrong? “You okay?”

  “Demon,” Caleb said, voice clipped and underlain with a rumble like distant thunder. Then he was out the door and gone.

  John stood and stared blankly for a long moment, his brain sluggish with lust. Except his lover had just walked out, because…

  What had Caleb said? Demon?

  Oh hell. There was an NHE in the club.

  John spat a curse and ran through the door after Caleb. And it was still Caleb, or at least mostly, but the deeper edge in his voice suggested he might not be for long.

  The door smacked into someone, who cursed as John barreled through, but he didn’t have time to deal with it now. He glanced around frantically, the dim, shifting light of the club making it hard to see anything at a distance. Damn, if there was a Non-Human Entity—or a demon, as Gray insisted on calling them—mixed in with all these people, it could turn into a slaughter.

  He’d left his gun in the glove compartment of the car. This was supposed to have been a fun night out, a chance for Caleb to relax, for them to get to know each other better as regular guys, not federal exorcist and his highly-irregular case. It wasn’t as if he expected to run into a possession on his off hours.

  Sure, he’d put gun, silver athame, and Florida Water in the car, but those were just sensible precautions after so many years on the job. Not because he was paranoid. Certainly not because he was afraid Gray would take control and go into full-on vampire mode in the middle of the club.

  Well, not entirely.

  There—he spotted Caleb’s lanky figure heading for the exit. He shoved through the crowd, hurrying to catch up. A big man in biker leather turned with a curse; John flashed his badge in the guy’s face. “Federal agent.”

  He hadn’t wanted to cause a panic, but if the badge would get him through the crowd, he’d use it. Holding it in front of him like a wedge, he barked “SPECTR agent! Out of the way!” in his most authoritative tone.

  People moved at his command, and a murmur started up behind him. “Was he a Spec?” someone cried, and fear rippled through the crowd. Thankfully, he made it to the exit before it had time to become outright panic.

  John caught up to Caleb on the street outside. “Slow down! What’s going on?”

  Caleb strode down the sidewalk, heading south at the brisk pace. “We—I mean, I—smell it. It’s headed this way.”

  “Let’s go to the car—we’ll get my supplies and—”

  “No!” Caleb barked, and shit, his voice had definitely hit a deeper register, and his hair shivered like a live thing, uncurling from its long braid. “No time!”

  Then he broke into a faster-than-human run. John swore and pelted after him.

  * * *

  The trail of corruption beckoned the way down the street, past a swanky hotel and into a parking garage. A normal human wouldn’t have been able to sense the smell of stagnant water and cold stone mingled with the sickly sweetness of rotting flesh. It made Caleb want to gag, but to Gray it might as well have been warm chocolate chip cookies or a sizzling steak. His mouth filled with drool, his teeth ached, and Gray wanted to run, damn it, run and hunt and—

  Stop! Caleb stumbled as he fought to hold back. We’ve already freaked out John enough, don’t you think?

  “The demon will escape. He would not wish it to.”

  It was hard to argue the point, and he’d already left John behind by a couple of blocks anyway. Giving in, Caleb raced down the ramp to the parking garage; thank goodness, the tollgate was automatic, which meant one less person to get caught up in this if things went bad. He’d never in his life been at all athletic, but now he jumped the gate with ease. One of the perks of being possessed, along with no longer needing to wear glasses, seeing in the dark, and instant healing.

  Not to suggest it made up for the weirdness and terror. Or the fear of being completely subsumed, while Gray walked off wearing his body like an off-the-rack suit.

  “You are distracting us from the hunt with your foolishness.”

  The trail led down, past the wooden cross arm, before spiraling back up through the levels of the garage.

  What kind of demon is it? Because he really didn’t want to end up in another fight with a lycanthrope.

  A deep breath, tasting the scent of nitrous decay. “Ghoul.”

  Which…didn’t make a lot of sense, actually. Not that Caleb knew fuck-all about demons, other than to not make deals with them, which still hadn’t kept him from getting possessed. Even so, he was pretty sure ghouls stuck to underground places when they could find them, or the lower floors of abandoned buildings when they couldn’t. A nightclub and a parking garage didn’t fit the profile.

  “You are correct.” Flashes of memories flickered behind his eyes, like an old black-and-white film, which had jumped the sprockets. Centuries of encounters: in caves and catacombs and great cities of the dead.

  You don’t seem concerned.

  “There is no reason to be concerned. Ghouls are weak. We will feed.” Desire there, bordering on lust, because feeding was…different…in a living body.

  The scent grew more intense as they climbed. Caleb struggled to spot any shadows lurking between the cars. Despite Gray’s indifference, he still felt nervous; what the hell was a ghoul doing up here?

  There: movement…in a sedan, weirdly enough. Two women, one of them starting the engine, and the other slumped in the passenger seat, apparently passed out. And all around the vehicle, the thick scent of ghoul.

  The driver glanced up—and froze as she caught sight of them in the mirror. Her eyes widened in fear. Did something inside her sense Gray, or was her panic human? The backup lights flared white, and an instant later the car hurtled backward.

  Caleb yelped and jumped to the side. The car came to a halt inches from another vehicle, then, tires squealing, took off toward the exit.

  “It cannot escape!”

  Caleb didn’t know what was going on, but Gray was right. He took off after the sedan; under normal circumstances, it would have left him far behind. But there was nothing normal about Caleb’s circumstances anymore.

  He kept up with the vehicle easily, as long as it was forced to slow down to make the turns leading out to the exit. But the moment it hit the straight stretch in front of the hotel, it would surely leave him behind.

  “We will not let it get far.”

  Gray had noticed a shortcut, and tried to angle them toward it. Caleb stumbled, feet tangling as they fought, his every instinct screaming Gray’s idea was crazy.

  Gray strained against him, a feeling Caleb couldn’t have even begun to describe to anyone else, something inside him trying to push him out of the way. It was either go now, or risk losing control of Gray.

  Trying not to think, just move, Caleb leapt onto a parked car with a single, easy jump. Even as its alarm went off, he jumped again, over the low wall its bumper snugged up against and into the night air.

  The car had been parked on the second floor; Caleb landed on the pavement below like a cat. From behind him, there came the sound of shattering wood as the ghoul’s car hit the cross arm of the tollgate and came roaring out of the parking garage and through the hotel lot. Caleb lunged to his feet and ran to intercept, waving his arms like a madman in hopes of forcing the driver to swerve into some of the parked cars.

 

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