Black Moon (Alpha Pack #3)(18)

But it was far too late. The Unseelie had finally managed to get his talons into Kalen, and the seduction had begun. The gradual slide into the pit of hell.

God help them all.

* * *

"No, no, please! I-I'll leave town! My wife and kids won't never have ta look at me again!"

Malik smiled, and his canines lengthened to protrude over his bottom lip. "They won't have to do that anyway."

With that, the Unseelie began to change. Kalen barely had time to register that Malik had dropped his glamour before his clothes disappeared and his form began to grow. His skin darkened to a grayish purple hue, and his straight black hair cascaded to his waist. His ears grew long, pointed at the tips, and his facial features sharpened to cruel angles.

His height quickly towered to at least seven feet. But the most frightening and impressive of all were his wings. Unlike Sariel's beautiful, feathered wings of electric blue, his father's were dark and leathery, almost black. They spanned nearly the entire basement in width, some fifteen feet.

The whole package that was Malik, undisguised, was cruelly magnificent. Something straight out of a nightmare.

And now he was Billy's nightmare. The man stared up at his tormentor, mouth open, no longer making a sound. He was learning now, at the very end of his existence, just how pathetic and insignificant he was in the grand scheme of the world. How powerless. A mindless bug headed for a zapper.

Kalen almost felt sorry for him. Except when he thought of what the ass**le had done to his own kids.

"I'm not from hell, Billy," Malik said, his voice much lower and more gravelly than before. "I am hell. I have existed since before mankind walked upright, and for too long I have watched as many humans evolved to be not much more intelligent than the primates before them. You are one such substandard example of humanity. Are you following me, ape?"

The ape was beyond speech, his eyes fixed on the Unseelie in horror.

Malik reached out a hand, extended his index finger, and ran one razor-sharp claw down Billy's fleshy cheek. A thin line of blood trickled from the slice, over his jaw and down his neck. "And as a piece of undisputed filth, unworthy of being loose among even the weakest of humans, I cannot allow you to live. Even you with your limited cognitive ability can understand this by now, I'm sure."

Totally entranced, Billy nodded.

"Very well."

The Unseelie moved so fast, Kalen hardly saw what happened next. His arm shot out and he stabbed his claws deep into Billy's stomach. The man screamed, a high-pitched keen of sheer terror that bounced off the walls and became a gurgle as Malik thrust up, effectively gutting him.

Then Malik used his other hand to grab Billy's scraggly hair and yank his head back. The cords of the man's neck were exposed, and the Unseelie licked his lips in anticipation. And then he lowered his head and struck, tearing into the vulnerable throat of his captive, ripping it out. Drank and slurped, grunting in satisfaction.

Feeding on his prey.

The weak feed the strong, and the strong survive. That was Kalen's thought as he watched, transfixed by the sight of the powerful, muscled creature taking his fill. Why wasn't he horrified? Afraid? But he just wasn't. There was something darkly beautiful and primal about the scene before him. It called to his blood, to the dark power residing within him. Tightened his groin deliciously, stiffened his cock.

Abyssus abyssum invocat, Beryl had whispered to him a few days ago. Hell calls hell.

Now he knew why. The witch had been preparing Kalen for this night. For joining Malik, embracing his destiny. He never had to be helpless again, as he had been at fourteen. Never again had to endure the mockery of those like Aric. Never had to be alone. Because Malik understood.

The Unseelie raised his head, wiped the blood from his lips, and smiled.

"I told you that I do understand, my pet." Releasing his dead prey, he beckoned Kalen to him. "Come here."

Kalen obeyed, stepping so close he had to look up into that stunning, sharp face. "Yes?"

The other male lifted an arm and, with one claw from the opposite hand, sliced a cut in his wrist. Dark blood the color of merlot welled instantly. "Drink," he commanded.

Kalen hesitated, then took the wrist uncertainly, his heart pounding hard in his chest. A distant voice begged him not to do this, warned that this step would be irrevocable. Would bind him to the Unseelie until one or both of them died.

"Drink, and never be alone again," Malik said softly.

Kalen's tongue flicked out, tested the thick stream. The taste exploded on his tongue, sweet and rich as the finest red wine. A bolt of pleasure seared to his gut, his limbs, his cock, and he groaned, latching on more firmly.

God, it was so good. So f**king fine. He wanted more, would do anything to get it as often as his companion would allow him.

"Stop." The order barely filtered through to his consciousness.

Kalen blinked up at Malik and released his arm. Reluctantly. He licked his lips. "Please . . ."

Malik stroked his hair, studied him almost lovingly. "There will be plenty more. Do not worry. We are bonded now, and my blood will be your reward when I'm pleased."

"And when you're not pleased?"

"You do not want to know. Just make certain that doesn't happen."

He nodded, fear winding through his soul. What had he done? There was a lingering fog of lust that had banished all the caution he knew he should have. The guilt for having joined the enemy.